SECOND YEAR - AGE TWELVE TO THIRTEEN

August 1st. It was awfully jolly on my birthday.
We drove to Glashutte where it is lovely; there we
cooked our own dinner in the inn for the landlady
was ill and so was the cook. On one's birthday everyone
is always so nice to one. What I like most of all
is the Ebeseder paint-box, and the book too. But
I never have any time to read. Hella sent me a
lovely picture: Maternal Happiness, a dachshund
with two puppies, simply sweet. When I go home
I shall hang it up near the door over the bookcase.
Ada gave me a silk purse which she had worked for
me herself. Aunt Dora gave me a diary, but I can't
use it because I prefer to write upon loose sheets.
Grandfather and Grandmother at B. sent me a great
piece of marzipan, splendid. Ada thinks it lovely;
she didn't know marzipan before.

August 9th. When it's not holidays Ada goes to
school in St. Polten staying there with her aunt and
uncle, because the school in H. is not so good as the
school in St. P. Perhaps next term she is coming to
Vienna, for she has finished with the middle school
and has to go on learning. But she has no near
relations in Vienna where she could stay. She might
come to live with us, Dora could have a room to herself
as she always wants, and Ada and I could share
a room. I would much rather share a room with her
than with Dora who is always making such a fuss.

August 10th. I do really think! A boy can always
get what he wants. Oswald is really going for
a fortnight to Znaim to stay with his chum; only
Oswald of course. I should like to see what would
happen if Dora or I wanted to go anywhere. A boy
has a fine time. It's the injustice of the thing which
makes me furious. For we know for certain that he's
had a _bad_ report, even though he does not tell us
anything about it. But of course that doesn't matter.
They throw every 2 in our teeth and when he gets
several Satisfactories he can go wherever he likes.
His chum too; he only got to know Max Rozny this
year and he's a chum already. Hella and I have
been chums since we were in the second in the elementary
school and Dora and Frieda Ertl since they went
to the High School. We both gave him a piece of
our mind about friendship. He laughed scornfully
and said: That's all right, the friendships of _men_
become closer as the years pass, but the friendships
of you girls go up in smoke as soon as the first admirer
turns up. What cheek. Whatever happens Hella and
I shall stick to one another till we're married, for we
want to be married on the same day. Naturally she
will probably get engaged before me but she _must_
wait for me before she's married. That's simply her
duty as a friend.

August 12th. Oswald went away yesterday and we
had another scene just before he left because he wanted
one of us to go with him to the station and help
carry his luggage. As if we were his servants. Ada
wanted to volunteer to carry it, but Dora gave her
a nudge and luckily she understood directly. Sometimes,
but only sometimes, when Dora gets in a wax
she is rather like Hella. She thinks it's better that
Oswald has gone away because otherwise there are
always rows. That's because she always comes off
second-best. For really he is cleverer than she is.
And when he wants to make her really angry he says
something to her in Latin which she can't understand.
I think that's the real reason why she's learning Latin.
I must say I would not bother myself so about a thing
like that. I really wouldn't bother.

August 15th. To-day I posted the parcel to Hella,
a silver-wire watchchain; I made it in four days.
I hope she'll get it safely, one can never be sure in
Hungary.

August 17th. We are so frightfully busy with
Japanese lanterns and fir garlands. The people who
have received birthday honours are illuminating and
decorating their houses. While we were at work Ada
told me a _few things_. She knows more than Hella
and me, because her father is a doctor. He tells her
mother a good deal and Ada overhears a lot of things
though they generally stop talking when she comes
in. Ada would like awfully to be an actress. I never
thought of such a thing though I've been to the
theatre often.

August 22nd. Hella is awfully pleased with the
chain; she is wearing it. She is really learning to
ride at her cousin's. It's a pity he's called Lajos.
But Ludwig is not any better. He seems to be awfully
nice and smart, but it's a pity he's 22 already.

August 25th. Ada is frightfully keen on the theatre.
She has often been to the theatre in St. Polten and
she is in love with an actor with whom all the ladies
in St. Polten are in love. That is why she wants
to be an actress and so that she can live _free and
unfettered_. That is why she would like so much to
come to Vienna. I wish she could come and live with
us. She says she is pining away in H. for it's
a dull hole. She says she can't stand these _cramping
conditions_. In St. Polten she spent all her pocket
money upon flowers for _him_. She always said that
she had to buy such a lot of copybooks and things
for school. That's where she's lucky not to be at
home, for I could not easily take in Mother like that.
It would not work. One always has too little pocket
money anyhow, and when one lives at home one's
parents know just what copybooks one has. I should
like to go away from home for a few months. Ada
says it is very good for one, for then one learns to
know the world; at home, she says, one only grows
_musty_ and _fusty_. When she talks like that she really
looks like an actress and she certainly has talent;
her German master at school says so too. She can
recite long poems and the girls are always asking the
master to let her recite.

August 30th. To-day Ada recited Geibel's poem,
The Death of Tiberius, it was splendid; she is a
born actress and it's a horrid shame she can't go on
the stage; she is to teach French or sewing. But she
says she's going on the stage; I expect she will get
her way somehow.

August 31st. Oswald's having a fine long fortnight;
he's still there and can stay till September 4th!!
If it had been Dora or me. There would have been
a frightful hulabaloo. But Oswald may do _anything_.
Ada says: We girls must take for ourselves what
the world won't give us of its own free will.

September 5th. In the forest the other day I
promised Ada to ask Mother to let her come and stay
with us so that she could be trained for the stage.
I asked Mother to-day, but she said it was quite out
of the question. Ada's parents simply could not afford
it. If she has talent, the thing comes of itself and she
need only go to a school of Dramatic Art so that she
could more easily get a good Theatre says Ada. So
I don't see why it should be so frightfully expensive.
I'm awfully sorry for Ada.

September 10th. Oh we have all been so excited.
I've got to pack up my diary because we're going
home to-morrow. I must write as quickly as I can.
There have been some gypsies here for three days,
and yesterday one of the women came into the garden
through the back gate and looked at our hands and
told our fortunes, mine and Ada's and Dora's. Of
course we don't believe it, but she told Ada that
she would have a great but short career after many
difficult struggles. That fits in perfectly. But she
made a frightful mess of it with me: Great happiness
awaits me when I am _as old again as I am now_; a
great passion and great wealth. Of course that must
mean that I am to marry at 24. At 24! How
absurd! Dora says that I look much younger than 12
so that she meant 20 or even 18. But that's just
as silly, for Dr. H., who is a doctor and knows so
many girls, says I look _older_ than my age. So that
it's impossible that the old gypsy woman could have
thought I was only 10 or even 9. Dora's fortune was
that in a _few_ years she was to have much trouble and
then happiness. And she told Ada that her line of
life was broken!!

September 14th. Oswald left early this morning,
Father kissed him on both cheeks and said: For
God's sake be a good chap this last year at school.
He has to matriculate this year, it's frightfully difficult.
But he says that anyone who has cheek enough can
get through all right. He says that cheek is often
more help than a lot of swoting and grinding. I know
he's right; but unfortunately at the moment it never
occurs to me what I ought to do. I often think
afterwards, you ought to have said this or that. Hella
is really wonderful; and Franke too, though she's not
particularly clever, can always make a smart answer.
If only half of what Oswald says he says to the professors
is true, then I can't understand why he is not
expelled from every Gym. says Mother. Oswald says:
If one only puts it in the right way no one can say
anything. But that doesn't hold always.

September 16th. Hella is coming back to-day.
That's why I'm writing in the morning, because she's
coming here in the afternoon. I'm awfully glad. I
have begged Mother to buy a lovely cake, one of the
kind Hella and I are both so fond of.

September 20th. Only a word or two. School
began again to-day. Thank goodness Frau Doktor M.
still takes our class. Frl. Steiner took her doctor's
degree at the end of the school year. In history we
have a new Frau Doktor, but we don't know her
name yet. The Vischer woman has been _married_ in
the holidays!!! It's enough to make one split with
laughing that anyone should marry _her!!!_ Dora
says she wouldn't like to be her husband; but most
likely he will soon get a divorce. Besides, spectacles
in a woman are awful. I can put up with a pincenez
for one does not wear them all the time. But spectacles!
Dora says too that she can't understand how
a man can marry a woman with spectacles. Hella
often says it makes her feel quite sick when Vischer
glares at her through her spectacles. We have a new
natural history professor. I'm awfully glad that
three of our mistresses have doctors degrees and that
we have one or really 2 professors, for we have the
Religionsprofessor too. In the Third they are frightfully
annoyed because only one of their mistresses has
a doctor's degree. Dora has 2 doctors and three
professors.

September 25th. All the girls are madly in love
with Professor Wilke the natural history professor.
Hella and I walked behind him to-day all the way
home. He is a splendid looking man, so tall that his
head nearly touches the lamp when he stands up
quickly, and a splendid fair beard like fire when the
sun shines on it; a Sun God! we call him S. G., but
no one knows what it means and who we are talking
about.

September 29th. Schmolka has left, I suppose because
of Frl. St.'s vanity bag. Two other girls have
left and three new one's have come, but neither I
nor Hella like them.

October 1st. It was my turn in Natural History
to-day I worked frightfully hard and _He_ was
splendid. We are to look after the pictures and the
animals _all through the term_. How jolly. Hella and
I always wear the same coloured hair ribbons and in
the Nat. Hist. lesson we always put tissue paper of
the same colour on the desk. He wants us to keep
notebooks, observations on Nature. We have bound
ours in lilac paper, exactly the same shade as his
necktie. On Tuesdays and Fridays we have to come to
school at half past 8 to get things ready. Oh how
happy I am.

October 9th. _He_ is a cousin of our gymnastic
master, splendid! This is how we found it out. We,
Hella and I, are always going past the Cafe Sick
because he always has his afternoon coffee there.
And on Thursday when we passed by there before
the gymnastic lesson there was the gymnastic master
sitting with him. Of course we bowed to them as
we passed and in the gymnastic lesson Herr Baar
said to us: So you two are tormented and pestered
by my cousin in natural history? "Pestered" we said,
o no, it's the most delightful lesson in the whole week.
"Is that so?" said he, "I won't forget to let him know."
Of course we begged and prayed him not to give us
away, saying it would be awful. But we do hope he
will.

October 20th. Frau Doktor Steiner's mother is
dead. We are so sorry for her. Some of us are
going to the funeral, I mayn't go, Mother says it is
not suitable, and Hella is not allowed to go either, I
wonder if _He_ will go? I'm sure he will, for really he
_has_ to.

October 23rd. Frau Doktor St. looks frightfully
pale. Franke says she will certainly get married
soon now that both her parents are dead. Her fiance
often fetches her from the Lyz, I mean he waits for
her in L. Street. Hella thinks an awful lot of him of
course, because he's an officer. I don't think much
of him myself, he's too short and too fat. He's only
a very little taller than Frl. St. I think a husband
should be nearly a head taller than his wife, or at least
half a head taller, like our Father and Mother.

October 29th. We have such a frightful lot of
work to do that we're not taking season tickets this
winter, but are going to pay each time when we go
skating. I wish we knew whether _He_ skates, and
where. Hella thinks that with great caution we might
find out from his cousin during the gymnastic lesson.
They are often together in the Cafe. I should like
to know what they talk about, they are always laughing
such a lot, especially when we go by.

October 31st. Ada has written to me. She is
_awfully_ unhappy. She is back in St. P., in a continuation
school. But the actor is not there any more.
She writes that she yearns to throw off her chains
which lie heavy on her soul. Poor darling. No one
can help her. That is, her Mother could help her
but she won't. It must be awful. Hella thinks that
her parents will not allow her to go on the stage until
she has tried to do herself a mischief; then things may
be better. It's quite true, what can her mother be
thinking of when she knows how fearfully unhappy
Ada is. After all, why on earth shouldn't she go on
the stage when she has so much talent? All her
mistresses and masters at the middle school praised
her reciting tremendously and one of them said in so
many words that she had _great dramatic talent_.
Masters don't flatter one; except . . .; first of all
_He_ is not just an ordinary master but a professor, and
secondly _He_ is quite, quite different from all others
When he strokes his beard I become quite hot and cold
with extasy. And the way he lifts up his coat tails
as he sits down. It's lovely, I do want to kiss him.
Hella and I take turns to put our penholder on his
desk so that _he_ can hallow it with his hand as he
writes. Afterwards in the arithmetic lesson when I
write with it, I keep looking at Hella and she looks
back at me and we both know what the other is thinking
of.

November 15th. It's a holiday to-day so at last I
can write once more. We have such a frightful lot
to do that I simply can't manage to write. Besides
Mother is often ill. She has been laid up again for
the last 4 days. It's awfully dull and dreary. Of
course I had time to write those days, but then I
didn't want to write. As soon as Mother is well again
she's going to the Lyz to ask how we are getting on
I'm awfully glad because of S.G.

