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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/696-0.txt b/696-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..10deca3 --- /dev/null +++ b/696-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4505 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Castle of Otranto, by Horace Walpole + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The Castle of Otranto + +Author: Horace Walpole + +Release Date: October 22, 1996 [eBook #696] +[Most recently updated: April 9, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: David Price + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CASTLE OF OTRANTO *** + + + + + + CASSELL’S NATIONAL LIBRARY + (New Series) + + * * * * * + + + + + + THE + CASTLE OF OTRANTO. + + + * * * * * + + BY + HORACE WALPOLE. + + [Picture: Decorative graphic] + + CASSELL AND COMPANY, LIMITED + _LONDON_, _PARIS_, _NEW YORK & MELBOURNE_ + 1901 + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +HORACE WALPOLE was the youngest son of Sir Robert Walpole, the great +statesman, who died Earl of Orford. He was born in 1717, the year in +which his father resigned office, remaining in opposition for almost +three years before his return to a long tenure of power. Horace Walpole +was educated at Eton, where he formed a school friendship with Thomas +Gray, who was but a few months older. In 1739 Gray was +travelling-companion with Walpole in France and Italy until they differed +and parted; but the friendship was afterwards renewed, and remained firm +to the end. Horace Walpole went from Eton to King’s College, Cambridge, +and entered Parliament in 1741, the year before his father’s final +resignation and acceptance of an earldom. His way of life was made easy +to him. As Usher of the Exchequer, Comptroller of the Pipe, and Clerk of +the Estreats in the Exchequer, he received nearly two thousand a year for +doing nothing, lived with his father, and amused himself. + +Horace Walpole idled, and amused himself with the small life of the +fashionable world to which he was proud of belonging, though he had a +quick eye for its vanities. He had social wit, and liked to put it to +small uses. But he was not an empty idler, and there were seasons when +he could become a sharp judge of himself. “I am sensible,” he wrote to +his most intimate friend, “I am sensible of having more follies and +weaknesses and fewer real good qualities than most men. I sometimes +reflect on this, though, I own, too seldom. I always want to begin +acting like a man, and a sensible one, which I think I might be if I +would.” He had deep home affections, and, under many polite +affectations, plenty of good sense. + +Horace Walpole’s father died in 1745. The eldest son, who succeeded to +the earldom, died in 1751, and left a son, George, who was for a time +insane, and lived until 1791. As George left no child, the title and +estates passed to Horace Walpole, then seventy-four years old, and the +only uncle who survived. Horace Walpole thus became Earl of Orford, +during the last six years of his life. As to the title, he said that he +felt himself being called names in his old age. He died unmarried, in +the year 1797, at the age of eighty. + +He had turned his house at Strawberry Hill, by the Thames, near +Twickenham, into a Gothic villa—eighteenth-century Gothic—and amused +himself by spending freely upon its adornment with such things as were +then fashionable as objects of taste. But he delighted also in his +flowers and his trellises of roses, and the quiet Thames. When confined +by gout to his London house in Arlington Street, flowers from Strawberry +Hill and a bird were necessary consolations. He set up also at +Strawberry Hill a private printing press, at which he printed his friend +Gray’s poems, also in 1758 his own “Catalogue of the Royal and Noble +Authors of England,” and five volumes of “Anecdotes of Painting in +England,” between 1762 and 1771. + +Horace Walpole produced _The Castle of Otranto_ in 1765, at the mature +age of forty-eight. It was suggested by a dream from which he said he +waked one morning, and of which “all I could recover was, that I had +thought myself in an ancient castle (a very natural dream for a head like +mine, filled with Gothic story), and that on the uppermost banister of a +great staircase I saw a gigantic hand in armour. In the evening I sat +down and began to write, without knowing in the least what I intended to +say or relate.” So began the tale which professed to be translated by +“William Marshal, gentleman, from the Italian of Onuphro Muralto, canon +of the Church of St. Nicholas, at Otranto.” It was written in two +months. Walpole’s friend Gray reported to him that at Cambridge the book +made “some of them cry a little, and all in general afraid to go to bed +o’ nights.” _The Castle of Otranto_ was, in its own way, an early sign +of the reaction towards romance in the latter part of the last century. +This gives it interest. But it has had many followers, and the hardy +modern reader, when he reads Gray’s note from Cambridge, needs to be +reminded of its date. + + H. M. + + + + +PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. + + +The following work was found in the library of an ancient Catholic family +in the north of England. It was printed at Naples, in the black letter, +in the year 1529. How much sooner it was written does not appear. The +principal incidents are such as were believed in the darkest ages of +Christianity; but the language and conduct have nothing that savours of +barbarism. The style is the purest Italian. + +If the story was written near the time when it is supposed to have +happened, it must have been between 1095, the era of the first Crusade, +and 1243, the date of the last, or not long afterwards. There is no +other circumstance in the work that can lead us to guess at the period in +which the scene is laid: the names of the actors are evidently +fictitious, and probably disguised on purpose: yet the Spanish names of +the domestics seem to indicate that this work was not composed until the +establishment of the Arragonian Kings in Naples had made Spanish +appellations familiar in that country. The beauty of the diction, and +the zeal of the author (moderated, however, by singular judgment) concur +to make me think that the date of the composition was little antecedent +to that of the impression. Letters were then in their most flourishing +state in Italy, and contributed to dispel the empire of superstition, at +that time so forcibly attacked by the reformers. It is not unlikely that +an artful priest might endeavour to turn their own arms on the +innovators, and might avail himself of his abilities as an author to +confirm the populace in their ancient errors and superstitions. If this +was his view, he has certainly acted with signal address. Such a work as +the following would enslave a hundred vulgar minds beyond half the books +of controversy that have been written from the days of Luther to the +present hour. + +This solution of the author’s motives is, however, offered as a mere +conjecture. Whatever his views were, or whatever effects the execution +of them might have, his work can only be laid before the public at +present as a matter of entertainment. Even as such, some apology for it +is necessary. Miracles, visions, necromancy, dreams, and other +preternatural events, are exploded now even from romances. That was not +the case when our author wrote; much less when the story itself is +supposed to have happened. Belief in every kind of prodigy was so +established in those dark ages, that an author would not be faithful to +the manners of the times, who should omit all mention of them. He is not +bound to believe them himself, but he must represent his actors as +believing them. + +If this air of the miraculous is excused, the reader will find nothing +else unworthy of his perusal. Allow the possibility of the facts, and +all the actors comport themselves as persons would do in their situation. +There is no bombast, no similes, flowers, digressions, or unnecessary +descriptions. Everything tends directly to the catastrophe. Never is +the reader’s attention relaxed. The rules of the drama are almost +observed throughout the conduct of the piece. The characters are well +drawn, and still better maintained. Terror, the author’s principal +engine, prevents the story from ever languishing; and it is so often +contrasted by pity, that the mind is kept up in a constant vicissitude of +interesting passions. + +Some persons may perhaps think the characters of the domestics too little +serious for the general cast of the story; but besides their opposition +to the principal personages, the art of the author is very observable in +his conduct of the subalterns. They discover many passages essential to +the story, which could not be well brought to light but by their +_naïveté_ and simplicity. In particular, the womanish terror and foibles +of Bianca, in the last chapter, conduce essentially towards advancing the +catastrophe. + +It is natural for a translator to be prejudiced in favour of his adopted +work. More impartial readers may not be so much struck with the beauties +of this piece as I was. Yet I am not blind to my author’s defects. I +could wish he had grounded his plan on a more useful moral than this: +that “the sins of fathers are visited on their children to the third and +fourth generation.” I doubt whether, in his time, any more than at +present, ambition curbed its appetite of dominion from the dread of so +remote a punishment. And yet this moral is weakened by that less direct +insinuation, that even such anathema may be diverted by devotion to St. +Nicholas. Here the interest of the Monk plainly gets the better of the +judgment of the author. However, with all its faults, I have no doubt +but the English reader will be pleased with a sight of this performance. +The piety that reigns throughout, the lessons of virtue that are +inculcated, and the rigid purity of the sentiments, exempt this work from +the censure to which romances are but too liable. Should it meet with +the success I hope for, I may be encouraged to reprint the original +Italian, though it will tend to depreciate my own labour. Our language +falls far short of the charms of the Italian, both for variety and +harmony. The latter is peculiarly excellent for simple narrative. It is +difficult in English to relate without falling too low or rising too +high; a fault obviously occasioned by the little care taken to speak pure +language in common conversation. Every Italian or Frenchman of any rank +piques himself on speaking his own tongue correctly and with choice. I +cannot flatter myself with having done justice to my author in this +respect: his style is as elegant as his conduct of the passions is +masterly. It is a pity that he did not apply his talents to what they +were evidently proper for—the theatre. + +I will detain the reader no longer, but to make one short remark. Though +the machinery is invention, and the names of the actors imaginary, I +cannot but believe that the groundwork of the story is founded on truth. +The scene is undoubtedly laid in some real castle. The author seems +frequently, without design, to describe particular parts. “The chamber,” +says he, “on the right hand;” “the door on the left hand;” “the distance +from the chapel to Conrad’s apartment:” these and other passages are +strong presumptions that the author had some certain building in his eye. +Curious persons, who have leisure to employ in such researches, may +possibly discover in the Italian writers the foundation on which our +author has built. If a catastrophe, at all resembling that which he +describes, is believed to have given rise to this work, it will +contribute to interest the reader, and will make the “Castle of Otranto” +a still more moving story. + + + + +SONNET TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LADY MARY COKE. + + + The gentle maid, whose hapless tale + These melancholy pages speak; + Say, gracious lady, shall she fail + To draw the tear adown thy cheek? + + No; never was thy pitying breast + Insensible to human woes; + Tender, tho’ firm, it melts distrest + For weaknesses it never knows. + + Oh! guard the marvels I relate + Of fell ambition scourg’d by fate, + From reason’s peevish blame. + Blest with thy smile, my dauntless sail + I dare expand to Fancy’s gale, + For sure thy smiles are Fame. + + H. W. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Manfred, Prince of Otranto, had one son and one daughter: the latter, a +most beautiful virgin, aged eighteen, was called Matilda. Conrad, the +son, was three years younger, a homely youth, sickly, and of no promising +disposition; yet he was the darling of his father, who never showed any +symptoms of affection to Matilda. Manfred had contracted a marriage for +his son with the Marquis of Vicenza’s daughter, Isabella; and she had +already been delivered by her guardians into the hands of Manfred, that +he might celebrate the wedding as soon as Conrad’s infirm state of health +would permit. + +Manfred’s impatience for this ceremonial was remarked by his family and +neighbours. The former, indeed, apprehending the severity of their +Prince’s disposition, did not dare to utter their surmises on this +precipitation. Hippolita, his wife, an amiable lady, did sometimes +venture to represent the danger of marrying their only son so early, +considering his great youth, and greater infirmities; but she never +received any other answer than reflections on her own sterility, who had +given him but one heir. His tenants and subjects were less cautious in +their discourses. They attributed this hasty wedding to the Prince’s +dread of seeing accomplished an ancient prophecy, which was said to have +pronounced that the castle and lordship of Otranto “should pass from the +present family, whenever the real owner should be grown too large to +inhabit it.” It was difficult to make any sense of this prophecy; and +still less easy to conceive what it had to do with the marriage in +question. Yet these mysteries, or contradictions, did not make the +populace adhere the less to their opinion. + +Young Conrad’s birthday was fixed for his espousals. The company was +assembled in the chapel of the Castle, and everything ready for beginning +the divine office, when Conrad himself was missing. Manfred, impatient +of the least delay, and who had not observed his son retire, despatched +one of his attendants to summon the young Prince. The servant, who had +not stayed long enough to have crossed the court to Conrad’s apartment, +came running back breathless, in a frantic manner, his eyes staring, and +foaming at the mouth. He said nothing, but pointed to the court. + +The company were struck with terror and amazement. The Princess +Hippolita, without knowing what was the matter, but anxious for her son, +swooned away. Manfred, less apprehensive than enraged at the +procrastination of the nuptials, and at the folly of his domestic, asked +imperiously what was the matter? The fellow made no answer, but +continued pointing towards the courtyard; and at last, after repeated +questions put to him, cried out, “Oh! the helmet! the helmet!” + +In the meantime, some of the company had run into the court, from whence +was heard a confused noise of shrieks, horror, and surprise. Manfred, +who began to be alarmed at not seeing his son, went himself to get +information of what occasioned this strange confusion. Matilda remained +endeavouring to assist her mother, and Isabella stayed for the same +purpose, and to avoid showing any impatience for the bridegroom, for +whom, in truth, she had conceived little affection. + +The first thing that struck Manfred’s eyes was a group of his servants +endeavouring to raise something that appeared to him a mountain of sable +plumes. He gazed without believing his sight. + +“What are ye doing?” cried Manfred, wrathfully; “where is my son?” + +A volley of voices replied, “Oh! my Lord! the Prince! the Prince! the +helmet! the helmet!” + +Shocked with these lamentable sounds, and dreading he knew not what, he +advanced hastily,—but what a sight for a father’s eyes!—he beheld his +child dashed to pieces, and almost buried under an enormous helmet, an +hundred times more large than any casque ever made for human being, and +shaded with a proportionable quantity of black feathers. + +The horror of the spectacle, the ignorance of all around how this +misfortune had happened, and above all, the tremendous phenomenon before +him, took away the Prince’s speech. Yet his silence lasted longer than +even grief could occasion. He fixed his eyes on what he wished in vain +to believe a vision; and seemed less attentive to his loss, than buried +in meditation on the stupendous object that had occasioned it. He +touched, he examined the fatal casque; nor could even the bleeding +mangled remains of the young Prince divert the eyes of Manfred from the +portent before him. + +All who had known his partial fondness for young Conrad, were as much +surprised at their Prince’s insensibility, as thunderstruck themselves at +the miracle of the helmet. They conveyed the disfigured corpse into the +hall, without receiving the least direction from Manfred. As little was +he attentive to the ladies who remained in the chapel. On the contrary, +without mentioning the unhappy princesses, his wife and daughter, the +first sounds that dropped from Manfred’s lips were, “Take care of the +Lady Isabella.” + +The domestics, without observing the singularity of this direction, were +guided by their affection to their mistress, to consider it as peculiarly +addressed to her situation, and flew to her assistance. They conveyed +her to her chamber more dead than alive, and indifferent to all the +strange circumstances she heard, except the death of her son. + +Matilda, who doted on her mother, smothered her own grief and amazement, +and thought of nothing but assisting and comforting her afflicted parent. +Isabella, who had been treated by Hippolita like a daughter, and who +returned that tenderness with equal duty and affection, was scarce less +assiduous about the Princess; at the same time endeavouring to partake +and lessen the weight of sorrow which she saw Matilda strove to suppress, +for whom she had conceived the warmest sympathy of friendship. Yet her +own situation could not help finding its place in her thoughts. She felt +no concern for the death of young Conrad, except commiseration; and she +was not sorry to be delivered from a marriage which had promised her +little felicity, either from her destined bridegroom, or from the severe +temper of Manfred, who, though he had distinguished her by great +indulgence, had imprinted her mind with terror, from his causeless rigour +to such amiable princesses as Hippolita and Matilda. + +While the ladies were conveying the wretched mother to her bed, Manfred +remained in the court, gazing on the ominous casque, and regardless of +the crowd which the strangeness of the event had now assembled around +him. The few words he articulated, tended solely to inquiries, whether +any man knew from whence it could have come? Nobody could give him the +least information. However, as it seemed to be the sole object of his +curiosity, it soon became so to the rest of the spectators, whose +conjectures were as absurd and improbable, as the catastrophe itself was +unprecedented. In the midst of their senseless guesses, a young peasant, +whom rumour had drawn thither from a neighbouring village, observed that +the miraculous helmet was exactly like that on the figure in black marble +of Alfonso the Good, one of their former princes, in the church of St. +Nicholas. + +“Villain! What sayest thou?” cried Manfred, starting from his trance in +a tempest of rage, and seizing the young man by the collar; “how darest +thou utter such treason? Thy life shall pay for it.” + +The spectators, who as little comprehended the cause of the Prince’s fury +as all the rest they had seen, were at a loss to unravel this new +circumstance. The young peasant himself was still more astonished, not +conceiving how he had offended the Prince. Yet recollecting himself, +with a mixture of grace and humility, he disengaged himself from +Manfred’s grip, and then with an obeisance, which discovered more +jealousy of innocence than dismay, he asked, with respect, of what he was +guilty? Manfred, more enraged at the vigour, however decently exerted, +with which the young man had shaken off his hold, than appeased by his +submission, ordered his attendants to seize him, and, if he had not been +withheld by his friends whom he had invited to the nuptials, would have +poignarded the peasant in their arms. + +During this altercation, some of the vulgar spectators had run to the +great church, which stood near the castle, and came back open-mouthed, +declaring that the helmet was missing from Alfonso’s statue. Manfred, at +this news, grew perfectly frantic; and, as if he sought a subject on +which to vent the tempest within him, he rushed again on the young +peasant, crying— + +“Villain! Monster! Sorcerer! ’tis thou hast done this! ’tis thou hast +slain my son!” + +The mob, who wanted some object within the scope of their capacities, on +whom they might discharge their bewildered reasoning, caught the words +from the mouth of their lord, and re-echoed— + +“Ay, ay; ’tis he, ’tis he: he has stolen the helmet from good Alfonso’s +tomb, and dashed out the brains of our young Prince with it,” never +reflecting how enormous the disproportion was between the marble helmet +that had been in the church, and that of steel before their eyes; nor how +impossible it was for a youth seemingly not twenty, to wield a piece of +armour of so prodigious a weight. + +The folly of these ejaculations brought Manfred to himself: yet whether +provoked at the peasant having observed the resemblance between the two +helmets, and thereby led to the farther discovery of the absence of that +in the church, or wishing to bury any such rumour under so impertinent a +supposition, he gravely pronounced that the young man was certainly a +necromancer, and that till the Church could take cognisance of the +affair, he would have the Magician, whom they had thus detected, kept +prisoner under the helmet itself, which he ordered his attendants to +raise, and place the young man under it; declaring he should be kept +there without food, with which his own infernal art might furnish him. + +It was in vain for the youth to represent against this preposterous +sentence: in vain did Manfred’s friends endeavour to divert him from this +savage and ill-grounded resolution. The generality were charmed with +their lord’s decision, which, to their apprehensions, carried great +appearance of justice, as the Magician was to be punished by the very +instrument with which he had offended: nor were they struck with the +least compunction at the probability of the youth being starved, for they +firmly believed that, by his diabolic skill, he could easily supply +himself with nutriment. + +Manfred thus saw his commands even cheerfully obeyed; and appointing a +guard with strict orders to prevent any food being conveyed to the +prisoner, he dismissed his friends and attendants, and retired to his own +chamber, after locking the gates of the castle, in which he suffered none +but his domestics to remain. + +In the meantime, the care and zeal of the young Ladies had brought the +Princess Hippolita to herself, who amidst the transports of her own +sorrow frequently demanded news of her lord, would have dismissed her +attendants to watch over him, and at last enjoined Matilda to leave her, +and visit and comfort her father. Matilda, who wanted no affectionate +duty to Manfred, though she trembled at his austerity, obeyed the orders +of Hippolita, whom she tenderly recommended to Isabella; and inquiring of +the domestics for her father, was informed that he was retired to his +chamber, and had commanded that nobody should have admittance to him. +Concluding that he was immersed in sorrow for the death of her brother, +and fearing to renew his tears by the sight of his sole remaining child, +she hesitated whether she should break in upon his affliction; yet +solicitude for him, backed by the commands of her mother, encouraged her +to venture disobeying the orders he had given; a fault she had never been +guilty of before. + +The gentle timidity of her nature made her pause for some minutes at his +door. She heard him traverse his chamber backwards, and forwards with +disordered steps; a mood which increased her apprehensions. She was, +however, just going to beg admittance, when Manfred suddenly opened the +door; and as it was now twilight, concurring with the disorder of his +mind, he did not distinguish the person, but asked angrily, who it was? +Matilda replied, trembling— + +“My dearest father, it is I, your daughter.” + +Manfred, stepping back hastily, cried, “Begone! I do not want a +daughter;” and flinging back abruptly, clapped the door against the +terrified Matilda. + +She was too well acquainted with her father’s impetuosity to venture a +second intrusion. When she had a little recovered the shock of so bitter +a reception, she wiped away her tears to prevent the additional stab that +the knowledge of it would give to Hippolita, who questioned her in the +most anxious terms on the health of Manfred, and how he bore his loss. +Matilda assured her he was well, and supported his misfortune with manly +fortitude. + +“But will he not let me see him?” said Hippolita mournfully; “will he not +permit me to blend my tears with his, and shed a mother’s sorrows in the +bosom of her Lord? Or do you deceive me, Matilda? I know how Manfred +doted on his son: is not the stroke too heavy for him? has he not sunk +under it? You do not answer me—alas! I dread the worst!