But at times he attempted to keep the young lady in some sort of discipline.
"Going to dine two miles off"—the Polish mile, be it observed, is more than three times the length of ours—"is a very bad thing," not for herself, he hastens to add: "four miles for your delicate mother are too much, and I am afraid lest she should feel it. As for you, if it were eight, all the better. The more you exert yourself the better your health will be. Jump, laugh, run, but don't sleep after dinner; and if you cannot go out, at least walk in the hall, play or read."[2]
Again: "Please write more clearly, for I lose half of the pleasure; or if you will write in pencil, wet it in water, then the letters will not be rubbed out."[3]
On her side the lady imposed orders upon her lover with which he, not very willingly, complied.
"I have acted according to thy command," he writes, "and will not go to the christening, although it was disagreeable to me to refuse. I have no choice, because thou only art the mistress of my heart. Do whatever seems to thee best. To behold thee happy is my prayer to God." He tells her that he sees her father prowling about the windows of his own house and looking suspiciously in the direction of Kościuszko's, but: "I will do as thou desirest, and will behave most politely, and if he says anything against my opinions I will gnaw out my tongue, but will answer nothing back."[4]
[1] Letters of Kościuszko.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Ibid.
[4] Ibid.
The ill-founded rumour that in Kościuszko's youth he had intended to run off with Ludwika Sosnowska had got to the ears of Tekla's father. Certain enemies of Kościuszko's did their best to slander him yet further. The result was a scene of the sort more familiar a hundred and odd years ago than now: a girl throwing herself weeping at the feet of an enraged parent, the wrath of the father dissolving into tears, but his determination remaining implacable. The history of it was duly handed on to the absent Kościuszko, whose comment was as follows: