On the coach journey back from the spa, Katherl confided that last Tuesday, she had been let down badly by an admirer. She would say no more about it, though I tried to draw her out. Instead, she concocted a descriptive list of Salzburg's remaining bachelors to amuse us both. This one is even shorter than the Baron Von Molk, that one is more skilful at sleigh drives, this one nifty at cards, someone else a fine dancer with an excellent leg - or two. Franz d'Yppold may be a fine partner in archery but he is more of a friend. So and so, though devout, is dull. Baron X has grey whiskers growing out of his ears, Herr Z might be rich but he plays the organ abominably and the violin more so. What to do? Remain a spinster and serve the archbishop as a maid, or in my case, take in piano pupils. We laughed away our future for the rest of the journey, being less than thirty years of age. Just. For the moment, I am content to live with Papa and Wolfie, although a short while ago, I was not so calm about my prospects. Now I pray that Papa shall live for a very long time and Wolfie will be exceedingly rich. N.