My day began at ten-thirty when Marianne came into my bedchamber with breakfast. I was ill-inclined to rise, and sent her away again until noon, which was indicative of the generally lazy temperment of my entire day. After rising and dressing simply I picked up my fan for a stroll in the gardens and it promptly broke upon opening. It was only paper and tortoiseshell, but still I am vexed that I shall have to have a new one made as soon as we arrive in Paris for I must have several.
Perhaps such an occurance would not be so trying to my nerves if I were not all too well aware of the cost of my impending journey, the cost of any renovations I decide to do to Saint Saturnin, the cost of aiding T- to purchase a commission, the cost of maintaining appearances in the more fashionable world of Paris and Versailles; everything requires a fortune, and whatever others may think, I never seem to have as much wealth as I am expected to.
All of my clothing is packed, and I shall wear only what I am leaving behind for the next few days. T- is very sweet and continues to issue compliments to my beauty, despite the comparative plainness of my appearance. He will remain at Saint Saturnin until word comes of any fruition from his ventures in Riom. If none arise within a month he will journey forth again, perhaps as far as Paris, to try his luck elsewhere. While I would be happy to see him, I would prefer that it not come to that. The presence of Maman would also prevent him from being able to stay with me discreetly, as she is very aware of my preference for his company.
Tomorrow I must try to be less idle. Some painting and reading, letters and riding would be well enough, I think.
Olympe, Comtesse
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