November 28th. Mother came to school to-day
and saw him too. I took her to him and he was
heavenly. He said: I am very pleased with your
daughter; she's very keen and clever. Then he turned
over the pages of his notebook as if to look at his
notes. But really he knows by heart how we all work.
That is not _all_ of course. That would be impossible
with so many girls; and he teaches in the science
school as well where there are even more boys than
we are.

December 5th. Skating to-day I saw the Gold
Fairy. She is awfully pretty, but I really don't think
her so lovely as I did last year. Hella says she never
could think what had happened to my eyes. "You
were madly in love with her and you never noticed
that she has a typical Bohemian nose," said Hella.
Of course that's not true, but now my taste is _quite
different_. Still, I said how d'you do to her and she
was very nice. When she speaks she is really charming,
and I do love her gold stoppings. Frau Doktor
M. has two too and when she laughs its heavenly.

December 8th. I do wish Dora would keep her
silly jokes to herself. When the Trobisch's were all
here to-day they were talking about the school and
she said: "Gretl has a fresh enthusiasm each year;
last year it was Frau Doktor Malburg and this
year it's Professor Wilke. Frau Doktor Malburg
has fallen from grace now." If I had wanted to
I could have begun about the two students on the
ice. But I'm not like that so I merely looked at
her with contempt and gave her a kick under the
table. And she had the cheek to say: What's the
matter? Oh, of course these tender secrets of the
heart must not be disclosed. Never mind Gretl, it
does not matter at your age, for things don't cut deep."
But she was rightly paid out: Frau von Tr. and
Father roared with laughter and Frau v. Tr. said:
"Why, grandmother, have you been looking at your
white hair in the glass?" Oh, how I did laugh, and
she was so frightfully put out that she blushed like
fire, and in the evening _she_ said to _me_ that I was an
ill-mannered pig. That's why I did not tell her that
she'd left her composition book on the table and to-
morrow she has to give it in. It's all the same to _me_,
for I'm an ill-mannered pig.

December 9th. It's awful. At 2 o'clock this afternoon
Hella was taken to the Low sanatorium and was
operated on at once. Appendicitis. Her mother has
just telephoned that the operation has been successful.
But the doctors said that 2 hours later it would have
been too late. My knees are trembling and my hand
shakes as I write. She has not slept off the anisthetic
yet.

December 10th. Hella is frightfully weak; no one
can see her except her father and mother, not even
Lizzi. On St. Nicholas Day we had such a jolly time
and ate such a lot of sweets that we almost made ourselves
sick. But its impossible that she got appendicitis
from that. On Monday evening, when we were
going home after the gym lesson, she said she did
not feel at all well. The night before last she had a
rigor and the first thing in the morning the doctor
said that she must go to hospital at once for an
operation.

December 11th. All the girls at school are frightfully
excited about Hella, and Frau Dr. St. was
awfully nice and put off mathematics till next Tuesday.
On Sunday I am going to see Hella. She does
want to see me so and so do I want to see her.

December 12th. She is still very weak and doesn't
care about anything; I got her mother to take some
roses and violets from me, she did like them so much.

December 14th. This afternoon I was with Hella
from two until a quarter to 4. She is so pale and when I
came in we both cried such a lot. I brought her
some more flowers and I told her directly that when
he sees me Prof. W. always asks after her. So do the
other members of the staff especially Frau Doktor M.
The girls want to visit her but her mother won't let
them. When anyone is lying in bed they look quite
different, like strangers. I said so to Hella, and she
said: We can never be strangers to one another,
not even in death. Then I burst out crying again
and both our mothers said I must go away because
it was too exciting for Hella.

December 15th. I was with Hella again to-day.
She passed me a little note asking me to get from her
locker the parcel with the blotting-book for her father
and the key basket for her mother and bring it to her
because the things are not ready yet for Christmas.

December 16th. Hella's better to-day. I've got to
paint the blotting-book for her father. Thank goodness
I can. She'll be able to finish the key basket
herself, that's nothing.

December 18th. The Bruckners are all frightfully
unhappy for it won't be a real Christmas if Hella has
to stay in hospital over Christmas. But perhaps she
will for since yesterday she has not been so well,
the doctors can't make out why she suddenly had
fever once more. For she didn't let on that I had
brought her some burnt almonds because she's so
awfully fond of them. But now I'm so terribly
frightened that she'll have to have another operation.

December 19th. Directly after school I went to
see Hella again for I had been so anxious I could
not sleep all night. Thank goodness she's better. One
of the doctors said that if she'd been in a private
house he would have felt sure it was an error in diet,
but since she was in hospital that could be excluded.
So it was from the burnt almonds and the two sticks
of marzipan. Hella thinks it was the marzipan, for
they were large ones at 20 hellers each because nuts
lie heavy on the stomach. She had a pain already
while I was still there, but she wouldn't say anything
about it because it was her fault that I'd brought her
the sweets. She can beg as much as she likes now,
I shan't bring her anything but flowers, and they
can't make her ill. Of course it would be different
if it were true about the "Vengeance of Flowers."
But that's all nonsense, and besides I don't bring any
strong-scented flowers.

December 20th. I am so glad, to-morrow or Tuesday
Hella can come home, in time for the Christmas
tree. Now I know what to give her, a long chair,
Father will let me, for I have not enough money myself
but Father will give me as much as I want. Oh
there's no one like Father! To-morrow he's going to
take me to the Wahringerstrasse to buy one.

December 21st. I was only a very short time with
Hella to-day because Father came to fetch me soon.
At first she was a little hurt, but then she saw that
we had important business so she said: All right
as long as it is not anything made of marzipan. That
nearly gave us both away. For when we were in the
street Father asked me: Why did Hella say that
about marzipan? So I said quickly: Since she's
been ill she has a perfect loathing for sweets.
Thank goodness Father didn't notice anything. But
I do hate having to tell fibs to Father. First of all
I always feel that he'll see through it, and secondly
anyhow I don't like telling fibs to him. The couch
is lovely, a Turkish pattern with long tassels on the
round bolster. Father wanted to pay for it altogether,
but I said: No, then it would not be my present, and
so I paid five crowns and Father 37. To-morrow
early it will be sent to the Bruckners.

December 22nd. Hella is going home to-morrow.
She has already been up a little, but she is still so
weak that she has to lean on someone when she walks.
She is awfully glad she is going home, for she says
in a hospital one always feels as if one was going to
die. She's quite right. The first time I went to see
her I nearly burst out crying on the stairs. And afterwards
we both really did cry frightfully. Her mother
knows about the couch, but it has not been sent yet.
I do hope they won't forget about it at the shop.

December 23rd. Hella went home to-day. Her
father carried her upstairs while I held her hand.
The two tenants in the mezzanin came out to congratulate
her and the old privy councillor on the
second story and his wife sent down a great pot of
lilac. She was so tired that I came away at 5 o'clock
so that she could rest. To-morrow I'm going to their
Christmas tree first and then to ours. Because of
Hella the Br's are going to have the present giving at
5 o'clock, we shall have ours as usual at 7.

December 26th. Yesterday and the day before I
simply could not write a word. It was lovely here
and at Hella's. I shan't write down all the things
I got, because I've no time, and besides I know anyhow.
Hella was awfully pleased with the couch, her
father carried her into the room and laid her on the
sofa. Her mother cried. It was touching. It's certainly
awfully nice to have got through a bad illness,
when everyone takes care of one, and when no one
denies you the first place. I don't grudge it to Hella.
She's such a darling. Yesterday I was there all day,
and after dinner, when she had to go to sleep, she said:
Open the drawer of my writing-table, the lowest one
on the right, and you'll find my diary there if you
want to read it. I shall never forget it! It's true
that we agreed we would let one another read our
diaries, but we've never done it yet; after all we're
a little shy of one another, and besides after a long
time one can't remember exactly what one has written.
What she writes is always quite short, never more than
half a page, but what she writes is always important.
Of course she couldn't sleep but instead I had to read
her a lot of things out of her diary, especially the
holidays when she was in Hungary. She was made
much of there. By two cadets and her two cousins.
We laughed so madly over some things that it hurt
Hella's wound and I had to stop reading.

December 29th. We were put in such a frightful
rage yesterday. This is how it happened. It is a
long time since we both gave up playing with dolls
and things of that sort but when I was rummaging
in Hella's box I came across the dolls' things; they
were quite at the bottom where Hella never looked
at them. I took out the little Paris model and she
said: Give it here and bring all the things that belong
to it. I arranged them all on her bed and we were
trying all sorts of things. Then Mother and Dora
came. When they came in Dora gave such a spiteful
look and said: Ah, at their favourite occupation:
look, Lizzi, their cheeks are quite red with excitement
over their play. Wasn't it impertinent. We playing
with dolls! Even if we had been, what business was
it of hers to make fun of us? Hella was in a frightful
rage and to-day she said: "One is never safe from
spies; please put all those things away in the box so
that I shan't see them any more." It really is too
stupid that one should always be reproached about
dolls as if it was something disgraceful. After all,
one doesn't really understand until later how all the
things are made; when one is 7 or 8 or still more
when one is quite a little girl and one first gets dolls,
one does not understand whether they are pretty and
nicely dressed or not. Still, to-day we've done with
dolls for ever. A good day to turn over a new leaf,
for the day after to-morrow is New Year's Day.

But what annoys me most of all was this piece
of cheek of Dora's; she says that Lizzi said: "We
used to delight in those things at one time," but I
was in such a rage that I did not hear it. But to
eat all the best things off the Christmas tree on the
sly!!! I saw it myself, _that_ is nothing. _That's_ quite
fit and proper for a girl of 15. After supper yesterday
I asked: But what's become of the second marzipan
sandwich, I'm sure there were two on the tree. And I
looked at her steadily till she got quite red. And after
a time I said: the big basket of vegetables is gone
too. Then she said. Yes, I took it, I don't need to
ask your permission. As for the sandwich, Oswald
took that. I was in such a temper, and then Father
said: Come, come, you little witch, cool your wrath
with the second sandwich and wash it down with a
sip of liqueur. For Grandfather sent Father a bottle
of liqueur.

December 30th. This is a fine ending to the year.
I've no interest in the school any longer. We're silly
little fools, love-sick and forward minxes. That's all
the thanks we get for having gone every Tuesday
and Friday to the school at half past 8 to arrange
everything and dust everything and then he can say a
thing like that. I shall never write _he_ with a big h
again; he is not worthy of it. And I had to swallow
it all, choke it down, for I simply must not excite
Hella. It made me frightfully angry when Mother
told me, but still I'm glad for I know what line to
take now. Mother was paying a call yesterday and
the sister of our gymnastic master, who is at the ----
High School, happened to be there, and she told
Mother that her cousin Dr. W. is so much annoyed
because the girls in the high school are so forward.
Such silly little fools, and the little minxes begin it
already in the First Class. _For that reason he prefers
to teach_ boys, they are fond of him too but they don't
make themselves such an _infernal nuisance_. Well,
now that I know _I_ shant make myself a nuisance to
him any more. On Friday, when the next lesson is,
I shall go there 2 minutes before nine and take the
things into the class-room without saying a word. And
I shall tell Kalinsky too that we're such an _infernal
nuisance_ to him. Just fancy, as if _we_ were in the
First Class!

January 1st, 19--. This business with Prof. W.
makes me perfectly furious. Hella kept on asking
yesterday what was the matter, said I seemed different
somehow. But thank goodness I was able to keep
it in. I must keep it in for the sake of her health,
even if it makes me ill. Anyway what use is life now.
Since people are so falsehearted. He always looked so
awfully nice and charming; when I think of the way
in which he asked how Hella was and all the time he
was so false!!! If Hella only knew. Aha, to-morrow!

January 2nd. I treated him _abominably_. Knocked
at the door--Good-morning, Herr Prof. please what
do we want for the lesson to-day? He very civilly:
Nothing particular to-day. Well, what sort of a
Christmas did you have--I: Thank you, much as
usual.--He turned round and stared at me: It does
not seem to have been; to judge from your manner.
--I: There are quite other reasons for that. He:
O-o-h? He may well say O-o-h! For he has not
the least idea that I know the way in which he speaks
of us.

January 6th. To-day Hella was able to go out for
her first drive. She's much better now and will come
back to school by the middle of the month. I _must_
tell her before that or she'll get a shock. Yesterday
she asked: Does not S. C. ask about me any more?--
Oh yes, I fibbed, but not so often as before. And
she said: That's the way it goes, out of sight out
of mind. What will happen when she learns the
truth. Anyhow I shan't tell her until she's quite
strong.

January 10th. I've had to tell Hella already.
She was talking so enthusiastically about S. G. At
first I said nothing. And then she said: What are
you making such a face for? Are not you allowed
to arrange the things any more?--I: _Allowed_? Of
course I'm _allowed_, but I don't _want_ to any more.
I did not tell Hella _how_ bad I feel about it; for I
really _was_ madly in love with him.

