I have been here several days, but I think I will soon return to Sulgostow. I suffer everywhere, and it always seems to me that I will be most happy in whatever place I am not. My lot is brilliant in imagination, but miserable in reality. And yet, my parents have received me well, and have treated me with the greatest kindness. But a matter of comparatively slight importance is one of the causes of my uneasiness here: I have no money; I cannot make the slightest present to my sisters, and can give nothing to the people of the castle. When I was with the princess, she provided for all my wants, and gave me besides a small sum every month; I could save nothing, nor indeed could I anticipate any cause for doing so. I now find myself in the most complete state of destitution, and would rather die than ask for money from my husband or my parents, who of course think that I am abundantly provided for. When Barbara returned from the school of the Holy Sacrament, she doubtless had much less money than I spent during my sojourn in Warsaw, and yet she made a small gift to every one. She was not, as I, bowed down beneath the weight of melancholy thoughts; her spirit was free and her heart was joyous. She could think of others, and offer the labor of her own hands when more costly presents were wanting.... But I, unquiet, agitated, passing alternately from the most actual and positive grief to fears still more terrible, cannot apply myself a single moment. Formerly, when I was happy through hope, and when all life seemed to me one brilliant illusion, I fancied that when I should return to Maleszow after my marriage, I would be followed by as long a train as a queen; I forgot no one in my dreams; all had their share in my royal favors.... Ah! what a fearful contrast between my desires and the reality! I have not passed a single day since I came here without shedding tears. When I first saw my parents I wished to throw myself at their feet; but my father prevented me, and, treating me as if I were a stranger, made me a profound bow. Whenever I enter the saloon, he rises and will not sit near me; the homage he considers due to my dignity as princess royal overpowers his paternal tenderness. This formal etiquette causes me inconceivable torment! Ah! if honors are to cost me so dear, I would a thousand times prefer to be only a simple noble. The first dinner I ate with the family was ceremonious and cold. My mother was uneasy and ready to apologize for offering me the ordinary fare of the castle, and my father whispered in my ear: 'I might have offered you a bottle of wine, drawn from the tun of Miss Frances; it would have been very pleasant for me to have drunk it at our first dinner, but custom requires that the father should drink the first glass, and the husband the second; otherwise it would be a bad omen.... Will that day ever come?' he added, sighing.