The courtiers tell me often I am the handsomest, but I am sure I do not see it; we all have the bearing becoming young ladies of high station, daughters of a Staroste; we are straight as poplars, with complexions white as snow and cheeks pink as roses; our waists, especially when Madame ties us fast in our stays, can be, as they say, "clasped with one hand." In the parlor before guests we know how to make our courtesy, low or dégagé, according to their importance; we have been taught to sit quiet on the very edge of a stool, with our eyes cast down and our hands folded, so that one might think we were not able to count three or were too prim even to walk out of the room easily. But people would think differently if they saw us on a summer morning, when we are allowed to go to the woods in morning gowns and without stays, puffs, coiffures, or high-heeled shoes: oh! how we climb the steep hillsides, and run and shout and sing, till our poor Madame is quite out of breath from running and calling after us.
As yet I and my two younger sisters have seldom left home: Konskie, the home of our aunt, the Woivodine [4] Malachowska, whom we visit twice a year; Piotrowice, where my honored Father, after his return from Italy, built a beautiful chapel, like the one in Loretto; Lisow, where stands our parish church,—these bound all our experiences in travelling. But Basia, as the eldest, has already seen a good part of this world: she has been twice to Opole, visiting our aunt, the Princess Lubomirska, Woivodine of Lublin, whom my Father loves and venerates as a mother rather than as an elder sister. Basia has spent also one year in the convent of the Ladies of the Visitation at Warsaw, and so, of course, she knows more than any of us: her courtesies are the lowest, and her manners the most stately.
My honored Parents are thinking now of sending me also somewhere to finish my education; I am expecting every day to see the carriage drive up to the door, and then my gracious Mother will tell me to sit beside her, and she will take me either to Warsaw or to Cracow. I am perfectly happy at home, but Basia liked the convent very much, so I hope that I shall; and then I shall improve in the French language, which is now indispensable for a lady; also in music and in dancing, and besides that I shall see a great town, our capital.
As I have not seen many castles besides Maleszow, I cannot judge whether it is pretty or not. I only know that I like it very much. Some people think that our castle, with its four stories and its four bastions, surrounded with a moat full of water crossed by a drawbridge, and situated amidst forests in a rocky country, looks rather gloomy, but I do not think so at all. I am so happy here that I should like to sing and dance all day long. I hear my honored Parents complaining sometimes that they are not quite comfortable here. It is true that, although on each floor there are besides the parlor, six large rooms and four smaller ones in the bastions, we cannot all be accommodated on the same floor, as we are a very numerous family. The dining-rooms are on the first, the dancing hall on the second, and we girls have to occupy the third floor. My honored Parents are no longer young, and it fatigues them to go up and down every day, but for me these stairs are just my delight! Often, when I have not yet all my puffs on, I grasp the stair-rail and I am down in one second without my foot once touching the steps. Oh! it is such fun!
It is true our many guests may sometimes be crowded a little in their sleeping rooms, but nevertheless, they visit us often, and I do not know that we could amuse ourselves better in a more spacious palace. I think the Maleszow Castle, if three times as large, could not be more magnificent; it is so gay and lively that the neighbors often call it little Paris. We are especially gay when winter comes; then the captain of our dragoons does not lift up the drawbridge until night, so many people are continually driving in and out, and our court-band has enough to do playing every day for us to dance.
But I ought not to forget to speak about the retinue of our Castle, which, in accordance with the rank of my honored Parents, is very numerous and stately.
There are two classes of courtiers,—the honorary and the salaried ones, all alike nobles, with the sword at their side. The first are about twenty in number; their duties are to wait in the morning for the Count's entrance, to be ready for any service he may require, to accompany him when visiting or riding, to defend him in case of need, to give him their voice at the Diet, and to play cards and amuse him and his guests. This last duty is best performed by our Matenko (Mathias), the fool or court jester, as the other courtiers call him; but he does not at all deserve that sobriquet, as his judgment is very correct and his repartees are very witty. Of all the courtiers he is the most privileged, being allowed to speak whenever he chooses and to tell the truth frankly.
To the honorary members of our court belong also six girls of good family, who live on the same floor with us under the superintendence of our Madame, and also two dwarfs. One of the latter is about forty, but of the size of a four-year-old child; he is dressed as a Turk. The other, still smaller and very graceful and pretty, is eighteen years old, and they dress him as a Cossack. Sometimes, for sport, my honored Mother orders him to be put on the dinner table, and he walks about among the bottles and the plates as easily as if he were in a garden.
The honorary courtiers receive no pay, almost all of them being the sons and daughters of rather wealthy parents, who send them to our castle for training in courtly etiquette. The men receive, nevertheless, provision for two horses, and two florins [5] weekly for their valets. These servants are dressed, some as Cossacks, some as Hungarians, and stand behind their masters' chairs at meals. There is no special dinner table for them, but they must be satisfied with what their masters leave on their plates, and you should see how they follow with a covetous eye each morsel on its way from the plate to the master's mouth! I do not dare to look at them, partly from fear of laughing, and partly out of pity.