—Raise me, my +maidens; I will, I will see my Lord. Bear me to him instantly: he is +dearer to me even than my children.” + +Matilda made signs to Isabella to prevent Hippolita’s rising; and both +those lovely young women were using their gentle violence to stop and +calm the Princess, when a servant, on the part of Manfred, arrived and +told Isabella that his Lord demanded to speak with her. + +“With me!” cried Isabella. + +“Go,” said Hippolita, relieved by a message from her Lord: “Manfred +cannot support the sight of his own family. He thinks you less +disordered than we are, and dreads the shock of my grief. Console him, +dear Isabella, and tell him I will smother my own anguish rather than add +to his.” + +As it was now evening the servant who conducted Isabella bore a torch +before her. When they came to Manfred, who was walking impatiently about +the gallery, he started, and said hastily— + +“Take away that light, and begone.” + +Then shutting the door impetuously, he flung himself upon a bench against +the wall, and bade Isabella sit by him. She obeyed trembling. + +“I sent for you, Lady,” said he—and then stopped under great appearance +of confusion. + +“My Lord!” + +“Yes, I sent for you on a matter of great moment,” resumed he. “Dry your +tears, young Lady—you have lost your bridegroom. Yes, cruel fate! and I +have lost the hopes of my race! But Conrad was not worthy of your +beauty.” + +“How, my Lord!” said Isabella; “sure you do not suspect me of not feeling +the concern I ought: my duty and affection would have always—” + +“Think no more of him,” interrupted Manfred; “he was a sickly, puny +child, and Heaven has perhaps taken him away, that I might not trust the +honours of my house on so frail a foundation. The line of Manfred calls +for numerous supports. My foolish fondness for that boy blinded the eyes +of my prudence—but it is better as it is. I hope, in a few years, to +have reason to rejoice at the death of Conrad.” + +Words cannot paint the astonishment of Isabella. At first she +apprehended that grief had disordered Manfred’s understanding. Her next +thought suggested that this strange discourse was designed to ensnare +her: she feared that Manfred had perceived her indifference for his son: +and in consequence of that idea she replied— + +“Good my Lord, do not doubt my tenderness: my heart would have +accompanied my hand. Conrad would have engrossed all my care; and +wherever fate shall dispose of me, I shall always cherish his memory, and +regard your Highness and the virtuous Hippolita as my parents.” + +“Curse on Hippolita!” cried Manfred. “Forget her from this moment, as I +do. In short, Lady, you have missed a husband undeserving of your +charms: they shall now be better disposed of. Instead of a sickly boy, +you shall have a husband in the prime of his age, who will know how to +value your beauties, and who may expect a numerous offspring.” + +“Alas, my Lord!” said Isabella, “my mind is too sadly engrossed by the +recent catastrophe in your family to think of another marriage. If ever +my father returns, and it shall be his pleasure, I shall obey, as I did +when I consented to give my hand to your son: but until his return, +permit me to remain under your hospitable roof, and employ the melancholy +hours in assuaging yours, Hippolita’s, and the fair Matilda’s +affliction.” + +“I desired you once before,” said Manfred angrily, “not to name that +woman: from this hour she must be a stranger to you, as she must be to +me. In short, Isabella, since I cannot give you my son, I offer you +myself.” + +“Heavens!” cried Isabella, waking from her delusion, “what do I hear? +You! my Lord! You! My father-in-law! the father of Conrad! the husband +of the virtuous and tender Hippolita!” + +“I tell you,” said Manfred imperiously, “Hippolita is no longer my wife; +I divorce her from this hour. Too long has she cursed me by her +unfruitfulness. My fate depends on having sons, and this night I trust +will give a new date to my hopes.” + +At those words he seized the cold hand of Isabella, who was half dead +with fright and horror. She shrieked, and started from him, Manfred rose +to pursue her, when the moon, which was now up, and gleamed in at the +opposite casement, presented to his sight the plumes of the fatal helmet, +which rose to the height of the windows, waving backwards and forwards in +a tempestuous manner, and accompanied with a hollow and rustling sound. +Isabella, who gathered courage from her situation, and who dreaded +nothing so much as Manfred’s pursuit of his declaration, cried— + +“Look, my Lord! see, Heaven itself declares against your impious +intentions!” + +“Heaven nor Hell shall impede my designs,” said Manfred, advancing again +to seize the Princess. + +At that instant the portrait of his grandfather, which hung over the +bench where they had been sitting, uttered a deep sigh, and heaved its +breast. + +Isabella, whose back was turned to the picture, saw not the motion, nor +knew whence the sound came, but started, and said— + +“Hark, my Lord! What sound was that?” and at the same time made towards +the door. + +Manfred, distracted between the flight of Isabella, who had now reached +the stairs, and yet unable to keep his eyes from the picture, which began +to move, had, however, advanced some steps after her, still looking +backwards on the portrait, when he saw it quit its panel, and descend on +the floor with a grave and melancholy air. + +“Do I dream?” cried Manfred, returning; “or are the devils themselves in +league against me? Speak, infernal spectre! Or, if thou art my +grandsire, why dost thou too conspire against thy wretched descendant, +who too dearly pays for—” Ere he could finish the sentence, the vision +sighed again, and made a sign to Manfred to follow him. + +“Lead on!” cried Manfred; “I will follow thee to the gulf of perdition.” + +The spectre marched sedately, but dejected, to the end of the gallery, +and turned into a chamber on the right hand. Manfred accompanied him at +a little distance, full of anxiety and horror, but resolved. As he would +have entered the chamber, the door was clapped to with violence by an +invisible hand. The Prince, collecting courage from this delay, would +have forcibly burst open the door with his foot, but found that it +resisted his utmost efforts. + +“Since Hell will not satisfy my curiosity,” said Manfred, “I will use the +human means in my power for preserving my race; Isabella shall not escape +me.” + +The lady, whose resolution had given way to terror the moment she had +quitted Manfred, continued her flight to the bottom of the principal +staircase. There she stopped, not knowing whither to direct her steps, +nor how to escape from the impetuosity of the Prince. The gates of the +castle, she knew, were locked, and guards placed in the court. Should +she, as her heart prompted her, go and prepare Hippolita for the cruel +destiny that awaited her, she did not doubt but Manfred would seek her +there, and that his violence would incite him to double the injury he +meditated, without leaving room for them to avoid the impetuosity of his +passions. Delay might give him time to reflect on the horrid measures he +had conceived, or produce some circumstance in her favour, if she +could—for that night, at least—avoid his odious purpose. Yet where +conceal herself? How avoid the pursuit he would infallibly make +throughout the castle? + +As these thoughts passed rapidly through her mind, she recollected a +subterraneous passage which led from the vaults of the castle to the +church of St. Nicholas. Could she reach the altar before she was +overtaken, she knew even Manfred’s violence would not dare to profane the +sacredness of the place; and she determined, if no other means of +deliverance offered, to shut herself up for ever among the holy virgins +whose convent was contiguous to the cathedral. In this resolution, she +seized a lamp that burned at the foot of the staircase, and hurried +towards the secret passage. + +The lower part of the castle was hollowed into several intricate +cloisters; and it was not easy for one under so much anxiety to find the +door that opened into the cavern. An awful silence reigned throughout +those subterraneous regions, except now and then some blasts of wind that +shook the doors she had passed, and which, grating on the rusty hinges, +were re-echoed through that long labyrinth of darkness. Every murmur +struck her with new terror; yet more she dreaded to hear the wrathful +voice of Manfred urging his domestics to pursue her. + +She trod as softly as impatience would give her leave, yet frequently +stopped and listened to hear if she was followed. In one of those +moments she thought she heard a sigh. She shuddered, and recoiled a few +paces. In a moment she thought she heard the step of some person. Her +blood curdled; she concluded it was Manfred. Every suggestion that +horror could inspire rushed into her mind. She condemned her rash +flight, which had thus exposed her to his rage in a place where her cries +were not likely to draw anybody to her assistance. Yet the sound seemed +not to come from behind. If Manfred knew where she was, he must have +followed her. She was still in one of the cloisters, and the steps she +had heard were too distinct to proceed from the way she had come. +Cheered with this reflection, and hoping to find a friend in whoever was +not the Prince, she was going to advance, when a door that stood ajar, at +some distance to the left, was opened gently: but ere her lamp, which she +held up, could discover who opened it, the person retreated precipitately +on seeing the light. + +Isabella, whom every incident was sufficient to dismay, hesitated whether +she should proceed. Her dread of Manfred soon outweighed every other +terror. The very circumstance of the person avoiding her gave her a sort +of courage. It could only be, she thought, some domestic belonging to +the castle. Her gentleness had never raised her an enemy, and conscious +innocence made her hope that, unless sent by the Prince’s order to seek +her, his servants would rather assist than prevent her flight. +Fortifying herself with these reflections, and believing by what she +could observe that she was near the mouth of the subterraneous cavern, +she approached the door that had been opened; but a sudden gust of wind +that met her at the door extinguished her lamp, and left her in total +darkness. + +Words cannot paint the horror of the Princess’s situation. Alone in so +dismal a place, her mind imprinted with all the terrible events of the +day, hopeless of escaping, expecting every moment the arrival of Manfred, +and far from tranquil on knowing she was within reach of somebody, she +knew not whom, who for some cause seemed concealed thereabouts; all these +thoughts crowded on her distracted mind, and she was ready to sink under +her apprehensions. She addressed herself to every saint in heaven, and +inwardly implored their assistance. For a considerable time she remained +in an agony of despair. + +At last, as softly as was possible, she felt for the door, and having +found it, entered trembling into the vault from whence she had heard the +sigh and steps. It gave her a kind of momentary joy to perceive an +imperfect ray of clouded moonshine gleam from the roof of the vault, +which seemed to be fallen in, and from whence hung a fragment of earth or +building, she could not distinguish which, that appeared to have been +crushed inwards. She advanced eagerly towards this chasm, when she +discerned a human form standing close against the wall. + +She shrieked, believing it the ghost of her betrothed Conrad. The +figure, advancing, said, in a submissive voice— + +“Be not alarmed, Lady; I will not injure you.” + +Isabella, a little encouraged by the words and tone of voice of the +stranger, and recollecting that this must be the person who had opened +the door, recovered her spirits enough to reply— + +“Sir, whoever you are, take pity on a wretched Princess, standing on the +brink of destruction. Assist me to escape from this fatal castle, or in +a few moments I may be made miserable for ever.” + +“Alas!” said the stranger, “what can I do to assist you? I will die in +your defence; but I am unacquainted with the castle, and want—” + +“Oh!” said Isabella, hastily interrupting him; “help me but to find a +trap-door that must be hereabout, and it is the greatest service you can +do me, for I have not a minute to lose.” + +Saying these words, she felt about on the pavement, and directed the +stranger to search likewise, for a smooth piece of brass enclosed in +one of the stones. + +“That,” said she, “is the lock, which opens with a spring, of which I +know the secret. If we can find that, I may escape—if not, alas! +courteous stranger, I fear I shall have involved you in my misfortunes: +Manfred will suspect you for the accomplice of my flight, and you will +fall a victim to his resentment.” + +“I value not my life,” said the stranger, “and it will be some comfort to +lose it in trying to deliver you from his tyranny.” + +“Generous youth,” said Isabella, “how shall I ever requite—” + +As she uttered those words, a ray of moonshine, streaming through a +cranny of the ruin above, shone directly on the lock they sought. + +“Oh! transport!” said Isabella; “here is the trap-door!” and, taking out +the key, she touched the spring, which, starting aside, discovered an +iron ring. “Lift up the door,” said the Princess. + +The stranger obeyed, and beneath appeared some stone steps descending +into a vault totally dark. + +“We must go down here,” said Isabella. “Follow me; dark and dismal as it +is, we cannot miss our way; it leads directly to the church of St. +Nicholas. But, perhaps,” added the Princess modestly, “you have no +reason to leave the castle, nor have I farther occasion for your service; +in a few minutes I shall be safe from Manfred’s rage—only let me know to +whom I am so much obliged.” + +“I will never quit you,” said the stranger eagerly, “until I have placed +you in safety—nor think me, Princess, more generous than I am; though you +are my principal care—” + +The stranger was interrupted by a sudden noise of voices that seemed +approaching, and they soon distinguished these words— + +“Talk not to me of necromancers; I tell you she must be in the castle; I +will find her in spite of enchantment.” + +“Oh, heavens!” cried Isabella; “it is the voice of Manfred! Make haste, +or we are ruined! and shut the trap-door after you.” + +Saying this, she descended the steps precipitately; and as the stranger +hastened to follow her, he let the door slip out of his hands: it fell, +and the spring closed over it. He tried in vain to open it, not having +observed Isabella’s method of touching the spring; nor had he many +moments to make an essay. The noise of the falling door had been heard +by Manfred, who, directed by the sound, hastened thither, attended by his +servants with torches. + +“It must be Isabella,” cried Manfred, before he entered the vault. “She +is escaping by the subterraneous passage, but she cannot have got far.” + +What was the astonishment of the Prince when, instead of Isabella, the +light of the torches discovered to him the young peasant whom he thought +confined under the fatal helmet! + +“Traitor!” said Manfred; “how camest thou here? I thought thee in +durance above in the court.” + +“I am no traitor,” replied the young man boldly, “nor am I answerable for +your thoughts.” + +“Presumptuous villain!” cried Manfred; “dost thou provoke my wrath? Tell +me, how hast thou escaped from above? Thou hast corrupted thy guards, +and their lives shall answer it.” + +“My poverty,” said the peasant calmly, “will disculpate them: though the +ministers of a tyrant’s wrath, to thee they are faithful, and but too +willing to execute the orders which you unjustly imposed upon them.” + +“Art thou so hardy as to dare my vengeance?” said the Prince; “but +tortures shall force the truth from thee. Tell me; I will know thy +accomplices.” + +“There was my accomplice!” said the youth, smiling, and pointing to the +roof. + +Manfred ordered the torches to be held up, and perceived that one of the +cheeks of the enchanted casque had forced its way through the pavement of +the court, as his servants had let it fall over the peasant, and had +broken through into the vault, leaving a gap, through which the peasant +had pressed himself some minutes before he was found by Isabella. + +“Was that the way by which thou didst descend?” said Manfred. + +“It was,” said the youth. + +“But what noise was that,” said Manfred, “which I heard as I entered the +cloister?” + +“A door clapped,” said the peasant; “I heard it as well as you.” + +“What door?” said Manfred hastily. + +“I am not acquainted with your castle,” said the peasant; “this is the +first time I ever entered it, and this vault the only part of it within +which I ever was.” + +“But I tell thee,” said Manfred (wishing to find out if the youth had +discovered the trap-door), “it was this way I heard the noise. My +servants heard it too.” + +“My Lord,” interrupted one of them officiously, “to be sure it was the +trap-door, and he was going to make his escape.” + +“Peace, blockhead!” said the Prince angrily; “if he was going to escape, +how should he come on this side? I will know from his own mouth what +noise it was I heard. Tell me truly; thy life depends on thy veracity.” + +“My veracity is dearer to me than my life,” said the peasant; “nor would +I purchase the one by forfeiting the other.” + +“Indeed, young philosopher!” said Manfred contemptuously; “tell me, then, +what was the noise I heard?” + +“Ask me what I can answer,” said he, “and put me to death instantly if I +tell you a lie.” + +Manfred, growing impatient at the steady valour and indifference of the +youth, cried— + +“Well, then, thou man of truth, answer! Was it the fall of the trap-door +that I heard?” + +“It was,” said the youth. + +“It was!” said the Prince; “and how didst thou come to know there was a +trap-door here?” + +“I saw the plate of brass by a gleam of moonshine,” replied he. + +“But what told thee it was a lock?” said Manfred. “How didst thou +discover the secret of opening it?” + +“Providence, that delivered me from the helmet, was able to direct me to +the spring of a lock,” said he. + +“Providence should have gone a little farther, and have placed thee out +of the reach of my resentment,” said Manfred. “When Providence had +taught thee to open the lock, it abandoned thee for a fool, who did not +know how to make use of its favours. Why didst thou not pursue the path +pointed out for thy escape? Why didst thou shut the trap-door before +thou hadst descended the steps?” + +“I might ask you, my Lord,” said the peasant, “how I, totally +unacquainted with your castle, was to know that those steps led to any +outlet? but I scorn to evade your questions. Wherever those steps lead +to, perhaps I should have explored the way—I could not be in a worse +situation than I was. But the truth is, I let the trap-door fall: your +immediate arrival followed. I had given the alarm—what imported it to me +whether I was seized a minute sooner or a minute later?” + +“Thou art a resolute villain for thy years,” said Manfred; “yet on +reflection I suspect thou dost but trifle with me. Thou hast not yet +told me how thou didst open the lock.” + +“That I will show you, my Lord,” said the peasant; and, taking up a +fragment of stone that had fallen from above, he laid himself on the +trap-door, and began to beat on the piece of brass that covered it, +meaning to gain time for the escape of the Princess. This presence of +mind, joined to the frankness of the youth, staggered Manfred. He even +felt a disposition towards pardoning one who had been guilty of no crime. +Manfred was not one of those savage tyrants who wanton in cruelty +unprovoked. The circumstances of his fortune had given an asperity to +his temper, which was naturally humane; and his virtues were always ready +to operate, when his passions did not obscure his reason. + +While the Prince was in this suspense, a confused noise of voices echoed +through the distant vaults. As the sound approached, he distinguished +the clamours of some of his domestics, whom he had dispersed through the +castle in search of Isabella, calling out— + +“Where is my Lord? where is the Prince?” + +“Here I am,” said Manfred, as they came nearer; “have you found the +Princess?” + +The first that arrived, replied, “Oh, my Lord! I am glad we have found +you.” + +“Found me!” said Manfred; “have you found the Princess?” + +“We thought we had, my Lord,” said the fellow, looking terrified, “but—” + +“But, what?” cried the Prince; “has she escaped?” + +“Jaquez and I, my Lord—” + +“Yes, I and Diego,” interrupted the second, who came up in still greater +consternation. + +“Speak one of you at a time,” said Manfred; “I ask you, where is the +Princess?” + +“We do not know,” said they both together; “but we are frightened out of +our wits.” + +“So I think, blockheads,” said Manfred; “what is it has scared you thus?” + +“Oh! my Lord,” said Jaquez, “Diego has seen such a sight! your Highness +would not believe our eyes.” + +“What new absurdity is this?” cried Manfred; “give me a direct answer, +or, by Heaven—” + +“Why, my Lord, if it please your Highness to hear me,” said the poor +fellow, “Diego and I—” + +“Yes, I and Jaquez—” cried his comrade. + +“Did not I forbid you to speak both at a time?” said the Prince: “you, +Jaquez, answer; for the other fool seems more distracted than thou art; +what is the matter?” + +“My gracious Lord,” said Jaquez, “if it please your Highness to hear me; +Diego and I, according to your Highness’s orders, went to search for the +young Lady; but being comprehensive that we might meet the ghost of my +young Lord, your Highness’s son, God rest his soul, as he has not +received Christian burial—” + +“Sot!” cried Manfred in a rage; “is it only a ghost, then, that thou hast +seen?” + +“Oh! worse! worse! my Lord,” cried Diego: “I had rather have seen ten +whole ghosts.” + +“Grant me patience!” said Manfred; “these blockheads distract me. Out of +my sight, Diego! and thou, Jaquez, tell me in one word, art thou sober? +art thou raving? thou wast wont to have some sense: has the other sot +frightened himself and thee too? Speak; what is it he fancies he has +seen?” + +“Why, my Lord,” replied Jaquez, trembling, “I was going to tell your +Highness, that since the calamitous misfortune of my young Lord, God rest +his precious soul! not one of us your Highness’s faithful servants—indeed +we are, my Lord, though poor men—I say, not one of us has dared to set a +foot about the castle, but two together: so Diego and I, thinking that my +young Lady might be in the great gallery, went up there to look for her, +and tell her your Highness wanted something to impart to her.” + +“O blundering fools!” cried Manfred; “and in the meantime, she has made +her escape, because you were afraid of goblins!