h more with them than we were, and rendered them a thousand services.
I try to fill her place, but I am very awkward in lighting my father's
pipe, and in choosing the silks for my mother's embroidery. With time
and the help of God I hope to become more skilful, but I can never equal
Barbara (I _must_ call her so for this once). I have plenty of good
will, but notwithstanding that, forget many things, while my sister
never forgot anything: the whole court speak of her in the most
affectionate and exalted terms.

My parents sent a chamberlain to Sulgostow to-day, to inquire for her
ladyship the starostine. All the chamberlains covet the honor of bearing
the message. Michael Chronowski, who leaves to-morrow for Opole, really
regrets his ancient condition.

The castle becomes daily more melancholy; the castellan's son has gone,
and, during the last three days, the only visitors we have had were some
travelling friars and a gentleman of our neighborhood, who brought his
young wife to introduce to our parents. This gentleman formerly
belonged to our court, and he seemed to me very well bred.

'My heart,' said he to his wife (who had not spoken two words), 'if I am
a good husband and father, you must thank, first the starost, and then
the steward; the former never spared his reprimands, nor the latter his
leathern strap.'

I was charmed with this _naivete_; and my father made him some very
handsome presents.

Such have been our sole visitors, and everything is sad and dull, as it
always is after so much joy and merriment. However, I should not omit
one occurrence which made me laugh like a crazy girl. After the wedding,
my mother distributed Barbara's wardrobe among the young ladies of the
suite and the waiting women: during our absence, each one made a dress,
a spencer, or a mantle for herself out of her share of the spoils, and
on Sunday all presented themselves tricked out in their new clothes.
Whichever way we turned our eyes, we saw the fragments of Barbara's
wardrobe. Our little Matthias was the first to observe it: he pretended
to sigh, and when asked what troubled him, replied:

'My heart aches when I behold this pillage of all that pertained to the
late Miss Barbara.'

Every one began to laugh, but Theckla and I louder than the others, and
indeed so loudly, that my father reproved us by repeating the old
proverb: 'At table as at church.' Our little Matthias is so droll! How
could any one help laughing?

We