The flowers in my bedroom are fading, and I am reminded of how fast all things must fade, including summer. My friend Anne-Marie writes to tell me that her mother has fallen ill and she is obliged to spend much of her time caring for her. It serves to remind me that I may be more charitable and take my mother with me to Paris after all, that we may enjoy the time we have together before it is past.
The lingerie shop writes that my order is complete and on its way to me shortly following the letter. Nothing from T-, whom I assume is busy caring for his own ailing parent. “How precious the days that passing are…” I have sent him a book from my own library on the life of Julius Caesar, in the hopes that he may enjoy it and think of me.
Chevalier Guillame-Blaise de Crecy visited me this afternoon, after I had spent a pleasant morning in the gardens reading. He very clearly wanted to know every detail of the reacquisition, and I believe would have written the petition himself if he could. It is hardly a secret anymore, and I have no doubt that the reason for my journey to Versailles will be well-known before I ever arrive. I only hope that it will not provide sufficient time for my opponents to prepare against me the tricks I am certain they would attempt.