firm in her desire to remain happy in private life. With all delicacy he sought to assure her that he could not hut remember, in case of a refusal, that it was scarcely undeserved. Nor could he ever forget how much was exacted from him, by the almost regal birth of her to whose hand he thus dared to aspire.
Love, and her desolate and defenceless condition, induced the princess willingly to consent; and, in constituting his felicity, she increased her own. Heaven blessed so happy a union; and, in due time, an infant bound still closer the marriage tie. Thus, the princess Sophia, born of noble blood, destined to enjoy grandeur, homage, even a throne, having adandoned the magnificence of her former state, in private life fulfilled all the duties of nature and of society.
Years passed happily on, until Moldask was attacked with disease, which required the aid of a skilful surgeon. Sophia was unwilling to confide a life so precious and beloved to the care of surgeons of doubtful skill, and therefore resolved to visit Paris. She persuaded her husband to sell all their possessions and embark. The medical skill of Paris restored Moldask to health. Being now perfectly cured, the husband sought to obtain employment in the Island of Bourbon, and was successful.
Meanwhile, the wife was one day walking with her graceful little girl in a public garden, as was her wont. She sat down on a green bank, and conversed with her child in German, when the Marshal of Saxony, passing by, was struck with the German accent, and stayed to observe them. She recognized him immediately; and, fearing the same from him, bent her eyes to the ground. Her blushes and confusion convinced the marshal that he was not mistaken; and h? cried out, "How, Madame? What do I see? Is it possible?" Sophia suffered him not to proceed, but drawing him aside, she declared herself, praying him to keep sacred the needful secret, and to return with her to her dwelling, where she might with greater care and security explain her situation. The marshal was faithful to his promise, visited the princess many times, though with all due precaution, and heard and admired her history. He wished to inform the King of France, that this august lady might be restored to her rightful honours and rank, and that he himself might thus complete the good work begun by his mother, the Countess of Konigsmark. He did inform the Empress Maria Theresa, who wished to restore her to her former rank. Sophia refused all these suggestions and offers. "I am so used," she said to the officer who proposed to reconduct her to the court—"I am so used to this domestic and private life, that I will never change it. Neither to be near a throne, nor to receive the greatest homage, nor to enjoy riches, nor even to possess the universe, would give me the shadow of the pleasure and delight I feel at this moment." So saying, she tenderly embraced the one and the other of her dear family.
She lived long with her husband and daughter, serene and contented, dividing her cares and occupations between assisting and amusing the one, and educating the mind and the heart of the other. Death snatched from her, within a short interval, these two beloved ones, who had filled her heart with sweet emotions; and for a long time that heart was a prey to one only sentiment of the deepest grief. Yet not even this sorrow affected her so much, but that she believed the unhappiness of grandeur to be still greater. She constantly refused the repeated invitations to Vienna; and,