—Why, thou knave! she left +me in the gallery; I came from thence myself.” + +“For all that, she may be there still for aught I know,” said Jaquez; +“but the devil shall have me before I seek her there again—poor Diego! I +do not believe he will ever recover it.” + +“Recover what?” said Manfred; “am I never to learn what it is has +terrified these rascals?—but I lose my time; follow me, slave; I will see +if she is in the gallery.” + +“For Heaven’s sake, my dear, good Lord,” cried Jaquez, “do not go to the +gallery. Satan himself I believe is in the chamber next to the gallery.” + +Manfred, who hitherto had treated the terror of his servants as an idle +panic, was struck at this new circumstance. He recollected the +apparition of the portrait, and the sudden closing of the door at the end +of the gallery. His voice faltered, and he asked with disorder— + +“What is in the great chamber?” + +“My Lord,” said Jaquez, “when Diego and I came into the gallery, he went +first, for he said he had more courage than I. So when we came into the +gallery we found nobody. We looked under every bench and stool; and +still we found nobody.” + +“Were all the pictures in their places?” said Manfred. + +“Yes, my Lord,” answered Jaquez; “but we did not think of looking behind +them.” + +“Well, well!” said Manfred; “proceed.” + +“When we came to the door of the great chamber,” continued Jaquez, “we +found it shut.” + +“And could not you open it?” said Manfred. + +“Oh! yes, my Lord; would to Heaven we had not!” replied he—“nay, it was +not I neither; it was Diego: he was grown foolhardy, and would go on, +though I advised him not—if ever I open a door that is shut again—” + +“Trifle not,” said Manfred, shuddering, “but tell me what you saw in the +great chamber on opening the door.” + +“I, my Lord!” said Jaquez; “I was behind Diego; but I heard the noise.” + +“Jaquez,” said Manfred, in a solemn tone of voice; “tell me, I adjure +thee by the souls of my ancestors, what was it thou sawest? what was it +thou heardest?” + +“It was Diego saw it, my Lord, it was not I,” replied Jaquez; “I only +heard the noise. Diego had no sooner opened the door, than he cried out, +and ran back. I ran back too, and said, ‘Is it the ghost?’ ‘The ghost! +no, no,’ said Diego, and his hair stood on end—‘it is a giant, I believe; +he is all clad in armour, for I saw his foot and part of his leg, and +they are as large as the helmet below in the court.’ As he said these +words, my Lord, we heard a violent motion and the rattling of armour, as +if the giant was rising, for Diego has told me since that he believes the +giant was lying down, for the foot and leg were stretched at length on +the floor. Before we could get to the end of the gallery, we heard the +door of the great chamber clap behind us, but we did not dare turn back +to see if the giant was following us—yet, now I think on it, we must have +heard him if he had pursued us—but for Heaven’s sake, good my Lord, send +for the chaplain, and have the castle exorcised, for, for certain, it is +enchanted.” + +“Ay, pray do, my Lord,” cried all the servants at once, “or we must leave +your Highness’s service.” + +“Peace, dotards!” said Manfred, “and follow me; I will know what all this +means.” + +“We! my Lord!” cried they with one voice; “we would not go up to the +gallery for your Highness’s revenue.” The young peasant, who had stood +silent, now spoke. + +“Will your Highness,” said he, “permit me to try this adventure? My life +is of consequence to nobody; I fear no bad angel, and have offended no +good one.” + +“Your behaviour is above your seeming,” said Manfred, viewing him with +surprise and admiration—“hereafter I will reward your bravery—but now,” +continued he with a sigh, “I am so circumstanced, that I dare trust no +eyes but my own. However, I give you leave to accompany me.” + +Manfred, when he first followed Isabella from the gallery, had gone +directly to the apartment of his wife, concluding the Princess had +retired thither. Hippolita, who knew his step, rose with anxious +fondness to meet her Lord, whom she had not seen since the death of their +son. She would have flown in a transport mixed of joy and grief to his +bosom, but he pushed her rudely off, and said— + +“Where is Isabella?” + +“Isabella! my Lord!” said the astonished Hippolita. + +“Yes, Isabella,” cried Manfred imperiously; “I want Isabella.” + +“My Lord,” replied Matilda, who perceived how much his behaviour had +shocked her mother, “she has not been with us since your Highness +summoned her to your apartment.” + +“Tell me where she is,” said the Prince; “I do not want to know where she +has been.” + +“My good Lord,” says Hippolita, “your daughter tells you the truth: +Isabella left us by your command, and has not returned since;—but, my +good Lord, compose yourself: retire to your rest: this dismal day has +disordered you. Isabella shall wait your orders in the morning.” + +“What, then, you know where she is!” cried Manfred. “Tell me directly, +for I will not lose an instant—and you, woman,” speaking to his wife, +“order your chaplain to attend me forthwith.” + +“Isabella,” said Hippolita calmly, “is retired, I suppose, to her +chamber: she is not accustomed to watch at this late hour. Gracious my +Lord,” continued she, “let me know what has disturbed you. Has Isabella +offended you?” + +“Trouble me not with questions,” said Manfred, “but tell me where she +is.” + +“Matilda shall call her,” said the Princess. “Sit down, my Lord, and +resume your wonted fortitude.” + +“What, art thou jealous of Isabella?” replied he, “that you wish to be +present at our interview!” + +“Good heavens! my Lord,” said Hippolita, “what is it your Highness +means?” + +“Thou wilt know ere many minutes are passed,” said the cruel Prince. +“Send your chaplain to me, and wait my pleasure here.” + +At these words he flung out of the room in search of Isabella, leaving +the amazed ladies thunderstruck with his words and frantic deportment, +and lost in vain conjectures on what he was meditating. + +Manfred was now returning from the vault, attended by the peasant and a +few of his servants whom he had obliged to accompany him. He ascended +the staircase without stopping till he arrived at the gallery, at the +door of which he met Hippolita and her chaplain. When Diego had been +dismissed by Manfred, he had gone directly to the Princess’s apartment +with the alarm of what he had seen. That excellent Lady, who no more +than Manfred doubted of the reality of the vision, yet affected to treat +it as a delirium of the servant. Willing, however, to save her Lord from +any additional shock, and prepared by a series of griefs not to tremble +at any accession to it, she determined to make herself the first +sacrifice, if fate had marked the present hour for their destruction. +Dismissing the reluctant Matilda to her rest, who in vain sued for leave +to accompany her mother, and attended only by her chaplain, Hippolita had +visited the gallery and great chamber; and now with more serenity of soul +than she had felt for many hours, she met her Lord, and assured him that +the vision of the gigantic leg and foot was all a fable; and no doubt an +impression made by fear, and the dark and dismal hour of the night, on +the minds of his servants. She and the chaplain had examined the +chamber, and found everything in the usual order. + +Manfred, though persuaded, like his wife, that the vision had been no +work of fancy, recovered a little from the tempest of mind into which so +many strange events had thrown him. Ashamed, too, of his inhuman +treatment of a Princess who returned every injury with new marks of +tenderness and duty, he felt returning love forcing itself into his eyes; +but not less ashamed of feeling remorse towards one against whom he was +inwardly meditating a yet more bitter outrage, he curbed the yearnings of +his heart, and did not dare to lean even towards pity. The next +transition of his soul was to exquisite villainy. + +Presuming on the unshaken submission of Hippolita, he flattered himself +that she would not only acquiesce with patience to a divorce, but would +obey, if it was his pleasure, in endeavouring to persuade Isabella to +give him her hand—but ere he could indulge his horrid hope, he reflected +that Isabella was not to be found. Coming to himself, he gave orders +that every avenue to the castle should be strictly guarded, and charged +his domestics on pain of their lives to suffer nobody to pass out. The +young peasant, to whom he spoke favourably, he ordered to remain in a +small chamber on the stairs, in which there was a pallet-bed, and the key +of which he took away himself, telling the youth he would talk with him +in the morning. Then dismissing his attendants, and bestowing a sullen +kind of half-nod on Hippolita, he retired to his own chamber. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +Matilda, who by Hippolita’s order had retired to her apartment, was +ill-disposed to take any rest. The shocking fate of her brother had +deeply affected her. She was surprised at not seeing Isabella; but the +strange words which had fallen from her father, and his obscure menace to +the Princess his wife, accompanied by the most furious behaviour, had +filled her gentle mind with terror and alarm. She waited anxiously for +the return of Bianca, a young damsel that attended her, whom she had sent +to learn what was become of Isabella. Bianca soon appeared, and informed +her mistress of what she had gathered from the servants, that Isabella +was nowhere to be found. She related the adventure of the young peasant +who had been discovered in the vault, though with many simple additions +from the incoherent accounts of the domestics; and she dwelt principally +on the gigantic leg and foot which had been seen in the gallery-chamber. +This last circumstance had terrified Bianca so much, that she was +rejoiced when Matilda told her that she would not go to rest, but would +watch till the Princess should rise. + +The young Princess wearied herself in conjectures on the flight of +Isabella, and on the threats of Manfred to her mother. “But what +business could he have so urgent with the chaplain?” said Matilda, “Does +he intend to have my brother’s body interred privately in the chapel?” + +“Oh, Madam!” said Bianca, “now I guess. As you are become his heiress, +he is impatient to have you married: he has always been raving for more +sons; I warrant he is now impatient for grandsons. As sure as I live, +Madam, I shall see you a bride at last.—Good madam, you won’t cast off +your faithful Bianca: you won’t put Donna Rosara over me now you are a +great Princess.” + +“My poor Bianca,” said Matilda, “how fast your thoughts amble! I a great +princess! What hast thou seen in Manfred’s behaviour since my brother’s +death that bespeaks any increase of tenderness to me? No, Bianca; his +heart was ever a stranger to me—but he is my father, and I must not +complain. Nay, if Heaven shuts my father’s heart against me, it overpays +my little merit in the tenderness of my mother—O that dear mother! yes, +Bianca, ’tis there I feel the rugged temper of Manfred. I can support +his harshness to me with patience; but it wounds my soul when I am +witness to his causeless severity towards her.” + +“Oh! Madam,” said Bianca, “all men use their wives so, when they are +weary of them.” + +“And yet you congratulated me but now,” said Matilda, “when you fancied +my father intended to dispose of me!” + +“I would have you a great Lady,” replied Bianca, “come what will. I do +not wish to see you moped in a convent, as you would be if you had your +will, and if my Lady, your mother, who knows that a bad husband is better +than no husband at all, did not hinder you.—Bless me! what noise is that! +St. Nicholas forgive me! I was but in jest.” + +“It is the wind,” said Matilda, “whistling through the battlements in the +tower above: you have heard it a thousand times.” + +“Nay,” said Bianca, “there was no harm neither in what I said: it is no +sin to talk of matrimony—and so, Madam, as I was saying, if my Lord +Manfred should offer you a handsome young Prince for a bridegroom, you +would drop him a curtsey, and tell him you would rather take the veil?” + +“Thank Heaven! I am in no such danger,” said Matilda: “you know how many +proposals for me he has rejected—” + +“And you thank him, like a dutiful daughter, do you, Madam? But come, +Madam; suppose, to-morrow morning, he was to send for you to the great +council chamber, and there you should find at his elbow a lovely young +Prince, with large black eyes, a smooth white forehead, and manly curling +locks like jet; in short, Madam, a young hero resembling the picture of +the good Alfonso in the gallery, which you sit and gaze at for hours +together—” + +“Do not speak lightly of that picture,” interrupted Matilda sighing; “I +know the adoration with which I look at that picture is uncommon—but I am +not in love with a coloured panel. The character of that virtuous +Prince, the veneration with which my mother has inspired me for his +memory, the orisons which, I know not why, she has enjoined me to pour +forth at his tomb, all have concurred to persuade me that somehow or +other my destiny is linked with something relating to him.” + +“Lord, Madam! how should that be?” said Bianca; “I have always heard that +your family was in no way related to his: and I am sure I cannot conceive +why my Lady, the Princess, sends you in a cold morning or a damp evening +to pray at his tomb: he is no saint by the almanack. If you must pray, +why does she not bid you address yourself to our great St. Nicholas? I +am sure he is the saint I pray to for a husband.” + +“Perhaps my mind would be less affected,” said Matilda, “if my mother +would explain her reasons to me: but it is the mystery she observes, that +inspires me with this—I know not what to call it. As she never acts from +caprice, I am sure there is some fatal secret at bottom—nay, I know there +is: in her agony of grief for my brother’s death she dropped some words +that intimated as much.” + +“Oh! dear Madam,” cried Bianca, “what were they?” + +“No,” said Matilda, “if a parent lets fall a word, and wishes it +recalled, it is not for a child to utter it.” + +“What! was she sorry for what she had said?” asked Bianca; “I am sure, +Madam, you may trust me—” + +“With my own little secrets when I have any, I may,” said Matilda; “but +never with my mother’s: a child ought to have no ears or eyes but as a +parent directs.” + +“Well! to be sure, Madam, you were born to be a saint,” said Bianca, “and +there is no resisting one’s vocation: you will end in a convent at last. +But there is my Lady Isabella would not be so reserved to me: she will +let me talk to her of young men: and when a handsome cavalier has come to +the castle, she has owned to me that she wished your brother Conrad +resembled him.” + +“Bianca,” said the Princess, “I do not allow you to mention my friend +disrespectfully. Isabella is of a cheerful disposition, but her soul is +pure as virtue itself. She knows your idle babbling humour, and perhaps +has now and then encouraged it, to divert melancholy, and enliven the +solitude in which my father keeps us—” + +“Blessed Mary!” said Bianca, starting, “there it is again! Dear Madam, +do you hear nothing? this castle is certainly haunted!” + +“Peace!” said Matilda, “and listen! I did think I heard a voice—but it +must be fancy: your terrors, I suppose, have infected me.” + +“Indeed! indeed! Madam,” said Bianca, half-weeping with agony, “I am +sure I heard a voice.” + +“Does anybody lie in the chamber beneath?” said the Princess. + +“Nobody has dared to lie there,” answered Bianca, “since the great +astrologer, that was your brother’s tutor, drowned himself. For certain, +Madam, his ghost and the young Prince’s are now met in the chamber +below—for Heaven’s sake let us fly to your mother’s apartment!” + +“I charge you not to stir,” said Matilda. “If they are spirits in pain, +we may ease their sufferings by questioning them. They can mean no hurt +to us, for we have not injured them—and if they should, shall we be more +safe in one chamber than in another? Reach me my beads; we will say a +prayer, and then speak to them.” + +“Oh! dear Lady, I would not speak to a ghost for the world!” cried +Bianca. As she said those words they heard the casement of the little +chamber below Matilda’s open. They listened attentively, and in a few +minutes thought they heard a person sing, but could not distinguish the +words. + +“This can be no evil spirit,” said the Princess, in a low voice; “it is +undoubtedly one of the family—open the window, and we shall know the +voice.” + +“I dare not, indeed, Madam,” said Bianca. + +“Thou art a very fool,” said Matilda, opening the window gently herself. +The noise the Princess made was, however, heard by the person beneath, +who stopped; and they concluded had heard the casement open. + +“Is anybody below?” said the Princess; “if there is, speak.” + +“Yes,” said an unknown voice. + +“Who is it?” said Matilda. + +“A stranger,” replied the voice. + +“What stranger?” said she; “and how didst thou come there at this unusual +hour, when all the gates of the castle are locked?” + +“I am not here willingly,” answered the voice. “But pardon me, Lady, if +I have disturbed your rest; I knew not that I was overheard. Sleep had +forsaken me; I left a restless couch, and came to waste the irksome hours +with gazing on the fair approach of morning, impatient to be dismissed +from this castle.” + +“Thy words and accents,” said Matilda, “are of melancholy cast; if thou +art unhappy, I pity thee. If poverty afflicts thee, let me know it; I +will mention thee to the Princess, whose beneficent soul ever melts for +the distressed, and she will relieve thee.” + +“I am indeed unhappy,” said the stranger; “and I know not what wealth is. +But I do not complain of the lot which Heaven has cast for me; I am young +and healthy, and am not ashamed of owing my support to myself—yet think +me not proud, or that I disdain your generous offers. I will remember +you in my orisons, and will pray for blessings on your gracious self and +your noble mistress—if I sigh, Lady, it is for others, not for myself.” + +“Now I have it, Madam,” said Bianca, whispering the Princess; “this is +certainly the young peasant; and, by my conscience, he is in love—Well! +this is a charming adventure!—do, Madam, let us sift him. He does not +know you, but takes you for one of my Lady Hippolita’s women.” + +“Art thou not ashamed, Bianca!” said the Princess. “What right have we +to pry into the secrets of this young man’s heart? He seems virtuous and +frank, and tells us he is unhappy. Are those circumstances that +authorise us to make a property of him? How are we entitled to his +confidence?” + +“Lord, Madam! how little you know of love!” replied Bianca; “why, lovers +have no pleasure equal to talking of their mistress.” + +“And would you have _me_ become a peasant’s confidante?” said the +Princess. + +“Well, then, let me talk to him,” said Bianca; “though I have the honour +of being your Highness’s maid of honour, I was not always so great. +Besides, if love levels ranks, it raises them too; I have a respect for +any young man in love.” + +“Peace, simpleton!” said the Princess. “Though he said he was unhappy, +it does not follow that he must be in love. Think of all that has +happened to-day, and tell me if there are no misfortunes but what love +causes.