The second period of her life was practically a marvellously fit completion of the first. The Comte Félix Potocki, at the commencement of the troubles in Poland, had, by the influence of his rank and his immense fortune, gathered around him a great party. Momentarily absent from his Court, he was on his way back from Italy when, at Hamburg, he fell in with Comte and Comtesse de Witt. He became ardently enamoured of Sophie, and without entering into the details of a story which, though short enough, was full of incidents, I pass to the _dénouement_, which he accelerated in a novel fashion. Nothing is easier in Poland than a divorce. The abuse of the law is carried to such an extent that I have known a M. Wortzel who had no fewer than four living wives bearing his name. The Comte Potocki took advantage of this state of things. Having taken all the necessary measures beforehand, he went to see the Comte de Witt one morning. ‘I can no longer live without your wife,’ he said. ‘I am certain that I am not indifferent to her. I prefer to owe my happiness to you, and to preserve an eternal gratitude. Here are two documents. The one is an act of divorce, and only wanting your signature; your wife’s is already there. The other is a voucher for two millions of florins to be paid by my banker this morning. Let us terminate this affair in an amicable way, or in another way if you like, but let’s terminate it.’ The husband, no doubt, remembered the drawbridges of Kaminiek. He made the best of a bad business, like the French embassy-secretary, and signed; and handsome Sophie, from Comtesse de Witt as she was, became that same day Comtesse Potocka, this time adding to the prestige of her beauty the advantage of a wealth which had not its equal in Europe. At one moment there seemed even a higher destiny in store for her, when in 1791 the majority of the grandees of Poland had agreed to sacrifice a part of their privileges to procure the appeasement of their country. Catherine, to give more importance to this confederation, decided that Potocki should be its chief. To induce him to accept the position, she even dangled the crown before his eyes. One day, at the end of a solemnity, she took her diadem from her brow and placed it on the head of Potocki, saying, ‘This would suit you admirably well, comte.’