January 12th. Hella must have been madly in love
with him too or rather must be in love with him still.
On Sunday evening she was so much upset that her
mother believed she was going to have a relapse. She
had pains and diarrea at the same time. Thank goodness
she's got over it like me. She said to-day: Don't
let's bother ourselves about it any more. We wasted
our feelings (not love!!) on an unworthy object. At
such moments she is magnificent, especially now when
she is still so pale. Besides in the holidays and now
since she has been ill she has grown tremendously.
Before I was a little taller and now she is a quarter
head taller than me. Dora is frightfully annoyed
because I am nearly as tall as she is. Thank goodness
it makes me look older than 12 1/2.

Hella is not to come to school on January 15th, for
her mother is going to take her to Tyrol for 2 or 3
weeks.

January 18th. It's horridly dull with Hella away.
Only now do I realise, since her illness. I am always
feeling as if she had fallen ill again. Her mother
has taken her to Meran, they are coming back in
the beginning of February.

January 24th. Since Hella has been ill, that is
really since, she went away, I spend most of my time
with Fritzi Hubner. She's awfully nice, though I did
not know it last year. Till Hella comes back she and
I sit together. For it's horrid to sit alone on a bench
Fritzi knows a good deal already. She would not
talk about it at first because it so often leads to trouble.
Her brother has told her everything. He's rather a
swell and is called Paul.

January 29th. Yesterday was the ice carnival and
Dora and I were allowed to go. I skated with Fritzi
and Paul most of the time and won 2 prizes, one
of them with Paul. And one of them skating in a
race with 5 other girls. Paul is awfully clever, he
says he's going into the army, the flying corps.
That's even more select than being on the general
staff. Her father is a major and he, I mean Paul,
ought to have gone to the military academy, but his
grandfather would not allow it. He is to choose for
himself. But of course he will become an officer.
Most boys want to be what their father is. But
Oswald is perhaps going into the Navy. I wish I
knew what Father meant once when he said to Mother:
Good God, I'm not doing it on my own account. I'm
only doing it because of Oswald. The two girls won't
get much out of it.

February 3rd. I've just been reading what I wrote
about Father. I am wondering what it can be. I
think that Father either wants to win the great prize
in the lottery or is perhaps going to buy a house.
But Dora and I would get something out of that, for
it would not belong to Oswald only.

February 4th. Yesterday I asked Mother about it.
But she said she didn't know; if it was anything
which concerned us, Father would tell us. But it
must be something, or Mother would not have told
Father in the evening that I had asked. I can't
endure these secrets. Why shouldn't we know that
Father's going to buy a house. Fritzi's grandfather
has a house in Brunn and another in Iglau. But
Fritzi is very simply dressed and her mother too.

February 9th. Thank goodness Hella is coming
back to-morrow, just before her birthday. Luckily
she can eat everything again so I am giving her a
huge bag of Viktor Schmid's sweets with a silver
sugar tongs. Mother and I are going to meet Hella
at the station. They are coming by the 8.20.

February 10th. I am so glad Hella is coming
to-day. I nearly could not meet her because Mother
is not very well to-day. But Father's going to take
me. Fritzi wanted to come and see Hella to-morrow
afternoon, but she can't. She's an awfully nice girl
and her brother is too, but on the first day Hella is
back we must be alone together. She said so too in
the last letter she wrote me. She's been away more
than 3 weeks. It's a frightfully long time when you
are fond of one another.

February 15th. I simply can't write my diary
because Hella and I spend all our free time together.
Yesterday we got our reports. Of course Hella has
not got one. Except in Geography and History I
have nothing but Ones, even in Natural History
although since New Year I have not done any work
in that subject. I detest Natural History. When
Hella comes back to school we are going to ask the
_sometime_ S. G. to relieve us from the labours of looking
after the things. Hella is still too weak to do it.
Hella is 13 already and Father says she is going to
be wonderfully pretty. _Going to be_, Father says; but
she's lovely already. She's been burned as brown as
a berry by the warm southern sun, and it really suits
_her_, though only her. I can't stand other people
when they are sun-burned. But really everything
suits Hella; when she was so pale in hospital, she
was lovely; and now she is just as lovely, only in quite
a different way. Oswald is quite right when he says:
You can measure a girl's beauty by the degree in which
she bears being sunburned without losing her good
looks. He really used to say that in the holidays
simply to annoy Dora and me, but he's quite right all
the same.

February 20th. The second half-year began yesterday.
They were all awfully nice to Hella, and Frau
Doktor M. stroked her cheeks and put her arm round
her so affectionately. Now for the chief thing. Today
was the Natural History lesson. We knocked at
the door and when we went in Prof. W. said: Ah
I'm glad to see you Bruckner; take care that you
don't give us all another fright. How are you?
Hella said: "Quite well, thank you, Herr Prof."
And as I looked at her she put on a frightfully serious
face and he said: It seems to me that you've caught
your friend's ill humour.--Hella: "Herr Prof., you
are really too kind, but we don't want to trouble you.
What things have we to take to the class-room? And
then we beg leave to resign our posts, for I don't feel
strong enough for the work." She said this in quite
a soldierly way, the way she is used to hear her father
speak. It sounded most distinguished. He looked
at us and said: "All right, two of the other pupils
will take it over." We don't know whether he really
noticed nothing or simply did not wish to show that
he had noticed. But as we shut the door I felt so
awfully sorry; for it was the last time, the very last
time.

February 27th. In Natural History to-day I got
_Unsatisfactory_. I was not being questioned, but when
Klaiber could not answer anything I laughed, and he
said: Very well, Lainer, you correct her mistake.
But since I had been thinking of something quite different
I did not know what it was all about, and so I
got an Unsatisfactory. _Before_ of course that would
not have mattered; but now since . . . Hella and
Franke did all they could to console me and said:
"That does not matter, it wasn't an examination; he'll
_have_ to examine you properly later." Anyhow Franke
thinks that however hard I learn, I shall be well off
if he gives me a Satisfactory. She says no professor
can forget _such a defeat_. For we told her about the
silly little fools. She said, indeed, that we had made
it too obvious. That's not really true. But now she
takes our side, for she sees that we were in the right.
Verbenowitsch and Bennari bring in the things now.
They are much better suited for it. Hella's father did
not like her doing it anyhow; he says: The porter
or the maidservant are there for that--we never see
them all the year round, that's a fine thing.

March 8th. Easter does not come this year until
April 16th. I am going with the Bruckners to Cilli,
outside the town there they have a vineyard with a
country house. Hella needs a change. I am awfully
glad. All the flowers begin to come out there at the
end of March or beginning of April.

March 12th. Hella is not straightforward. We met
a gentleman to-day, very fashionably dressed with
gold-rimmed eyeglasses and a fair moustache. Hella
blushed furiously, and the gentleman took off his hat
and said: Ah, Fraulein Helenchen, you are looking
very well. How are you? He never looked at me,
and when he had gone she said: "That was Dr.
Fekete, who assisted at my operation."--"And you
tell me _that_ now for the first time?" Then she put
on an innocent air and said: "Of course, we've never
met him before," but I said: "I don't mean _that_.
If you knew how red you got you would not tell me
a lie." Then she said: "What am I telling you a lie
about? Do you think I'm in love with him? Not
in the very least."--But when one is _not_ in love one
does not blush like that. Anyhow I shan't tell everything
now either; I can hold my tongue too.

March 14th. Yesterday we did not talk to one another
so much as usual; I especially was very silent.
When the bell rang at 5 and I had just been doing
the translation Hella came and begged my pardon and
brought me some lovely violets, so of course I forgave
her. This is really the first time we've ever quarrelled.
First she wanted to bring me some sweets, but then
she decided upon violets, and I think that was much
more graceful. One gives sweets to a little child when
it has hurt itself or been in a temper. But flowers
are not for a child.

March 19th. Frieda Belay is dead. We are all
terribly upset. None of us were very intimate with
her, but now that she is dead we all remember that
she was a schoolfellow. She died of heart failure following
rheumatic fever. We all attended her funeral,
except Hella who was not allowed to come. Her
mother cried like anything and her grandmother still
more; her father cried too. We sent a wreath of white
roses with a lovely inscription: Death has snatched
you away in the flower of your youth--Your Schoolfellows.

I have no pleasure in anything to-day. I did not
see Frieda Belay after she was dead, but Franke was
there yesterday and saw her in her coffin. She says
she will never forget it, it gave her such a pang. In
the church Lampl had a fit of hysterics, for her mother
was buried only a month ago and now she was reminded
of it all and was frightfully upset. I cried
a lot too when I was with Hella. She fancied it was
because I was thinking she might have died last Dec.
But that wasn't it, I don't think about that sort of
thing. But when anyone dies it is so awfully sad.

March 24th. I never heard of such a thing. I
can't go to Cilli with Hella. Her mother was at
her cousin's, and when she heard that she was going
to Cilli at Easter she asked her to take Melanie with
her. That is, she didn't ask straight out, but kept
on hinting until Hella's mother said: Let Melanie
come with us, it will help to set her up after her illness.
In the winter she had congestion of the lung.
Hella and I can't bear her because she's always spying
on us and is so utterly false. So of course I can't
go. Hella says too she's frightfully sorry, but when
_she_ is about we could never say a word about anything,
it would drive us crazy. She quite agrees
that I had better not come. But oh I'm so annoyed
for first of all I do so like going away with Hella
and secondly I should like to go away in the holidays
anyhow for nearly all the girls in our class are going
away. Still, there's nothing to be done. Hella's
mother says she can't see why we can't all 3 go
though it simply would not work. But we can't explain
it to her. Hella is so poetical and she says
"A beautiful dream vanished."

In Hella's mouth such fine words sound magnificent,
but when Dora uses such expressions they annoy me
frightfully because they don't come from her heart.

March 26th. The school performances finish today
with Waves of the Sea and Waves of Love. I'm
awfully fond of the theatre, but I never write anything
about that. For anyhow the play is written by a
poet and one can read it if one wants to, and one just
sees the rest anyhow. I can't make out what Dora
finds such a lot to scribble about always the day after
we've been to the theatre. I expect she's in love with
one of the actors and that's why she writes such a lot.
Besides we in the second class did not get tickets for
all the performances, but only the girls from the Fourth
upwards. Still, it did not matter much to me anyhow
for we often go in the evening and on Sunday
afternoons. But unfortunately I mayn't go in the
evening as a rule.

March 29th. To-day something horrible happened
to Dora and me. I simply can't write it down. She
was awfully nice and said: Two years ago on the
Metropolitan Railway the same thing had happened
when she was travelling with Mother on February
15th, she can never forget the date, to Hietzing to
see Frau v. Martini. Besides her and Mother there
was only one gentleman in the carriage, Mother always
travels second class. She and Mother were sitting
together and the gentleman was standing farther
down the carriage where Mother could not see him
but Dora could. And as Dora was looking he opened
his cloak and-- -- --! just what the man did to-day
at the house door. And when they got out of the
train Dora's boa got stuck in the door and she had to
turn round though she did not want to, and then she
saw again-- -- --! She simply could not sleep for
a whole month afterwards. I remember that time
when she could not sleep but I did not know why it
was. She never told anyone except Erika and the
same thing happened to her once. Dora says that
happens at least once to nearly every girl; and that
such men are "_abnormal_." I don't really know what
that means, but I did not like to ask. Perhaps Hella
will know. Of course I did not really look, but
Dora shivered and said: And _that_ is what one has
to endure. And then, when we were talking it over
she said to me that _that_ was why Mother was ill and
because she has had five children; Then I was very
silly and said: "But how from _that_?" one does not
get children from that? "Of course," she said I
thought you knew that already. That time there was
such a row with Mali about the waistband, I thought
you and Hella had heard all about everything." Then
I was silly again, really frightfully stupid; for instead
of telling her what I really knew I said: "Oh,
yes, I knew all about it except just that." Then she
burst out laughing and said: "After all, what you
and Hella know doesn't amount to much." And in
the end she told me a _little_. If it's really as Dora
says, then she is right when she says it is better not
to marry. One can fall in love, one must fall in love,
but one can just break off the engagement. Well,
that's the best way out of the difficulty for then no
one can say that you've never had a man in love with
you. We walked up and down in front of the school
for such a long time that we were very nearly late
and only got in just as the bell rang. On the way
home I told Hella the awful thing we'd seen the man
do. She does not know either what "abnormal" really
means _as far as this is concerned_. But now we shall
use it as an expression for something horrible. Of
course no one will understand us. And then Hella
told me about a drunken man who in Nagy K. . . .
was walking through the streets _like that_ and was
arrested. She says _too_ that one can never forget seeing
anything like _that_. Perhaps the man this morning
was drunk too. But he didn't look as if he were
drunk. And if he hadn't done _that_ one would really
have taken him for a fine gentleman. Hella knows
too that it is from _that_ that one gets children. She
explained it all to me and now I can quite understand
that _that_ must make one ill. Yesterday it was after
11 at night and so I'm finishing to-day. Hella says:
_That_ is the original sin, and _that_ is the sin which
Adam and Eve committed. Before I had always believed
the original sin was something quite different.
But that--that. Since yesterday I've been so upset
I always seem to be seeing _that_; really I did not look
at all, but I must have seen it all the same.