—Stranger,” resumed the Princess, “if thy misfortunes have not +been occasioned by thy own fault, and are within the compass of the +Princess Hippolita’s power to redress, I will take upon me to answer that +she will be thy protectress. When thou art dismissed from this castle, +repair to holy father Jerome, at the convent adjoining to the church of +St. Nicholas, and make thy story known to him, as far as thou thinkest +meet. He will not fail to inform the Princess, who is the mother of all +that want her assistance. Farewell; it is not seemly for me to hold +farther converse with a man at this unwonted hour.” + +“May the saints guard thee, gracious Lady!” replied the peasant; “but oh! +if a poor and worthless stranger might presume to beg a minute’s audience +farther; am I so happy? the casement is not shut; might I venture to +ask—” + +“Speak quickly,” said Matilda; “the morning dawns apace: should the +labourers come into the fields and perceive us—What wouldst thou ask?” + +“I know not how, I know not if I dare,” said the young stranger, +faltering; “yet the humanity with which you have spoken to me +emboldens—Lady! dare I trust you?” + +“Heavens!” said Matilda, “what dost thou mean? With what wouldst thou +trust me? Speak boldly, if thy secret is fit to be entrusted to a +virtuous breast.” + +“I would ask,” said the peasant, recollecting himself, “whether what I +have heard from the domestics is true, that the Princess is missing from +the castle?” + +“What imports it to thee to know?” replied Matilda. “Thy first words +bespoke a prudent and becoming gravity. Dost thou come hither to pry +into the secrets of Manfred? Adieu. I have been mistaken in thee.” +Saying these words she shut the casement hastily, without giving the +young man time to reply. + +“I had acted more wisely,” said the Princess to Bianca, with some +sharpness, “if I had let thee converse with this peasant; his +inquisitiveness seems of a piece with thy own.” + +“It is not fit for me to argue with your Highness,” replied Bianca; “but +perhaps the questions I should have put to him would have been more to +the purpose than those you have been pleased to ask him.” + +“Oh! no doubt,” said Matilda; “you are a very discreet personage! May I +know what _you_ would have asked him?” + +“A bystander often sees more of the game than those that play,” answered +Bianca. “Does your Highness think, Madam, that this question about my +Lady Isabella was the result of mere curiosity? No, no, Madam, there is +more in it than you great folks are aware of. Lopez told me that all the +servants believe this young fellow contrived my Lady Isabella’s escape; +now, pray, Madam, observe you and I both know that my Lady Isabella never +much fancied the Prince your brother. Well! he is killed just in a +critical minute—I accuse nobody. A helmet falls from the moon—so, my +Lord, your father says; but Lopez and all the servants say that this +young spark is a magician, and stole it from Alfonso’s tomb—” + +“Have done with this rhapsody of impertinence,” said Matilda. + +“Nay, Madam, as you please,” cried Bianca; “yet it is very particular +though, that my Lady Isabella should be missing the very same day, and +that this young sorcerer should be found at the mouth of the trap-door. +I accuse nobody; but if my young Lord came honestly by his death—” + +“Dare not on thy duty,” said Matilda, “to breathe a suspicion on the +purity of my dear Isabella’s fame.” + +“Purity, or not purity,” said Bianca, “gone she is—a stranger is found +that nobody knows; you question him yourself; he tells you he is in love, +or unhappy, it is the same thing—nay, he owned he was unhappy about +others; and is anybody unhappy about another, unless they are in love +with them? and at the very next word, he asks innocently, pour soul! if +my Lady Isabella is missing.” + +“To be sure,” said Matilda, “thy observations are not totally without +foundation—Isabella’s flight amazes me. The curiosity of the stranger is +very particular; yet Isabella never concealed a thought from me.” + +“So she told you,” said Bianca, “to fish out your secrets; but who knows, +Madam, but this stranger may be some Prince in disguise? Do, Madam, let +me open the window, and ask him a few questions.” + +“No,” replied Matilda, “I will ask him myself, if he knows aught of +Isabella; he is not worthy I should converse farther with him.” She was +going to open the casement, when they heard the bell ring at the +postern-gate of the castle, which is on the right hand of the tower, +where Matilda lay. This prevented the Princess from renewing the +conversation with the stranger. + +After continuing silent for some time, “I am persuaded,” said she to +Bianca, “that whatever be the cause of Isabella’s flight it had no +unworthy motive. If this stranger was accessory to it, she must be +satisfied with his fidelity and worth. I observed, did not you, Bianca? +that his words were tinctured with an uncommon infusion of piety. It was +no ruffian’s speech; his phrases were becoming a man of gentle birth.” + +“I told you, Madam,” said Bianca, “that I was sure he was some Prince in +disguise.” + +“Yet,” said Matilda, “if he was privy to her escape, how will you account +for his not accompanying her in her flight? why expose himself +unnecessarily and rashly to my father’s resentment?” + +“As for that, Madam,” replied she, “if he could get from under the +helmet, he will find ways of eluding your father’s anger. I do not doubt +but he has some talisman or other about him.” + +“You resolve everything into magic,” said Matilda; “but a man who has any +intercourse with infernal spirits, does not dare to make use of those +tremendous and holy words which he uttered. Didst thou not observe with +what fervour he vowed to remember _me_ to heaven in his prayers? Yes; +Isabella was undoubtedly convinced of his piety.” + +“Commend me to the piety of a young fellow and a damsel that consult to +elope!” said Bianca. “No, no, Madam, my Lady Isabella is of another +guess mould than you take her for. She used indeed to sigh and lift up +her eyes in your company, because she knows you are a saint; but when +your back was turned—” + +“You wrong her,” said Matilda; “Isabella is no hypocrite; she has a due +sense of devotion, but never affected a call she has not. On the +contrary, she always combated my inclination for the cloister; and though +I own the mystery she has made to me of her flight confounds me; though +it seems inconsistent with the friendship between us; I cannot forget the +disinterested warmth with which she always opposed my taking the veil. +She wished to see me married, though my dower would have been a loss to +her and my brother’s children. For her sake I will believe well of this +young peasant.” + +“Then you do think there is some liking between them,” said Bianca. +While she was speaking, a servant came hastily into the chamber and told +the Princess that the Lady Isabella was found. + +“Where?” said Matilda. + +“She has taken sanctuary in St. Nicholas’s church,” replied the servant; +“Father Jerome has brought the news himself; he is below with his +Highness.” + +“Where is my mother?” said Matilda. + +“She is in her own chamber, Madam, and has asked for you.” + +Manfred had risen at the first dawn of light, and gone to Hippolita’s +apartment, to inquire if she knew aught of Isabella. While he was +questioning her, word was brought that Jerome demanded to speak with him. +Manfred, little suspecting the cause of the Friar’s arrival, and knowing +he was employed by Hippolita in her charities, ordered him to be +admitted, intending to leave them together, while he pursued his search +after Isabella. + +“Is your business with me or the Princess?” said Manfred. + +“With both,” replied the holy man. “The Lady Isabella—” + +“What of her?” interrupted Manfred, eagerly. + +“Is at St. Nicholas’s altar,” replied Jerome. + +“That is no business of Hippolita,” said Manfred with confusion; “let us +retire to my chamber, Father, and inform me how she came thither.” + +“No, my Lord,” replied the good man, with an air of firmness and +authority, that daunted even the resolute Manfred, who could not help +revering the saint-like virtues of Jerome; “my commission is to both, and +with your Highness’s good-liking, in the presence of both I shall deliver +it; but first, my Lord, I must interrogate the Princess, whether she is +acquainted with the cause of the Lady Isabella’s retirement from your +castle.” + +“No, on my soul,” said Hippolita; “does Isabella charge me with being +privy to it?” + +“Father,” interrupted Manfred, “I pay due reverence to your holy +profession; but I am sovereign here, and will allow no meddling priest to +interfere in the affairs of my domestic. If you have aught to say attend +me to my chamber; I do not use to let my wife be acquainted with the +secret affairs of my state; they are not within a woman’s province.” + +“My Lord,” said the holy man, “I am no intruder into the secrets of +families. My office is to promote peace, to heal divisions, to preach +repentance, and teach mankind to curb their headstrong passions. I +forgive your Highness’s uncharitable apostrophe; I know my duty, and am +the minister of a mightier prince than Manfred. Hearken to him who +speaks through my organs.” + +Manfred trembled with rage and shame. Hippolita’s countenance declared +her astonishment and impatience to know where this would end. Her +silence more strongly spoke her observance of Manfred. + +“The Lady Isabella,” resumed Jerome, “commends herself to both your +Highnesses; she thanks both for the kindness with which she has been +treated in your castle: she deplores the loss of your son, and her own +misfortune in not becoming the daughter of such wise and noble Princes, +whom she shall always respect as Parents; she prays for uninterrupted +union and felicity between you” [Manfred’s colour changed]: “but as it is +no longer possible for her to be allied to you, she entreats your consent +to remain in sanctuary, till she can learn news of her father, or, by the +certainty of his death, be at liberty, with the approbation of her +guardians, to dispose of herself in suitable marriage.” + +“I shall give no such consent,” said the Prince, “but insist on her +return to the castle without delay: I am answerable for her person to her +guardians, and will not brook her being in any hands but my own.” + +“Your Highness will recollect whether that can any longer be proper,” +replied the Friar. + +“I want no monitor,” said Manfred, colouring; “Isabella’s conduct leaves +room for strange suspicions—and that young villain, who was at least the +accomplice of her flight, if not the cause of it—” + +“The cause!” interrupted Jerome; “was a _young_ man the cause?” + +“This is not to be borne!” cried Manfred. “Am I to be bearded in my own +palace by an insolent Monk? Thou art privy, I guess, to their amours.” + +“I would pray to heaven to clear up your uncharitable surmises,” said +Jerome, “if your Highness were not satisfied in your conscience how +unjustly you accuse me. I do pray to heaven to pardon that +uncharitableness: and I implore your Highness to leave the Princess at +peace in that holy place, where she is not liable to be disturbed by such +vain and worldly fantasies as discourses of love from any man.” + +“Cant not to me,” said Manfred, “but return and bring the Princess to her +duty.” + +“It is my duty to prevent her return hither,” said Jerome. “She is where +orphans and virgins are safest from the snares and wiles of this world; +and nothing but a parent’s authority shall take her thence.” + +“I am her parent,” cried Manfred, “and demand her.” + +“She wished to have you for her parent,” said the Friar; “but Heaven that +forbad that connection has for ever dissolved all ties betwixt you: and I +announce to your Highness—” + +“Stop! audacious man,” said Manfred, “and dread my displeasure.” + +“Holy Father,” said Hippolita, “it is your office to be no respecter of +persons: you must speak as your duty prescribes: but it is my duty to +hear nothing that it pleases not my Lord I should hear. Attend the +Prince to his chamber. I will retire to my oratory, and pray to the +blessed Virgin to inspire you with her holy counsels, and to restore the +heart of my gracious Lord to its wonted peace and gentleness.” + +“Excellent woman!” said the Friar. “My Lord, I attend your pleasure.” + +Manfred, accompanied by the Friar, passed to his own apartment, where +shutting the door, “I perceive, Father,” said he, “that Isabella has +acquainted you with my purpose. Now hear my resolve, and obey. Reasons +of state, most urgent reasons, my own and the safety of my people, demand +that I should have a son. It is in vain to expect an heir from +Hippolita. I have made choice of Isabella. You must bring her back; and +you must do more. I know the influence you have with Hippolita: her +conscience is in your hands. She is, I allow, a faultless woman: her +soul is set on heaven, and scorns the little grandeur of this world: you +can withdraw her from it entirely. Persuade her to consent to the +dissolution of our marriage, and to retire into a monastery—she shall +endow one if she will; and she shall have the means of being as liberal +to your order as she or you can wish. Thus you will divert the +calamities that are hanging over our heads, and have the merit of saving +the principality of Otranto from destruction. You are a prudent man, and +though the warmth of my temper betrayed me into some unbecoming +expressions, I honour your virtue, and wish to be indebted to you for the +repose of my life and the preservation of my family.” + +“The will of heaven be done!” said the Friar. “I am but its worthless +instrument. It makes use of my tongue to tell thee, Prince, of thy +unwarrantable designs. The injuries of the virtuous Hippolita have +mounted to the throne of pity. By me thou art reprimanded for thy +adulterous intention of repudiating her: by me thou art warned not to +pursue the incestuous design on thy contracted daughter. Heaven that +delivered her from thy fury, when the judgments so recently fallen on thy +house ought to have inspired thee with other thoughts, will continue to +watch over her. Even I, a poor and despised Friar, am able to protect +her from thy violence—I, sinner as I am, and uncharitably reviled by your +Highness as an accomplice of I know not what amours, scorn the +allurements with which it has pleased thee to tempt mine honesty. I love +my order; I honour devout souls; I respect the piety of thy Princess—but +I will not betray the confidence she reposes in me, nor serve even the +cause of religion by foul and sinful compliances—but forsooth! the +welfare of the state depends on your Highness having a son! Heaven mocks +the short-sighted views of man. But yester-morn, whose house was so +great, so flourishing as Manfred’s?—where is young Conrad now?—My Lord, I +respect your tears—but I mean not to check them—let them flow, Prince! +They will weigh more with heaven toward the welfare of thy subjects, than +a marriage, which, founded on lust or policy, could never prosper. The +sceptre, which passed from the race of Alfonso to thine, cannot be +preserved by a match which the church will never allow. If it is the +will of the Most High that Manfred’s name must perish, resign yourself, +my Lord, to its decrees; and thus deserve a crown that can never pass +away. Come, my Lord; I like this sorrow—let us return to the Princess: +she is not apprised of your cruel intentions; nor did I mean more than to +alarm you. You saw with what gentle patience, with what efforts of love, +she heard, she rejected hearing, the extent of your guilt. I know she +longs to fold you in her arms, and assure you of her unalterable +affection.” + +“Father,” said the Prince, “you mistake my compunction: true, I honour +Hippolita’s virtues; I think her a Saint; and wish it were for my soul’s +health to tie faster the knot that has united us—but alas! Father, you +know not the bitterest of my pangs! it is some time that I have had +scruples on the legality of our union: Hippolita is related to me in the +fourth degree—it is true, we had a dispensation: but I have been informed +that she had also been contracted to another. This it is that sits heavy +at my heart: to this state of unlawful wedlock I impute the visitation +that has fallen on me in the death of Conrad!—ease my conscience of this +burden: dissolve our marriage, and accomplish the work of godliness—which +your divine exhortations have commenced in my soul.” + +How cutting was the anguish which the good man felt, when he perceived +this turn in the wily Prince! He trembled for Hippolita, whose ruin he +saw was determined; and he feared if Manfred had no hope of recovering +Isabella, that his impatience for a son would direct him to some other +object, who might not be equally proof against the temptation of +Manfred’s rank. For some time the holy man remained absorbed in thought. +At length, conceiving some hopes from delay, he thought the wisest +conduct would be to prevent the Prince from despairing of recovering +Isabella. Her the Friar knew he could dispose, from her affection to +Hippolita, and from the aversion she had expressed to him for Manfred’s +addresses, to second his views, till the censures of the church could be +fulminated against a divorce. With this intention, as if struck with the +Prince’s scruples, he at length said: + +“My Lord, I have been pondering on what your Highness has said; and if in +truth it is delicacy of conscience that is the real motive of your +repugnance to your virtuous Lady, far be it from me to endeavour to +harden your heart. The church is an indulgent mother: unfold your griefs +to her: she alone can administer comfort to your soul, either by +satisfying your conscience, or upon examination of your scruples, by +setting you at liberty, and indulging you in the lawful means of +continuing your lineage. In the latter case, if the Lady Isabella can be +brought to consent—” + +Manfred, who concluded that he had either over-reached the good man, or +that his first warmth had been but a tribute paid to appearance, was +overjoyed at this sudden turn, and repeated the most magnificent +promises, if he should succeed by the Friar’s mediation. The +well-meaning priest suffered him to deceive himself, fully determined to +traverse his views, instead of seconding them. + +“Since we now understand one another,” resumed the Prince, “I expect, +Father, that you satisfy me in one point. Who is the youth that I found +in the vault? He must have been privy to Isabella’s flight: tell me +truly, is he her lover? or is he an agent for another’s passion? I have +often suspected Isabella’s indifference to my son: a thousand +circumstances crowd on my mind that confirm that suspicion. She herself +was so conscious of it, that while I discoursed her in the gallery, she +outran my suspicions, and endeavoured to justify herself from coolness to +Conrad.” + +The Friar, who knew nothing of the youth, but what he had learnt +occasionally from the Princess, ignorant what was become of him, and not +sufficiently reflecting on the impetuosity of Manfred’s temper, conceived +that it might not be amiss to sow the seeds of jealousy in his mind: they +might be turned to some use hereafter, either by prejudicing the Prince +against Isabella, if he persisted in that union or by diverting his +attention to a wrong scent, and employing his thoughts on a visionary +intrigue, prevent his engaging in any new pursuit. With this unhappy +policy, he answered in a manner to confirm Manfred in the belief of some +connection between Isabella and the youth. The Prince, whose passions +wanted little fuel to throw them into a blaze, fell into a rage at the +idea of what the Friar suggested. + +“I will fathom to the bottom of this intrigue,” cried he; and quitting +Jerome abruptly, with a command to remain there till his return, he +hastened to the great hall of the castle, and ordered the peasant to be +brought before him. + +“Thou hardened young impostor!” said the Prince, as soon as he saw the +youth; “what becomes of thy boasted veracity now? it was Providence, was +it, and the light of the moon, that discovered the lock of the trap-door +to thee? Tell me, audacious boy, who thou art, and how long thou hast +been acquainted with the Princess—and take care to answer with less +equivocation than thou didst last night, or tortures shall wring the +truth from thee.” + +The young man, perceiving that his share in the flight of the Princess +was discovered, and concluding that anything he should say could no +longer be of any service or detriment to her, replied— + +“I am no impostor, my Lord, nor have I deserved opprobrious language. I +answered to every question your Highness put to me last night with the +same veracity that I shall speak now: and that will not be from fear of +your tortures, but because my soul abhors a falsehood. Please to repeat +your questions, my Lord; I am ready to give you all the satisfaction in +my power.” + +“You know my questions,” replied the Prince, “and only want time to +prepare an evasion. Speak directly; who art thou? and how long hast thou +been known to the Princess?” + +“I am a labourer at the next village,” said the peasant; “my name is +Theodore. The Princess found me in the vault last night: before that +hour I never was in her presence.” + +“I may believe as much or as little as I please of this,” said Manfred; +“but I will hear thy own story before I examine into the truth of it. +Tell me, what reason did the Princess give thee for making her escape? +thy life depends on thy answer.” + +“She told me,” replied Theodore, “that she was on the brink of +destruction, and that if she could not escape from the castle, she was in +danger in a few moments of being made miserable for ever.” + +“And on this slight foundation, on a silly girl’s report,” said Manfred, +“thou didst hazard my displeasure?” + +“I fear no man’s displeasure,” said Theodore, “when a woman in distress +puts herself under my protection.” + +During this examination, Matilda was going to the apartment of Hippolita. +At the upper end of the hall, where Manfred sat, was a boarded gallery +with latticed windows, through which Matilda and Bianca were to pass. +Hearing her father’s voice, and seeing the servants assembled round him, +she stopped to learn the occasion. The prisoner soon drew her attention: +the steady and composed manner in which he answered, and the gallantry of +his last reply, which were the first words she heard distinctly, +interested her in his favour. His person was noble, handsome, and +commanding, even in that situation: but his countenance soon engrossed +her whole care. + +“Heavens! Bianca,” said the Princess softly, “do I dream? or is not that +youth the exact resemblance of Alfonso’s picture in the gallery?” + +She could say no more, for her father’s voice grew louder at every word. + +“This bravado,” said he, “surpasses all thy former insolence. Thou shalt +experience the wrath with which thou darest to trifle. Seize him,” +continued Manfred, “and bind him—the first news the Princess hears of her +champion shall be, that he has lost his head for her sake.” + +“The injustice of which thou art guilty towards me,” said Theodore, +“convinces me that I have done a good deed in delivering the Princess +from thy tyranny. May she be happy, whatever becomes of me!” + +“This is a lover!” cried Manfred in a rage: “a peasant within sight of +death is not animated by such sentiments. Tell me, tell me, rash boy, +who thou art, or the rack shall force thy secret from thee.” + +“Thou hast threatened me with death already,” said the youth, “for the +truth I have told thee: if that is all the encouragement I am to expect +for sincerity, I am not tempted to indulge thy vain curiosity farther.” + +“Then thou wilt not speak?” said Manfred. + +“I will not,” replied he. + +“Bear him away into the courtyard,” said Manfred; “I will see his head +this instant severed from his body.” + +Matilda fainted at hearing those words. Bianca shrieked, and cried—“Help! help! the Princess is dead!” + +Manfred started at this ejaculation, and demanded what was the matter! +The young peasant, who