Josephine had a dinner in the evening--Cardinal Mathieu, the Austrian Ambassador to the Vatican and his wife, and other notabilities. There was quite a large reception after dinner, among others the Grand Duchess of Saxe-Weimar, who is very easy, charming--likes to see everybody. When I came downstairs to dinner I found all the ladies with lace fichus or boas on their shoulders, and I was told that I was quite incorrect--that one couldn't appear décolletée in a cardinal's presence. I could find nothing in my hurry when I went back to my room, but a little (very little) ermine cravat, but still even that modified my low body somewhat, and at least showed that my intentions were good. The big red salon looks charming in the evening and is a most becoming room--the dark red silk walls show off the dresses so well. The cardinal had his whist, or rather his bridge, after dinner, for even the Church has succumbed to the universal craze--one sees all the ecclesiastics in Black circles just as intent upon their game and criticising their partner's play quite as keenly as the most ardent clubmen. I suppose bridge is a pleasure to those who play, but they don't look as though they were enjoying themselves--their faces so set and drawn, any interruption a catastrophe, and nobody ever satisfied with his partner's play. We had very good music. An American protégé of Josephine's with a good high barytone voice sang very well, and the young French trio (all élèves du Conservatoire de Paris) really played extremely well. The piano in one of Mendelssohn's trios was quite charming--so sure and delicate. It was a pleasure to see the young, refined, intelligent faces so absorbed in their music, quite indifferent to the gallery. The young violinist played a romance (I forget what--Rubinstein, I think) with so much sentiment that I said to him "Vous êtes trop jeune pour jouer avec tant d'âme," to which he replied proudly, "Madame, j'ai vingt ans." C'est beau d'avoir vingt ans. I wonder how many of us at fifty remember how we thought and felt at twenty. Perhaps there would be fewer heart-burnings in the world if we older ones did remember sometimes our own youth. Sunday, March 6th.