The Journal of Countess Francoise Krasinska Part 5

_Sunday_, January 12.

I ought to be quite pleased now! At the ball of the Woivode of Russ, last Thursday, the duke danced only with me. On Friday he called here again. Yesterday he sent us by his aide-de-camp an invitation for a new Italian opera, "Semiramide," given in the court theatre, and there he devoted himself exclusively to me.

There I was also presented to the king, who was very gracious and inquired about both my honored Parents. Still more, the Staroste came here an hour ago announcing that the duke wished to stand G.o.dfather to the little Angela, and desires me to be the G.o.dmother,--me, n.o.body else; he insisted upon that.

The christening will be magnificent, in the royal Collegiate Church. There were to be more couples invited to a.s.sist, but out of respect to the duke the honor will be left solely to him; the others will only be witnesses of the ceremony. Many of the most distinguished persons will be invited. The whole of Warsaw will talk about the affair, and certainly the "Courier" will describe it, and our two names will stand there together.

What will Madame Strumle and the young ladies in the school say to that, and my honored Parents, and all the people in Maleszow, and the good Matenko? I am sure he will say that it is because of his predictions.

Oh, that Matenko! how often his words come to my mind. He is responsible for all my troubles; but for his hints no foolish notions would have entered my head. As it is, I do not feel two days alike: sometimes the happy thoughts crowd around me, life seems full of hope, and I hardly know that there is an earth under my feet; then suddenly everything seems to fade, and my heart feels heavy and so sad!

For instance, to-day when I was so enraptured at the news of the christening, the princess mentioned,--I do not know why,--that the law of the Church forbids the G.o.dparents to marry each other, and I shuddered.

But what makes me feel really happy is that at last I shall see my dearest sister. After the christening we go to her house.

_Wednesday_, January 15.

The ceremony took place yesterday and I have seen Basia, who looks beautiful, although she has grown a little thin and pale.

She is always as good as an angel, and as happy as a queen.

The duke begged that the little girl be named after me, but Basia was firm in her first purpose; and she was right, for this honor was due to our gracious Mother. Thus the little girl was christened "Angela;" she is a dear little thing, and she cried during the whole ceremony, which is a good sign that she will live to be aged. It was the first time in my life that I stood as G.o.dmother; I did not know how to hold the baby, so the duke had to help me. It seemed so queer to stand with him before the altar surrounded by so many people, and to write down my name next to his in the large book. Perhaps it was to this event that Matenko's predictions referred.

Everybody is congratulating me on the great honor which befell me. The duke is still more attentive than before, and a little more familiar; he calls me "my beautiful partner," and the little girl is always "our little Angela." He presented handsome gifts to Madame Starostine and to me, and threw handfuls of gold among the attendants and the poor in the church.

I for my part could not do so much, but the little embroidered christening robe, my gift to Angela, has cost me more than a few hours' work.

But I forget to speak about an important affair. The topic of conversation in Warsaw has for some time been a hunting party which the Prince Jerome Radzivill, the Hetman of the Lithuania army, is preparing for the pleasure of the king and the duke.

He is spending thousands in order to make a grand display, and has had the game brought from the forests of Lithuania, over 500 miles away. The fete will be to-morrow; the weather is fine and the sleighing excellent. The duke wished to drive his "partner,"

and it shall be so. The four Warsaw belles--for I am counted now as the fourth--will go in one sleigh, and the duke will be our driver. All four will have costumes alike, but of different colors,--long velvet coats, tight at the waist, trimmed with sable, and small caps with fur to match. The Countess Potocka has selected blue, the Princess Sapieha dark green, Mademoiselle Wessel marroon, and I shall wear dark crimson.

It is a pity Basia will not see all this, but she is so happy with her little Angela that she does not care for anything else.

_Friday_, January 17.

I have never in my life seen anything so magnificent as this hunting party. We started at nine o'clock in the morning. One could not possibly count all the horses and sleighs which were a.s.sembled before the king's castle, but ours was the handsomest of all, and we followed first after the king. The duke, in a hunting costume of green velvet, looked superb!

