He came here to see me, but could remain only two
hours. Last Wednesday he left Warsaw, as if he were going to Courland,
but, sending his carriages before him on the way to the north, he turned
aside and hastened here. His court awaited him at Bialystok, and he was
forced to travel night and day to avoid suspicion. I saw him for so
short a time that those few happy moments seem only a dream. He was
obliged to assume his huntsman's dress in order to gain admittance
unknown into the castle.
No one penetrated his disguise, and no one except the prince palatine
was cognizant of our interview. He spoke to me, he gave me repeated
assurances of his love, and restored to me my dearest hopes; had he not
done so, I feel I should have died before the expiration of the three
months. Three months is the very least that he can remain at Mittau. How
many days, how many hours, how many minutes in those three months! I
could be more resigned were I alone to suffer; but he is so unhappy at
our separation!
Thursday, _September 3d._
I have neglected my journal during nearly two months. Good and evil, all
passes in this world. My days have been sad and monotonous, but they are
gone, and their flight brings me nearer to my happiness. The prince
royal assures me in all his letters that he will return in October. I
was crazy with joy to-day when I found the leaves were falling: I am
charmed with this foretaste of autumn.
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