November 15th, 1781

I loathe the cold, it makes it so difficult for me to want to move or go out or do anything at all. The dowager Countess de Rodez is a suspicious, disagreeable old cat, and seems not to like or trust me very much, despite the fact that everything I do is to the good of her own daughter. Mlle Clementine supposedly received my note, but sent no reply. I cannot speak to her ability to do so without the knowledge of the mother. She was formally introduced to me, but beyond a curtsy and a some quiet niceties I was able to learn nothing of her or form any sense of her character. Her mother wishes to receive word from the Duke de Bouillon himself that he will introduce Clementine at court before she consents to any preparations.

Word here in Paris is that De Grasse has won a great naval victory, and there is hope once more that the war in the colonies may soon reach a victorious end. Of course, we have been holding out such hope year after year. I have my own small victory in that my estate agent was not able to procure buyers for either Lespinasse or Opme yet, but a newly-minted Baron and his famly are happy to lease Opme from me for a substantial sum per annum. In some ways I prefer this arrangement for I may evict them and have my castle back in the future, and in the meantime have a steady supply of income, unlike that from my lesser leases.

It also allows me to continue to pay Thierry's expenses in Venice, and I send what I can with every letter. It is fruitless to sigh and say that I miss him so. I do, and I look often at his miniature fearing that I will forget his features the longer he is absent.

Olympe, Comtesse