thinking which was not ours, and not supposing it possible that the faults
of her father, and the inhuman conduct of herself and her mother, should
not be one day known in France, should have hastened to anticipate this
publication, by writing to her friends at Paris, a letter justifying her
relations with the shipwrecked persons belonging to the raft, and trying to
devote these unfortunate men to public hatred and contempt. In this
singular letter, which has been circulated in Paris, she confessed that the
sight of the shipwrecked persons inspired her with a degree of horror,
which she could not suppress. "It was really impossible for me," said she,
"to endure the presence of these men, without feeling a sentiment of
indignation."

What then was our crime in the eyes of Miss Schmalz? Doubtless that of
knowing too well the persons really guilty of our misfortunes. Yes, on this
account, whenever Miss Schmalz saw us, which was extremely seldom, our
presence must have been a thunder-bolt to her. She could say to herself,
"these men have in their hands the fate of my father. If they speak, if
they utter complaints which they suppress here, if they are listened to,
(and how should they not be listened to in a country, where a charter, the
noble present of our august Monarch, causes justice and the law to reign,)
instead of being the daughter of a governor, I am but a wretched orphan;
instead of these honors, with which it gives me so much pleasure to be
surrounded, I fall into the degradation, and the oblivion which generally
await the unhappy family of a great criminal."

It is certain that, if we had listened to our griefs, if we had called to
legal account, the authors of our misfortunes, it is difficult to believe
that they would have escaped the inflexible rigour of justice. But we have
been generous, and it is we who are oppressed! Thus, as the historians of
the human heart, have but too often observed, "_It is more easy to pardon