Father has a new tweed suit which
becomes him splendidly for he is so tall and aristocratic looking. We
have coats and skirts made of thin black cotton material and black lace
blouses, and we also have white coats and skirts and white blouses,
and light grey tweed dresses as well. For Father is really quite right:
"Mourning is in your _heart_, not in your _dress_." Still, for the
present, we shall wear black, but we have the white things in case it
gets frightfully hot. To-day, on a cliff quite near the house, we picked
a great nosegay of Alpine roses. Dora has brought Mother's photo with
her and has put the flowers in front of it; unluckily I forgot to bring
mine. I should like to go to the top of the Wildeck or one of the other
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.
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