March 30th. I don't know why, but in the history
lesson to-day it all came into my head once more
what Dora had said of Father. But I really can't
believe it. Because of Father I'm really sorry that
I know it. Perhaps it does not all happen the way
Dora and Hella say. Generally I can trust Hella,
but of course she may be mistaken.

April 1st. To-day Dora told me a lot more. She
is quite different now from what she used to be.
One does not say P[eriod], but M[enstruation].
Only common people say P--. Or one can say one's
_like that_. Dora has had M-- since August before
last, and it is horribly disagreeable, because men always
know. That is why at the High School we have
only three men professors and all the other teachers
are women. Now Dora often does not have M-- and
then sometimes it's awfully bad, and that's why she's
anemic. That men always know, that's frightfully
interesting.

April 4th. We talk a lot about such things now.
Dora certainly knows more than I do, that is not
more but better. But she isn't quite straightforward
all the same. When I asked her how she got to know
about it all, whether Erika told her or Frieda, she
said: "Oh, I don't know; one finds it all out somehow;
one need only use one's eyes and one's ears,
and then one can reason things out a little." But
seeing and hearing don't take one very far. I've always
kept my eyes open and I'm not so stupid as all
that. One must be told by some one, one _can't_ just
happen upon it by oneself.

April 6th. I don't care about paying visits now.
We used always to like going to see the Richters, but
to-day I found it dull. Now I know why Dora hates
going second class on the Metropolitan. I always
thought it was only to spite me because I like travelling
second. She never likes going second since _that_
happened. It seems one is often unjust to people
who never meant what one thought. But why did
she not tell me the truth? She says because I was
still a child then. That's all right, but what about
this winter when I was cross because we went Third
class to Schonbrunn; I really believed she did it to
annoy me, for I could not believe she was afraid that
in the second class, where one is often alone, somebody
would suddenly attack her with a knife. But
now I understand quite well, for of course she could
not tell Mother the truth and Father still less. And
in winter and spring there are really often no passengers
to speak of on the Metropolitan, especially on
the Outer Circle.

April 7th. Mother said to-day that at the Richters
yesterday we, especially I, had been frightfully dull
and stupid. Why had we kept on exchanging glances?
We had been most unmannerly. If she had only
known what we were thinking of when Frau Richter
said, the weather to-day is _certainly quite abnormal_;
we have not had such _abnormal_ heat for years. And
then when Herr Richter came home and spoke about
his brother who had spent the whole winter at
Hochschneeberg and said: Oh, my brother is a little
_abnormal_, I think he's got a tile loose in the upper
storey, I really thought I should burst. Luckily Frau
R. helped us once more to a tremendous lot of cake
and I was able to lean well forward over my plate.
And Mother said that I ate like a little glutton and
just as if I never had any cake at home. So Mother
was _very_ unjust to me, for the cake had nothing at
all to do with it. Dora says too that I must learn
to control myself better, that if I only watch her I'll
soon learn. That's all very well, but why should one
have to bother? If people did not use words that
really mean something quite different then other people
would not have to control themselves. Still, I
must learn to do it somehow.

April 8th. We were terribly alarmed to-day; quite
early, at half past 8, they telephoned from the school
that Dora had suddenly been taken ill in the Latin
lesson and must be fetched in a carriage. Mother
drove down directly in a taxi and I went with her
because anyhow my lessons began at 9 and we found
Dora on the sofa in the office with the head sitting
by her and the head's friend, Frau Doktor Preisky,
who is a medical doctor, and they had loosened her
dress and put a cold compress on her head for she
had suddenly fainted in the Latin lesson. That's the
third time this year, so she must really have anemia.
I wanted to drive home with her, but Mother and Frau
Dr. P. said I'd better just go to my lessons. And as
I went out I heard Frau Dr. P. say: "That's a fine
healthy girl, a jolly little fellow." Really one should
only use that word of boys and men, but I suppose
she has got into the way of using it through being
with men so much. If one studies medicine one has
to learn all about _that_ and to look at everything. It
must be really horrid.

Dora is kept in bed to-day and our Doctor says too
that she's anemic. To-morrow or the day after Mother
is going to take her to see a specialist. Dora says it's
a lovely feeling to faint. Suddenly one can't hear
what people are saying and one feels quite weak and
then one does not know anything more. I wonder
if I shall ever faint? Very likely when-- -- -- We
talked a lot about everything we are interested in.
In the afternoon Hella came to ask after Dora, and
she thinks she looks awfully pretty in bed, an interesting
invalid and at the same time so distinguished
looking. It's quite true, we all look distinguished.

April 9th. To-day is Father and Mother's _wedding
day_. Now I know _what_ that really means. Dora says
it can't really be true that it is the most lovely day
in one's life, as everyone says it is, especially the poets.
She thinks that one must feel frightfully embarrassed
because after all everyone knows. . . . That's quite
true, but after all one need not tell anyone which
one's wedding day is. Dora says she will never tell
her children which her wedding day is. But it would
be a great pity if parents always did that for then in
every family there would be one anniversary the less.
And the more anniversaries there are, the jollier it is.

April 10th. To-morrow I'm going with Father to
Salzburg. Dora can't come, for they think she might
faint in the train. I'm rather glad really, though I've
nothing against her and I'm sorry for her, but it's
much nicer to go with Father alone. It's a long time
since I was in Salzburg. I'm so awfully glad to go.
Our spring coats and skirts are so pretty, dark green
with a silk lining striped green and gold-brown, and
light brown straw hats with daisies for the spring
and later we shall have cherries or roses. I'm taking
my diary so that I can write everything which _interests_
me.

April 12th. I slept all the way in the train. Father
says I ground my teeth frightfully and was very restless:
but I did not know anything about it. We had
a compartment by ourselves, except just at first when
there was a gentleman there. Hella did not come with
us, because her aunt, who has just been married, is
coming to visit them. Really I'm quite glad, for I
like so much being with Father quite alone. This
afternoon we were in Hellbrunn and at the Rock
Theatre. It is wonderful.

April 13th. Father always calls me: Little Witch!
But I don't much like it when other people are there.
To-day we went up the Gaisberg. The weather was
lovely and the view magnificent. When I see so extensive
a view it always makes me feel sad. Because
there are so many people one does not know who perhaps
are very nice. I should like to be always travelling.
It would be splendid.

April 14th. I nearly got lost to-day. Father was
writing a letter to Mother and he let me go to see
the salt works; I don't know how it happened, but
suddenly I found myself a long way from anywhere,
in a place I did not know. Then an old gentleman
asked me what I was looking for; because I had
walked past the same place 3 times and I said we
were staying in the "Zur Post Hotel" and I did not
know how to find my way back. So he came with me
to show me and as we were talking it came out that
he had known Father at the university. So he came
in with me and Father was awfully glad to see him.
He is a barrister in Salzburg but he has a grey beard
already. As he was going away he said in an undertone
to Father: "I congratulate you old chap on
your daughter; she'll be something quite out of the
ordinary!" He whispered it really, but I heard all
the same. We spent all the afternoon with him at
the Kapuzinerberg. There was a splendid military
band; two young officers in the Yagers who were sitting
at the next table to ours kept on looking our way;
one was particularly handsome. My new summer
coat and skirt is awfully becoming everyone says.
Father says too: "I say, you'll soon be a young lady!
But don't grow up too quickly!" I can't make out
why he said that; I should like to be quite grown up;
but it will be a long time yet.

April 14th. It's been raining all day. How horrid.
One can't go anywhere. All the morning we were
walking about the town and saw several churches.
Then we were at the pastrycook's, where I ate 4 chocolate
eclairs and 2 tartlets. So I had no appetite for
dinner.

April 15th. Just as I was writing yesterday Dr.
Gratzl sent up the hotel clerk to ask us to dinner.
We went, they live in the Hellbrunnerstrasse. He
has 4 daughters and 2 sons and the mother died three
years ago. One of the sons is a student in Graz and
the other is a lieutenant in the army; he is engaged
to be married. The daughters are quite old already;
one of them is 27 and is engaged. I think that is
horrid. The youngest (!!!) is 24. It is so funny
to say "the youngest" and then she is 24. Father
says she is very pretty and will certainly get married
At 24!! when she's not even engaged yet; I don't
believe she will. They have a large garden, 3 dogs
and 2 cats, which get on very well together. There
are steps leading up and down from room to room,
it is lovely, and all the windows are bow-windows.
Everything is so old-fashioned, even the furniture
I do think it's all so pretty. The hall is round like
a church. After tea we had candied fruits, stewed
fruit, and pastries. I had a huge go of stewed fruit.
They have a gramaphone and then Leni and I played
the piano. Just as we were going away Fritz, the
student, came in; he got quite red and in the hall
Dr. Gratzl said to me: "You've made a conquest
to-day." I don't really believe I have, but I do like
hearing it said. I'm sorry to say we are going away
to-morrow, for we are going to stay 2 days in Linz
with Uncle Theodor whom I don't know.

April 17th. Uncle Theodor is 60 already and Aunt
Lina is old too. Still, they are both awfully nice.
I did not know them before. We are staying with
them. In the evening their son and his wife came.
They are my cousins, and they brought their little
girl with them; I am really a sort of aunt of hers.
It's awfully funny to be an aunt when one is only 12
and 3/4 and when one's niece is 9. To-day we went
walking along the Danube. It only rained very gently
and not all the time.

April 18th. We are going home to-day. Of course
we have sent a lot of picture postcards to Mother
and Dora and Hella; we sent one to Oswald too. He
came home for Easter. I don't know whether he will
still be there to-morrow.

April 22nd. We've begun school again. Dora and
I generally walk to school together since she does not
go to the Latin lesson now because it was too great a
strain for her. The specialist Mother took her to see
wanted her to give up studying altogether, but she
absolutely refuses to do that. But I'm very furious
with her; she's learning Latin in secret. When I came
into the room the day before yesterday she was writing
out words and she shut her book quickly instead of
saying openly and honestly: Rita, don't tell Father
and Mother that I'm still studying in the evening:
"I trust your word." She could trust me perfectly
well. There are plenty of things I could tell if I
liked! Perhaps she fancies that I don't see that the
tall fair man always follows us to school in the morning.
Hella has noticed him too, besides he is frightfully
bald and must be at least 30. And I'm certain she
would not talk as much as she does to Hella and me
if it were not that she wants to talk about _that_. But
this deceitfulness annoys me frightfully. Otherwise
we are now quite intimate with one another.

April 24th. We went to confession and communion
to-day. I do hate confession; though it's never happened
to me what many girls have told me, even girls
in the Fifth. No priest has ever asked me about the
6th commandment; all they've asked is: In thought,
word, or deed? Still, I do hate going to confession,
and so does Dora. It's much nicer for Hella as a
Protestant for they have no confession. And at communion
I'm always terrified that the host might drop
out of my mouth. That would be awful. I expect
one would be immediately excommunicated as a
heretic. Dora was not allowed to come to confession
and com., Father would not let her. She must not
go out without her breakfast.

April 26th. In the Third there really is a girl who
dropped the host out of her mouth. There was a
frightful row about it. She said it was not her fault
the priest's hand shook so. It's quite true, he was
very old, and that is why I'm always afraid it will
happen to me. It's much better when the priest is
young, because then that can never happen. Father
says that the girl won't be excommunicated for this,
and luckily one of her uncles is a distinguished
prelate. He is her guardian too. That will help
her out.

April 27th. To-day we got to know this girl in
the interval. She is awfully nice and she says she
really did not do it on purpose for she is frightfully
pious and perhaps she's going to be a nun. I am
pious too, we go to church nearly every Sunday, but I
would not go into a convent, not I. Dora says people
generally do that when they've been crossed in love,
because then the world seems empty and hateful.
She looked so frightfully sentimental that I said:
Seems to me you've a fancy that way yourself?
Then she said: "No, thank goodness, I've no reason
for that." Of course what she meant was that she
was not crossed in love but the other way. No doubt
the tall man in the mornings. I looked hard at
her for a long time and said: "I congratulate you on
your good fortune. But Hella and I wish he was not
bald," then she said with an astonished air: "Bald?
What are you talking about, he has the lofty brow of
a thinker."

27th. To-day Mademoiselle came for the first time.
I have forgotten to say that Dora has to go out every
day for two hours to sit and walk in the sunshine.
Since Mother is not very well and can't walk much,
we've engaged the Mad. Father says that when I have
time I must go too "as a precautionary measure." I
don't like the idea at all, it's much too dull; besides
I have simply no time. Mad. is coming 3 times a week,
Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and on Mondays,
Thursdays, and Saturdays I have my music
lesson, so I can't go; so Finis and Jubilation! That's
what Oswald always says at the end of the year and
at the end of term. Still, she's very pretty, has fair
curly hair, huge grey eyes with black lashes and eyebrows,
but she speaks so fast that I can't understand
all she says. On the other 3 days an Englishwoman
is to come, but we have not got one yet, they are all
so expensive. It does seem funny to me to get a salary
for going out with _grown up girls_, that's only an
amusement. With regular tomboys, such as we saw
last year in Rathaus Park, it would be different. As
for the French or English conversation! If they did
not want to talk what would it matter? And besides
why should one want to talk either French or English,
it's so stupid.