heard it too, was struck with horror, and asked +eagerly the same question; but Manfred ordered him to be hurried into +the court, and kept there for execution, till he had informed himself +of the cause of Bianca’s shrieks. When he learned the meaning, he +treated it as a womanish panic, and ordering Matilda to be carried to +her apartment, he rushed into the court, and calling for one of his +guards, bade Theodore kneel down, and prepare to receive the fatal blow. + +The undaunted youth received the bitter sentence with a resignation that +touched every heart but Manfred’s. He wished earnestly to know the +meaning of the words he had heard relating to the Princess; but fearing +to exasperate the tyrant more against her, he desisted. The only boon he +deigned to ask was, that he might be permitted to have a confessor, and +make his peace with heaven. Manfred, who hoped by the confessor’s means +to come at the youth’s history, readily granted his request; and being +convinced that Father Jerome was now in his interest, he ordered him to +be called and shrive the prisoner. The holy man, who had little foreseen +the catastrophe that his imprudence occasioned, fell on his knees to the +Prince, and adjured him in the most solemn manner not to shed innocent +blood. He accused himself in the bitterest terms for his indiscretion, +endeavoured to disculpate the youth, and left no method untried to soften +the tyrant’s rage. Manfred, more incensed than appeased by Jerome’s +intercession, whose retraction now made him suspect he had been imposed +upon by both, commanded the Friar to do his duty, telling him he would +not allow the prisoner many minutes for confession. + +“Nor do I ask many, my Lord,” said the unhappy young man. “My sins, +thank heaven, have not been numerous; nor exceed what might be expected +at my years. Dry your tears, good Father, and let us despatch. This is +a bad world; nor have I had cause to leave it with regret.” + +“Oh wretched youth!” said Jerome; “how canst thou bear the sight of me +with patience? I am thy murderer! it is I have brought this dismal hour +upon thee!” + +“I forgive thee from my soul,” said the youth, “as I hope heaven will +pardon me. Hear my confession, Father; and give me thy blessing.” + +“How can I prepare thee for thy passage as I ought?” said Jerome. “Thou +canst not be saved without pardoning thy foes—and canst thou forgive that +impious man there?” + +“I can,” said Theodore; “I do.” + +“And does not this touch thee, cruel Prince?” said the Friar. + +“I sent for thee to confess him,” said Manfred, sternly; “not to plead +for him. Thou didst first incense me against him—his blood be upon thy +head!” + +“It will! it will!” said the good man, in an agony of sorrow. “Thou and +I must never hope to go where this blessed youth is going!” + +“Despatch!” said Manfred; “I am no more to be moved by the whining of +priests than by the shrieks of women.” + +“What!” said the youth; “is it possible that my fate could have +occasioned what I heard! Is the Princess then again in thy power?” + +“Thou dost but remember me of my wrath,” said Manfred. “Prepare thee, +for this moment is thy last.” + +The youth, who felt his indignation rise, and who was touched with the +sorrow which he saw he had infused into all the spectators, as well as +into the Friar, suppressed his emotions, and putting off his doublet, and +unbuttoning his collar, knelt down to his prayers. As he stooped, his +shirt slipped down below his shoulder, and discovered the mark of a +bloody arrow. + +“Gracious heaven!” cried the holy man, starting; “what do I see? It is +my child! my Theodore!” + +The passions that ensued must be conceived; they cannot be painted. The +tears of the assistants were suspended by wonder, rather than stopped by +joy. They seemed to inquire in the eyes of their Lord what they ought to +feel. Surprise, doubt, tenderness, respect, succeeded each other in the +countenance of the youth. He received with modest submission the +effusion of the old man’s tears and embraces. Yet afraid of giving a +loose to hope, and suspecting from what had passed the inflexibility of +Manfred’s temper, he cast a glance towards the Prince, as if to say, +canst thou be unmoved at such a scene as this? + +Manfred’s heart was capable of being touched. He forgot his anger in his +astonishment; yet his pride forbad his owning himself affected. He even +doubted whether this discovery was not a contrivance of the Friar to save +the youth. + +“What may this mean?” said he. “How can he be thy son? Is it consistent +with thy profession or reputed sanctity to avow a peasant’s offspring for +the fruit of thy irregular amours!” + +“Oh, God!” said the holy man, “dost thou question his being mine? Could +I feel the anguish I do if I were not his father? Spare him! good +Prince! spare him! and revile me as thou pleasest.” + +“Spare him! spare him!” cried the attendants; “for this good man’s sake!” + +“Peace!” said Manfred, sternly. “I must know more ere I am disposed to +pardon. A Saint’s bastard may be no saint himself.” + +“Injurious Lord!” said Theodore, “add not insult to cruelty. If I am +this venerable man’s son, though no Prince, as thou art, know the blood +that flows in my veins—” + +“Yes,” said the Friar, interrupting him, “his blood is noble; nor is he +that abject thing, my Lord, you speak him. He is my lawful son, and +Sicily can boast of few houses more ancient than that of Falconara. But +alas! my Lord, what is blood! what is nobility! We are all reptiles, +miserable, sinful creatures. It is piety alone that can distinguish us +from the dust whence we sprung, and whither we must return.” + +“Truce to your sermon,” said Manfred; “you forget you are no longer Friar +Jerome, but the Count of Falconara. Let me know your history; you will +have time to moralise hereafter, if you should not happen to obtain the +grace of that sturdy criminal there.” + +“Mother of God!” said the Friar, “is it possible my Lord can refuse a +father the life of his only, his long-lost, child! Trample me, my Lord, +scorn, afflict me, accept my life for his, but spare my son!” + +“Thou canst feel, then,” said Manfred, “what it is to lose an only son! +A little hour ago thou didst preach up resignation to me: _my_ house, if +fate so pleased, must perish—but the Count of Falconara—” + +“Alas! my Lord,” said Jerome, “I confess I have offended; but aggravate +not an old man’s sufferings! I boast not of my family, nor think of such +vanities—it is nature, that pleads for this boy; it is the memory of the +dear woman that bore him. Is she, Theodore, is she dead?” + +“Her soul has long been with the blessed,” said Theodore. + +“Oh! how?” cried Jerome, “tell me—no—she is happy! Thou art all my care +now!—Most dread Lord! will you—will you grant me my poor boy’s life?” + +“Return to thy convent,” answered Manfred; “conduct the Princess hither; +obey me in what else thou knowest; and I promise thee the life of thy +son.” + +“Oh! my Lord,” said Jerome, “is my honesty the price I must pay for this +dear youth’s safety?” + +“For me!” cried Theodore. “Let me die a thousand deaths, rather than +stain thy conscience. What is it the tyrant would exact of thee? Is the +Princess still safe from his power? Protect her, thou venerable old man; +and let all the weight of his wrath fall on me.” + +Jerome endeavoured to check the impetuosity of the youth; and ere Manfred +could reply, the trampling of horses was heard, and a brazen trumpet, +which hung without the gate of the castle, was suddenly sounded. At the +same instant the sable plumes on the enchanted helmet, which still +remained at the other end of the court, were tempestuously agitated, and +nodded thrice, as if bowed by some invisible wearer. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Manfred’s heart misgave him when he beheld the plumage on the miraculous +casque shaken in concert with the sounding of the brazen trumpet. + +“Father!” said he to Jerome, whom he now ceased to treat as Count of +Falconara, “what mean these portents? If I have offended—” the plumes +were shaken with greater violence than before. + +“Unhappy Prince that I am,” cried Manfred. “Holy Father! will you not +assist me with your prayers?” + +“My Lord,” replied Jerome, “heaven is no doubt displeased with your +mockery of its servants. Submit yourself to the church; and cease to +persecute her ministers. Dismiss this innocent youth; and learn to +respect the holy character I wear. Heaven will not be trifled with: you +see—” the trumpet sounded again. + +“I acknowledge I have been too hasty,” said Manfred. “Father, do you go +to the wicket, and demand who is at the gate.” + +“Do you grant me the life of Theodore?” replied the Friar. + +“I do,” said Manfred; “but inquire who is without!” + +Jerome, falling on the neck of his son, discharged a flood of tears, that +spoke the fulness of his soul. + +“You promised to go to the gate,” said Manfred. + +“I thought,” replied the Friar, “your Highness would excuse my thanking +you first in this tribute of my heart.” + +“Go, dearest Sir,” said Theodore; “obey the Prince. I do not deserve +that you should delay his satisfaction for me.” + +Jerome, inquiring who was without, was answered, “A Herald.” + +“From whom?” said he. + +“From the Knight of the Gigantic Sabre,” said the Herald; “and I must +speak with the usurper of Otranto.” + +Jerome returned to the Prince, and did not fail to repeat the message in +the very words it had been uttered. The first sounds struck Manfred with +terror; but when he heard himself styled usurper, his rage rekindled, and +all his courage revived. + +“Usurper!—insolent villain!” cried he; “who dares to question my title? +Retire, Father; this is no business for Monks: I will meet this +presumptuous man myself. Go to your convent and prepare the Princess’s +return. Your son shall be a hostage for your fidelity: his life depends +on your obedience.” + +“Good heaven! my Lord,” cried Jerome, “your Highness did but this instant +freely pardon my child—have you so soon forgot the interposition of +heaven?” + +“Heaven,” replied Manfred, “does not send Heralds to question the title +of a lawful Prince. I doubt whether it even notifies its will through +Friars—but that is your affair, not mine. At present you know my +pleasure; and it is not a saucy Herald that shall save your son, if you +do not return with the Princess.” + +It was in vain for the holy man to reply. Manfred commanded him to be +conducted to the postern-gate, and shut out from the castle. And he +ordered some of his attendants to carry Theodore to the top of the black +tower, and guard him strictly; scarce permitting the father and son to +exchange a hasty embrace at parting. He then withdrew to the hall, and +seating himself in princely state, ordered the Herald to be admitted to +his presence. + +“Well! thou insolent!” said the Prince, “what wouldst thou with me?” + +“I come,” replied he, “to thee, Manfred, usurper of the principality of +Otranto, from the renowned and invincible Knight, the Knight of the +Gigantic Sabre: in the name of his Lord, Frederic, Marquis of Vicenza, he +demands the Lady Isabella, daughter of that Prince, whom thou hast basely +and traitorously got into thy power, by bribing her false guardians +during his absence; and he requires thee to resign the principality of +Otranto, which thou hast usurped from the said Lord Frederic, the nearest +of blood to the last rightful Lord, Alfonso the Good. If thou dost not +instantly comply with these just demands, he defies thee to single combat +to the last extremity.” And so saying the Herald cast down his warder. + +“And where is this braggart who sends thee?” said Manfred. + +“At the distance of a league,” said the Herald: “he comes to make good +his Lord’s claim against thee, as he is a true knight, and thou an +usurper and ravisher.” + +Injurious as this challenge was, Manfred reflected that it was not his +interest to provoke the Marquis. He knew how well founded the claim of +Frederic was; nor was this the first time he had heard of it. Frederic’s +ancestors had assumed the style of Princes of Otranto, from the death of +Alfonso the Good without issue; but Manfred, his father, and grandfather, +had been too powerful for the house of Vicenza to dispossess them. +Frederic, a martial and amorous young Prince, had married a beautiful +young lady, of whom he was enamoured, and who had died in childbed of +Isabella. Her death affected him so much that he had taken the cross and +gone to the Holy Land, where he was wounded in an engagement against the +infidels, made prisoner, and reported to be dead. When the news reached +Manfred’s ears, he bribed the guardians of the Lady Isabella to deliver +her up to him as a bride for his son Conrad, by which alliance he had +proposed to unite the claims of the two houses. This motive, on Conrad’s +death, had co-operated to make him so suddenly resolve on espousing her +himself; and the same reflection determined him now to endeavour at +obtaining the consent of Frederic to this marriage. A like policy +inspired him with the thought of inviting Frederic’s champion into the +castle, lest he should be informed of Isabella’s flight, which he +strictly enjoined his domestics not to disclose to any of the Knight’s +retinue. + +“Herald,” said Manfred, as soon as he had digested these reflections, +“return to thy master, and tell him, ere we liquidate our differences by +the sword, Manfred would hold some converse with him. Bid him welcome to +my castle, where by my faith, as I am a true Knight, he shall have +courteous reception, and full security for himself and followers. If we +cannot adjust our quarrel by amicable means, I swear he shall depart in +safety, and shall have full satisfaction according to the laws of arms: +So help me God and His holy Trinity!” + +The Herald made three obeisances and retired. + +During this interview Jerome’s mind was agitated by a thousand contrary +passions. He trembled for the life of his son, and his first thought was +to persuade Isabella to return to the castle. Yet he was scarce less +alarmed at the thought of her union with Manfred. He dreaded Hippolita’s +unbounded submission to the will of her Lord; and though he did not doubt +but he could alarm her piety not to consent to a divorce, if he could get +access to her; yet should Manfred discover that the obstruction came from +him, it might be equally fatal to Theodore. He was impatient to know +whence came the Herald, who with so little management had questioned the +title of Manfred: yet he did not dare absent himself from the convent, +lest Isabella should leave it, and her flight be imputed to him. He +returned disconsolately to the monastery, uncertain on what conduct to +resolve. A Monk, who met him in the porch and observed his melancholy +air, said— + +“Alas! brother, is it then true that we have lost our excellent Princess +Hippolita?” + +The holy man started, and cried, “What meanest thou, brother? I come +this instant from the castle, and left her in perfect health.” + +“Martelli,” replied the other Friar, “passed by the convent but a quarter +of an hour ago on his way from the castle, and reported that her Highness +was dead. All our brethren are gone to the chapel to pray for her happy +transit to a better life, and willed me to wait thy arrival. They know +thy holy attachment to that good Lady, and are anxious for the affliction +it will cause in thee—indeed we have all reason to weep; she was a mother +to our house. But this life is but a pilgrimage; we must not murmur—we +shall all follow her! May our end be like hers!” + +“Good brother, thou dreamest,” said Jerome. “I tell thee I come from the +castle, and left the Princess well. Where is the Lady Isabella?” + +“Poor Gentlewoman!” replied the Friar; “I told her the sad news, and +offered her spiritual comfort. I reminded her of the transitory +condition of mortality, and advised her to take the veil: I quoted the +example of the holy Princess Sanchia of Arragon.” + +“Thy zeal was laudable,” said Jerome, impatiently; “but at present it was +unnecessary: Hippolita is well—at least I trust in the Lord she is; I +heard nothing to the contrary—yet, methinks, the Prince’s +earnestness—Well, brother, but where is the Lady Isabella?” + +“I know not,” said the Friar; “she wept much, and said she would retire +to her chamber.” + +Jerome left his comrade abruptly, and hastened to the Princess, but she +was not in her chamber. He inquired of the domestics of the convent, but +could learn no news of her. He searched in vain throughout the monastery +and the church, and despatched messengers round the neighbourhood, to get +intelligence if she had been seen; but to no purpose. Nothing could +equal the good man’s perplexity. He judged that Isabella, suspecting +Manfred of having precipitated his wife’s death, had taken the alarm, and +withdrawn herself to some more secret place of concealment. This new +flight would probably carry the Prince’s fury to the height. The report +of Hippolita’s death, though it seemed almost incredible, increased his +consternation; and though Isabella’s escape bespoke her aversion of +Manfred for a husband, Jerome could feel no comfort from it, while it +endangered the life of his son. He determined to return to the castle, +and made several of his brethren accompany him to attest his innocence to +Manfred, and, if necessary, join their intercession with his for +Theodore. + +The Prince, in the meantime, had passed into the court, and ordered the +gates of the castle to be flung open for the reception of the stranger +Knight and his train. In a few minutes the cavalcade arrived. First +came two harbingers with wands. Next a herald, followed by two pages and +two trumpets. Then a hundred foot-guards. These were attended by as +many horse. After them fifty footmen, clothed in scarlet and black, the +colours of the Knight. Then a led horse. Two heralds on each side of a +gentleman on horseback bearing a banner with the arms of Vicenza and +Otranto quarterly—a circumstance that much offended Manfred—but he +stifled his resentment. Two more pages. The Knight’s confessor telling +his beads. Fifty more footmen clad as before. Two Knights habited in +complete armour, their beavers down, comrades to the principal Knight. +The squires of the two Knights, carrying their shields and devices. The +Knight’s own squire. A hundred gentlemen bearing an enormous sword, and +seeming to faint under the weight of it. The Knight himself on a +chestnut steed, in complete armour, his lance in the rest, his face +entirely concealed by his vizor, which was surmounted by a large plume of +scarlet and black feathers. Fifty foot-guards with drums and trumpets +closed the procession, which wheeled off to the right and left to make +room for the principal Knight. + +As soon as he approached the gate he stopped; and the herald advancing, +read again the words of the challenge. Manfred’s eyes were fixed on the +gigantic sword, and he scarce seemed to attend to the cartel: but his +attention was soon diverted by a tempest of wind that rose behind him. +He turned and beheld the Plumes of the enchanted helmet agitated in the +same extraordinary manner as before. It required intrepidity like +Manfred’s not to sink under a concurrence of circumstances that seemed to +announce his fate. Yet scorning in the presence of strangers to betray +the courage he had always manifested, he said boldly— + +“Sir Knight, whoever thou art, I bid thee welcome. If thou art of mortal +mould, thy valour shall meet its equal: and if thou art a true Knight, +thou wilt scorn to employ sorcery to carry thy point. Be these omens +from heaven or hell, Manfred trusts to the righteousness of his cause and +to the aid of St. Nicholas, who has ever protected his house. Alight, +Sir Knight, and repose thyself. To-morrow thou shalt have a fair field, +and heaven befriend the juster side!” + +The Knight made no reply, but dismounting, was conducted by Manfred to +the great hall of the castle. As they traversed the court, the Knight +stopped to gaze on the miraculous casque; and kneeling down, seemed to +pray inwardly for some minutes. Rising, he made a sign to the Prince to +lead on. As soon as they entered the hall, Manfred proposed to the +stranger to disarm, but the Knight shook his head in token of refusal. + +“Sir Knight,” said Manfred, “this is not courteous, but by my good faith +I will not cross thee, nor shalt thou have cause to complain of the +Prince of Otranto. No treachery is designed on my part; I hope none is +intended on thine; here take my gage” (giving him his ring): “your +friends and you shall enjoy the laws of hospitality. Rest here until +refreshments are brought. I will but give orders for the accommodation +of your train, and return to you.” The three Knights bowed as accepting +his courtesy. Manfred directed the stranger’s retinue to be conducted to +an adjacent hospital, founded by the Princess Hippolita for the reception +of pilgrims. As they made the circuit of the court to return towards the +gate, the gigantic sword burst from the supporters, and falling to the +ground opposite to the helmet, remained immovable. Manfred, almost +hardened to preternatural appearances, surmounted the shock of this new +prodigy; and returning to the hall, where by this time the feast was +ready, he invited his silent guests to take their places. Manfred, +however ill his heart was at ease, endeavoured to inspire the company +with mirth. He put several questions to them, but was answered only by +signs. They raised their vizors but sufficiently to feed themselves, and +that sparingly. + +“Sirs” said the Prince, “ye are the first guests I ever treated within +these walls who scorned to hold any intercourse with me: nor has it oft +been customary, I ween, for princes to hazard their state and dignity +against strangers and mutes. You say you come in the name of Frederic of +Vicenza; I have ever heard that he was a gallant and courteous Knight; +nor would he, I am bold to say, think it beneath him to mix in social +converse with a Prince that is his equal, and not unknown by deeds in +arms. Still ye are silent—well! be it as it may—by the laws of +hospitality and chivalry ye are masters under this roof: ye shall do your +pleasure. But come, give me a goblet of wine; ye will not refuse to +pledge me to the healths of your fair mistresses.” + +The principal Knight sighed and crossed himself, and was rising from the +board. + +“Sir Knight,” said Manfred, “what I said was but in sport. I shall +constrain you in nothing: use your good liking. Since mirth is not your +mood, let us be sad. Business may hit your fancies better. Let us +withdraw, and hear if what I have to unfold may be better relished than +the vain efforts I have made for your pastime.” + +Manfred then conducting the three Knights into an inner chamber, shut the +door, and inviting them to be seated, began thus, addressing himself to +the chief personage:— + +“You come, Sir Knight, as I understand, in the name of the Marquis of +Vicenza, to re-demand the Lady Isabella, his daughter, who has been +contracted in the face of Holy Church to my son, by the consent of her +legal guardians; and to require me to resign my dominions to your Lord, +who gives himself for the nearest of blood to Prince Alfonso, whose soul +God rest! I shall speak to the latter article of your demands first. +You must know, your Lord knows, that I enjoy the principality of Otranto +from my father, Don Manuel, as he received it from his father, Don +Ricardo. Alfonso, their predecessor, dying childless in the Holy Land, +bequeathed his estates to my grandfather, Don Ricardo, in consideration +of his faithful services.” The stranger shook his head. + +“Sir Knight,” said Manfred, warmly, “Ricardo was a valiant and upright +man; he was a pious man; witness his munificent foundation of the +adjoining church and two convents. He was peculiarly patronised by St. +Nicholas—my grandfather was incapable—I say, Sir, Don Ricardo was +incapable—excuse me, your interruption has disordered me. I venerate the +memory of my grandfather. Well, Sirs, he held this estate; he held it by +his good sword and by the favour of St. Nicholas—so did my father; and +so, Sirs, will I, come what come will. But Frederic, your Lord, is +nearest in blood. I have consented to put my title to the issue of the +sword. Does that imply a vicious title? I might have asked, where is +Frederic your Lord? Report speaks him dead in captivity. You say, your +actions say, he lives—I question it not—I might, Sirs, I might—but I do +not. Other Princes would bid Frederic take his inheritance by force, if +he can: they would not stake their dignity on a single combat: they would +not submit it to the decision of unknown mutes!