A long stroll in the gardens with a book today was my sole occupation, that and some conversation with T- over tea. A letter to Maman and one to Christine have been all of my correspondance of late, and I find that I am very much looking forward to seeing them both. Maman, it seems, is not as enamored of Andre's would-be-mistress as I had originally believed, and so she and I will be able to work against the match together; a fact which greatly relieves me of my anxiety in the matter.
I had hoped to finish my portrait miniature to give to T- before departing, but it continues so ill that I doubt if I shall be able to convince myself to complete it at all. If I could only copy my image exactly from its reflection, with ease, then I should be most pleased. I have also been contemplating some much-needed renovations to Saint Saturnin, but that will remain in the realm of fantasy until after the matter of the reacquisition is settled.