What a reception it was! Why, Basia's wedding was nothing in comparison. And how highly educated are all these people in Warsaw! Whenever they open their mouths it is to compliment, but the duke's compliments surpass them all. He could not talk with me as much as at the _bal-masqué_, neither did I answer as boldly. But then I was no longer the Goddess of the Sun, and besides, it always happened that somebody was standing near us as if to listen to what we were saying. I do not like it; it is not nice, especially in well-bred people, to be inquisitive. The princess is in high spirits; she was the only elderly lady with whom the duke danced last night. The Prince Woivode is more gracious to me than ever, but he seems to avoid any questions from me or counselling me in any way. I look forward with growing impatience to my dear sister's coming. _Sunday_, January 5. During the whole of yesterday, the duke, the balls, all my dreams, everything went from my mind; all my thoughts were with my sister, although I have not seen her yet. She arrived yesterday morning and was taken suddenly ill. The princess hastened at once to her house, but I was not allowed to go. I spent the whole day in the most dreadful anxiety, and sent to three churches to have masses said. At last, after midnight the princess returned with the news that Basia was as well as could be expected, and that she had a little daughter. This morning I begged on my knees to be allowed to go there, but they said it would not be proper, and that I should have to wait several weeks. The Staroste came here for one moment, very happy to be a father. The little girl is, they say, beautiful. If they would only let me see her! She will be named Angela in honor of my gracious Mother. This morning the duke sent his congratulations and best wishes for the little grand-niece. Oh! I am longing to see my sister. _Wednesday_, January 8. Basia is still in bed, but the news from her and her little daughter is the best. I have seen the duke once only; he was away hunting with the king, but yesterday he appeared unexpectedly and stayed over an hour. How good he must be, and how he loves his father! He spoke about the late queen, his mother, with tears in his eyes. One can see also that he loves Poland, and that he has a most noble and valiant heart. Everything I ever heard of him is true; he is not praised even enough; one cannot well describe the charm of his voice, his sweet smile, and the look of his blue eyes, so deep and so soft! I do not wonder that the Russian empress was charmed with him,--that he carried away the hearts of the Courland people; and I shall not be surprised if after his father's death, Poland calls him to the throne. And he likes me!... Sometimes I think that it cannot be. Still, yesterday his eyes told me that so plainly; and not only his eyes, but some of his words too, and the Prince Woivode also seems to think so.