Evening: I must write some more. We could not have the expedition, because there was a frightful thunderstorm from 2 to 4 o’clock. But we enjoyed ourselves immensely. And I had another adventure: As I was leaving the dining-room in order to go to the . . . ., I heard a voice say: May I wish you a happy birthday, Fraulein? I turned round, and there behind me stood the enormously tall fair-haired student, whom I have been noticing for the last three days. “Thank you very much, it’s awfully kind of you,” said I, and wanted to pass on, for I really had to go. But he began speaking again, and said: “I suppose that’s only a joke about your being 14. Surely you are 16 to-day?” “I am both glad and sorry to say that I am not, said I, but after all everyone is as old as he seems. Please excuse me, I really must go to my room,” said I hurriedly, and bolted, for otherwise -- -- -- --!! I hope he did not suspect the truth. I must write about it to Hella, it will make her laugh. She sent me a lovely little jewel box with a view of Berchtesgaden packed with my favourite sweets, filled with brandy. In her letter she complains of the “shortness of my last letter.” I must write her a long letter to-morrow. At supper I noticed for the first time where “Balder” sits; that’s what I call him because of his lovely golden hair, and because I don’t know his real name. He is with an old gentleman and an old lady and a younger lady whose hair is like his, but she can’t possibly be his sister for she is much too old.
July 31st. The family is called Scharrer von Arneck, and the father is a retired member of the Board of Mines. The young lady is really his sister, and she is a teacher at the middle school in Brunn. I found all this out from the housemaid. But I went about it in a very cunning way, I did not want to ask straight out, and so I said: Can you tell me who that white-haired old gentleman is, he is so awfully like my Grandfather. (I have never see my Grandfather, for Father’s Father has been dead 12 or 15 years, and Mother’s Father does not live in Vienna but in Berlin.) Then Luise answered: “Ah, Fraulein, I expect you mean Herr Oberbergrat Sch., von Sch. But I expect Fraulein’s Grandfather is not quite so grumpy.” I said: “Is he so frightfully grumpy then?” And she answered: “I should think so; we must all jump at the word go or it’s all up with us!” And then one word led to another, and she told me all she knew; the daughter is 32 already, her name is Hulda and her father won’t let her marry, and the _young gentleman_ has left home because his father pestered him so. He is a student in Prague, and only comes home for the holidays. It all sounds very melancholy, and yet they look perfectly happy except the daughter. By the way, it’s horrid for the Weiners; Olga is 13 and Nelly actually 15, and their mother is once more -- -- -- -- I mean their mother is in an i-- c--. They are both in a frightful rage, and Nelly said to me to-day: “It’s a perfect scandal;” they find it so awkward going about with their mother. I can’t say I’d noticed anything myself; but they say it has really been obvious for a long time; “_the happy event!!_ will take place in October,” said Olga. It really must be very disagreeable, and I took a dislike to Frau W. from the first. I simply can’t understand how such a thing can happen when people are so old. I’m awfully sorry for the two Weiner girls. Something of the same sort must have happened in the case of the Schs., for Luise has told me that the young gentleman is 21 and his sister not 32 but 35, she had made a mistake; so she is 14 years older, appalling. I’m awfully sorry for her because her father won’t let her marry, or rather would not let her marry. I’m sure Father would never refuse if either of us wanted to marry. I have written all this to Hella; I miss her dreadfully, for after all the Weiner girls are only strangers, and I could _never_ tell my secrets to Dora, though we are quite on good terms now. Oswald is coming to-morrow.