air
as she pleased; and retired to his apartment, much more affected with
the joy of obliging her, than disturbed at the success of the war.

The beautiful Queen passed the night in very different emotions; love
had renewed his forces in her soul, nature that did for a while revolt
at the remembrance of the cruelty inflicted on her, returned to its
obedience, and was wholly taken up with the fear of not being loved, and
remembered enough to be acknowledged, when discovered, with the joy she
wished.----The Counts of Ponthieu and St. Paul spent not their hours
more quietly. Thibault found himself agitated with the perturbations of
a dawning passion; he accused himself of it as a crime. The Count was no
less embarrassed about his, tho' he was very well assured they proceeded
not from love, but the prodigious resemblance he found between his
daughter and this lovely Queen, reminded him of the barbarity he had
been guilty of.----He could not imagine there had been a possibility of
saving that unhappy princess; but the tenderness with which the
Sultaness had inspired him, was so near that he felt for his daughter,
that it gave him an astonishment not to be conceived.

Day appearing, they rose, and set themselves about preparing the fruit,
as Sayda had ordered them; which done, they were not long before they
received a command to bring it to the Queen. Nothing could be more
pleasing than this commission; both found an undescribable impatience to
see her again, and followed the faithful slave 'till they came into her
presence. They found her dressed with an incredible magnificence,
resplendent with an infinite number of diamonds; she was reclined on a
sofa, and after having looked a moment on them, "Well," said she, "are
you ready to satisfy me?---I will not give you the pains of relating
your names and qualities, neither are unknown to me; only tell me by
what strange adventure you arrived at this place.---Count de Ponthieu,
it is to you in particular I address."

The Count was in a surprize which cannot be expressed, to hear himself
named, and finding there was indeed no room for dissimulation, told his
story with sincerity; but when he came to that part which concerned his
daughter, his sighs made many interruptions in his discourse, yet did he
forget no circumstance, but confessed the crime he had been guilty of,
in putting her to death: "But alas!" added he, "with what remorse has my
soul been torn since that fatal day!-