We separated that evening later than usual. Towards midnight the summer silence was broken by the shuddering of a low, melancholy wind among the trees. We all felt the sudden chill in the atmosphere, but the Count was the first to notice the stealthy rising of the wind. He stopped while he was lighting my candle for me, and held up his hand warningly⁠—

“Listen!” he said. “There will be a change tomorrow.”

June 19th

.⁠—The events of yesterday warned me to be ready, sooner or later, to meet the worst. Today is not yet at an end, and the worst has come.