—pardon me, gentlemen, I +am too warm: but suppose yourselves in my situation: as ye are stout +Knights, would it not move your choler to have your own and the honour of +your ancestors called in question?” “But to the point. Ye require me to +deliver up the Lady Isabella. Sirs, I must ask if ye are authorised to +receive her?” + +The Knight nodded. + +“Receive her,” continued Manfred; “well, you are authorised to receive +her, but, gentle Knight, may I ask if you have full powers?” + +The Knight nodded. + +“’Tis well,” said Manfred; “then hear what I have to offer. Ye see, +gentlemen, before you, the most unhappy of men!” (he began to weep); +“afford me your compassion; I am entitled to it, indeed I am. Know, I +have lost my only hope, my joy, the support of my house—Conrad died +yester morning.” + +The Knights discovered signs of surprise. + +“Yes, Sirs, fate has disposed of my son. Isabella is at liberty.” + +“Do you then restore her?” cried the chief Knight, breaking silence. + +“Afford me your patience,” said Manfred. “I rejoice to find, by this +testimony of your goodwill, that this matter may be adjusted without +blood. It is no interest of mine dictates what little I have farther to +say. Ye behold in me a man disgusted with the world: the loss of my son +has weaned me from earthly cares. Power and greatness have no longer any +charms in my eyes. I wished to transmit the sceptre I had received from +my ancestors with honour to my son—but that is over! Life itself is so +indifferent to me, that I accepted your defiance with joy. A good Knight +cannot go to the grave with more satisfaction than when falling in his +vocation: whatever is the will of heaven, I submit; for alas! Sirs, I am +a man of many sorrows. Manfred is no object of envy, but no doubt you +are acquainted with my story.” + +The Knight made signs of ignorance, and seemed curious to have Manfred +proceed. + +“Is it possible, Sirs,” continued the Prince, “that my story should be a +secret to you? Have you heard nothing relating to me and the Princess +Hippolita?” + +They shook their heads. + +“No! Thus, then, Sirs, it is. You think me ambitious: ambition, alas! +is composed of more rugged materials. If I were ambitious, I should not +for so many years have been a prey to all the hell of conscientious +scruples. But I weary your patience: I will be brief. Know, then, that +I have long been troubled in mind on my union with the Princess +Hippolita. Oh! Sirs, if ye were acquainted with that excellent woman! if +ye knew that I adore her like a mistress, and cherish her as a friend—but +man was not born for perfect happiness! She shares my scruples, and with +her consent I have brought this matter before the church, for we are +related within the forbidden degrees. I expect every hour the definitive +sentence that must separate us for ever—I am sure you feel for me—I see +you do—pardon these tears!” + +The Knights gazed on each other, wondering where this would end. + +Manfred continued— + +“The death of my son betiding while my soul was under this anxiety, I +thought of nothing but resigning my dominions, and retiring for ever from +the sight of mankind. My only difficulty was to fix on a successor, who +would be tender of my people, and to dispose of the Lady Isabella, who is +dear to me as my own blood. I was willing to restore the line of +Alfonso, even in his most distant kindred. And though, pardon me, I am +satisfied it was his will that Ricardo’s lineage should take place of his +own relations; yet where was I to search for those relations? I knew of +none but Frederic, your Lord; he was a captive to the infidels, or dead; +and were he living, and at home, would he quit the flourishing State of +Vicenza for the inconsiderable principality of Otranto? If he would not, +could I bear the thought of seeing a hard, unfeeling, Viceroy set over my +poor faithful people? for, Sirs, I love my people, and thank heaven am +beloved by them. But ye will ask whither tends this long discourse? +Briefly, then, thus, Sirs. Heaven in your arrival seems to point out a +remedy for these difficulties and my misfortunes. The Lady Isabella is +at liberty; I shall soon be so. I would submit to anything for the good +of my people. Were it not the best, the only way to extinguish the feuds +between our families, if I was to take the Lady Isabella to wife? You +start. But though Hippolita’s virtues will ever be dear to me, a Prince +must not consider himself; he is born for his people.” A servant at that +instant entering the chamber apprised Manfred that Jerome and several of +his brethren demanded immediate access to him. + +The Prince, provoked at this interruption, and fearing that the Friar +would discover to the strangers that Isabella had taken sanctuary, was +going to forbid Jerome’s entrance. But recollecting that he was +certainly arrived to notify the Princess’s return, Manfred began to +excuse himself to the Knights for leaving them for a few moments, but was +prevented by the arrival of the Friars. Manfred angrily reprimanded them +for their intrusion, and would have forced them back from the chamber; +but Jerome was too much agitated to be repulsed. He declared aloud the +flight of Isabella, with protestations of his own innocence. + +Manfred, distracted at the news, and not less at its coming to the +knowledge of the strangers, uttered nothing but incoherent sentences, now +upbraiding the Friar, now apologising to the Knights, earnest to know +what was become of Isabella, yet equally afraid of their knowing; +impatient to pursue her, yet dreading to have them join in the pursuit. +He offered to despatch messengers in quest of her, but the chief Knight, +no longer keeping silence, reproached Manfred in bitter terms for his +dark and ambiguous dealing, and demanded the cause of Isabella’s first +absence from the castle. Manfred, casting a stern look at Jerome, +implying a command of silence, pretended that on Conrad’s death he had +placed her in sanctuary until he could determine how to dispose of her. +Jerome, who trembled for his son’s life, did not dare contradict this +falsehood, but one of his brethren, not under the same anxiety, declared +frankly that she had fled to their church in the preceding night. The +Prince in vain endeavoured to stop this discovery, which overwhelmed him +with shame and confusion. The principal stranger, amazed at the +contradictions he heard, and more than half persuaded that Manfred had +secreted the Princess, notwithstanding the concern he expressed at her +flight, rushing to the door, said— + +“Thou traitor Prince! Isabella shall be found.” + +Manfred endeavoured to hold him, but the other Knights assisting their +comrade, he broke from the Prince, and hastened into the court, demanding +his attendants. Manfred, finding it vain to divert him from the pursuit, +offered to accompany him and summoning his attendants, and taking Jerome +and some of the Friars to guide them, they issued from the castle; +Manfred privately giving orders to have the Knight’s company secured, +while to the knight he affected to despatch a messenger to require their +assistance. + +The company had no sooner quitted the castle than Matilda, who felt +herself deeply interested for the young peasant, since she had seen him +condemned to death in the hall, and whose thoughts had been taken up with +concerting measures to save him, was informed by some of the female +attendants that Manfred had despatched all his men various ways in +pursuit of Isabella. He had in his hurry given this order in general +terms, not meaning to extend it to the guard he had set upon Theodore, +but forgetting it. The domestics, officious to obey so peremptory a +Prince, and urged by their own curiosity and love of novelty to join in +any precipitate chase, had to a man left the castle. Matilda disengaged +herself from her women, stole up to the black tower, and unbolting the +door, presented herself to the astonished Theodore. + +“Young man,” said she, “though filial duty and womanly modesty condemn +the step I am taking, yet holy charity, surmounting all other ties, +justifies this act. Fly; the doors of thy prison are open: my father and +his domestics are absent; but they may soon return. Be gone in safety; +and may the angels of heaven direct thy course!” + +“Thou art surely one of those angels!” said the enraptured Theodore: +“none but a blessed saint could speak, could act—could look—like thee. +May I not know the name of my divine protectress? Methought thou namedst +thy father. Is it possible? Can Manfred’s blood feel holy pity! Lovely +Lady, thou answerest not. But how art thou here thyself? Why dost thou +neglect thy own safety, and waste a thought on a wretch like Theodore? +Let us fly together: the life thou bestowest shall be dedicated to thy +defence.” + +“Alas! thou mistakest,” said Matilda, sighing: “I am Manfred’s daughter, +but no dangers await me.” + +“Amazement!” said Theodore; “but last night I blessed myself for yielding +thee the service thy gracious compassion so charitably returns me now.” + +“Still thou art in an error,” said the Princess; “but this is no time for +explanation. Fly, virtuous youth, while it is in my power to save thee: +should my father return, thou and I both should indeed have cause to +tremble.” + +“How!” said Theodore; “thinkest thou, charming maid, that I will accept +of life at the hazard of aught calamitous to thee? Better I endured a +thousand deaths.” + +“I run no risk,” said Matilda, “but by thy delay. Depart; it cannot be +known that I have assisted thy flight.” + +“Swear by the saints above,” said Theodore, “that thou canst not be +suspected; else here I vow to await whatever can befall me.” + +“Oh! thou art too generous,” said Matilda; “but rest assured that no +suspicion can alight on me.” + +“Give me thy beauteous hand in token that thou dost not deceive me,” said +Theodore; “and let me bathe it with the warm tears of gratitude.” + +“Forbear!” said the Princess; “this must not be.” + +“Alas!” said Theodore, “I have never known but calamity until this +hour—perhaps shall never know other fortune again: suffer the chaste +raptures of holy gratitude: ’tis my soul would print its effusions on thy +hand.” + +“Forbear, and be gone,” said Matilda. “How would Isabella approve of +seeing thee at my feet?” + +“Who is Isabella?” said the young man with surprise. + +“Ah, me! I fear,” said the Princess, “I am serving a deceitful one. +Hast thou forgot thy curiosity this morning?” + +“Thy looks, thy actions, all thy beauteous self seem an emanation of +divinity,” said Theodore; “but thy words are dark and mysterious. Speak, +Lady; speak to thy servant’s comprehension.” + +“Thou understandest but too well!” said Matilda; “but once more I command +thee to be gone: thy blood, which I may preserve, will be on my head, if +I waste the time in vain discourse.” + +“I go, Lady,” said Theodore, “because it is thy will, and because I would +not bring the grey hairs of my father with sorrow to the grave. Say but, +adored Lady, that I have thy gentle pity.” + +“Stay,” said Matilda; “I will conduct thee to the subterraneous vault by +which Isabella escaped; it will lead thee to the church of St. Nicholas, +where thou mayst take sanctuary.” + +“What!” said Theodore, “was it another, and not thy lovely self that I +assisted to find the subterraneous passage?” + +“It was,” said Matilda; “but ask no more; I tremble to see thee still +abide here; fly to the sanctuary.” + +“To sanctuary,” said Theodore; “no, Princess; sanctuaries are for +helpless damsels, or for criminals. Theodore’s soul is free from guilt, +nor will wear the appearance of it. Give me a sword, Lady, and thy +father shall learn that Theodore scorns an ignominious flight.” + +“Rash youth!” said Matilda; “thou wouldst not dare to lift thy +presumptuous arm against the Prince of Otranto?” + +“Not against thy father; indeed, I dare not,” said Theodore. “Excuse me, +Lady; I had forgotten. But could I gaze on thee, and remember thou art +sprung from the tyrant Manfred! But he is thy father, and from this +moment my injuries are buried in oblivion.” + +A deep and hollow groan, which seemed to come from above, startled the +Princess and Theodore. + +“Good heaven! we are overheard!” said the Princess. They listened; but +perceiving no further noise, they both concluded it the effect of pent-up +vapours. And the Princess, preceding Theodore softly, carried him to her +father’s armoury, where, equipping him with a complete suit, he was +conducted by Matilda to the postern-gate. + +“Avoid the town,” said the Princess, “and all the western side of the +castle. ’Tis there the search must be making by Manfred and the +strangers; but hie thee to the opposite quarter. Yonder behind that +forest to the east is a chain of rocks, hollowed into a labyrinth of +caverns that reach to the sea coast. There thou mayst lie concealed, +till thou canst make signs to some vessel to put on shore, and take thee +off. Go! heaven be thy guide!—and sometimes in thy prayers +remember—Matilda!” + +Theodore flung himself at her feet, and seizing her lily hand, which with +struggles she suffered him to kiss, he vowed on the earliest opportunity +to get himself knighted, and fervently entreated her permission to swear +himself eternally her knight. Ere the Princess could reply, a clap of +thunder was suddenly heard that shook the battlements. Theodore, +regardless of the tempest, would have urged his suit: but the Princess, +dismayed, retreated hastily into the castle, and commanded the youth to +be gone with an air that would not be disobeyed. He sighed, and retired, +but with eyes fixed on the gate, until Matilda, closing it, put an end to +an interview, in which the hearts of both had drunk so deeply of a +passion, which both now tasted for the first time. + +Theodore went pensively to the convent, to acquaint his father with his +deliverance. There he learned the absence of Jerome, and the pursuit +that was making after the Lady Isabella, with some particulars of whose +story he now first became acquainted. The generous gallantry of his +nature prompted him to wish to assist her; but the Monks could lend him +no lights to guess at the route she had taken. He was not tempted to +wander far in search of her, for the idea of Matilda had imprinted itself +so strongly on his heart, that he could not bear to absent himself at +much distance from her abode. The tenderness Jerome had expressed for +him concurred to confirm this reluctance; and he even persuaded himself +that filial affection was the chief cause of his hovering between the +castle and monastery. + +Until Jerome should return at night, Theodore at length determined to +repair to the forest that Matilda had pointed out to him. Arriving +there, he sought the gloomiest shades, as best suited to the pleasing +melancholy that reigned in his mind. In this mood he roved insensibly to +the caves which had formerly served as a retreat to hermits, and were now +reported round the country to be haunted by evil spirits. He recollected +to have heard this tradition; and being of a brave and adventurous +disposition, he willingly indulged his curiosity in exploring the secret +recesses of this labyrinth. He had not penetrated far before he thought +he heard the steps of some person who seemed to retreat before him. + +Theodore, though firmly grounded in all our holy faith enjoins to be +believed, had no apprehension that good men were abandoned without cause +to the malice of the powers of darkness. He thought the place more +likely to be infested by robbers than by those infernal agents who are +reported to molest and bewilder travellers. He had long burned with +impatience to approve his valour. Drawing his sabre, he marched sedately +onwards, still directing his steps as the imperfect rustling sound before +him led the way. The armour he wore was a like indication to the person +who avoided him. Theodore, now convinced that he was not mistaken, +redoubled his pace, and evidently gained on the person that fled, whose +haste increasing, Theodore came up just as a woman fell breathless before +him. He hasted to raise her, but her terror was so great that he +apprehended she would faint in his arms. He used every gentle word to +dispel her alarms, and assured her that far from injuring, he would +defend her at the peril of his life. The Lady recovering her spirits +from his courteous demeanour, and gazing on her protector, said— + +“Sure, I have heard that voice before!” + +“Not to my knowledge,” replied Theodore; “unless, as I conjecture, thou +art the Lady Isabella.” + +“Merciful heaven!” cried she. “Thou art not sent in quest of me, art +thou?” And saying those words, she threw herself at his feet, and +besought him not to deliver her up to Manfred. + +“To Manfred!” cried Theodore—“no, Lady; I have once already delivered +thee from his tyranny, and it shall fare hard with me now, but I will +place thee out of the reach of his daring.” + +“Is it possible,” said she, “that thou shouldst be the generous unknown +whom I met last night in the vault of the castle? Sure thou art not a +mortal, but my guardian angel. On my knees, let me thank—” + +“Hold! gentle Princess,” said Theodore, “nor demean thyself before a poor +and friendless young man. If heaven has selected me for thy deliverer, +it will accomplish its work, and strengthen my arm in thy cause. But +come, Lady, we are too near the mouth of the cavern; let us seek its +inmost recesses. I can have no tranquillity till I have placed thee +beyond the reach of danger.” + +“Alas! what mean you, sir?” said she. “Though all your actions are +noble, though your sentiments speak the purity of your soul, is it +fitting that I should accompany you alone into these perplexed retreats? +Should we be found together, what would a censorious world think of my +conduct?” + +“I respect your virtuous delicacy,” said Theodore; “nor do you harbour a +suspicion that wounds my honour. I meant to conduct you into the most +private cavity of these rocks, and then at the hazard of my life to guard +their entrance against every living thing. Besides, Lady,” continued he, +drawing a deep sigh, “beauteous and all perfect as your form is, and +though my wishes are not guiltless of aspiring, know, my soul is +dedicated to another; and although—” A sudden noise prevented Theodore +from proceeding. They soon distinguished these sounds— + +“Isabella! what, ho! Isabella!” The trembling Princess relapsed into her +former agony of fear. Theodore endeavoured to encourage her, but in +vain. He assured her he would die rather than suffer her to return under +Manfred’s power; and begging her to remain concealed, he went forth to +prevent the person in search of her from approaching. + +At the mouth of the cavern he found an armed Knight, discoursing with a +peasant, who assured him he had seen a lady enter the passes of the rock. +The Knight was preparing to seek her, when Theodore, placing himself in +his way, with his sword drawn, sternly forbad him at his peril to +advance. + +“And who art thou, who darest to cross my way?” said the Knight, +haughtily. + +“One who does not dare more than he will perform,” said Theodore. + +“I seek the Lady Isabella,” said the Knight, “and understand she has +taken refuge among these rocks. Impede me not, or thou wilt repent +having provoked my resentment.” + +“Thy purpose is as odious as thy resentment is contemptible,” said +Theodore. “Return whence thou camest, or we shall soon know whose +resentment is most terrible.” + +The stranger, who was the principal Knight that had arrived from the +Marquis of Vicenza, had galloped from Manfred as he was busied in getting +information of the Princess, and giving various orders to prevent her +falling into the power of the three Knights. Their chief had suspected +Manfred of being privy to the Princess’s absconding, and this insult from +a man, who he concluded was stationed by that Prince to secrete her, +confirming his suspicions, he made no reply, but discharging a blow with +his sabre at Theodore, would soon have removed all obstruction, if +Theodore, who took him for one of Manfred’s captains, and who had no +sooner given the provocation than prepared to support it, had not +received the stroke on his shield. The valour that had so long been +smothered in his breast broke forth at once; he rushed impetuously on the +Knight, whose pride and wrath were not less powerful incentives to hardy +deeds. The combat was furious, but not long. Theodore wounded the +Knight in three several places, and at last disarmed him as he fainted by +the loss of blood. + +The peasant, who had fled on the first onset, had given the alarm to some +of Manfred’s domestics, who, by his orders, were dispersed through the +forest in pursuit of Isabella. They came up as the Knight fell, whom +they soon discovered to be the noble stranger. Theodore, notwithstanding +his hatred to Manfred, could not behold the victory he had gained without +emotions of pity and generosity. But he was more touched when he learned +the quality of his adversary, and was informed that he was no retainer, +but an enemy, of Manfred. He assisted the servants of the latter in +disarming the Knight, and in endeavouring to stanch the blood that flowed +from his wounds. The Knight recovering his speech, said, in a faint and +faltering voice— + +“Generous foe, we have both been in an error. I took thee for an +instrument of the tyrant; I perceive thou hast made the like mistake. It +is too late for excuses. I faint. If Isabella is at hand—call her—I +have important secrets to—” + +“He is dying!” said one of the attendants; “has nobody a crucifix about +them? Andrea, do thou pray over him.” + +“Fetch some water,” said Theodore, “and pour it down his throat, while I +hasten to the Princess.” + +Saying this, he flew to Isabella, and in few words told her modestly that +he had been so unfortunate by mistake as to wound a gentleman from her +father’s court, who wished, ere he died, to impart something of +consequence to her. + +The Princess, who had been transported at hearing the voice of Theodore, +as he called to her to come forth, was astonished at what she heard. +Suffering herself to be conducted by Theodore, the new proof of whose +valour recalled her dispersed spirits, she came where the bleeding Knight +lay speechless on the ground. But her fears returned when she beheld the +domestics of Manfred. She would again have fled if Theodore had not made +her observe that they were unarmed, and had not threatened them with +instant death if they should dare to seize the Princess. + +The stranger, opening his eyes, and beholding a woman, said, “Art +thou—pray tell me truly—art thou Isabella of Vicenza?” + +“I am,” said she: “good heaven restore thee!” + +“Then thou—then thou”—said the Knight, struggling for +utterance—“seest—thy father. Give me one—” + +“Oh! amazement! horror! what do I hear! what do I see!” cried Isabella. +“My father! You my father! How came you here, Sir? For heaven’s sake, +speak! Oh! run for help, or he will expire!” + +“’Tis most true,” said the wounded Knight, exerting all his force; “I am +Frederic thy father. Yes, I came to deliver thee. It will not be. Give +me a parting kiss, and take—” + +“Sir,” said Theodore, “do not exhaust yourself; suffer us to convey you +to the castle.” + +“To the castle!” said Isabella. “Is there no help nearer than the +castle? Would you expose my father to the tyrant? If he goes thither, I +dare not accompany him; and yet, can I leave him!” + +“My child,” said Frederic, “it matters not for me whither I am carried. +A few minutes will place me beyond danger; but while I have eyes to dote +on thee, forsake me not, dear Isabella! This brave Knight—I know not who +he is—will protect thy innocence. Sir, you will not abandon my child, +will you?” + +Theodore, shedding tears over his victim, and vowing to guard the +Princess at the expense of his life, persuaded Frederic to suffer himself +to be conducted to the castle. They placed him on a horse belonging to +one of the domestics, after binding up his wounds as well as they were +able. Theodore marched by his side; and the afflicted Isabella, who +could not bear to quit him, followed mournfully behind. