“My dear lord,” answered Griselda, meekly, “in all things I have kept my vow.  I should have been most happy if love for me had brought thy heart to forget my low station.  But in all things I am content.  Only one last favor I ask of thee.  Thy new wife will be young, high-bred, impatient of restraint, tender to rude sorrow.  Do not put on her faith such trials as I have borne, lest her heart bend not under them, but break at once.”

When she had done speaking, she turned to her closet, where all these years she had kept the simple russet gown which she had worn on the day Duke Walter wooed her, and laying aside her velvet robes, her laces, and jewels, she put it on, went before the duke again, ready to depart from the palace forever.  But he had one request to make of her.  It was that she would stay to superintend the bride’s coming, to see that the feast was prepared, the wedding chamber ready, and the guests made welcome, because none so well as she knew the management of the affairs in the palace.

Then Griselda went among the servants and saw that the feast was made, and all things were in order, concealing her aching heart under a face which tried to smile.  When at evening she heard the fickle people shouting in the streets, and saw the roses strewn as they had been on her wedding-day, then the tears began to fall, and her soul sank within her.  But at that moment the duke called, “Griselda, where is Griselda?”

On this, she came forth into the great feast chamber from whence he called.  At the head of the room stood the duke, still handsome and youthful; and on each side of him a noble youth and maiden, both fresh, blooming and beautiful.

A sudden faintness overcame Griselda at the sight.  She grew dizzy, and would have fallen, if Duke Walter had not quickly caught her in his arms.

“Look up, Griselda, dear wife,” he cried, “for thou art my dear wife, and all I shall ever claim.  I have tried enough thy faith and patience.  Know, truly, that I love thee most dear; and these are thy children returned to thee, whom for so many years I have cruelly kept hid from thee.”

When Griselda heard these words, as one who hears in a dream, she fell into a deep swoon, from which for a time neither the voice of her husband, nor the tears and kisses of her children, could rouse her.  But when she was brought back to life, to find herself in the arms of her lord, and meet the loving looks of her children, she was speedily her calm and gentle self again.

Then they led her to her chamber, and put on her richest robes, and a crown of jewels on her head; and, radiant with happiness, all the beauty of her girlhood seemed to come back to her face.  Nay, a greater beauty than that of girlhood; for, softened by heavenly patience, her face was sweet as an angel’s.  From that time forth the duke strove, by every look and deed, and tender word, to make amends for her hard trials.  And to all ages will her story be known, and in all poetry will she be enshrined as the sweet image of wifely patience, the incomparable Griselda.