“After leaving these would-be cottages, and crossing a part of the park, one came upon an enormous Turkish tent, of a magnificent and curious appearance. It had belonged to the Vizier, and was taken during the war between the Russians and the Turks. The interior was ornamented with Oriental hangings and trophies of Turkish arms, which were exceedingly beautiful. On the ground were rich carpets, and piles of gold-embroidered cushions used as seats made the illusion perfect. Behind the heavy curtains sounds of Turkish music were heard, and servants dressed in Eastern costumes served pipes and coffee on small low tables, inlaid with mother-of-pearl.” Every reception-day the park, lakes, rivers, and bridges were illuminated, and supper was served the whole evening in a large pavilion covered with creepers, and open on all sides. A number of small tables were laid out, and at each one of the ladies presided. A ball was organised in the Princess’s cottage, where they danced most of the night.
After enjoying these gaieties for some time, Hélène joined her uncle at Werky. With the exception of a few short holidays, the Diet, contrary to the usual custom, sat without interruption and without fresh elections till the year 1792. During these four years, and notwithstanding the critical nature of the political questions under discussion, the Court of Stanislaus presented an unusually brilliant aspect, which, however, was not destined to last.
While the Diet was sitting all the Crown officials were obliged by their duties to reside in Warsaw. Amongst those who attracted the most notice was the Lord High Chamberlain, Count Vincent Potocki. He belonged to one of the most illustrious families in Poland, and possessed immense landed estates and palaces of regal magnificence. His father, Stanislaus-Potocki, Palatine of Kiew, was the nephew and godson of the King Stanislaus-Leczinski, and therefore first cousin of the late Queen of France.
Although at this time the Lord Chamberlain was nearly thirty-eight years of age, he passed for one of the most fascinating men at Court. Gifted with a keen and refined intellect, very careful of his own interests, a favourite with women, and always on the best of terms with influential men, he knew the art of being successful with every one.
His first wife was Ursule Zamoiska,[82] niece of King Stanislaus-Augustus; they had no children, and were divorced at the end of a few years. Divorces were of such frequent occurrence in Poland, and had become such an established custom, that this event made no difference in the Count’s position with the King. Shortly after her divorce Princess Zamoiska married the Count Mniseck, and Count Vincent himself married in 1786 the Countess Micielska, by whom he had two sons. It was just at the time of the birth of his second son that the Count was summoned by his duties to Warsaw. The Countess remained at Ukrania, in a property near Niemirow, their habitual residence, her health not yet permitting her to travel.
The Lord Chamberlain, on arriving at Warsaw, met the Princesse Hélène at his cousins, Mesdames Jean and Severin Potocka; he was presented to her, and soon became one of the most faithful followers of her little Court. Hitherto Hélène, like a real coquette, had noticed all her admirers without seeming to distinguish any, but it was soon apparent that she received Count Vincent with marked favour. Her habits changed entirely, she went much less into society, and was only seen at the houses which the Count himself habitually frequented. He showed the greatest reserve in his intercourse with the Princess. Either from policy or prudence, he manifested no eagerness, and even affected to avoid meeting her too often; it was easy, however, for an attentive observer to see that he was flattered at the distinction with which he was treated by a young, beautiful, and most attractive woman.
Hélène, who was in love for the first time in her life, gave herself up completely to the feelings which influenced her. Without admitting it to herself, she felt keenly the Count’s coldness of manner towards her, and endeavoured to find out its cause; she thought he disapproved of her worldly pursuits, and she hoped to please him by giving them up: the pleasure parties, the brilliant cavalcades, were all abandoned. She courted solitude, and in her letters to her friends betrayed, unawares, her secret thoughts: here is an answer from the Princesse Henri Lubomirska, then living in Paris, which shows that her passion was no longer a secret:—
Paris, 15th October 1789.
“At last, pussie, I have received a letter from you, dated the 24th of September. It is a thousand and a hundred thousand years since I had heard from you, and I even felt a little cross, I must confess. But, after seeing in your letter such big phrases as actual situation, settled for ever, etc., I have cooled down, for, like Germain in La Feinte par Amour,[83] ‘What I am not told I know nevertheless.’ Really I am sorry that I cannot see you in this new situation, which makes solitude so precious. You must be very funny, not that I think the sentimental style altogether unbecoming to you; there are privileged beings whom every phase suits, and this can be said of you more than of anybody; but I cannot suppress a certain curiosity,—forgive me for it, my pet. Your happiness is my most ardent wish, and I am more interested than ever in desiring it, since the longer it lasts the longer you will remain with us. Tell me what terms you are on with Madame de Mniseck;[84] I have good reasons for asking, and you will understand them; but do not mention my question to anybody, and when you see the Lord Chamberlain, present him with my compliments.
“Is it true that he is irrevocably settled at Warsaw, and has given up Niemirow?