heart and her reason have made for her; she understands life, and has set me to dreaming of another happiness.... I begin to reflect.... But how beautiful Madame Potocka looked at the masked ball yesterday evening! Her dress as a sultana became her astonishingly. Her beauty shone as a sun above that of all other women; every one admired her, and all coveted the honor of dancing with her. As for me, I could only dance one Polonaise; I was attacked by so severe a pain in my foot that I could not leave my seat, and I was forced to decline the invitations of the prince royal and of several noblemen. Thank heaven, the carnival is over!

Saturday, February 29th.

I am going to Sulgostow when I least expected to make such a journey, and must first write a few hasty lines. The starost and my sister called yesterday to say farewell. The prince palatine came to my room this morning, and told me my brother and sister were very anxious I should accompany them home. 'It is very probable,' he added, 'that your father and mother will soon join you there.' I always yield implicit obedience to the will of the palatine, and made no resistance in this case: I will go. The princess approves highly of my resolution. I will go, since they desire it; and yet the prince royal is ignorant of my approaching departure, and there is no one whom I could ask to inform him of it: he will hear it as one of the ordinary items of every-day news.

If I dared I would ask the princess to say farewell for me, and present my regrets to him; but I should never have the courage to confide in her—and, besides, will my departure cause him any pain? Will a single thought, a single remembrance follow me, when there are so many beautiful women in Warsaw?... Madame Potocka will still be here.... But I am called, and must hasten my preparations.

Sunday, March 15th.

I returned to Warsaw two days ago. I do not know how it was, but I forgot my journal, and was forced to abstain from the consolation of writing during my absence.

I remained three weeks at Sulgostow. I tell it to my shame, but the time weighed upon my soul as a lengthened torture. I did not see my parents, as they are not expected there for four days yet, and the prince palatine came for me in such haste that we made the journey in one day; fresh horses awaited us at each stopping place, so that we did not lose a single moment.

The prince royal came to see us the day after our arrival. He is much changed; he seems sad or suffering. He gave me to understand that my departure had given him great pain, and he said with some bitterness, that one should have some consideration for a friend.... A friend! this heartfelt word fell from his lips. Oh! how remorseful I felt for having made this journey! And yet I made it against my own will.

The prince palatine maintains that all is for the best. I must confess I can see no reason for making me suffer, and for afflicting the prince royal; but I have made a promise to myself to obey the palatine blindly; I believe him to be destined to play a large part in all the events of my life. The princess received me most kindly upon my return.

I have embroidered a cushion for the cathedral, with I.H.S. upon it. I found all that was needful for my work at Sulgostow, and I was so diligent that I finished it before my departure. I worked fervently, for I was accomplishing a secret vow; God alone knows my intention, God alone can grant my prayers.

The anniversary of Barbara's marriage was celebrated with great pomp at Sulgostow. How many changes in the space of a year! Before Barbara's marriage, I was always gay and always happy; that is to say, always calm. I enjoyed my insignificant liberty; my life was like a cloudless sky; I experienced none of those moments of bliss which are yet a real suffering, nor of those hours of torment possessing so strange a charm.

Thursday, March 19th.

The prince royal was as gay and amiable yesterday as during the first days of our acquaintance. He came in the morning and passed an hour with us; he could not remain longer, as he was obliged to accompany his father on a hunting party to the forest of Kapinos: but he returned in the evening when we least expected him; he came quietly, without any escort, and with an absence of ceremony, and an air of mystery which added to the charm of his presence.

The chase was successful, and quite a singular event took place. The forest of Kapinos borders upon that of Zaborow; the proprietor of the last-mentioned domain is said to be a gentleman of good family; he gave the king a splendid reception when his majesty passed through his lands, and the king promised the gentleman a starosty, as a recompense for his fidelity, on condition that he would first permit him to kill a bear upon his territory. Several bears were killed, but the starosty seemed forgotten; the poor gentleman, always hoping and always disappointed, killed a bear himself at the last hunt. He dragged it to the king's feet, and said to him, 'Sire, ursus est, privilegium non est.'

The king laughed heartily at this sally, and promised him solemnly that he should have the promised starosty.

The prince royal remained two hours with us: he is now freer, and can leave his father more easily, because his brothers, Albert and Clement, are in Warsaw. Every one says that Prince Clement is very good and very pious; he has a decided vocation for the ecclesiastical state, and it is presumed he will take orders. It is a proof of great wisdom on the king's part to consecrate one of his sons to God; but it is fortunate the choice did not fall upon Prince Charles.

Tuesday, March, 24th.

Notwithstanding it is Lent, my days pass quite gayly. The prince royal comes often to see us; he repeats unceasingly that the court etiquette weighs upon him; he is glad to be free from it: but to-morrow I am again to be separated from him. The princess is in the habit of making a retreat of a week before Easter, in order to prepare for her confession; all religious ladies do the same, and I must of course accompany the princess to the convent of the Holy Sacrament.

During a whole week we will see none but priests, we will read only books of prayer, and work only for the church or for the poor.

Holy Thursday, April 2d.

I have made my confession, and am now prepared to receive the holy communion. I never remember to have been so calm, or to have felt so much quiet in my soul. It is an inestimable blessing to be at peace with God and with one's self. How solemn and how sweet are the ceremonies of our holy religion! What a happiness to have been brought up in the knowledge of its mysteries! I have an excellent confessor, the Abbé Baudoin; he is very popular among the ladies of the court, because he is a Frenchman. But, popularity aside, he would still be the confessor of my choice; he is a worthy and a holy man, possessing all the virtues taught by Christ; one follows his counsels with respect; his views of religion console and show one the way to heaven without forcing one entirely to quit the earth. I passed several hours with him, and he knew how to reach my heart, even while condemning my faults. He caused me to feel humiliated for my sins, without crushing me, or driving me to despair; he showed me the futility of all human things, the sadness and emptiness of all pleasures arising from vanity and self-love.... Indeed, during a few moments, I thought seriously of consecrating my life entirely to God, and of becoming a gray nun in the convent under the Abbé Baudoin's direction.

I was measuring my cell, and counting the number of steps I could take in my new asylum; I thought my resolution nearly taken, when my maid entered and began to tell me some trifle concerning the prince royal's huntsman!... The chain of my holy