r parents' feet.

Then came congratulations from all sides. The Abbe Vincent, after
sprinkling all the spectators with holy water, presented the paten to
the wife of the king's pantler, Jordan, that she might kiss it. This was
a great mistake, an incomprehensible forgetfulness of the rights of
precedence: he should have offered it first to the Castellane
Kochanowska, mother of the prince royal's representative. My mother, who
fortunately perceived the error, repaired it by begging the castellane
to take precedence of the Palatiness Granowska in reconducting the
starost. Barbara walked between the king's representative and the
Palatine Malachowski. In this order we reentered the great hall, and
soon after, dinner was announced.

The table was very large, and in the form of the letter B. The service
was magnificent; in the centre stood a sugar pyramid four feet high; a
French cook had been at work upon it for two weeks; it represented the
temple of Hymen, adorned with allegorical figures, and surmounted by the
united arms of Krasinski and Swidzinski, encircled by French
inscriptions. There were, besides, quantities of other fancy articles:
porcelain figures, gold and silver baskets, etc.; indeed, the table was
so crowded that our dwarf Peter might have tried in vain to make his way
among the various dishes and ornaments. I could not count the number of
dishes, and the butler, I am sure, might try in vain to tell the number
of bottles of wine which were drunk. It may perhaps give some faint idea
to say that a whole tun of Hungarian wine was emptied during the repast:
it was called 'Miss Barbara's wine.' My father bought it the day of
Barbara's birth, that it might be drunk at her marriage, in accordance
with the old Polish custom. Each of us has her tun of wine, and our
butler tells me that when mine has remained two years longer in the
cellar it will be perfect.

The toasts were innumerable; all drank to the newly married pair, to the
republic, the king, the Duke of Courland, the prince primate, the
clergy, the master and mistress of the house, and the ladies. After each
toast, the bottles were broken, the cannon fired, and the trumpets
sounded.

At the end of the dessert, a perfect calm succeeded to all this noise:
we thought my father was about to give the signal for rising from the
table, but we were mistaken. He called the steward, and said a few words
to him; the latter left the room, but soon returned, bringing