at the idea of those which the fond father would feel when informed the long-lamented darling of his heart was about being restored to his arms. She approached him with eyes swimming in tears, and taking his hand, pressed it between her's. "A yet greater, a yet more affecting surprise than that received by hearing of Madame D'Alembert's existence, awaits you (cried she); Oh! endeavour to bear it with composure—endeavour to hear with moderation—that he, whom long you have mourned, still lives—lives to demand a father's blessing, and recompense the bitter sorrow he has occasioned."
Great joy and great sorrow are often alike in their effects. Madame Chatteneuf had scarcely uttered the last word, ere the Marquis fainted in her arms. She directly desired a servant to be dispatched for the rest of her party; and the first object the Marquis beheld on recovering, was his long-lost Philippe. The scene which followed can better be conceived than described; it was
