February 12th, 1781

The weather is most gloomy, and with the wedding looming in May I feel fairly gloomy myself. I find that I dread it now, unreservedly, and I fear that F- is aware of this fact. He insisted last week that we go to the Rodez estate and visit R-'s grave; a terribly morbid pilgrimage which I could not find an excuse to escape. Once there he launched into a lengthy sermon, promising that we would use our marriage to honor his memory. I begin to fear what he means by that, but have not the courage to ask.

T- has returned to Paris, but is away again in a week to Calais. He says that this has been a hard winter for the people and that the taxes are a heavy burden to them, but he takes the money it gives him willingly enough I notice. He has a new suit of fine blue wool with gray passementerie and silver buttons. It makes him look very dashing and I felt quite the envy of every lady when we went for a walk with Reinette the other morning.

Life cannot be too hard after all when one has a beautiful sleeping dog at their feet, a fire in the hearth, and the prospect of good company. Some of the ladies are to come for tea and sewing later, which will probably become tea and cards, or perhaps even dinner if we are loathe to part.

Olympe, Comtesse