m Malherbe, the French poet.

We have a pianoforte, and a German, who directs our orchestra, gives us
lessons; he receives three hundred florins every year. Barbara plays
quite well. After the music lesson, the hair dresser comes to arrange
our hair; he always begins with the eldest. When he has unfortunately
heard of some new fashion, we rarely escape without shedding some blood.
My hair is longer and thicker than that of my sisters, and when I sit on
the stool it sweeps the floor; the barber consequently tries all his
experiments upon my head. The present fashion pleases me exceedingly: it
is a kind of very elegant _neglige_, one portion of the hair is gathered
upon the top of the head and falls down in rich curls; the rest is in
plaits, which hang about the neck and over the shoulders. The barber
uses a half pound of powder every time he dresses my hair.

We employ two hours in making our toilette; but in order that the time
may not be entirely lost, we learn French proverbs by rote, or madame
reads aloud a new work, which is very moral and quite amusing: 'The
Child's Magazine,' by Madame de Beaumont. I cannot express how charming
I find these tales, narrated by a governess to her pupils. At noon the
Angelus is rung, and we go down to dinner, which usually lasts about two
hours; then, the weather permitting, we take a walk. When we return, we
employ ourselves with our needle, and are now engaged on a piece of
embroidery for the church at Piotrowice. When the daylight fails us, wax
tapers are lighted, and our work is pursued without intermission. We sup
at seven in all seasons, and after supper we have leisure to do as we
please. We converse or play cards. Our little Matthias makes such
comical faces when he fails in getting the card he wishes! He certainly
has the gift of always making me laugh.

The chamberlain is sent to Warsaw once every week, and brings the
letters and papers; the chaplain reads them aloud to us, and to certain
news I pay the most particular attention. My father often reads to us
out of the old chronicles, but I must confess I am much more entertained
by the books written in French. Madame, who does not know a word of
Polish, always reads to us in French, and we thus become accustomed to
the sound of the language. My father only reads to us one evening in the
week. When the carnival comes, farewell to all reading; all then think
of nothing but of playing, dancing, and amusement. The festivals in