WARSAW, 21 January.

I arrived here to-day. I broke my journey at Vienna which made it less
tiring, but my nerves do not let me sleep, so I take up my journal
which has grown as a friend to me. What joy there was in the house
at my arrival, and what a dear, kind soul that aunt of mine is! I do
believe she is awake now for very joy. She could scarcely eat any
dinner. When in the country at Ploszow, she is continually wrangling
with her land-agent, Pan Chwastowski, a burly old nobleman who does
not give in to her one whit. Sometimes their disputes reach to such
a pitch that a catastrophe seems imminent; then suddenly my aunt
relaxes, falls to with an appetite and eats her dinner with a certain
determination. To-day she had only the servants to scold, and that was
not sufficient to give her an appetite. She was in capital spirits
though, and the loving glances she bestowed on me beggar description.
In intimate circles I am called my aunt's fetich, which makes her very
angry.

Of course my fears and presentiments have not deceived me. There are
not only plans, but also a definite object. After dinner my aunt is
in the habit of walking up and down the room, and often thinks aloud.
Therefore, in spite of the mystery she deems fit to surround herself
with, I heard the following monologue:--

"He is young, handsome, rich, intelligent; she would be a fool if she
did not fall in love with him at once."

To-morrow I am to go to a picnic the gentlemen are giving for the
ladies. They say it is going to be a grand entertainment.