Sunday, January 12th.
Now I ought to be completely happy. Last Thursday, at the Prince Czartoryski's ball, the prince royal danced with me alone. He came the day before to make us a visit, and yesterday, he sent his aid-de-camp to invite us to a representation of the Italian opera Semiramide, which is to take place at the court.
During the whole time of the play, the prince paid attention to no one but myself. I was presented to the king, who gave me a most gracious reception; he asked me for my parents, and especially for my mother. The starost came to announce that the prince had concluded to stand godfather to his daughter, and that he had chosen me for godmother.... I will then hold the child at the baptismal font with the prince, and then I shall be of the same rank with himself. The will of God be done! The ceremony will take place with great solemnity in the cathedral church of St. John. Several other baptisms were to have taken place upon the same day, but they will be postponed through respect for the prince. The first society of Warsaw will be present at the ceremony; every one will speak of it, and certainly the Polish Courier will chronicle this important news. What will Madame Strumle and all the young ladies at the school say? What will my parents, and all our court at Maleszow say? What will our little Matthias say?
Oh! that Matthias! How often I think of him! He is responsible for all my torments, and all my uneasiness; without him, my reason would never have abandoned me, nor would such wild hopes have sprung up within my heart.
Scarcely one moment have I been able to rejoice over the approaching ceremony; the princess has just told me that marriage is forbidden between persons who have stood together as godfather and godmother at a baptism; I shuddered as I listened! Great God! what can all this mean? I no longer know myself. All within my soul is confusion and disorder: my own thoughts terrify me; I pass alternately from joy to sorrow; delicious hopes smile upon me, and then I am overwhelmed by a strange presentiment of coming sorrow. I am in a state of continual agitation: I tremble, and long to quit the world, and then again feel drawn toward it by bonds so sweet and so strong....
At least I shall soon once more see my sister. That meeting will afford me a really happy moment; true consolation is to be found in sweet and confiding affections. After the ceremony, we will go to my sister's; she is doing remarkably well; she sits up, but cannot yet leave her room.
Wednesday, January 15th.
The baptism took place yesterday, and I saw my sister. How charming she is! She has grown paler and somewhat thinner. She is, as she always was, good like an angel; and she is so happy! The prince royal quite insisted that my name should be given to the little one, but Barbara would not agree to that; she said that we owed the preference to our mother's name. He has, however, obtained a promise from her that her second daughter shall be named Frances.
The little one is lovely, but red as a crab; she cried during the whole time of the ceremony: they say that is a good sign, and that she will probably live to grow up. God grant it, for I love her already. I was so embarrassed, I had not the least idea how I ought to hold her in the church. My hands failed me; the prince royal aided me most kindly; how good he is!
I was as much surprised as pleased at finding myself standing before the altar at his side, in the presence of so numerous an assemblage, and at seeing my name inscribed on a great book with his: the prophecies of our little Matthias will doubtless receive no further fulfilment.