Mademoiselle C---- scolded me to-day because people looked at me too
much on the Promenade. While returning from church we talked about
religion--then went on to the Duc de H----. Mademoiselle C---- said:

"What associates he has! To-day he is with the H----'s."

I want to describe conversations better. The Duc de H---- was
discussed. I defended him warmly, but I have seen that I went too
far.


Good Friday.

At church, when we went to kiss the tomb of Christ, I looked at all
the faces and suddenly _his_ appeared as if he were there in
person. Never has it presented itself so distinctly. This time I saw
it as if it were himself. At this apparition my heart beat
violently, and I began to pray. I wanted to recall this beloved
face, but in vain. I no longer see it.

At this vision, an idea came to me. There were a great many flowers
near the tomb. I took a daisy. The flower is holy, it was near our
Saviour. It will tell me whether our desires will be realised. With
a throbbing heart, I pulled off petal after petal. Yes--no--O, God!
I thank Thee! I believe this prediction, it is holy!

I don't want to wait any longer. I shall die if I stay in this
furnace. It is too warm. Knock, and it shall be opened unto you. I
believe that, it is my consolation. We are going to Vienna Saturday,
but Mamma will stay. There is no pleasure without pain. That is a