April 28th. The Richters were here to-day, and
the eldest son came too, the lieutenant from Lemberg;
he is awfully handsome and made hot love to Dora;
Walter is very nice too, he is at the School of Forestry
in Modling; to-morrow the lieutenant is going to bring
Dora one of Tolstoi's books to read. Then they will
do some music together, she piano and he violin; it's
a pity I can't play as well as Dora yet. At Whitsuntide
Walter is coming too and Viktor (that means
conqueror) is on furlough for 6 months, because he's
ill, or because he is said to be ill; for one does not
look like _that_ when one is really ill.

May 4th. Lieutenant R. is always coming here, he
must be frightfully smitten with Dora. But Father
won't have it at any price. He said to Dora to-day:

You get this gay young spark out of your head; he
is no good. But at sight of a uniform there is no
holding you girls. I've no objection to you doing
music together for an hour or two; but this perpetual
running to and fro with books and notes is all humbug."

May 6th. Lieutenant R. walks with us, that is
with Dora, to school every day. He is supposed to
lie in bed late every morning, for he is really ill
but for Dora's sake he gets up frightfully early and
comes over from Heitzing and waits in ---- Street.
Of course I go on alone with Hella and we all meet
In ---- Street, so that no one shall notice anything at
school.

May 13th. To-morrow is Mother's birthday and
Viktor (when I am talking about him to Dora I always
speak of him as V.) brought her some lovely roses
and invited us all to go there next Sunday. In the
hall he called me "the Guardian Angel of our Love."
Yes, that is what I am and always shall be; for he
really deserves it and Dora too is quite different from
what she used to be. Hella says one can see for
oneself that love ennobles; up till now she has always
thought that to be mere poetical fiction.

May 15th. Father said: I don't care much about
these visits to the Richters as long as that _young
jackanapes_ is still there, but Mother can't very well
refuse. We shall wear our green coats and skirts
with the white blouses with the little green silk leaves
for Dora does not like to wear all white except in
summer. And because the leaves on the blouses are
_clover leaves_, that is because of their meaning. We
are looking forward to it tremendously. I do hope
Mother will be all right, for she is in bed to-day. It's
horrid being ill anyhow, but when being ill interferes
with other people's pleasure it's simply frightful.

May 16th. The day before yesterday was Mother's
birthday; but it was not so jolly as usual because
Mother is so often ill; for a birthday present I
painted her a box with a spray of clematis, which
looks awfully chic. Dora gave her a book cover
embroidered with a spray of Japanese cherries, I
don't know what Father gave her, money I think,
because on her birthday and name day he always
hands her an envelope. But since Mother is not well
we were not very cheerful, and when we drank her
health at dinner she wiped her eyes when she thought
we were not looking. Still, it's not so dangerous as
all that; she is able to go out and doesn't look bad.
I think Mother's awfully smart, she looks just as well
in her dressing gown as when she's dressed up to
go out. Dora says that if she had been made ill by
her husband she would hate him and would never
let her daughters marry. That's all very well, but
one ought to be quite _sure_ that _that_ is why one has
become ill. They say that is why Aunt Dora doesn't
like Father. Certainly Father is not so nice to her
as to other relations or to the ladies who some to see
Mother. But after all, Aunt Dora has no right to
make _scenes_ about it to Father, as Dora says she does.
Mother's the only person with any right to do that.
Dora says she is afraid that it will come to Mother's
having to have an operation. Nothing would ever
induce me to undergo an operation, it must be horrible,
I know because of Hella and the appendicitis. But
Dora says: "Anyone who's had five children must be
used to that sort of thing." I shall pray every night
that Mother may get well without an operation. I
expect we shan't all go away together at Whitsuntide
this year, for Mother and Dora are to go to a health
resort, most likely to Franzensbad.

May 18th. It was lovely at the Richters; Walter
was there from Modling, he was awfully nice, and
said I was so like my sister that it was difficult to tell
us apart. That's a frightful cram, but I know what
he really meant. He plays the flute splendidly, and
the three played a trio, so that I was frightfully annoyed
with myself for not having worked harder at my
music. From to-morrow on I shall practice 2 hours
every day, if I can possibly find time. Next winter
Viktor is going to found a private dramatic club, so
he must be going to stay more than six months in
Vienna. Walter thinks Dora awfully charming, and
when I said: "The great pity is that she's got such
frightful anemia," he said: In a man's eyes that is
no drawback whatever, as you can see in my brother.
Moreover, that illness is not a real illness, but often
makes a girl more charming than ever, as you can
see in your sister.

Day before yesterday Miss Maggie Lundy came for
the first time; anybody can have her for me. She
wears false hair, flaxen. She says she is engaged, but
Dora says, has been. I simply don't believe it. V.
says Mad. is awfully pretty. When I asked Dora
if she was not jealous, she said she didn't care, she
was quite sure of his love. He means to leave the
army and go into the civil service, and then he will
be able to marry. But Dora said, there's plenty of
time for that, a secret engagement is much nicer.
Then she noticed she'd given herself away, and she
blushed like anything and said: You naturally must
be engaged before you are married, mustn't you?--
of course she _is_ secretly engaged, but she won't tell
me about it. What's the good of my being the
"Guardian Angel of their Love?" If he only knew.

May 19th. I really ought to practice to-day, but I
simply have no time, first of all I had my lesson
anyhow, and secondly something awful happened to
Dora. She left her diary lying about in the school;
and because we have our religion lesson in the Fifth
I saw a green bound book lying under the third bench.
Great Scott, I thought, that looks like Dora's diary.
I went up as quickly as I could and put my satchel
over it. Later in the lesson I picked it up. When
I got home at 1 o'clock I did not say anything at
first. After dinner she began rummaging all over the
place, but without saying anything to me, and then
I said quite quietly: "Do you hap--pen to be look--
ing for your di--ar--y? Here it is; you--left--it
--in--the--fifth--class--un--der--the--
third--bench." (I kept her on tenter hooks that way.)
She got as white as a sheet and said: You _are_ an
angel. If any one else had found it, I should have
been expelled and Mad. would have had to drown
herself. Oh, it can't be as bad as all that," I said,
for what she said about Mad. was frightfully exciting.
In class I had looked chiefly at what she had
written about V. But I could not read it there,
because it was written very small and close together
and was several pages, but I had not looked much at
what she had written about Mad. "Did you read it?"
No, only where it happened to come open because
there's a page torn out. About V. or about Mad?
"A little about Mad; but tell me all about it; I shan't
tell anyone. For if I'd wanted to betray you, you
know quite well. . . ." And then she told me all
about Mad. But first I had to promise that I would
not even tell Hella. Mad. is secretly engaged to a
man to whom she has given "the utmost gifts of love,"
that is to say she has . . . . She is madly in love
with him, and they would marry directly but he is
a lieutenant too, and they have not enough money
for the security. She says that when one really loves
a man one can bear everything for his sake. She has
often been to his rooms, but she has to be frightfully
careful for her father would kill her if he found out.
Dora has seen the lieutenant and says he is very
handsome, but that V. is much handsomer. Mad.
says that you can't trust men as a rule, but that her
lover is quite different, that he is true as steel. I am
sure V. is too.

May 21st. When Mad. came to-day I simply could
not look at her while Mother was there and Dora
says I made an awful fool of myself. For I went
out walking with them to-day, and when we met a
smart-looking officer I hemmed and looked at Dora.
But she didn't know why. Mad. is the daughter of a
high official in the French military service and she
only took her teacher's degree in order to get free from
her Mother's "_tyranny_;" she nagged at her frightfully
and until she began to give lessons she was never
allowed to go out alone. Dora says she is very refined in
her speech, especially when she is talking about
_these_ things. Of course about _them_ she always speaks
German, for it's much more difficult to say it in
French, and probably Dora would not understand
it and then Mad. would only have to translate it.
She is called Sylvia and he calls her Sylvette. Mad.
says that if one is madly in love with a man one does
whatever he asks. But I don't see that one need do
that, for he might ask the most idiotic things; he
might ask you to get the moon out of the skies, or to
pull out a tooth for his sake. Dora says she can
understand it quite well; that I still lack _the true
inwardness of thought and feeling_. It looks like utter
nonsense. But since it sounds fine I've written it
down, and perhaps I shall find a use for it some day
when I'm talking to Walter. Mad. is always frightfully
anxious lest she should get a baby. If she did
she's sure her father would kill her. The lieutenant
is in the flying corps. He hopes he's going to invent
a new aeroplane, and that he will make a lot of money
out of it. Then he will be able to marry Mad. But
it would be awful if _something happened_ and she got
a baby already.

May 22nd. Dora asked me to-day how it was I
knew all about these things, whether Hella had told
me. I did not want to give Hella away, so I said
quite casually: "Oh, one can read all about that in
the encyclopedia." But Dora laughed and said:
"You are quite on the wrong scent; you can't find a
tenth of all those things in the encyclopedia, and what
you do find is no good. In _these_ matters it is _absolutely
no good_ depending on books." First of all she
would not tell me any more, but after a time she told
me a good deal, especially the names of certain parts,
and about _fertilisation_, and about the microscopic
baby which really comes from the husband, and not
as Hella and I had thought, from the wife. And how
one knows whether a woman is _fruitful_. That is
really an awful word. In fact almost every word
has a second meaning of _that_ sort, and what Dora
says is quite true, one must be fearfully careful when
one is talking. Dora thinks it would be best to make
a list of all such words, but there are such a frightful
lot of them that one never could. The only thing
one can do is to be awfully careful; but one soon gets
used to it. Still it happened to Dora the other day
that she said to V.: I don't want any _intercourse_.
And that really means "the utmost gifts of love," so
Mad. told her. But V. was so well-mannered that
he did not show that he noticed anything; and it
did not occur to Dora until afterwards what she had
said. It's really awfully stupid that every ordinary
word should have such a meaning. I shall be so
frightfully careful what I say now, so that I shan't
use any word with two meanings. Mad. says it's just
the same in French. We don't know whether it is the
same in English and we could never dream of asking
that awful fright, Miss Lundy. Very likely she does
not know the first thing about it anyhow. I know a
great deal more than Hella now, but I can't tell her
because of betraying Dora and Mad. Perhaps I can
give her a hint to be more careful in what she says,
so as not to use any word with two meanings. That
is really my duty as a friend.

May 23rd. I quite forgot. Last week Oswald had
his written matriculation exam, he wrote a postcard
every day and Mother was frightfully annoyed because
he made such silly jokes all the time that we could
not really tell how he got on. Dora and I are awfully
excited because next Monday we are going to the
aerodome with Frau Richter and her niece who is
at the conservatoire. Lieutenant Streinz is going to
fly too. Of course we'll motor out because the railway
is not convenient. Of course Viktor will be there,
but he is motoring over with some other officers. It's
a great pity, for it would have been lovely if he'd
been in our car. By the way, I saved the class to-day,
the school inspector has been this week and examined
our class first in History and then in German, and
I was the only one who knew all that Frau Doktor
M. had told us about the Origin of Fable. The insp.
was very complimentary and afterwards Frau Doktor
M. said: its quite true one can always depend upon
Lainer; she's got a trustworthy memory. When we
were walking home she was awfully nice: "Do you
know, Lainer, I feel that I really must ask your
pardon." I was quite puzzled and Hella asked: But
why? She said: "It seemed to me this year that you
were not taking quite so much interest in your German
lessons as you did last year; but now you've
_reinstated_ yourself in my good opinion." Afterwards
Hella said: I say you know, Frau Doktor M. is not
so far wrong when I think of all that we used to
read last year so that we might know everything when
the lesson came, and when I think of what we do
this year!!! You know very well-- -- -- --.
Hella is quite right, but still one can learn in spite
of _those things_, one can't be _always_ talking about
them. And then it's quite easy to learn for such an
angel as Frau Doktor M. Hella says that I got as
red as a turkey cock from pride because I could say
it all in the very words of Frau Doktor M., but it
was not so, for first of all I was not a bit puffed up
about it, and secondly I really don't know myself how
I managed to say it all. I only felt that Frau Doktor
M. is so annoyed when no one offers to answer a question,
and so I took it on.

