Mousons wrote to Hamburgh for a set of French players; every kind of amusement imaginable was thought of to entertain the monarch. He suffered, indeed, inexpressibly from a pectoral dropsy. Pyrmont was converted into paradise upon earth; we had balls, operas, fire-works, cassinos, suppers, dinners, breakfasts, horse-races. All turned round the K--g in a perpetual circle of diversion, and the fair sex particularly strove to attract the eye of the illustrious guest. I there, likewise, had a little adventure, which particularly concerned myself. The Prince of W----, the proprietor of Pyrmont, fell deeply in love with me, and made me a formal proposal of marriage. I had resolved to exchange the title of a Countess for that of a Princess, and things had gone so far that I had even obtained the K--g’s permission for the purpose. But some minister, who, at an ominous hour, dissuaded him from the purchase of Pyrmont, threw such obstacles in my way, as entirely blasted this glorious marriage. I would have been revenged of him, had not the sudden weakness of the K--g hastened our departure for Potsdam. I left Pyrmont with a heavy heart, and with a still heavier heart I arrived, in the K--g’s company, at the Marble-palace, at Potsdam. Oh! could I have the least notion that this journey was to put an end to all my glory? Was it possible for me to have the remotest shadow of a dream, that the powerful, the adored, the immortalized, the dreaded, Countess of Lichtenau, like an abject criminal, should be kept in close confinement, in the very same palace where, sovereign like, she dictated laws to a mighty monarch, and a mighty people, that had so often groaned under the weight of her oppressive despotism? Could I have thought to see myself some time scoffed at, derided, and despised, by enemies, who rejoiced at my downfall, and to whom the clank of my chains is the harmony of music? To see myself the object of satire and abuse in all the newspapers, pamphlets, ballads, and other vile publications, in which my fame, my rank, and title, are traduced with unparallelled licentiousness? Could I have thought that my divine, my dearest-beloved Mousons, he, the prototype and mirror of the virtues of all the French emigrants, loaded with irons, should be dragged a prisoner to the fortress of Magdeburg? Alas! my journey to Pyrmont proved the tomb of my glory; the divine music which I heard in that enchanting scene of dissipation was converted into a mournful dirge to attend my bier. Those whom I have oppressed and wantonly tormented now rise against me, and loudly proclaim their own wrongs, and the infamy of the prostitute that squandered away the little product of their hard money, and carried millions into foreign countries. The sound of their cries strikes my ear with double horror, for, alas! it is the voice of truth!