I believe that just in time for my trip, I may be coming down with a cold. This will not do, and I will retire shortly to bed in hopes of halting the advance of any illness; but before I do I must write that tomorrow I am attending a going-away party held by my dear friends, the Marquis and Marquise de Ferrand. Another excellent reason for resting, I think.
I put aside my portraits and focused on a landscape today in the garden, which, before rain forced me indoors, was turning out rather to my satisfaction and surprise. If I can finish it in time I will take it with me as a reminder of my beloved Auvergne and its beauty.
Received another letter from M. Saint Mikkael today, in which he professed to understand why I could not admit him to my home, and said that he would consider it a great honor if I were to give him, in Paris, any opportunity to render himself of service. I appreciate the gallantry, and truly I bear him no malice, only a lingering mistrust. If we find ourselves in the same social circles again I should be glad to renew our aquaintance along more formal lines.
A letter arrived from Christine saying that she will travel to Paris a month after my arrival, and that her stay will be of short duration. Nevertheless I am sure we shall make arrangements to visit with each other. I will reply to her shortly and extend once more the invitation to stay with me at the Hotel de Sully.
For now, rest; tomorrow I must be at my best.