... Ah! my God! what a mournful festival! Were it not for this
feverish agitation and this wedding ring, which I must soon take off and
hide from every eye, I should believe all these events to be merely a
dream.... But no, I am his, and God has received our vows.
SULGOSTOW, Monday, _December 24th._
I thought when I married that I would no longer have any occasion to
write in my journal: I believed that a friend, another me, would be the
depositary of all my thoughts. I said to myself: 'Why should I write,
when I will tell all to the prince royal (it seems to me as if I could
call him thus during my whole life)? He does not know enough Polish to
read my diary, and consequently it is useless.' But everything separates
me from my well-beloved husband; I will continue to write that I may be
more closely bound to him, that I may preserve all the remembrances
which come to me from him.... I am pursued by a pitiless fate! Ah! what
despair is at my heart!... When shall I see him again?
These last few days have been fearful! I thank Heaven that I am not yet
mad! The princess palatiness has sent me from her house, driven me out
as if I were unworthy to remain.... I have taken refuge with my sister
at Sulgostow: when I arrived, I sent for Barbara and her husband, and
said to them: 'Oh, have pity, have pity on me, for I am innocent; I am
the prince royal's wife!'
My poor sister, to whom the whole transaction was a mystery, thought I
had lost my reason, and was about calling in her maids to aid me.
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