s change, if
Barbara had not been all in tears: however, the cap became her
wonderfully well, and every one repeated that her husband would love her
dearly, very dearly. I am sure I do not doubt it: who could help loving
such a good, sweet young creature?

The ceremony of the cap ended, all began again to dance, and through
respect for the custom introduced by the new court, the bride danced the
drabant with the king's representative, after which the orchestra played
a grave Polonaise. The Palatine Swidzinski offered his hand to the
bride, and she danced in turn with all the gentlemen present. As the
Polonaise is rather a promenade than a dance, it suits all ages; my
father made once the tour of the hall with Barbara, and then gave her
back to the starost, as was most proper. The Polonaise ended the ball,
and my mother sent us all off to sleep.

... I slept well, and indeed I needed rest; but I do not feel very much
tired this morning. Heavens! how happy I was yesterday! I danced oftener
with the prince's representative than with any one else; he is so
agreeable and converses so charmingly! That is not astonishing, for he
has been to Paris and Luneville; in fact, it is only a year since he
returned. He was then immediately attached to the person of the prince,
whom he praises highly. Indeed, if his master be more gallant than he
is, he must be something really ideal.

I am very glad that the festival will be continued this evening; but we
must begin to dance early, for on Shrove Tuesday we cannot dance after
midnight.

I have not yet seen Barbara--I should say her ladyship the starostine,
for my parents desire we should so call her. Her absence puts me
completely out of my reckoning, but I have fallen heir to her bed and
work table. I have finally all the honors due to the eldest. I am no
longer Frances, still less Fanny; I am the young starostine.... Indeed,
I needed some consolation.

Wednesday, _February 27th_.

To-day is Ash Wednesday, and we must languish a whole year before
another carnival comes round.

Our guests already begin to leave us. His majesty's representative
departed yesterday, and the married pair will go day after to-morrow. We
will accompany them to Sulgostow. The starost can invite no strangers,
as all amusements are forbidden during Lent; an exception has been made
in favor of Kochanowski, the castellan's son. He earnestly solicited
this favor, and the starost could not refuse him, as h