We have been here nearly a week; the situation of the castle is very
agreeable, but I am no longer gay, and nothing pleases me. The trees
should already be green, and they are still bare; it should be warm, and
the air freezes me. I desired to embroider, but the indispensable silks
were wanting; I tried the piano, but it was not in tune: it will be
necessary to send to Lublin for the organist. There is quite a large
library here, but I dare not ask the princess for the key. The prince
has several new works; he paid in my presence six gold ducats for ten
little volumes of M. Voltaire's works: Voltaire is now the most
celebrated writer in France. The princess forbids my reading his books,
and I am sure I am quite content. But what I cannot endure is, that I am
not permitted to read a romance lately come from Paris, entitled _La
Nouvelle Héloïse_. It is by a certain Rousseau, and has made a great
sensation here. I picked up one volume, and read a few pages of the
preface, but what did I see? Rousseau himself says: 'A mother will
forbid her daughter to read it.' The princess is quite right, and I laid
the book aside with a flutter at my heart which still continues.
The physicians in Warsaw have ordered the princess to ride on horseback
during her sojourn in the country; they say this exercise will be
excellent for her health. She laughed at the prescription, and had not
the faintest intention of trying it; but the prince palatine will hear
of no jesting where physicians are concerned.
He has bought a pretty mare, very gentle and well trained, as also a
most comfortable saddle; but the princess still refuses to mount the
animal. She was with great difficulty persuaded yesterday to mount a
donkey, and thus make the circuit of the garden. She will be obliged to
repeat this exercise every day. As for me, who have no fear of horses, I
had a most burning desire to try the mare; I spoke of it yesterday
evening; but the princess chid me, and told me with quite a severe air,
that it was the most improper thing in the world for a young lady. I
must of course renounce my desire; but I do it with real regret, for I
already saw myself in fancy riding through the forests, going to the
chase, climbing the steep mountain sides with _him_, and admiring his
strength and skill....
The castle has become more lively; several persons have come from the
city and the neighborhood to present their homage to the palatine. They
might perhaps afford me amusement; and yet I do not even find a passing
distraction in their presence. I have seen Michael Chronowski, my
father's former chamberlain; how the poor young man is changed! The
prince palatine, in consequence of my father's recommendation, placed
him at the bar in Lublin. They say he is doing very well, but he is
thin, bent, and old before his time; his face is strangely colored, and
he has some frightful scars. He has not danced once since Barbara's
wedding. The time for mazourkas and cracoviennes is past: they have been
replaced by law cases, pleading, chicanery, and all its tiresome
accompaniments; his language is so learned that one can no longer
understand him.
As a compensation, however, we have here one very agreeable visitor,
Prince Martin Lubomirski, the prince palatine's cousin, though much
younger than he. I had already met him in society at Warsaw. The
princess, who is severe, and who never overlooks the least defect,
criticizes him a little; but I find his manners very agreeable: he owns
in the neighborhood the estate of Janowiec, and has given us all a most
pressing invitation to visit his castle. It is possible we may go there;
I should be charmed, for no one talks more agreeably. He is gay, fond of
pleasantry, and a great friend to the prince royal; he often speaks of
him, and always well and worthily; he appreciates him and knows how to
praise him.... My heart swells with pleasure while I listen.