r addresses to us any of those little gallantries which are the
small change of good society; he talks only to our parents, plays cards,
and reads the newspapers. I still continue to think that his brother is
worth more than he; at least he is more sociable, he talks about Paris
and Luneville, and is not so old.

But I am forgetting to relate the ceremonies accompanying Michael
Chronowski's emancipation; I was quite diverted with them. When all the
company had assembled in the great hall, my father took his place upon
the highest seat; the folding doors were thrown open, and the steward,
accompanied by several young courtiers, introduced the candidate for
emancipation, very richly dressed in a full suit of new clothes. He
knelt before my father, who touched his cheek lightly in sign of good
will; he then fastened a sword at the young man's side, drank off a cup
of wine, and presented him with a fine horse, accompanied by a groom,
also well mounted and equipped. The two horses were in the castle court.

My father asked Chronowski if he preferred trying his fortune in the
world or remaining in his service. Michael replied, timidly, that he was
very happy in the castle, but would like to see more of his country, and
ventured to ask a recommendation to Prince Lubomirski, Palatine of
Lublin, my father's brother-in-law. His request was granted, my father
slipped a roll of twenty gold ducats into his hand, and invited him to
remain with us during the carnival. Chronowski seemed delighted with
this proposition, and after paying his homage to my father and mother,
he kissed the hands of all the ladies present; from that moment he was
admitted into our society, and danced his best in Mazurkas and
Cracroviennes with Barbara. He certainly dances very well, and my sister
is equally graceful; it was charming to see them!

Monday, _January 8th._

The prophecy has been really fulfilled! Barbara is to be married at the
termination of the carnival, and she is to marry Mr. Michael, for such
is the name of the Starost Swidzinski. He asked Barbara's hand of my
mother yesterday, and to-morrow they will be betrothed! Poor Barbara was
all in tears when she came to tell us the great news; she shrinks from
the idea of marriage, and it will be very painful to her to leave her
parents and her home. But it would have been very unadvisable to have
refused the match, when my father and mother assure her that she will be
very happy. The starost s