May 25th. Confound it, I could slap myself a
hundred times. How could I be so stupid! Now
we're not allowed to go to the aerodome. Father only
let us go because Viktor is in Linz and Father believed
he was going to stay there another fortnight.
And at dinner to-day I made a slip and said: "It is
a pity there's no room for five in our car. If Fraulein
Else were not coming Lieutenant Richter could come
with us." Dora kicked me under the table and I
tried to brazen it out, but Father was so angry and
said. "Hullo, is the flying man coming? No, no,
children, nothing doing. I shall make your excuses
to Frau Richter directly. I'm not having any, did
not I tell you you weren't to see the fellow any more?"
Of course this last was to Dora. Dora did not say
anything but she did not eat any pudding or fruit,
and as soon as we were back in our room she gave
it me hot, saying: You did that on purpose, you
little beast, but really you are only a child whom I
never ought to have trusted, and so on. It's really
too bad to say I did it _on purpose_, as if I envied her.
Besides it's bad for me as well as for her, for I like
him very much too, for he makes no difference between
us and treats me exactly like Dora. Of course
we are not on speaking terms now, and what infuriated
me more than anything was that she said she
grudged every word she had said to me in _this_ connection:
"Pearls before Swine." What a rude thing to
say. So I am an S. But I should like to know who
told most. I forsooth? Anyhow I'm quite sure that
I shall never talk to her again about _anything of that
sort_. Thank goodness I have a friend in Hella.
She would never say or think anything of the kind
of me.

May 26th. Neither of us could sleep a wink all
night; Dora cried frightfully, I heard her though she
tried to stifle it, and I cried too, for I was thinking
all the time what I could do to prevent Viktor from
thinking unkindly of me. That would be awful. Then
I thought of something, and chance or I ought to say
luck helped me. Viktor does not walk to school with
us any longer, because the girls of the Fifth have
seen us several times, but he comes to meet Dora
when she comes away at 1 o'clock. So quite early
I telephoned to him at a public telephone call office,
for I did not dare to do it at home. Dora was so
bad that she could not go to school so I was going
alone with Hella. I telephoned saying a friend was
ringing him up, that was when the maid answered
the telephone, and then she called him. I told him:
that whatever happened he was not to think unkindly
of me and I must see him at 1 o'clock because Dora
was ill. He must wait at the corner of ---- Street.
All through lessons I was so upset that I don't in the
least know what we did. And at 1 o'clock he was
there all right, and I told him all about it and he
was so awfully kind and he consoled me; _he_ consoled
_me_. That's quite different from the way Dora
behaved. I was so much upset that I nearly cried,
and then he drew me into a doorway and _put his arm
round me_ and with his _own_ handkerchief wiped away
my tears. I shall never tell Dora about that. Then
he asked me to be awfully kind to Dora because she
had such a _lot_ to bear. I don't really know _what_ she
has to bear, but still, for his sake, because it's really
worth doing it for that, after dinner I put a note
upon her desk, saying: V. sends oceans of love to
you and hopes you will be all right again by Monday.
At the same time his best thanks for the book. I
put the note in Heidepeter's Gabriel, which she had
lent to me to read and put it down very significantly.
When she read it she flushed up, swallowed a few
times and said: "Have you seen him? Where was
it and when?" Then I told her all about it and she
was frightfully touched and said: "You really are
a good girl, only frightfully undependable." What
do you mean, undependable? She said: Yes undependable,
for one simply must not blurt out things
in that way; never mind, I will try to forget. Have
you finished Heidepeter's Gabriel yet? "No," I said,
"I'm not going to read anyone's book with whom
I'm angry." In the end we made it up, but of course
we did not talk any more about it and I did not say
a word about that business with the handkerchief.

May 29th. On June 10th or 12th, Mother and
Dora are going to Frazensbad, because they both have
to take mud baths. Besides, Father says that a
change will give Dora new thoughts, so that she
won't go about hanging her head like a sick chicken.
To-day Dora told me something very interesting.
Unmarried men have little books and with these they
can go to visit women "of a certain kind" in Graben
and in the Karntnerstrasse. There, Dora says, they
have to pay 10 florins or 10 crowns. In Dora's class
there is a girl whose father is police surgeon, and
they have all to be examined every month to see if
they are healthy, and if not they can't visit these
"ladies," and that's why the Preusses can never keep
a servant. In my bath yesterday I noticed that I had
a certain line, so I must be fr--. But I shan't have
more than 1 or 2 children at most for the line is very
faint. When I'm studying I often think of such
things, and then I read a whole page and turn over
and have not the remotest idea what I've been reading.
It's very tiresome, for soon the other school insp.
for maths. and the other subjects is coming, and I
should not like to make a fool of myself; especially
not because perhaps the inspectors talk us over with
one another about who is clever and who stupid.

May 30th. The concert was glorious. When I
hear such grand music I always have to keep myself
well in hand for I fear I should cry. It's very stupid,
of course, but at such times I can only think of sad
things, even if it's just a small piece. Dora can play
Brahms' Hungarian Dances, too, but that never makes
me want to cry. I only get annoyed because I can't
play them myself. I could all right, but I have not
got patience to practice long enough. I never tell
anyone that I want to cry when I am listening to
music, not even Hella, though I tell her everything,
except of course about Mad. Yesterday I made a
fool of myself; at least so Dora says. I don't know
how it happened, we were talking about books at
supper, and I said: "What's the use of books, one
can't learn anything out of them; everything is quite
different from what they say in books." Then Father
got in a wax and said: "You little duffer, you can
thank your stars there are books from which you can
learn something. Anyone who can't understand a
book always says it is no good." Dora gave me a
look, but I didn't know what she meant, and I went
on: "Yes, but there's an awful lot that the encyclopedia
puts all wrong." "What have you been ferreting
in the encyclopedia for; we shall have to keep the key
of the bookcase in a safer place." Thank goodness
Dora came to my help and said: "Gretel wanted to
look up something about the age of elephants and
mammoths, but it's quite different in the encyclopedia
from what Prof. Rigl told her last year." I was
saved. Dora can act splendidly; I've noticed it before.
In the evening she rowed me, and said: "You
little goose, will you never learn caution; first that
stupidity about Viktor and to-day this new blunder!
I've helped you out of a hole once but I shan't do
it again." And then she spent all the time writing
a letter, to him of course--! Hella and I have just
been reading a lot of things in the encycl., about _Birth_
and _Pregnancy_, and I on my own about abor--; we
came across the words Embyro and Foetus, and I said
nothing at the time but tied 2 knots in my handkerchief
to remind me, and yesterday I looked them up.
Mad. need not be anxious even if she _really_ did get
like that. But every doctor knows about it and one
often dies of it. I wonder if Mad. knows anything
about it. We were talking about the _differences_ between
men and women, and it came out that when
Hella has her bath she is still washed by Anna who
has been with them for 12 years. Nothing would
induce me to allow that, I would not let anyone wash
me, except Mother; certainly not Dora, for I don't
want her to know what _I_ look like. The nurse in
the hosp. told Hella that she is developed just like
a little nymph, so lovely and symetrical. Hella says
that is nothing unusual, that every girl looks like
that, that the female body is _Nature's Work of Art_.
Of course she's read that somewhere, for it does not
really mean anything. _Nature's_ work of art; it
ought to be: a work of art made by husband and
wife!!!

May 30th. Dora and Mother are going to Franzensbad
on June 6th, directly after Whitsuntide. Dora
has got another new coat and skirt, grey with blue
stripes; yesterday our white straw hats came, it suits
me very well says Hella and everyone, with white
ribbons and wild roses. There might have been a
fearful row about what's just happened. When I
went to telephone I had my Christmas umbrella with
the rose-quartz handle and I left it in the telephone
box; the girl in the tobacco shop found it there, and
as she knows me she brought it here and gave it to
the porter who brought it upstairs. Thank goodness
it occurred to me at once to say that I went into the
tobacco shop to buy stamps and I must have left it in
the _shop_. No one noticed anything.

May 31st. They wanted me to go and stay with
Hella for the month when Mother and Dora are
away. It would be awfully nice, but I'm not going
to, for I want to stay with Father. What would he
do all alone at meal times, and whom would he have
to talk to in the evenings? Father was really quite
touched when I said this and he stroked my hair as
he can and no one else, not even Mother. So I'm
going to stay at home whatever happens. Flowers
are very cheap now, so I shall put _different_ flowers
on the table every day, I shall go to the Market every
day to buy a little posy, so that they can always be
fresh. It would be stupid for me to go to the Brs.,
why should I, Resi has been with us for such a long
time, she knows how to do everything even if Mother
is not there and everything else I can arrange. Father
won't want for anything.

June 1st. We've had such an experience to-day!
It's awful; it's quite true then that one takes off
_every stitch_ when one is madly fond of anyone. I
never really believed it, and I'm sure Dora did not,
although Mad. hinted it to her; but _it's true_. We've
seen it _with our own eyes_. I was just sitting and
reading Storm's The Rider of the Grey Horse and
Dora was arranging some writing paper to take to
Franzensbad when Resi came and said: Fraulein
Dora, please come here a moment, I want you to
look at something! From the tone of her voice I
saw there was something up so I went too. At first
Resi would not say what it was but Dora was generous
and said: "It's all right, you can say _everything_
before her." Then we went into Resi's room and
from behind the curtain peeped into the mezzanin.
A young _married couple_ live there!!! At least Resi
says people say they are _not_ really married, but simply
live together!!!! And what we saw was awful. She
was absolutely naked lying in bed without any of the
clothes on, and he was kneeling by the bedside quite
n-- too, and he kissed her all over, _everywhere!!!_
Dora said afterwards it made her feel quite sick.
And then he stood up--no, I can't write it, it's
too awful, I shall never forget it. So _that's_ the way
of it, it's simply frightful. I could never have believed
it. Dora went as white as a sheet and trembled
so that Resi was terribly frightened. I nearly cried
with horror, and yet I could not help laughing too.
I was really afraid he would stifle her because he's
so big and she's so small. And Resi says he is certainly
much too big for her, and that he nearly tears
her. I don't know why he should tear her but certainly
he might have crushed her. Dora was so
terrified she had to sit down and Resi hurried to get
her a glass of water, because she believed she was
going to faint. I had not imagined it was anything
like _that_, and Dora certainly had not either. Or she
would never have trembled so. Still I really don't
see why she should tremble like that. There is no
reason to be frightened, one simply need not marry,
and then one need never strip off every stitch, and
oh dear, poor Mademoiselle who is so small and the
lieutenant is very tall. But just think if anyone
is as fat as Herr Richter or our landlord. Of course
Herr Richter is at least 50, but last January the
landlord had another little girl, so something _must
have happened_. No, I'm sure it's best not to marry,
for _it_ is really too awful. We did not look any more
for then came the worst, suddenly Dora began to
be actually sick, so that she could hardly get back
to our room. If she had not been able to, everything
would have come out. Mother sent for the doctor
directly and he said that Dora was very much overworked;
that it was a good thing she was going away
from Vienna in a few days. No girl ought to study,
it does not pay. Then he said to me: "You don't
look up to much either. What are you so hollow-
eyed for?" "I'm so frightened about Dora," I said.
"Fiddlededee," said the doctor, "that does not give
anyone black rings round the eyes." So it must be
true that one gets to look ill when one always has
to think about _such_ things. But how can one help
it, and Hella says: It's awfully interesting to have
black rings under the eyes and men _like_ it.

We were going to make an excursion to-morrow to
Kahlenberg and Hermannskogel, but probably it
won't come off. Its 11 already and I'm fearfully
tired from writing so much; I must go to bed. I do
hope I Shall be able to sleep, but-- -- -- --

June 3rd. Father took Hella and me to Kahlenberg;
we enjoyed ourselves tremendously. After
dinner, when Father was reading the paper in the
hotel, we went to pick flowers, and I told Hella all
about what we'd seen on Friday. She was simply
speechless, all the more since she had never heard
what Mad. told us about taking off everything. She
won't marry either, for it's too disagreeable, indeed
too horrid.--The doctor said too: This perpetual
learning is poisonous for young girls _in the years of
development_. If he only knew _what_ we had seen.
Hella is frightfully annoyed that she was not there.
She can be jolly glad, I don't want to see it a second
time, and I shall never forget it all my life long;
what I saw at the front door was nothing to this.
Then Hella went on making jokes and said: "I say,
just think if it had been Viktor." "Oh, do shut up,"
I screamed, and Father thought we were quarrelling
and called out: "You two seem to be having a dispute
in the grand style." If he'd only known what
we were talking about!!! Oswald has been home
since Friday evening; he did not arrive till half past
10. But he did not come on the excursion with us
yesterday, although Father would have liked him to;
he said he would find it much too dull to spend the
day with two "flappers;" that means that we're not
grown up enough for him and is a piece of infernal
cheek especially as regards Hella. She says she will
simply ignore him in future. Since I am his sister
I can't very well do that, but I shan't fetch and carry
for him as he would like me to. He's no right to
insult even his sister.

Dora has just said to me: It's horrible that one
has to endure that (you know what!!! -- -- -- --)
when one is married. Resi had told her about those
two before, and that only the Jews do it just like
_that_. She said that other people did not strip quite
naked and that perhaps it's different in some other
ways!! -- -- -- But Mad. implied that it was just
_that_ way, only she did not say anything about the
crushing; but I suppose that's because of the cruelty
of the Jews-- -- --. I'm afraid every night that
I'm going to dream about it, and Dora has dreamed
about it already. She says that whenever she closes
her eyes she sees it all as if it were actually before
her.