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +The sorrowful troop no sooner arrived at the castle, than they were met +by Hippolita and Matilda, whom Isabella had sent one of the domestics +before to advertise of their approach. The ladies causing Frederic to be +conveyed into the nearest chamber, retired, while the surgeons examined +his wounds. Matilda blushed at seeing Theodore and Isabella together; +but endeavoured to conceal it by embracing the latter, and condoling with +her on her father’s mischance. The surgeons soon came to acquaint +Hippolita that none of the Marquis’s wounds were dangerous; and that he +was desirous of seeing his daughter and the Princesses. + +Theodore, under pretence of expressing his joy at being freed from his +apprehensions of the combat being fatal to Frederic, could not resist the +impulse of following Matilda. Her eyes were so often cast down on +meeting his, that Isabella, who regarded Theodore as attentively as he +gazed on Matilda, soon divined who the object was that he had told her in +the cave engaged his affections. While this mute scene passed, Hippolita +demanded of Frederic the cause of his having taken that mysterious course +for reclaiming his daughter; and threw in various apologies to excuse her +Lord for the match contracted between their children. + +Frederic, however incensed against Manfred, was not insensible to the +courtesy and benevolence of Hippolita: but he was still more struck with +the lovely form of Matilda. Wishing to detain them by his bedside, he +informed Hippolita of his story. He told her that, while prisoner to the +infidels, he had dreamed that his daughter, of whom he had learned no +news since his captivity, was detained in a castle, where she was in +danger of the most dreadful misfortunes: and that if he obtained his +liberty, and repaired to a wood near Joppa, he would learn more. Alarmed +at this dream, and incapable of obeying the direction given by it, his +chains became more grievous than ever. But while his thoughts were +occupied on the means of obtaining his liberty, he received the agreeable +news that the confederate Princes who were warring in Palestine had paid +his ransom. He instantly set out for the wood that had been marked in +his dream. + +For three days he and his attendants had wandered in the forest without +seeing a human form: but on the evening of the third they came to a cell, +in which they found a venerable hermit in the agonies of death. Applying +rich cordials, they brought the fainting man to his speech. + +“My sons,” said he, “I am bounden to your charity—but it is in vain—I am +going to my eternal rest—yet I die with the satisfaction of performing +the will of heaven. When first I repaired to this solitude, after seeing +my country become a prey to unbelievers—it is alas! above fifty years +since I was witness to that dreadful scene! St. Nicholas appeared to me, +and revealed a secret, which he bade me never disclose to mortal man, but +on my death-bed. This is that tremendous hour, and ye are no doubt the +chosen warriors to whom I was ordered to reveal my trust. As soon as ye +have done the last offices to this wretched corse, dig under the seventh +tree on the left hand of this poor cave, and your pains will—Oh! good +heaven receive my soul!” With those words the devout man breathed his +last. + +“By break of day,” continued Frederic, “when we had committed the holy +relics to earth, we dug according to direction. But what was our +astonishment when about the depth of six feet we discovered an enormous +sabre—the very weapon yonder in the court. On the blade, which was then +partly out of the scabbard, though since closed by our efforts in +removing it, were written the following lines—no; excuse me, Madam,” +added the Marquis, turning to Hippolita; “if I forbear to repeat them: I +respect your sex and rank, and would not be guilty of offending your ear +with sounds injurious to aught that is dear to you.” + +He paused. Hippolita trembled. She did not doubt but Frederic was +destined by heaven to accomplish the fate that seemed to threaten her +house. Looking with anxious fondness at Matilda, a silent tear stole +down her cheek: but recollecting herself, she said— + +“Proceed, my Lord; heaven does nothing in vain; mortals must receive its +divine behests with lowliness and submission. It is our part to +deprecate its wrath, or bow to its decrees. Repeat the sentence, my +Lord; we listen resigned.” + +Frederic was grieved that he had proceeded so far. The dignity and +patient firmness of Hippolita penetrated him with respect, and the tender +silent affection with which the Princess and her daughter regarded each +other, melted him almost to tears. Yet apprehensive that his forbearance +to obey would be more alarming, he repeated in a faltering and low voice +the following lines: + + “Where’er a casque that suits this sword is found, + With perils is thy daughter compass’d round; + _Alfonso’s_ blood alone can save the maid, + And quiet a long restless Prince’s shade.” + +“What is there in these lines,” said Theodore impatiently, “that affects +these Princesses? Why were they to be shocked by a mysterious delicacy, +that has so little foundation?” + +“Your words are rude, young man,” said the Marquis; “and though fortune +has favoured you once—” + +“My honoured Lord,” said Isabella, who resented Theodore’s warmth, which +she perceived was dictated by his sentiments for Matilda, “discompose not +yourself for the glosing of a peasant’s son: he forgets the reverence he +owes you; but he is not accustomed—” + +Hippolita, concerned at the heat that had arisen, checked Theodore for +his boldness, but with an air acknowledging his zeal; and changing the +conversation, demanded of Frederic where he had left her Lord? As the +Marquis was going to reply, they heard a noise without, and rising to +inquire the cause, Manfred, Jerome, and part of the troop, who had met an +imperfect rumour of what had happened, entered the chamber. Manfred +advanced hastily towards Frederic’s bed to condole with him on his +misfortune, and to learn the circumstances of the combat, when starting +in an agony of terror and amazement, he cried— + +“Ha! what art thou? thou dreadful spectre! is my hour come?” + +“My dearest, gracious Lord,” cried Hippolita, clasping him in her arms, +“what is it you see! Why do you fix your eye-balls thus?” + +“What!” cried Manfred breathless; “dost thou see nothing, Hippolita? Is +this ghastly phantom sent to me alone—to me, who did not—” + +“For mercy’s sweetest self, my Lord,” said Hippolita, “resume your soul, +command your reason. There is none here, but us, your friends.” + +“What, is not that Alfonso?” cried Manfred. “Dost thou not see him? can +it be my brain’s delirium?” + +“This! my Lord,” said Hippolita; “this is Theodore, the youth who has +been so unfortunate.” + +“Theodore!” said Manfred mournfully, and striking his forehead; “Theodore +or a phantom, he has unhinged the soul of Manfred. But how comes he +here? and how comes he in armour?” + +“I believe he went in search of Isabella,” said Hippolita. + +“Of Isabella!” said Manfred, relapsing into rage; “yes, yes, that is not +doubtful—. But how did he escape from durance in which I left him? Was +it Isabella, or this hypocritical old Friar, that procured his +enlargement?” + +“And would a parent be criminal, my Lord,” said Theodore, “if he +meditated the deliverance of his child?” + +Jerome, amazed to hear himself in a manner accused by his son, and +without foundation, knew not what to think. He could not comprehend how +Theodore had escaped, how he came to be armed, and to encounter Frederic. +Still he would not venture to ask any questions that might tend to +inflame Manfred’s wrath against his son. Jerome’s silence convinced +Manfred that he had contrived Theodore’s release. + +“And is it thus, thou ungrateful old man,” said the Prince, addressing +himself to the Friar, “that thou repayest mine and Hippolita’s bounties? +And not content with traversing my heart’s nearest wishes, thou armest +thy bastard, and bringest him into my own castle to insult me!” + +“My Lord,” said Theodore, “you wrong my father: neither he nor I are +capable of harbouring a thought against your peace. Is it insolence thus +to surrender myself to your Highness’s pleasure?” added he, laying his +sword respectfully at Manfred’s feet. “Behold my bosom; strike, my Lord, +if you suspect that a disloyal thought is lodged there. There is not a +sentiment engraven on my heart that does not venerate you and yours.” + +The grace and fervour with which Theodore uttered these words interested +every person present in his favour. Even Manfred was touched—yet still +possessed with his resemblance to Alfonso, his admiration was dashed with +secret horror. + +“Rise,” said he; “thy life is not my present purpose. But tell me thy +history, and how thou camest connected with this old traitor here.” + +“My Lord,” said Jerome eagerly. + +“Peace! impostor!” said Manfred; “I will not have him prompted.” + +“My Lord,” said Theodore, “I want no assistance; my story is very brief. +I was carried at five years of age to Algiers with my mother, who had +been taken by corsairs from the coast of Sicily. She died of grief in +less than a twelvemonth;” the tears gushed from Jerome’s eyes, on whose +countenance a thousand anxious passions stood expressed. “Before she +died,” continued Theodore, “she bound a writing about my arm under my +garments, which told me I was the son of the Count Falconara.” + +“It is most true,” said Jerome; “I am that wretched father.” + +“Again I enjoin thee silence,” said Manfred: “proceed.” + +“I remained in slavery,” said Theodore, “until within these two years, +when attending on my master in his cruises, I was delivered by a +Christian vessel, which overpowered the pirate; and discovering myself to +the captain, he generously put me on shore in Sicily; but alas! instead +of finding a father, I learned that his estate, which was situated on the +coast, had, during his absence, been laid waste by the Rover who had +carried my mother and me into captivity: that his castle had been burnt +to the ground, and that my father on his return had sold what remained, +and was retired into religion in the kingdom of Naples, but where no man +could inform me. Destitute and friendless, hopeless almost of attaining +the transport of a parent’s embrace, I took the first opportunity of +setting sail for Naples, from whence, within these six days, I wandered +into this province, still supporting myself by the labour of my hands; +nor until yester-morn did I believe that heaven had reserved any lot for +me but peace of mind and contented poverty. This, my Lord, is Theodore’s +story. I am blessed beyond my hope in finding a father; I am unfortunate +beyond my desert in having incurred your Highness’s displeasure.” + +He ceased. A murmur of approbation gently arose from the audience. + +“This is not all,” said Frederic; “I am bound in honour to add what he +suppresses. Though he is modest, I must be generous; he is one of the +bravest youths on Christian ground. He is warm too; and from the short +knowledge I have of him, I will pledge myself for his veracity: if what +he reports of himself were not true, he would not utter it—and for me, +youth, I honour a frankness which becomes thy birth; but now, and thou +didst offend me: yet the noble blood which flows in thy veins, may well +be allowed to boil out, when it has so recently traced itself to its +source. Come, my Lord,” (turning to Manfred), “if I can pardon him, +surely you may; it is not the youth’s fault, if you took him for a +spectre.” + +This bitter taunt galled the soul of Manfred. + +“If beings from another world,” replied he haughtily, “have power to +impress my mind with awe, it is more than living man can do; nor could a +stripling’s arm.” + +“My Lord,” interrupted Hippolita, “your guest has occasion for repose: +shall we not leave him to his rest?” Saying this, and taking Manfred by +the hand, she took leave of Frederic, and led the company forth. + +The Prince, not sorry to quit a conversation which recalled to mind the +discovery he had made of his most secret sensations, suffered himself to +be conducted to his own apartment, after permitting Theodore, though +under engagement to return to the castle on the morrow (a condition the +young man gladly accepted), to retire with his father to the convent. +Matilda and Isabella were too much occupied with their own reflections, +and too little content with each other, to wish for farther converse that +night. They separated each to her chamber, with more expressions of +ceremony and fewer of affection than had passed between them since their +childhood. + +If they parted with small cordiality, they did but meet with greater +impatience, as soon as the sun was risen. Their minds were in a +situation that excluded sleep, and each recollected a thousand questions +which she wished she had put to the other overnight. Matilda reflected +that Isabella had been twice delivered by Theodore in very critical +situations, which she could not believe accidental. His eyes, it was +true, had been fixed on her in Frederic’s chamber; but that might have +been to disguise his passion for Isabella from the fathers of both. It +were better to clear this up. She wished to know the truth, lest she +should wrong her friend by entertaining a passion for Isabella’s lover. +Thus jealousy prompted, and at the same time borrowed an excuse from +friendship to justify its curiosity. + +Isabella, not less restless, had better foundation for her suspicions. +Both Theodore’s tongue and eyes had told her his heart was engaged; it +was true—yet, perhaps, Matilda might not correspond to his passion; she +had ever appeared insensible to love: all her thoughts were set on +heaven. + +“Why did I dissuade her?” said Isabella to herself; “I am punished for my +generosity; but when did they meet? where? It cannot be; I have deceived +myself; perhaps last night was the first time they ever beheld each +other; it must be some other object that has prepossessed his +affections—if it is, I am not so unhappy as I thought; if it is not my +friend Matilda—how! Can I stoop to wish for the affection of a man, who +rudely and unnecessarily acquainted me with his indifference? and that at +the very moment in which common courtesy demanded at least expressions of +civility. I will go to my dear Matilda, who will confirm me in this +becoming pride. Man is false—I will advise with her on taking the veil: +she will rejoice to find me in this disposition; and I will acquaint her +that I no longer oppose her inclination for the cloister.” + +In this frame of mind, and determined to open her heart entirely to +Matilda, she went to that Princess’s chamber, whom she found already +dressed, and leaning pensively on her arm. This attitude, so +correspondent to what she felt herself, revived Isabella’s suspicions, +and destroyed the confidence she had purposed to place in her friend. +They blushed at meeting, and were too much novices to disguise their +sensations with address. After some unmeaning questions and replies, +Matilda demanded of Isabella the cause of her flight? The latter, who +had almost forgotten Manfred’s passion, so entirely was she occupied by +her own, concluding that Matilda referred to her last escape from the +convent, which had occasioned the events of the preceding evening, +replied— + +“Martelli brought word to the convent that your mother was dead.” + +“Oh!” said Matilda, interrupting her, “Bianca has explained that mistake +to me: on seeing me faint, she cried out, ‘The Princess is dead!’ and +Martelli, who had come for the usual dole to the castle—” + +“And what made you faint?” said Isabella, indifferent to the rest. +Matilda blushed and stammered— + +“My father—he was sitting in judgment on a criminal—” + +“What criminal?” said Isabella eagerly. + +“A young man,” said Matilda; “I believe—I think it was that young man that—” + +“What, Theodore?” said Isabella. + +“Yes,” answered she; “I never saw him before; I do not know how he had +offended my father, but as he has been of service to you, I am glad my +Lord has pardoned him.” + +“Served me!” replied Isabella; “do you term it serving me, to wound my +father, and almost occasion his death? Though it is but since yesterday +that I am blessed with knowing a parent, I hope Matilda does not think I +am such a stranger to filial tenderness as not to resent the boldness of +that audacious youth, and that it is impossible for me ever to feel any +affection for one who dared to lift his arm against the author of my +being. No, Matilda, my heart abhors him; and if you still retain the +friendship for me that you have vowed from your infancy, you will detest +a man who has been on the point of making me miserable for ever.” + +Matilda held down her head and replied: “I hope my dearest Isabella does +not doubt her Matilda’s friendship: I never beheld that youth until +yesterday; he is almost a stranger to me: but as the surgeons have +pronounced your father out of danger, you ought not to harbour +uncharitable resentment against one, who I am persuaded did not know the +Marquis was related to you.” + +“You plead his cause very pathetically,” said Isabella, “considering he +is so much a stranger to you! I am mistaken, or he returns your +charity.” + +“What mean you?” said Matilda. + +“Nothing,” said Isabella, repenting that she had given Matilda a hint of +Theodore’s inclination for her. Then changing the discourse, she asked +Matilda what occasioned Manfred to take Theodore for a spectre? + +“Bless me,” said Matilda, “did not you observe his extreme resemblance to +the portrait of Alfonso in the gallery? I took notice of it to Bianca +even before I saw him in armour; but with the helmet on, he is the very +image of that picture.” + +“I do not much observe pictures,” said Isabella: “much less have I +examined this young man so attentively as you seem to have done. Ah? +Matilda, your heart is in danger, but let me warn you as a friend, he has +owned to me that he is in love; it cannot be with you, for yesterday was +the first time you ever met—was it not?” + +“Certainly,” replied Matilda; “but why does my dearest Isabella conclude +from anything I have said, that”—she paused—then continuing: “he saw you +first, and I am far from having the vanity to think that my little +portion of charms could engage a heart devoted to you; may you be happy, +Isabella, whatever is the fate of Matilda!” + +“My lovely friend,” said Isabella, whose heart was too honest to resist a +kind expression, “it is you that Theodore admires; I saw it; I am +persuaded of it; nor shall a thought of my own happiness suffer me to +interfere with yours.” + +This frankness drew tears from the gentle Matilda; and jealousy that for +a moment had raised a coolness between these amiable maidens soon gave +way to the natural sincerity and candour of their souls. Each confessed +to the other the impression that Theodore had made on her; and this +confidence was followed by a struggle of generosity, each insisting on +yielding her claim to her friend. At length the dignity of Isabella’s +virtue reminding her of the preference which Theodore had almost declared +for her rival, made her determine to conquer her passion, and cede the +beloved object to her friend. + +During this contest of amity, Hippolita entered her daughter’s chamber. + +“Madam,” said she to Isabella, “you have so much tenderness for Matilda, +and interest yourself so kindly in whatever affects our wretched house, +that I can have no secrets with my child which are not proper for you to +hear.” + +The princesses were all attention and anxiety. + +“Know then, Madam,” continued Hippolita, “and you my dearest Matilda, +that being convinced by all the events of these two last ominous days, +that heaven purposes the sceptre of Otranto should pass from Manfred’s +hands into those of the Marquis Frederic, I have been perhaps inspired +with the thought of averting our total destruction by the union of our +rival houses. With this view I have been proposing to Manfred, my lord, +to tender this dear, dear child to Frederic, your father.” + +“Me to Lord Frederic!” cried Matilda; “good heavens! my gracious +mother—and have you named it to my father?” + +“I have,” said Hippolita; “he listened benignly to my proposal, and is +gone to break it to the Marquis.” + +“Ah! wretched princess!” cried Isabella; “what hast thou done! what ruin +has thy inadvertent goodness been preparing for thyself, for me, and for +Matilda!” + +“Ruin from me to you and to my child!” said Hippolita “what can this +mean?” + +“Alas!” said Isabella, “the purity of your own heart prevents your seeing +the depravity of others. Manfred, your lord, that impious man—” + +“Hold,” said Hippolita; “you must not in my presence, young lady, mention +Manfred with disrespect: he is my lord and husband, and—” + +“Will not long be so,” said Isabella, “if his wicked purposes can be +carried into execution.” + +“This language amazes me,” said Hippolita. “Your feeling, Isabella, is +warm; but until this hour I never knew it betray you into intemperance. +What deed of Manfred authorises you to treat him as a murderer, an +assassin?” + +“Thou virtuous, and too credulous Princess!” replied Isabella; “it is not +thy life he aims at—it is to separate himself from thee! to divorce thee! +to—” + +“To divorce me!” “To divorce my mother!” cried Hippolita and Matilda at +once. + +“Yes,” said Isabella; “and to complete his crime, he meditates—I cannot +speak it!” + +“What can surpass what thou hast already uttered?” said Matilda. + +Hippolita was silent. Grief choked her speech; and the recollection of +Manfred’s late ambiguous discourses confirmed what she heard. + +“Excellent, dear lady! madam! mother!” cried Isabella, flinging herself +at Hippolita’s feet in a transport of passion; “trust me, believe me, I +will die a thousand deaths sooner than consent to injure you, than yield +to so odious—oh!