We had a long drive far beyond the Church of the Holy Cross, to Ujazdow. There, coming down the hill on which is built the city of Warsaw, is a large field usually planted with wheat.[12] This field was enclosed by a fence with a gate, ornamented with escutcheons, devices, and inscriptions. In the middle stood an iron kiosk into which the king and the duke entered. Near the kiosk was a s.p.a.ce covered with bear-skins for the most notable men, and further on, an amphitheatre with an iron railing for the ladies. The whole place looked like a forest, for except a s.p.a.ce left around the kiosk, the ground was covered with big pine-trees planted for the occasion. In the background, one saw the hills covered with a throng of spectators.

[12]That place is now Lazienki, with a park and a charming little palace built by the last Polish king, Stanislaus Poniatowski, for his summer residence.

As soon as we arrived and took our seats the trumpets and the horns gave the signal, and the hunters of the Prince Radzivill let the wild beasts loose from the enclosure. There were bears, deer, wild boars and wolves; the trained dogs chased them toward the kiosk, and one cannot describe the howling and the roaring of the wild animals, the barking of the dogs, the shrieking of the ladies, and all the noise which ensued. The king himself shot three wild boars; the duke killed much game, and fought a bear with the spear, a proof of great strength and skill. The skin of that bear was presented to me for a rug.

The hunt lasted until four o'clock in the afternoon; we had a lunch served to us during that time. There were perhaps a hundred hunters and game-keepers of the Prince Radzivill, all dressed in red livery and armed with guns and pikes.

This entertainment was given in honor of the anniversary of the coronation of the king; for the same purpose there will be a ball to-night given by the Marshal of the Crown, Bielinski.

_Sat.u.r.day_, January 18.

The ball was splendid. The duke was very gay and happy, as on that day he received a diamond-star order from the king. I danced a great deal and my feet are aching; but I am sorry that I spoke of it, for now I shall have to stay at home and rest for ten days. The princess fears that the incessant dancing and late hours will injure my health; really, my cheeks have become rather pale.

We received letters from Maleszow. My honored Mother deigned to write to me herself, recommending earnestly that I be prudent about my health and that I take the greatest care of my reputation, so as to give no cause for the slightest reproach for frivolity. She says that I ought not to believe all the compliments I may hear, that often a young girl is called a belle through some pa.s.sing fancy, not because her beauty really deserves it; and that it sometimes spoils her whole life, for her head is turned, her expectations aim too high, and she may be forsaken and laughed at in the end. I am sure that will never be the case with me. My ambition may be ever so high, but n.o.body shall know about my disappointment if it comes. Still I could not help crying when I read that letter; I carry it with me and often read it over. Happy is the young girl who never leaves her parents' home! I often regret the old Maleszow Castle.

_Wednesday_, January 29.

At last the ten days of my retirement are over. There were four b.a.l.l.s during that time, and one of them a _bal-masque_, where I was to appear in a Scotch quadrille with the three other belles.

But no entreaties of the duke or others could make the princess relent; when she has said anything she never changes her decision.

I was sorry to miss the b.a.l.l.s, but no one looking at me would have guessed it. It is true that the duke came here often, and praised my patience and courage so much that it was a great comfort. The hours spent in his company are delightful. He talks about Saint Petersburg, or Vienna, where he also spent some time; he describes the good people in Courland; and he always knows how to put in a word the meaning of which, I think, escapes all other ears but mine.

How well he knows the bad affairs of our country! It is only through respect to his father that he does not dare to speak about them openly. What a good king he would make! The princess says that his extreme amiability has a particular aim,--to gain partisans for the future,--and that if he were elected king, he would perhaps not even look at us. I do not believe it. I can see plainly that the princess is not in favor of him; she would like rather to see a Lubomirski on the throne.