June 4th. We understand now _what_ Father meant
the other day when he was speaking about Dr. Diller
and his wife and said: "But they don't suit one
another at all." I thought at the time he only meant
that it looks so absurd for so tiny a woman to go
about with a big strong man. But that's only a
minor thing; the main point is something quite
different!!!! Hella and I look at all couples now
who go by arm in arm, thinking about them from
_that_ point of view, and it amuses us so much as we
are going home that we can hardly keep from laughing.
But really it's no laughing matter, especially for the
woman.

June 5th. This morning Mother took Dora with
her to pay a farewell call at the Richter's. But there
was no one at home, that is Frau R. was certainly
at home, but said she was not because they are very
much offended with Father. In the afternoon Dora
and I had a lot of things to get, and we met Viktor,
by arrangement of course. Dora cried a lot; they
went into the Minorite church while I went for a walk
in Kohlmarkt and Herrengasse. He is going to
America in the beginning of July, before Dora comes
home. He has given her some exquisite notepaper
stamped with his regimental arms, specially for her
to write to him on, and a locket with his portrait.
To-morrow she is going to send him her photo,
through me, I shall be awfully glad to take it. Dora
has been much nicer to me lately.

June 6th. Mother and Dora left early this morning.
Mother has never gone away from us before for
long at a time, so I cried a lot and so did she. Dora
cried too, but I know on whose account. Father and
I are alone now. At dinner he said to me: "My
little housewife." It was so lovely. But it's frightfully
quiet in the house, for 2 people don't talk so
much as 4. It made me feel quite uncomfortable.
To-day I talked several things over with Resi. What
I think worst of all is that one saw the whole of his
behind, it was really disgusting. Dora said the other
day she thought it was positively infamous. Resi
said they might at least have pulled down the blind
so that nobody could see in, that's what respectable
people would do. But _respectable_ people simply
would not strip, or at least they'd cover themselves
respectably with the bedclothes. Then Resi told me
some more about the bank clerk and his wife, that is
_not_-wife. She does not know if her parents know
about it, and what excuse she makes for not living
at home. She is not a Jewess, though he is a Jew.
Resi absolutely curled up with laughing because I
said: Ah, that is why he insists that they shall _both_
strip though ordinarily only the wife has to strip."
But she herself said a little while ago that only Jews
do it _that way_, and to-day she laughed as if I were
talking utter nonsense. Really she does not know
exactly herself, and she cloaks it with laughter because
she's annoyed, first because _she_ does not know, and
then also I'm sure because she really began to talk
about the matter. One thing that puzzles me is that
I never dream about _it_. I should like to know whether
perhaps Dora never really dreamed of it, though she
pretended she did. As for Hella saying she dreamed
of it the day before yesterday, I'm sure that was pure
invention, for she was not there at all. She says it's
a good thing she was not for if she had been she
would have burst out laughing. But I fancy if she'd
seen what we saw she would have found there was
nothing to laugh at.

June 7th. It's frightfully dull after dinner and
in the evening before bed time, especially because
this year, since the affair at the front door, Dora
and I have always had plenty to talk about. I miss
it. I wish Hella would come and stay with us for
the 4 weeks. But she does not want to. Father
had work to do to-day, so I'm quite alone and feel as
if I'd like to cry.

June 9th. Yesterday, when I was feeling so melancholy,
Resi came to make my bed, and we talked
about the married couple opposite, and then she told
me awful things about a young married couple where
she was once. She left because they always went
into the bath together; she says she's certain that
_something happened_ there. And then she told me
about an old gentleman who made _advances_ to her;
but of course she would not have anything to do
with him; besides he was married, and anyhow he
would never have married a servant for he was a
privy councillor. Yesterday Father said: Poor little
witch, it's very lonely for you now; but look here,
Resi is no fit company for you; when your little
tongue wants to wag, come to my room. And I was
awfully stupid, I began to cry like anything and
said. "Father, please don't be angry, I'll never think
and never talk of such things any more." Father
did not know at first what I meant, but afterwards
it must have struck him, for he was so kind and gentle,
and said: "No, no, Gretel, don't corrupt your youth
with such matters, and when there's anything that
bothers you, ask Mother, but not the servants. A girl
of good family must not be too familiar with servants.
Promise me." And then, though I'm so big he took
me on his knee like a child and petted me because I
was crying so. "It's all right, little Mouse, don't
worry, you must not get so nervous as Dora. Give
me a nice kiss, and then I'll come with you to your
room and stay with you till you go to sleep. Of
course I stayed awake on purpose as long as I could,
till a quarter to 11.

And then I dreamed that Father was lying in Dora's
bed so that when I woke up early in the morning I
really looked across to see if he had not gone to bed
there. But of course I'd only dreamed it.

June 12th. To-morrow there's a great school excursion;
I am so glad, a whole day with Frau Doktor
M. and without any lessons. We are going up Eisernes
Tor. Last year there was no outing, because the
Fourth did not want to go to the Anninger, but to
the Hochschneeberg, and the Head did not want to
go there.

June 13th. We had a lovely outing. Hella and
I spent the whole day with Frau Doktor M.; in the
afternoon Franke said: I say, why do you stick to
Frau Doktor like that? One can't get a word with
you. So then we went for a good walk through the
forest with Franke and she told us about a student
who is in the Eighth now and who is madly in love
with her. For all students are in love with her, _so
she says_. We were not much interested in that, but
then she told us that Frau Doktor M. is secretly
engaged to a professor in Leipzig or some other town
in Germany. Her cousin is Frau Doktor's dressmaker,
and she is quite certain of it. Her parents
are opposed to it because he is a _Jew_ but they are
frantically in love with one another and they intend
to marry. And then we asked Franke, since she is
a Jewess too whether it was all true what Mali, who
was here when Resi was in hospital, had told us
about the Jews. And Franke said: Oh yes, it is true
I can confirm it in every point. But it's not so bad
about the cruelty, every man is cruel, especially in
this matter." No doubt she's right, but it's horrible
to think that our lovely and refined Frau Doktor M
is going to have a cruel husband. Hella says that if
_she_ is satisfied, I don't need to get excited about it.
But perhaps she does not know that-- -- --. When
we came out of the wood the Herr Religionsprofessor
who is awfully fond of Frau Doktor M. called out:
"Frau Doktor, you have lost your two satellites!"
And everybody laughed because we'd come back.
Father came to fetch Hella and me, and since it was
nearly 11 o'clock Hella stayed the night with us. It
was awfully nice, but at the same time I was sorry
because I could not have any more talk with Father.
When we were getting up in the morning we splashed
one another and played the fool generally, so that
we were nearly late for school. The staff was still
in high spirits, including Professor Wilke, about
whom we had not bothered ourselves all day; that is
he did not come until the afternoon when he came to
meet us on our way. We believe he is in love with
Frau Doktor M. too, for he went about with her all
the time, and it was probably on her account that
he came. None of the other professors were there,
for they were all taking their classes in the different
Gymnasiums.

June 14th. I am so excited. We were going to
school to-day at 9 and suddenly we heard a tremendous
rattling with a sword; that is Hella heard it,
for she always notices that sort of thing before I do,
and she said: "Hullo, that's an o-- in a frightful
hurry, and looked round; "I say, there's Viktor behind
us" and he really was, he was saluting us and
he said: Fraulein Rita, can you give me a moment;
you'll excuse me won't you, Fraulein Hella? He
always calls me Rita, and it shows what a nice refined
kind of a man he is that he should know my friend's
name. Hella said directly: "Don't mention it, Herr
Oberleutenant, don't let me be in your way if it's
anything important," and she went over to the other
side of the street. He looked after her and said:
"What a lovely, well-mannered young lady your
friend is." Then he came back to the main point
He has already had 2 letters from Dora, but not an
answer to his letter, because she can't fetch it from
the post office, _poste restante_. Then he implored me
to enclose a letter from him in mine to Dora. But
since Mother naturally reads my letters, I told him
it was not so simple as all that; but I knew of a
splendid way out of the difficulty; I would write to
Mother and Dora _at the same time_, so that Dora
could get hold of _his letter_ while Mother was not
noticing. Viktor was awfully pleased and said:
You're a genius and a first-class little schemer, and
kissed my hand. Still, he might have left out the
"little." If one's is so _little_, one can't very well be a
schemer. From the other side of the street Hella
saw him kiss my hand. She says I did not try to draw
it away, but held it out to him like a grand lady and
even dropped it at the wrist. She says we girls of
good family do that sort of thing by instinct. It may
be so, for I certainly did not do it intentionally.
In the afternoon I wrote the two letters, just the
ordinary one to Mother and a short one to Dora
with the enclosure, and took it to the post _myself_.

June 16th. I've already got so used to being alone
with Father that I take it as a matter of course. We
often drive in the Prater, or go in the evening to have
supper in one of the parks, and of course Hella comes
with us. I am frightfully excited to know what Dora
will write. I forgot to write in my diary the other
day that I asked Viktor if he was really going to
New York. He said he had no idea of doing anything
of the kind, that had only been a false alarm
on the part of the Old Man. That's what he calls
his father. I don't think it's very nice of him, a
little vulgar, and perhaps that is why Father can't
stand him. In fact Father does not like any officers
very much, except Hella's father, but then he's fairly
old already. I say, Hella mustn't read that, it would
put her in an awful wax; but her father really is at
least 4 or 5 years older than Father.

June 17th. Frau Doktor M. is ill, but we don't
know what's the matter with her. We were all
frightfuly dull at school. The head took her classes
and we were left to ourselves in the interval. I do hope
she has not got appendicitis, that would be awful.

June 18th. _She_ isn't back yet. Frau Doktor
Steiner says she has very bad tonsillitis and won't
be able to come for at least a week.

June 19th. There was a letter from Dora to-day.
I'm furious. Not a word about my sisterly affection,
but only: "Many thanks for your trouble." It's
really too bad; _he_ is quite different!! I shan't forget
this in a hurry. Hella says that she only hinted
at it like that to be on the safe side. But it's not
true, for she knows _perfectly well_ that Father never
reads our letters. She simply takes it as a matter of
course. Yesterday was the first time I stayed away
from school since I went to the High School. Early
in the morning I had such a bad sore throat and a
headache, so Father would not let me go. I got better
as the day went on, but this morning I was worse
again. Most likely I shall have to stay at home for
2 or 3 days. Father wanted to send for the doctor,
but it really was not necessary.

June 20th. When Resi was doing our room to day
she wanted to begin talking once more about _various
things_, but I said I did not particularly care to hear
about such matters, and then she implored me never
to tell Mother and Father anything about what she
had said to us about the young married couple; she
said she would lose her place and she would be awfully
sorry to do that.

June 21st. My knees are still trembling; there
might have been a frightful row; luckily Father was
out. At half past 6, when Hella and I were having a
talk, the telephone bell rang. Luckily Resi had gone
out too to fetch something so I answered the telephone,
and it was Viktor! "I must see you to-morrow
morning early or at 1 o'clock; I waited for you _in
vain_ at 1 to-day." Of course, for I was still ill, that
is still am ill. But well or ill I must go to school
to-morrow. If Father had been at home; or even
Resi, she might have noticed something. It would
have been very disagreeable if I had had to ask her
not to give me away. Hella was frightfully cheeky,
she took the receiver out of my hand and said:
"Please don't do this again, it's frightfully risky for
my friend." I was rather annoyed with her, but Hella
said he certainly deserved a lecture.

To-morrow we are going to a concert and I shall
wear my new white dress. It does look rather nice
after all for sisters to be dressed alike. I've taken
to wearing snails,"[3] Father calls them "cow-pats;"
but everyone else says it's exceedingly becoming.

[3] Flat rolls of hair-plait covering the ears.--Translators'
Note.

June 22nd. He was awfully charming when he
came up to us and said: "Can a repentant sinner
be received back into grace?" And he gave each of
us a lovely rose. Then he handed me a letter and
said: "I don't think we need make any secret before
your energetic friend." Really I did not want to
forward any more letters but I did not know how
to say so without offending him, for Dora's cheek
is not his fault, and I did not want to say anything
to-day, 1 because of the roses, and 2 because Hella
was there. There can't be more than 2 or 3 times
more, so I shan't bother. But _Dora_ doesn't deserve
it, really. Franke is a vulgar girl. She saw us together
the other day, and the next day she asked:
Where did you pick up that handsome son of Mars?
Hella retorted: "Don't use such common expressions
when you are speaking of Rita's cousin." "Oh, a
cousin, that's why he kisses her hand I suppose?"
Since then we only speak to Franke when we are
positively obliged. Not to speak to her at all would
be too dangerous, you never can tell; but if we speak
only a little, she can't take offence.

June 23rd. The school insp. came yesterday, the
old one who always comes for Maths. He is so kind
and gentle that all the girls can answer everything;
we like him better than the one who comes for
languages. Verbenowitsch was awfully puffed up
because he praised her. Good Lord, I've been praised
often enough, but that does not make _me_ conceited.
Anyhow he did not call on me yesterday because I'd
been absent 4 days. Frau Doktor M. came back
to-day. She looks awfully pale and wretched, I don't
know why; it's such a pity that she does not let us
walk home with her, except last year when there was
all that fuss about Fraulein St.'s bead bag. She bows
to us all very politely when we salute her, but she
won't walk with any of the pupils, though Verbenowitsch
is horribly pushing and is always hanging
about on the chance.

