r
apparent to the throne, from the Starostine Frances Krasinska, has been
gradually decreasing; the prince royal desires me to treat him as my
equal: what precious and inconceivable goodness! The hours he passes
with us are the most delightful that can be imagined; he talks of his
journeys to St. Petersburg, to Vienna, to Courland, and amid the society
surrounding us, he even finds opportunities to say words to me which I
alone can comprehend. The prince royal knows and appreciates all the
intrigues which are mining our unfortunate republic, but, through
respect for his father, he dare not say what he thinks. Great God! If he
should one day be king!

The princess, who eagerly seeks a bad side to the best things, says that
his politeness has no other aim than to make a party for himself, and
when he is master of the crown, he will forget or despise us. I do not
believe this, and repel such a suspicion as the deepest injustice. The
princess would be very glad to see Lubomirski on the throne, but I doubt
exceedingly the possibility of such an event.

The sisters canonesses have a soiree this evening, to which I am
invited. The superior, Miss Komorowska, is a very respectable personage.
Madame Zamoyska, born Zahorowska, was the foundress of this community:
she copied it from that existing at Remiremont, in Lorraine. It serves
as an asylum for young ladies who will not or who cannot marry; they
live there in retirement, but still receive visits. Madame Zamoyska
bought the Marieville, in one of the main streets, on purpose to
establish this community of canonesses. Twelve ladies of the highest
rank are received there, but eight young girls belonging to the lesser
nobility are also admitted.

The last days of the carnival are finally at hand.

Ash Wednesday, _February 16th_.

After such constant and fatiguing excitement, one grows tired of
pleasure and longs for rest. I am almost glad when I think the carnival
is over. During the past three weeks I have led a purely external life,
absorbed in balls, dress, and visits. One must have tried this mode of
life to know how sad and tiresome it really is. My success, my
happiness, are envied by others, while I long only for solitude, only
for a few quiet moments, in which I may enjoy my own thoughts and
reflections.

Barbara seems to comprehend my sufferings. I see her often, and certain
words which occasionally fall from her lips explain her fears for me.
She sees before