Every shew of composure and self-command vanished at this moment from the countenances of Kara Aziek and Sebastian; they tore open the letter, they ran over it together with swelling hearts and frequent exclamations of joy; its contents were indeed balm to their tortured minds. The Duchess wrote to assure them of her inviolable fidelity to the secret of their daughter’s birth, and to promise her continued protection to the amiable girl through any change of fortune; she told them that Blanche’s real parents had never yet been guessed at even by Paula, the wife of Gaspar, for whose infant son the Duke of Braganza had sent into Sicily, proclaiming his intention of repaying to the child the timely service of his father. Renewed vows of friendship, repeated exhortations to hope and patience, and trust in Providence, concluded the letter of the Duchess; that of Blanche, though filled with expressions of filial sorrow and love, happily convinced her parents that she knew not the worst of their destiny, but was encouraged to hope beyond probability or present prospect. Sweet were the tears that now stole down the cheeks of these illustrious sufferers! they beheld the writing of their child, they believed her out of the reach of their misfortunes, and their misfortunes ceased to afflict or to affright them. The consolation afforded by this unforeseen blessing, together with the inward satisfaction of having sacrificed interest to principle, spread a cheering light through their hitherto dreary prison, they were comforted and revived; and patient in joy as in sorrow, they cheerfully resigned themselves to await the good time of heaven. While all within the prison was peace, all without was confusion and indecision; every day messages and noble persons arrived from different states, to know the fate of the extraordinary man whom the Portuguese called their King. The friends of Sebastian zealously disseminated their belief of his identity; the partizans of Philip and of Rome as hotly proclaimed his falsehood. Venice herself knew not how to act; she began to tremble for the consequences of her rash union with Spain, and to listen with troubled attention to the remonstrances of France, England, and the States-General. The city was now crowded with foreigners of various ranks and ages, daily besieging the Senate with alternate reproach and solicitation. In the midst of this tumult, Don Christopher of Crato, arrived from the court of London with a threatening letter from the English Queen. She demanded a public trial of the pretended impostor, menacing Venice and Spain with immediate destruction if they refused compliance. The terror of a British fleet decided the irresolution of the Venetians, and summoning a full senate, they consented to hear their royal prisoner.