r
mountains. It would be lovely to pick Edelweiss for oneself. But Father
says that mountaineering is not suited to our ages. The baths here
always seem very cold, only about 54 or 60 degrees at most. Dr. Klein
said we should only bathe when the water is quite warm. But apparently
that won't be often. We have not made any acquaintances yet, but I like
the look of the two girls wearing Bosnian blouses at the second table
from ours. Perhaps we shall get to know them. One plan has come to
nothing. I wanted to talk to Dora in the evenings about all sorts of
_important_ things, but it is impossible because Aunt Dora shares our
room. Here's another tiresome thing; Father's room has a lovely veranda
looking on to the promenade, while our room only looks into the garden.
Of course the view is lovely, but I should have liked Father's room much
better, only it is a great deal too small for three persons; there is
only one bed and its furniture is of a very ancient order. I do hate
that sort of furniture; the lady who keeps the boarding house calls it
_Empire!!_ I don't suppose she can ever have seen a room furnished in
real Empire style.

July 15th. When Dora and I were out for a walk yesterday she told me
a great deal about Aunt Dora. I never really knew before whether Uncle
Richard was employed in the asylum or whether he was a patient there;
but he is a patient. He has spinal disease and is quite off his head
and often has attacks of raving madness. Once before he was sent to the
asylum he tried to throttle Aunt Dora, and _in another respect_ he did
her a _frightful lot of harm!!!_ I don't quite understand how, for Aunt
Dora has never had any children. And why on earth do they make such a
secret about Uncle Richard? But when I come to think of it, no one ever
wanted to talk about Mother's illness. There's no sense in this secrecy,
for in the first place that always makes one think about things, and
secondly one always finds out in the long run. At last Aunt Dora was so
terribly afraid of Uncle that she always kept the door of her bedroom
locked. It must be awful to have a husband who is a raging maniac.
Father once said to Dora: your Aunt Dora is enough to drive one mad with
her whims and fancies. Of course he didn't mean that literally, but I
must watch carefully to find out what Aunt really does to annoy anyone
so much. Most likely it is something connected with _this matter_. To my
mind Aunt Alma has many more whims and fan