Three years, which had elapsed since I parted from Count Ethelbert, had produced a change in him, which struck me with astonishment; he was no longer, as in former times, either an object of love, or of terror: his appearance was capable of exciting, even in the bosoms of those whom he had injured, no sentiment but compassion. It seemed, as if the natural consequences of his dissolute life had made a much more wretched creature of himself, than he had been able to make of the victims of his tyranny. Edith and myself had lost that pale and emaciated appearance, which we brought with us from Ravenstein, and were fast resuming our natural bloom and health; while on the contrary our persecutor seemed to have but just escaped from the dungeons of that gloomy Castle. Nor was it only his body’s strength which had suffered; his excessive libertinism, the stings of conscience, and his terror of impending punishment had broken down the fortitude of his mind completely. No sooner did he enter the room in which I waited for him, than he threw himself at my feet, and entreated me in the most abject manner to pardon what was past. He also bathed Edith’s feet with his tears, and stammered out a long confession of the injuries which he had done her, and of which she was already but too well informed. This excessive and unmanly degradation of himself was neither what we expected, nor wished from him. My sensations were equally composed of contempt and pity, and I could not decide, which of the two was the more powerful. The latter at length prevailed, and I suffered myself to be drawn by Ethelbert’s entreaties into making a promise, which I found in the end most painful to perform! I am not certain, what were my uncle’s feelings on this occasion: methought I could read in his eyes a strong expression of pity for the poor victim, who was thus sacrificed to the common safety, and of anger against himself for having consented to the renewal of a connexion, whose consequences must needs prove to be the most bitter sufferings, that could have been inflicted on his unfortunate niece. Terror of his two powerful enemies had compelled him to free himself from one of them by this sacrifice; but alas! he had soon to find his regret at having made this sacrifice increased by the knowledge, that it had been made without advantage. It was only at a distance, that Count Ethelbert appeared dreadful. Our scanty troops, under the command of the martial Leopold (who in spite of his increasing age was still an hero) were of much more effective consequence, than all the thousands who were ranged under the banners of the powerful Count of Carlsheim and Sargans; for their chief was a wretch, infirm both in body and mind, made fearful of encountering the wrath of man by his consciousness of deserving the vengeance of Heaven, and who (as we had soon but too much reason to suspect) was not always in his proper senses.