Thursday, August 1, 2013

August 1st, 1783

We are now safely ensconced at Saint-Saturnin, and the entire neighborhood is clamoring for an invitation to meet my new husband. Many of the servants, of course, recognize him from times past, but are treating him with no less respect despite his recent elevation; of which I am glad. I suppose we shall have to hold a ball sometime soon. In addition to the Marquis and Marquise de Menars visit, we are also shortly to enjoy one from one of my husband's windowed sisters and her two children. We have extended an invitation to his parents, but he thinks it unlikely that they will come.

I have already received a letter from Christine, though she is still traveling north. Her cold now gone, I fear she has less and less to distract her from the approaching realization of her engagement. I am sorry for my friend, that she is not to enjoy the happiness which I now do; but who is to say that it will not turn out for the best. It is so much easier to think hopeful thoughts when one is happy, I notice.

Though it rained this morning the weather has turned fine, and I may go out riding later. The Marquis has appropriated a room for his own study, and I believe sets his hand to writing various acquaintances about the possibility of those charges he might receive. My own income remains mine, as agreed upon in the marriage contract, and has been more than sufficient since the sale and lease of those properties for which I had no use. I myself made changes to the renovation plans and will now read for a while. Reinette rests at my feet, her tail thumping in her sleep, and all is contentment. Long may it last.

Olympe

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