to know the
end. My father finally gave the signal, and we rose, but while we were
each saying the after-dinner grace, Mr. Kochanowski slipped out at a
small side door, and did not again make his appearance.

When the courtiers and chamberlains had retired, my parents desired me
to leave my work and come to them: my father said:

'Frances, Mr. Kochanowski, son of the Castellan of Radom, has asked your
hand of me. I am aware that his family is ancient and illustrious. I
know that he has a fine fortune, by no means disproportioned to your
own, but this alliance does not exactly please us. In the first place,
Mr. Kochanowski is too young; his only distinction is derived from the
title held by his late father; he has received no honors at court, or
rather the favor shown him has conferred no very illustrious rank upon
him: finally, I think he has made rather too abrupt a declaration, and
he exacts an immediate and decisive reply. We have given him our answer,
and it is in accordance with his own mode of proceeding. We are sure,
Fanny, that you will approve of what we have done.'

He then desired me to recommence my work, thus giving me no time to say
either yes or no.

I doubtless share the opinion of my parents; but as I have promised to
be entirely frank in my journal, frank without any reserve, I must
confess that neither Kochanowski's age nor the manner in which he made
his offer, appear to me sufficient objections. The true motive of the
refusal he has received is that he has no title, and, as our little
Matthias says, a vice-castellan is not much: a castellan would indeed be
something worth considering. God reads to the bottom of my soul, and I
am sure I have no desire to marry; I am so well satisfied, so entirely
happy in my father's house. I was melancholy during several days after I
returned from Sulgostow, but I have now completely recovered my ancient
gayety.

My position is very different from what it formerly was, and I am
treated with more respect; when there are no strangers at table, I am
served the fourth.

I will accompany my parents wherever they go. I should be sorry to
abandon such dear and sweet prerogatives. Besides, marriage is not so
fine a thing as many deem it; a woman's career is then ended; once
married, all is fixed and decided for life; no more changes, no more
doubts, no more hopes of something still better. One knows what one must
be, one knows what one will be until the hour of one's