Thursday, February 23, 2012

February 23rd, 1782

Such a quiet day I have had, but not without purpose. Since I last wrote I employed M. Poisson to direct me to a clerk of the Police Bureau, and duly he arranged a meeting for me last week in the Tuileries gardens. Presently a man, by the name of Champlaine, arrived looking very ill at ease. A little coin assuaged his anxiety, and he promised that he would try to bring me the letter which accused Thierry of being a spy.

Today, after my Lever, I wrote some letters, received some merchants for payment, had a fitting for new clothes, read for an hour or so, walked with Reinette at the gardens again, and embroidered a little. Just after 5 o'clock I was informed that a man had arrived and wished to speak with me, and it being Champlaine I had him admitted. He brought with him, not the letter itself, but a copy of the letter. Interesting as that was, it said nothing which would help me to divine the author, and so I again insisted that I must have the original, and again I plied him with money.

Tonight I am expected at the Comedie Francaise, and then there is a late supper to follow. I am in the mood to celebrate for I feel that very soon I will have answers.

Olympe, Comtesse

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