Later

It was a pelting icy rain outdoors, but Ronsard and I had a fine time in the library, where it seemed as if the sun were shining. He is quite excited about my having my own household. Of course we worked on Greek poetry. It is his favourite. He tells me of the poems he is writing himself before he tells anyone else. He says I am his confidante. He is devoting himself to perfecting a type of verse in which there are lines of twelve syllables containing four accents. It is very difficult to master. I am not even trying it.