... This thought has become so bitter that I was on the point of
retracting; but it is too late, for I have given my word.
I must now write to my parents; I must confess to them the love which I
have so long kept a secret from them. Ah! how wicked they will think me!
I have been wanting in confidence toward the best of mothers.... My God!
inspire me; give me courage! A criminal dragged before his judges could
not tremble more than I do!
Thursday, _October 22d._
The prince palatine's confidential chamberlain has already left for
Maleszow. I am very well satisfied with my letter; but the prince royal
finds fault with it, and says it is too humble; I, in my turn, found his
postscript altogether too royal. I was about to tell him so, when the
prince palatine stopped me.
What will my parents say? Perhaps they will refuse their consent, and,
strange as it may appear, during the last few days, the sense of my own
dignity has been stronger than my vanity or my desire for greatness.
This event seems to me quite ordinary: it is true he is the prince
royal, Duke of Courland, and will perhaps one day be King of Poland, but
if he has not my father's consent, it is he who is not my equal.
If no opposition is made to my marriage, I ardently desire that it may
be the parish priest of Maleszow who will give us the nuptial
benediction; the prince palatine has promised me to do all he can; at
least, he will be the representative of my parents, and will confer a
small degree of propriety upon the ceremony.
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