--my tenderness for her revived
with fresh vigour, and the torments I have endured, have been such, that
if her spirit has any knowledge of what is transacted in this lower
world, she must believe my punishment at least equal to my
guilt."---Then he told her of their vow, their voyage to Jerusalem, the
tempest, and their slavery and condemnation.---"This, madam," said he,
"is a faithful account of our misfortunes; and though they are of a
nature beyond the common rank of woes, yet they receive no
inconsiderable alleviation, by the concern your excessive goodness makes
you take in them."---And, indeed, the fair Sultaness, during the latter
part of his relation, had seemed drowned in tears, and was some time
before she could recover herself enough to speak; but at last---"I own,"
said she, "that what you have told me, very much touches me.--I
extremely pity the Princess of Ponthieu, she was young, her reason might
have returned to her; the generous proceeding of her husband, would
doubtless have reclaimed her in time: but Heaven has punished you for
your cruelty, you must not therefore be any more reproached with it.
But to prove your penitence sincere, what reception would you give that
Princess if by any miracle, which I cannot at present conceive, she
should have escaped that destiny your rashness exposed her to?" "Ah
madam!" cried the Count, "were there a possibility of such a blessing,
my whole life should be employed in rendering hers fortunate!" "And
you," said she to Thibault, who she saw overwhelmed in tears, "would
your wife be dear to you? Could you forgive her distracted behaviour?
Could you restore her to your heart, as fond, as tender as ever?--in
short, could you still love her?"--"Question it not, madam," answered
he, with a voice interrupted with sighs, "nothing but her presence can
ever make me happy."--"Receive her, then," cried she, casting aside her
veil, and throwing herself into his arms, "I am that unfortunate wife--I
am that daughter," added she, running to her father, "that has cost you
so many melancholy hours. Own her, my lord; take her to your breast, my
dear Thibault, nor let the sight of her dissipate the tenderness you
expressed for her when unknown."

Who can describe the joy and astonishment of these illustrious persons!
their eyes were now opened, the secret emotions they had felt, were now
easy to be accounted for.---She was acknowledged for the wife, blessed
as the daughter, with a tor