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.