I have not written in this in too long, but I have been both ill and tired lately. Ill for several days from the 26th to the 28th; and then there have been hunting parties the last three days. A new gentleman has joined our party, by the name of Robert Lamotte. He has a face like a wolf, and we have played chess nearly every day after returning from the hunt. I fear to say that even a letter from my dear T- did not have as much of an effect on me lately as a smile from this new gentleman. Perhaps I am only tired of waiting, and besides which Msr. Lamotte shows at least as much attention to Colette as to me.
Still I find myself painting my face more carefully, and worrying that with only two or three hunting combinations he will have seen me in the same clothes too often to notice their appeal. I confess I long to know what a kiss from him would feel like. I am not at all certain of his situation, and know myself not to be rational. I have been restrained, but I wonder how much more so I would be if his affections were offered.
It is no matter. There is a new picture of the Queen by Vigee-Lebrun and my Marchande des Modes promises me that I can have a court gown very like it. We are deciding on colors and trims currently, but I wonder if the expense will not be very great. Hopefully an appearance at court later in the season will help my cause, and restore all of our ancient rights and privileges. The news lately has been all ill on that front.
Interminable rehearsals of the play continue on, but not acting in it myself I am able to avoid some of them. Other times I act as audience, but I do not think my suggestions are taken very seriously. More to the point, I have ceased to care. My thoughts are on Versailles, Auvergne, and other things.