To-night there will be an entertainment at the Ladies Canonesses'; a very agreeable house and much frequented. This order was founded by the Countess Zamoyska, in imitation of the Ladies' Chapter House of Remiremont in Lorraine. It is said that it originated from the pity the countess felt for a young girl of a n.o.ble family, who was to be married in spite of her dislike and even despair. She was an orphan and had no inclination for the convent life, but her high birth forbade her accepting a situation, so she was obliged to marry, merely for a home. In order to give a shelter to other homeless Polish girls, where they could lead a Christian life and be free to marry according to their liking, the countess bought Maryville, a large building once belonging to the Jesuits, and had it altered into small apartments, with a common dining-room and large reception-parlors; she endowed it and also completed an adjoining chapel, erected by the Queen Mary Kasimir, the wife of John Sobieski, in memory of his victory over the Turks near Vienna in 1685.

There are eleven canonesses and the abbess. In order to be elected, the young girls must be fifteen years old, and prove their n.o.bility for six generations on both parents' sides. They are addressed with the t.i.tle of "Madame."

_Ash Wednesday_, February 19.

Thank G.o.d, the carnival is over! I see that one can grow tired even with entertainments. There have been so many during the last weeks that I felt in a continual whirl. I could do nothing, nor think of anything else but dresses, visits, a.s.semblies, and other festivities. At first such a life seems amusing, but by and by one feels disheartened, and in my life I have never known such tedious hours as those I pa.s.sed in the last fortnight. And yet so many people think that I am so very happy, and they envy me.

How beautiful the Countess Potocka looked at the ball last night, dressed as a sultana! She was the queen of the ball, and danced the whole evening. I danced only the first polonaise; I hurt my foot and refused all the invitations. Toward the end the duke came to ask me for a dance, but I did not care to dance then. Thank G.o.d, the carnival is over!

_Sat.u.r.day_, February 29.

A few words in haste: I am going unexpectedly to Sulgostow.

There was nothing said about it yesterday when the Staroste and Basia came to take their leave, but this morning the Prince Woivode came to my room and said that my sister and her husband begged me to go with them; that I shall have a good rest there and probably see my honored Parents, so I ought to go. I believe that all the prince's advice tends to my good, so I did not hesitate, but I am sorry the duke does not know anything about it. Perhaps he will not mind it at all; perhaps he will not even notice it, as there are so many pretty women in Warsaw; and the Countess Potocka, she does not go away.

_Sunday_, March 15.

I returned two days ago. My diary was forgotten here in my desk, so I could not write in Sulgostow. I was away a fortnight, but it seemed much longer. My honored Parents are expected in Sulgostow in a few days, but the Prince Woivode, who came for me, did not want to wait even a few hours; we were almost flying on the road, with fresh horses waiting at each station, and we reached Warsaw in one day.

The duke came the following morning; he looked pale, almost ill. He gave me to understand that it was my sudden departure, without saying good-bye, which made him feel so badly. He said almost bitterly that "a friend deserves better treatment." I am sorry now that I went away, and to be sincere, I was sorry for it more than once during that fortnight, but the Prince Woivode says that it was for the best.

I must confess that often I do not understand him at all, but I obey him blindly, for I feel that he is interested in my future. The princess greeted me very graciously.

In Sulgostow I spent most of the time petting the little Angela, and embroidering a cushion for the Christ's chapel, in order to propitiate Heaven in a certain direction, which I do not dare to name here. I worked a.s.siduously; it seemed to me that every st.i.tch made the fulfilment of my wishes nearer, and now my work is finished.

They celebrated with great magnificence the anniversary of Basia's wedding in Sulgostow. How many changes in this one year!

_Thursday_, March 19.

Yesterday was one of the most pleasant days I can remember. The duke was as gay and charming as at the beginning of our acquaintance. He came here first in the morning, but only for a moment, as he was going to a hunt with the king; then in the evening, when we did not expect him at all, he ran in,--I think he walked, as no carriage was heard,--and he stayed a few hours.

He is freer now to leave the castle, as his two brothers, Albert and Clement, are in Warsaw, and they keep the king company.