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After taking leave of this brave patriot, I went to Christianpol, where lived the famous palatin Potocki, who had been one of the lovers of the empress Anna Ivanovna. He had founded the town in which he lived and called it after his own name. This nobleman, still a fine man, kept a splendid court.
'I have only twenty kreuzers in my pockets, he writes in his note-book, 'and it seems to me that I am richer than Arthur Potocki, whom I met only a moment ago; besides this, witty conceptions, fun, showing a quiet and cheerful spirit; for example, 'May it be permitted to me to sign myself as belonging to the circle of your friends, F. Chopin. Or, 'A welcome moment in which I can express to you my friendship.
"And, moreover, there's my old Stafva, you know." Stafva was a legendary person in whom nobody believed. She was the incarnation of the bookseller's unrealised dreams. "But you, Mr. Potocki?" suggested the schoolmaster. "He's been married once, that's enough," replies the bookseller. The Pole nods his head like a metrometer. "Yes, I was married very happily. Ugh!" he says and finishes his grog.
“It is hard to blame such a desire,” said Robak. “Depart, but take money with you; you may equip a company of soldiers, like Wlodzimierz Potocki, who amazed the French by contributing a million to the treasury, or like Prince Dominik Radziwill, who abandoned his lands and goods and furnished two fresh regiments of cavalry.
After an extremely agreeable visit to the palatin I returned to Leopol, where I amused myself for a week with a pretty girl who afterwards so captivated Count Potocki, starost of Sniatin, that he married her. This is purity of blood with a vengeance in your noble families! Leaving Leopol I went to Palavia, a splendid palace on the Vistula, eighteen leagues distant from Warsaw.
Potocki says 'ugh' with the malice of the bachelor who listens to the complaints of the married man," remarked the bookseller. "What did I say?" asks the astonished widower. "Ugh!" says the bookseller, mimicking him, and the conversation degenerates into a universal grinning and a cloud of tobacco smoke. It is midnight.
The whole prospect is so charming, that it appears as if prosperity, happiness, and peace, only reigned here. The first villa which attracted me was that of Count Leo Potocki. The building is extremely tasteful. The gardens were laid out with art and sumptuousness. The situation is delightful, with an extensive view of the sea and neighbourhood.
For amusement, there was a Paul Potter bull beside a Paul Potter willow, delightfully unconscious of a coming Paul Potter thunderstorm, and a miniature of Shakespeare which did not resemble any of the portraits of him that I am familiar with. Any amount of Turkish trappings and reminiscences of Potocki and Kosciuszko, of course.
After an extremely agreeable visit to the palatin I returned to Leopol, where I amused myself for a week with a pretty girl who afterwards so captivated Count Potocki, starost of Sniatin, that he married her. This is purity of blood with a vengeance in your noble families! Leaving Leopol I went to Palavia, a splendid palace on the Vistula, eighteen leagues distant from Warsaw.
After taking leave of this brave patriot, I went to Christianpol, where lived the famous palatin Potocki, who had been one of the lovers of the empress Anna Ivanovna. He had founded the town in which he lived and called it after his own name. This nobleman, still a fine man, kept a splendid court.
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