Time passed on, and one autumn evening a pararalytic stroke carried off Carolina’s pseudo-father.  After this it was, of course, impossible that she and Moldask should continue to inhabit the same house.  He came to her on the morning after her faithful old friend’s funeral, and explained that he must seek a new abode unless she would so far cast away all thoughts of her former station as to consent to call him husband.  The princess, who had long regarded him with feelings warmer than those of mere friendship, agreed to link her fate with his, and from now began the happiest period of her so far troubled life.  Their union was blessed by the advent of a little girl; nothing seemed wanting to render her happiness complete.

Years rolled by, and Moldask was attacked by a disease which baffled the skill of the New Orleans doctors.  His wife was determined that he should have the best medical advice, and so persuaded him to sell all his possessions and embark for Paris.  Their journey was not in vain; the skill of the Parisian physicians restored Moldask to good health, and he obtained employment in a department of the French Government.

One day, as Carolina was walking in the public gardens with her little girl, she met the son of her faithful friend, the Countess of Konigsmark.  She recognised him instantly, and, fearing that he might know her, tried to brush past him with averted head.  The Marshal, however, was struck with her appearance, and, turning round, followed her until she sat down beneath some trees.  The instant that he caught a fair sight of her he recognised his former mistress, and quickly approaching, bent his knee and carried her hand to his lips.  She implored him not to divulge her secret, but to come with her to her home, and hear how she had fared since Alexis had, as he thought, killed her.  The Marshal consented to accompany her; he listened with interest to her tale, and when he had heard it to the end announced his intention of informing the King of France, that her highness might be restored to her proper position and honours.  Carolina, however, was quite determined that this should not be.  She begged the Marshal to keep her secret for one week, as her husband had certain negotiations, which would be ruined if her identity were disclosed.  This he consented to do, and Carolina dismissed him, with the assurance that on that day week he should be definitely informed of her wishes in the matter.

On the appointed day the Marshal found that the princess and her husband had left their home.  However, he succeeded in tracing them, and told the king of the noble lady who was then in his dominions.  His Majesty entered into negotiations with the Empress Maria Theresa, with a view to deciding upon the manner in which her august aunt should be treated.  The upshot of these negotiations was a most tender letter from the Empress to Carolina, asking her to make the Austrian court her home, and promising to load her husband and herself with honours and distinctions.  But the happy wife and mother felt that the life she had been leading for the last few years was preferable in every way to the artificial existence of a court, and refused her niece’s generous offer.  It was renewed again and again; but nothing could shake her determination.