June 26th. It's really stupid how anxious I am
now at Communion lest the host should drop out of
my mouth. I was so anxious I was very nearly sick.
Hella says there must be some reason for it, but I
don't know of any, except that the accident which that
girl Lutter in the Third had made me even more
anxious that I was before. Hella says I'd better turn
Protestant, but nothing would induce me to do that;
for after Com. one feels so pure and so much better
than one was before. But I'm sorry to say it does not
last so long as it ought to.

June 27th. Mother is _really_ ill. Father told me
about it. He was awfully nice and said: If only
your Mother is spared to us. She is far from well.
Then I asked: Father, what is really wrong with
Mother? And Father said: "Well, dear, it's a hidden
trouble, which has really been going on for a long
time and has now suddenly broken out." "Will she
have to have an operation?" "We hope we shall be
able to avoid that. But it's a terrible thing that
Mother should be so ill." Father looked so miserable
when he said this that I did my best to console him
and said: But _surely_ the mud baths will make her all
right, or why should she take them?" And Father
said: "Well, darling, we'll hope for the best." We
went on talking for a long time, saying that Mother
must take all possible care of herself, and that perhaps
in the autumn Aunt Dora would come here to
keep house. I asked Father, "Is it true that you don't
like Aunt Dora?" Father said: "Not a bit of it,
what put that idea into your head?" So I said:
"But you do like Mother much better, don't you?"
Father laughed and said: "You little goose, of course
I do, or I should have married Aunt Dora and not
Mother." I should have liked awfully to ask Father
a lot more, but I did not dare. I really do miss
Dora, especially in the evenings.

July 2nd. I was in a tremendous rage at school
to-day. Professor W., the traitor, did not come
because he had confession and communion in the
Gymnasium, and the matron did not know anything
about the subject so there was no one to take his
class. Then the Herr Religionsprofessor took it, he
had come earlier than usual to write up the reports.
But since the Jewish girls were there too, of course
there was no religion lesson. But the H. Rel. Prof.
had a chat with us. He asked each of us where we
were going to spend the summer, and when I said I
was going to Rodaun, Weinberger said: I say, _only_
to Rodaun! and several of the other girls chimed in:
_Only_ to Rodaun; why that's only a drive on the steam
tram. I was frightfully annoyed, for we generally
go to Tyrol or Styria; I said so directly, and then
Franke said: Last year too, I think, you went somewhere
quite close to Vienna, where was it, Hain--,
and then she stopped and made as if she had never
heard of Hainfeld. Of course that was all put on,
but she's very angry because we won't speak to her
since that business about the _cousin!_ But now I was
to learn what true friendship is. While I was getting
still more angry, Hella said: Rita's Mother is now in
_Franzensbad, the world-famous health resort_; she is
ill, and Prof. Sch. has to go and see her at least once
a week. The Herr Rel. Prof. was awfully nice and
said: Rodaun is a lovely place. The air there is
very fine and will certainly do your Mother a lot of
good. That's the chief thing, isn't it children? I
hope that God will spare all your parents for many
years. When the Herr Rel. Prof. said that, Lampel,
whose Mother died last winter, burst out crying, and
I cried too, for I thought of my talk with Father.
Weinberger and Franke thought I was crying because
I was annoyed because we were only going to Rodaun.
In the interval Franke said: After all, there's no
harm in going to Rodaun, that's no reason for crying.
But Hella said: "Excuse me, the Lainers can go
anywhere they please, they are so well off that many
people might envy them. Besides, her Mother and her
sister are in Franzensbad now, where everything is
frightfully expensive, and in Rodaun they have rented
a house all for themselves. Rita is crying because she
is anxious about her Mother, not because of anything
you said." Of course we don't speak a word to Franke
now. Mother does not want us to anyhow, she did
not like her at all when she met her last year. Mother
has a fine instinct in such matters.

July 6th. We broke up to-day. I have nothing but
Very Goods, except of course in ---- Natural History!
That was to be expected. What -- -- (I can't bring
myself to write the name) said was perfectly right.
Nearly all the girls who were still there brought Frau
Doktor M. and Frau Doktor St. flowers as farewell
tokens. This time, Hella and I were allowed to go
with Frau Doktor M. to the metropolitan. When we
kiss her hand she always blushes, and we love doing
it. This summer holidays she is going to -- -- --
_Germany_, of course; really Hella need not have asked;
it's obvious!!!

July 8th. Mother and Dora are coming home today.
We are going to meet them at the station. By
the way, I'd quite forgotten. The other day Father
hid a new 5 crown piece in my table napkin, and
when I lifted up my table napkin it fell out, and
Father said: In part payment of your outlay on
flowers for the table. Father is such a darling, the
flowers did not cost anything like 5 crowns, 3 at most,
for though they were lovely ones, I only bought fresh
ones every other day. Now I shall be able to buy
Mother lots of roses, and I shall either take them to
the station or put them on her table. On the one
hand I'm awfully glad Mother is coming home, but
on the other hand I did like being alone with Father
for he always talked to me about everything just as
he does to Mother; that will come to an end now.

July 10th. Mother and Dora look splendid; I'm
especially glad about Mother; for one can see that
she is quite well again. If we had not taken the
house in Rodaun, we might just as well go to Tyrol,
for one can't deny it would be much nicer. Dora
looks quite a stranger. It's absurd, for one can't
alter in 1 month, still, she really looks quite different;
she does her hair differently, parted over the ears.
I have had no chance yet to say anything about the
"trouble," and she has not alluded to it. In the
autumn she will have to have a special exam. for
the Sixth because she went away a month before the
end of term. Father says that is only pro forma
and that she must not take any lesson books to the
country. Hella went away yesterday, she and her
Mother and Lizzi are going first to Gastein and then
to stay with their uncle in Hungary. Life is dull
without Hella, much worse than without Dora; without
her I was simply bored sometimes in the evening,
at bedtime. Dora gives it out that in Franzensbad
people treated her as a grown-up lady. I'm sure
that's not true for anyone can see that she's a long
way from being a grown-up lady yet.

July 11th. I can't think what's happened to Dora.
When she goes out she goes alone. She doesn't tell
me when she is going or where, and she hasn't said
a word about Viktor. But he must know that she is
back. To-morrow we are going to Rodaun, by train
of course, not by the steam tram. The day after
to-morrow, the 13th, Oswald has the viva voce exam
for his matriculation. He says that in every class
there are at least 1 or several _swotters_, like Verbenowitsch
in ours, he says they spoil the pitch for the
others, for, because of the swotters, the professors
expect so much more of the others and sit upon them.
This may be so in the Gymnasium, but certainly not
at the High School. For though Verb. is always
sucking up to the staff, they can't stand her; they
give her good reports, but none of them really like
her. Mother says the 13th is an unlucky day, and it
makes her anxious about Oswald. Because of that she
went to High Mass yesterday instead of the 9 o'clock
Mass as usual. I never thought of praying for Oswald,
and anyhow I think he'll get through all right.

July 13th. Thank goodness Oswald has wired he
is through, that is he has wired his favourite phrase:
Finis with Jubilation. At any rate that did not worry
Mother as he did over the written exam., when he
made silly jokes all the time. He won't be home
until the 17th, for the matriculation dinner is on the
15th. Father is awfully pleased too. It's lovely here;
of course we have not really got a whole house to
ourselves, as Hella pretended at school, but a flat on
the first story; in the mezzanin a young married
woman lives, that is to say a _newly married couple!!_
Whenever I hear that phrase it makes me shake
with horror and laughter combined. Resi must have
thought of it too, for she looked hard at Dora and
me when she told us. But they have a baby already,
so they are not really a newly married couple any
more. The landlord, who lives on the same floor as
us, is having a swing put up for me in the garden
for it is horrid not to have a swing in the country.

July 16th. At last Dora has said something to
me about Viktor, but she spoke very coldly; there
must be something up; she might just as well tell
me; she really ought to seeing all that I've done.
I have not seen him since that last letter of June 27th;
that time something must have hap-- no that word
means something quite different, there must be something
up, but I do wonder what. Hella is delighted
with Gastein, she writes that the only thing wanting
is _me_. I can quite understand that, for what I want
here is _her_. Before the end of term Ada wrote to
ask whether we were not coming to H. this year; she
said she had such a frightful lot to tell me, and _she
wants my advice_. I shall be very glad to advise her,
but I don't know what it is about.

July 18th. Something splendid, we are -- -- --
But no, I must write it all out in proper order. Oswald
came home yesterday, he is in great form and said
jokingly to Dora that she is so pretty he thinks he
would fall in love with her if she were not his sister.
Just before it was time to go to supper, Mother called
us in, and I was rather annoyed when I saw that it
was only a quarter to 8. Then Father came in with a paper
in his hand as he often does when he comes back from
the office, and said: "Dear Oswald and you two girls,
I wanted to give you and especially Oswald a little
treat because of the matriculation." Aha, I thought,
the great prize after all! Then Father opened the
paper and said: "You have often wondered as children
why we have no title of nobility like the other
Lainers. My grandfather dropped it, but I have got
it back again for you Oswald, and also for you two
girls. Henceforward we shall call ourselves Lanier
von Lainsheim like Aunt Anna and your uncles."
Oswald was simply speechless and I was the first to
pull myself together and give Father a great hug.
But first of all he said: "Do credit to the name."
Oswald went on clearing his throat for a frightfully
long time, and then he said: Thank you, Father, I
shall always hold the name in trust, and then they
kissed one another. We were on our best behaviour
all through the evening, although Mother had ordered
roast chicken and Father had provided a bottle of
champagne. I am frightfully happy; it's so splendid
and noble. Think of what the girls will say, and the
staff! I'm frantically delighted. To-morrow I must
write and tell Hella all about it.

July 19th. I've managed it beautifully. I did not
want to write just: We are now noble, so I put it
all in the signature, simply writing Always your loving
friend Rita Lainer von Lainsheim. I told Resi
about it first thing this morning, but Father scolded
me about that at dinner time and said it was quite
unnecessary; it seems the nobility has gone to your
head. Nothing of the sort, but it's natural that I
should be frightfully glad and Dora too has covered
a whole sheet of paper writing her new name. Father
says it does not really make us any different from
what we were before, but that is not true, for if it were
he would not have bothered to revive the title. He
says it will make it easier for Oswald to get on, but
I'm sure there's more in it than that. Resi told the
landlord about it and in the afternoon he and his
wife called to congratulate us.

July 20th. Oswald says he won't stay here, it's
much too dull, he is going for a walking tour through
the Alps, to Grossglockner, and then to the Karawanken.
He will talk of Father as the "Old Man," and
I do think it is so vulgar. Dora says it is absolutely
_flippant_.

July 24th. Hella's answer came to-day; she congratulates
me most heartily, and then goes on to write
that at first she was struck dumb and thought I'd gone
crazy or was trying to take her in. But her mother had
already heard of it from her father for it had been published
in the Official Gazette. Now we are both noble,
and that is awfully nice. For I have often been
annoyed that she was noble when I was not.

July 25th. Oswald left to-day. Father gave him
300 crowns for his walking tour, because of the matriculation. I said: "In that case I shall matriculate
as soon as I can" and Oswald said: "For that one
wants rather more brains in one's head than you
girls have." What cheek, Frau Doktor M. passed the
Gymnasium matriculation and Frau Doktor Steiner
passed it too as an extra. Dora said quietly: Maybe
I shall show you that your sister can matriculate
too; anyhow you have always said yourself that
the chief thing you need to get through the matriculation
is cheek. Then I had a splendid idea and said:
"But we girls have not got cheek, we _study_ when we
have to pass an examination!" Mother wanted us
to make it up with him, but we would not. In the
evening Dora said to me: Oswald is frantically
arrogant, though he has had such a lot of Satisfactories
and has only just scraped through his exam. By the
way here's another sample of Oswald's stupidity;
directly after the wire: "Finis with Jubilation"
came another which ought to have arrived first, for
it had been handed in 4 hours earlier, with nothing
but the word "Through" [Durch]. Mother was frightfully
upset by it for she was afraid it really meant _failed_
[durchgefallen], and that the other telegram had been
only an idiotic joke. Dora and I would never condescend
to such horseplay. Father always says Oswald
will sow all his wild oats at the university, but he said
to-day that he was not going to the university, but
would study mining, and then perhaps law.

July 29th. It's sickeningly dull here, I simply
don't know what to do; I really can't read and swing
the whole day long, and Dora has become as dull as
she used to be; that is, even duller, for not only does
she not quarrel, but she won't talk, that is she won't
talk about _certain things_. She is perfectly crazy
about the baby of the young couple in the mezzanin;
he's 10 months old, and I can't see what she sees to
please her in such a little pig; she's always carrying
him about and yesterday he made her all wet, I
wished her joy of it. It made her pretty sick, and
I hope it will cure her infatuation.