Monday, March 20:
During my slumbers I hear my dear ones talking, and even join in myself, in the middle of the somewhat dreary countryside which leads us toward Catania, and which R. finds very disappointing.
[Added in margin: “At one station R. gets out and is pleased to come upon a Wallachian woman, who talks to him with great distinctness and says to him significantly, in a voice filled with natural pride, ‘I come from Wallachia.’”]
However, our apartment in the hotel at Acireale pleases him greatly, the landlord seems a very decent man, and R. breathes again. Exchange of telegrams with our friends in Palermo.