—” + +“This is too much!” cried Hippolita: “What crimes does one crime suggest! +Rise, dear Isabella; I do not doubt your virtue. Oh! Matilda, this +stroke is too heavy for thee! weep not, my child; and not a murmur, I +charge thee. Remember, he is thy father still!” + +“But you are my mother too,” said Matilda fervently; “and you are +virtuous, you are guiltless!—Oh! must not I, must not I complain?” + +“You must not,” said Hippolita—“come, all will yet be well. Manfred, in +the agony for the loss of thy brother, knew not what he said; perhaps +Isabella misunderstood him; his heart is good—and, my child, thou knowest +not all! There is a destiny hangs over us; the hand of Providence is +stretched out; oh! could I but save thee from the wreck! Yes,” continued +she in a firmer tone, “perhaps the sacrifice of myself may atone for all; +I will go and offer myself to this divorce—it boots not what becomes of +me. I will withdraw into the neighbouring monastery, and waste the +remainder of life in prayers and tears for my child and—the Prince!” + +“Thou art as much too good for this world,” said Isabella, “as Manfred is +execrable; but think not, lady, that thy weakness shall determine for me. +I swear, hear me all ye angels—” + +“Stop, I adjure thee,” cried Hippolita: “remember thou dost not depend on +thyself; thou hast a father.” + +“My father is too pious, too noble,” interrupted Isabella, “to command an +impious deed. But should he command it; can a father enjoin a cursed +act? I was contracted to the son, can I wed the father? No, madam, no; +force should not drag me to Manfred’s hated bed. I loathe him, I abhor +him: divine and human laws forbid—and my friend, my dearest Matilda! +would I wound her tender soul by injuring her adored mother? my own +mother—I never have known another”— + +“Oh! she is the mother of both!” cried Matilda: “can we, can we, +Isabella, adore her too much?” + +“My lovely children,” said the touched Hippolita, “your tenderness +overpowers me—but I must not give way to it. It is not ours to make +election for ourselves: heaven, our fathers, and our husbands must decide +for us. Have patience until you hear what Manfred and Frederic have +determined. If the Marquis accepts Matilda’s hand, I know she will +readily obey. Heaven may interpose and prevent the rest. What means my +child?” continued she, seeing Matilda fall at her feet with a flood of +speechless tears—“But no; answer me not, my daughter: I must not hear a +word against the pleasure of thy father.” + +“Oh! doubt not my obedience, my dreadful obedience to him and to you!” +said Matilda. “But can I, most respected of women, can I experience all +this tenderness, this world of goodness, and conceal a thought from the +best of mothers?” + +“What art thou going to utter?” said Isabella trembling. “Recollect +thyself, Matilda.” + +“No, Isabella,” said the Princess, “I should not deserve this +incomparable parent, if the inmost recesses of my soul harboured a +thought without her permission—nay, I have offended her; I have suffered +a passion to enter my heart without her avowal—but here I disclaim it; +here I vow to heaven and her—” + +“My child! my child;” said Hippolita, “what words are these! what new +calamities has fate in store for us! Thou, a passion? Thou, in this +hour of destruction—” + +“Oh! I see all my guilt!” said Matilda. “I abhor myself, if I cost my +mother a pang. She is the dearest thing I have on earth—Oh! I will +never, never behold him more!” + +“Isabella,” said Hippolita, “thou art conscious to this unhappy secret, +whatever it is. Speak!” + +“What!” cried Matilda, “have I so forfeited my mother’s love, that she +will not permit me even to speak my own guilt? oh! wretched, wretched +Matilda!” + +“Thou art too cruel,” said Isabella to Hippolita: “canst thou behold this +anguish of a virtuous mind, and not commiserate it?” + +“Not pity my child!” said Hippolita, catching Matilda in her arms—“Oh! I +know she is good, she is all virtue, all tenderness, and duty. I do +forgive thee, my excellent, my only hope!” + +The princesses then revealed to Hippolita their mutual inclination for +Theodore, and the purpose of Isabella to resign him to Matilda. +Hippolita blamed their imprudence, and showed them the improbability that +either father would consent to bestow his heiress on so poor a man, +though nobly born. Some comfort it gave her to find their passion of so +recent a date, and that Theodore had had but little cause to suspect it +in either. She strictly enjoined them to avoid all correspondence with +him. This Matilda fervently promised: but Isabella, who flattered +herself that she meant no more than to promote his union with her friend, +could not determine to avoid him; and made no reply. + +“I will go to the convent,” said Hippolita, “and order new masses to be +said for a deliverance from these calamities.” + +“Oh! my mother,” said Matilda, “you mean to quit us: you mean to take +sanctuary, and to give my father an opportunity of pursuing his fatal +intention. Alas! on my knees I supplicate you to forbear; will you leave +me a prey to Frederic? I will follow you to the convent.” + +“Be at peace, my child,” said Hippolita: “I will return instantly. I +will never abandon thee, until I know it is the will of heaven, and for +thy benefit.” + +“Do not deceive me,” said Matilda. “I will not marry Frederic until thou +commandest it. Alas! what will become of me?” + +“Why that exclamation?” said Hippolita. “I have promised thee to +return—” + +“Ah! my mother,” replied Matilda, “stay and save me from myself. A frown +from thee can do more than all my father’s severity. I have given away +my heart, and you alone can make me recall it.” + +“No more,” said Hippolita; “thou must not relapse, Matilda.” + +“I can quit Theodore,” said she, “but must I wed another? let me attend +thee to the altar, and shut myself from the world for ever.” + +“Thy fate depends on thy father,” said Hippolita; “I have ill-bestowed my +tenderness, if it has taught thee to revere aught beyond him. Adieu! my +child: I go to pray for thee.” + +Hippolita’s real purpose was to demand of Jerome, whether in conscience +she might not consent to the divorce. She had oft urged Manfred to +resign the principality, which the delicacy of her conscience rendered an +hourly burthen to her. These scruples concurred to make the separation +from her husband appear less dreadful to her than it would have seemed in +any other situation. + +Jerome, at quitting the castle overnight, had questioned Theodore +severely why he had accused him to Manfred of being privy to his escape. +Theodore owned it had been with design to prevent Manfred’s suspicion +from alighting on Matilda; and added, the holiness of Jerome’s life and +character secured him from the tyrant’s wrath. Jerome was heartily +grieved to discover his son’s inclination for that princess; and leaving +him to his rest, promised in the morning to acquaint him with important +reasons for conquering his passion. + +Theodore, like Isabella, was too recently acquainted with parental +authority to submit to its decisions against the impulse of his heart. +He had little curiosity to learn the Friar’s reasons, and less +disposition to obey them. The lovely Matilda had made stronger +impressions on him than filial affection. All night he pleased himself +with visions of love; and it was not till late after the morning-office, +that he recollected the Friar’s commands to attend him at Alfonso’s tomb. + +“Young man,” said Jerome, when he saw him, “this tardiness does not +please me. Have a father’s commands already so little weight?” + +Theodore made awkward excuses, and attributed his delay to having +overslept himself. + +“And on whom were thy dreams employed?” said the Friar sternly. His son +blushed. “Come, come,” resumed the Friar, “inconsiderate youth, this +must not be; eradicate this guilty passion from thy breast—” + +“Guilty passion!” cried Theodore: “Can guilt dwell with innocent beauty +and virtuous modesty?” + +“It is sinful,” replied the Friar, “to cherish those whom heaven has +doomed to destruction. A tyrant’s race must be swept from the earth to +the third and fourth generation.” + +“Will heaven visit the innocent for the crimes of the guilty?” said +Theodore. “The fair Matilda has virtues enough—” + +“To undo thee:” interrupted Jerome. “Hast thou so soon forgotten that +twice the savage Manfred has pronounced thy sentence?” + +“Nor have I forgotten, sir,” said Theodore, “that the charity of his +daughter delivered me from his power. I can forget injuries, but never +benefits.” + +“The injuries thou hast received from Manfred’s race,” said the Friar, +“are beyond what thou canst conceive. Reply not, but view this holy +image! Beneath this marble monument rest the ashes of the good Alfonso; +a prince adorned with every virtue: the father of his people! the delight +of mankind! Kneel, headstrong boy, and list, while a father unfolds a +tale of horror that will expel every sentiment from thy soul, but +sensations of sacred vengeance—Alfonso! much injured prince! let thy +unsatisfied shade sit awful on the troubled air, while these trembling +lips—Ha! who comes there?—” + +“The most wretched of women!” said Hippolita, entering the choir. “Good +Father, art thou at leisure?—but why this kneeling youth? what means the +horror imprinted on each countenance? why at this venerable tomb—alas! +hast thou seen aught?” + +“We were pouring forth our orisons to heaven,” replied the Friar, with +some confusion, “to put an end to the woes of this deplorable province. +Join with us, Lady! thy spotless soul may obtain an exemption from the +judgments which the portents of these days but too speakingly denounce +against thy house.” + +“I pray fervently to heaven to divert them,” said the pious Princess. +“Thou knowest it has been the occupation of my life to wrest a blessing +for my Lord and my harmless children.—One alas! is taken from me! would +heaven but hear me for my poor Matilda! Father! intercede for her!” + +“Every heart will bless her,” cried Theodore with rapture. + +“Be dumb, rash youth!” said Jerome. “And thou, fond Princess, contend +not with the Powers above! the Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away: +bless His holy name, and submit to his decrees.” + +“I do most devoutly,” said Hippolita; “but will He not spare my only +comfort? must Matilda perish too?—ah! Father, I came—but dismiss thy +son. No ear but thine must hear what I have to utter.” + +“May heaven grant thy every wish, most excellent Princess!” said Theodore +retiring. Jerome frowned. + +Hippolita then acquainted the Friar with the proposal she had suggested +to Manfred, his approbation of it, and the tender of Matilda that he was +gone to make to Frederic. Jerome could not conceal his dislike of the +notion, which he covered under pretence of the improbability that +Frederic, the nearest of blood to Alfonso, and who was come to claim his +succession, would yield to an alliance with the usurper of his right. +But nothing could equal the perplexity of the Friar, when Hippolita +confessed her readiness not to oppose the separation, and demanded his +opinion on the legality of her acquiescence. The Friar caught eagerly at +her request of his advice, and without explaining his aversion to the +proposed marriage of Manfred and Isabella, he painted to Hippolita in the +most alarming colours the sinfulness of her consent, denounced judgments +against her if she complied, and enjoined her in the severest terms to +treat any such proposition with every mark of indignation and refusal. + +Manfred, in the meantime, had broken his purpose to Frederic, and +proposed the double marriage. That weak Prince, who had been struck with +the charms of Matilda, listened but too eagerly to the offer. He forgot +his enmity to Manfred, whom he saw but little hope of dispossessing by +force; and flattering himself that no issue might succeed from the union +of his daughter with the tyrant, he looked upon his own succession to the +principality as facilitated by wedding Matilda. He made faint opposition +to the proposal; affecting, for form only, not to acquiesce unless +Hippolita should consent to the divorce. Manfred took that upon himself. + +Transported with his success, and impatient to see himself in a situation +to expect sons, he hastened to his wife’s apartment, determined to extort +her compliance. He learned with indignation that she was absent at the +convent. His guilt suggested to him that she had probably been informed +by Isabella of his purpose. He doubted whether her retirement to the +convent did not import an intention of remaining there, until she could +raise obstacles to their divorce; and the suspicions he had already +entertained of Jerome, made him apprehend that the Friar would not only +traverse his views, but might have inspired Hippolita with the resolution +of taking sanctuary. Impatient to unravel this clue, and to defeat its +success, Manfred hastened to the convent, and arrived there as the Friar +was earnestly exhorting the Princess never to yield to the divorce. + +“Madam,” said Manfred, “what business drew you hither? why did you not +await my return from the Marquis?” + +“I came to implore a blessing on your councils,” replied Hippolita. + +“My councils do not need a Friar’s intervention,” said Manfred; “and of +all men living is that hoary traitor the only one whom you delight to +confer with?” + +“Profane Prince!” said Jerome; “is it at the altar that thou choosest to +insult the servants of the altar?—but, Manfred, thy impious schemes are +known. Heaven and this virtuous lady know them—nay, frown not, Prince. +The Church despises thy menaces. Her thunders will be heard above thy +wrath. Dare to proceed in thy cursed purpose of a divorce, until her +sentence be known, and here I lance her anathema at thy head.” + +“Audacious rebel!” said Manfred, endeavouring to conceal the awe with +which the Friar’s words inspired him. “Dost thou presume to threaten thy +lawful Prince?” + +“Thou art no lawful Prince,” said Jerome; “thou art no Prince—go, discuss +thy claim with Frederic; and when that is done—” + +“It is done,” replied Manfred; “Frederic accepts Matilda’s hand, and is +content to waive his claim, unless I have no male issue”—as he spoke +those words three drops of blood fell from the nose of Alfonso’s statue. +Manfred turned pale, and the Princess sank on her knees. + +“Behold!” said the Friar; “mark this miraculous indication that the blood +of Alfonso will never mix with that of Manfred!” + +“My gracious Lord,” said Hippolita, “let us submit ourselves to heaven. +Think not thy ever obedient wife rebels against thy authority. I have no +will but that of my Lord and the Church. To that revered tribunal let us +appeal. It does not depend on us to burst the bonds that unite us. If +the Church shall approve the dissolution of our marriage, be it so—I have +but few years, and those of sorrow, to pass. Where can they be worn away +so well as at the foot of this altar, in prayers for thine and Matilda’s +safety?” + +“But thou shalt not remain here until then,” said Manfred. “Repair with +me to the castle, and there I will advise on the proper measures for a +divorce;—but this meddling Friar comes not thither; my hospitable roof +shall never more harbour a traitor—and for thy Reverence’s offspring,” +continued he, “I banish him from my dominions. He, I ween, is no sacred +personage, nor under the protection of the Church. Whoever weds +Isabella, it shall not be Father Falconara’s started-up son.” + +“They start up,” said the Friar, “who are suddenly beheld in the seat of +lawful Princes; but they wither away like the grass, and their place +knows them no more.” + +Manfred, casting a look of scorn at the Friar, led Hippolita forth; but +at the door of the church whispered one of his attendants to remain +concealed about the convent, and bring him instant notice, if any one +from the castle should repair thither. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +Every reflection which Manfred made on the Friar’s behaviour, conspired +to persuade him that Jerome was privy to an amour between Isabella and +Theodore. But Jerome’s new presumption, so dissonant from his former +meekness, suggested still deeper apprehensions. The Prince even +suspected that the Friar depended on some secret support from Frederic, +whose arrival, coinciding with the novel appearance of Theodore, seemed +to bespeak a correspondence. Still more was he troubled with the +resemblance of Theodore to Alfonso’s portrait. The latter he knew had +unquestionably died without issue. Frederic had consented to bestow +Isabella on him. These contradictions agitated his mind with numberless +pangs. + +He saw but two methods of extricating himself from his difficulties. The +one was to resign his dominions to the Marquis—pride, ambition, and his +reliance on ancient prophecies, which had pointed out a possibility of +his preserving them to his posterity, combated that thought. The other +was to press his marriage with Isabella. After long ruminating on these +anxious thoughts, as he marched silently with Hippolita to the castle, he +at last discoursed with that Princess on the subject of his disquiet, and +used every insinuating and plausible argument to extract her consent to, +even her promise of promoting the divorce. Hippolita needed little +persuasions to bend her to his pleasure. She endeavoured to win him over +to the measure of resigning his dominions; but finding her exhortations +fruitless, she assured him, that as far as her conscience would allow, +she would raise no opposition to a separation, though without better +founded scruples than what he yet alleged, she would not engage to be +active in demanding it. + +This compliance, though inadequate, was sufficient to raise Manfred’s +hopes. He trusted that his power and wealth would easily advance his +suit at the court of Rome, whither he resolved to engage Frederic to take +a journey on purpose. That Prince had discovered so much passion for +Matilda, that Manfred hoped to obtain all he wished by holding out or +withdrawing his daughter’s charms, according as the Marquis should appear +more or less disposed to co-operate in his views. Even the absence of +Frederic would be a material point gained, until he could take further +measures for his security. + +Dismissing Hippolita to her apartment, he repaired to that of the +Marquis; but crossing the great hall through which he was to pass he met +Bianca. The damsel he knew was in the confidence of both the young +ladies. It immediately occurred to him to sift her on the subject of +Isabella and Theodore. Calling her aside into the recess of the oriel +window of the hall, and soothing her with many fair words and promises, +he demanded of her whether she knew aught of the state of Isabella’s +affections. + +“I! my Lord! no my Lord—yes my Lord—poor Lady! she is wonderfully alarmed +about her father’s wounds; but I tell her he will do well; don’t your +Highness think so?” + +“I do not ask you,” replied Manfred, “what she thinks about her father; +but you are in her secrets. Come, be a good girl and tell me; is there +any young man—ha!—you understand me.” + +“Lord bless me! understand your Highness? no, not I. I told her a few +vulnerary herbs and repose—” + +“I am not talking,” replied the Prince, impatiently, “about her father; I +know he will do well.” + +“Bless me, I rejoice to hear your Highness say so; for though I thought +it not right to let my young Lady despond, methought his greatness had a +wan look, and a something—I remember when young Ferdinand was wounded by +the Venetian—” + +“Thou answerest from the point,” interrupted Manfred; “but here, take +this jewel, perhaps that may fix thy attention—nay, no reverences; my +favour shall not stop here—come, tell me truly; how stands Isabella’s +heart?” + +“Well! your Highness has such a way!” said Bianca, “to be sure—but can +your Highness keep a secret? if it should ever come out of your lips—” + +“It shall not, it shall not,” cried Manfred. + +“Nay, but swear, your Highness.” + +“By my halidame, if it should ever be known that I said it—” + +“Why, truth is truth, I do not think my Lady Isabella ever much +affectioned my young Lord your son; yet he was a sweet youth as one +should see; I am sure, if I had been a Princess—but bless me! I must +attend my Lady Matilda; she will marvel what is become of me.” + +“Stay,” cried Manfred; “thou hast not satisfied my question. Hast thou +ever carried any message, any letter?” + +“I! good gracious!” cried Bianca; “I carry a letter? I would not to be a +Queen. I hope your Highness thinks, though I am poor, I am honest. Did +your Highness never hear what Count Marsigli offered me, when he came a +wooing to my Lady Matilda?” + +“I have not leisure,” said Manfred, “to listen to thy tale. I do not +question thy honesty. But it is thy duty to conceal nothing from me. +How long has Isabella been acquainted with Theodore?” + +“Nay, there is nothing can escape your Highness!” said Bianca; “not that +I know any thing of the matter. Theodore, to be sure, is a proper young +man, and, as my Lady Matilda says, the very image of good Alfonso. Has +not your Highness remarked it?” + +“Yes, yes,—No—thou torturest me,” said Manfred. “Where did they meet? +when?” + +“Who! my Lady Matilda?” said Bianca. + +“No, no, not Matilda: Isabella; when did Isabella first become acquainted +with this Theodore!” + +“Virgin Mary!” said Bianca, “how should I know?” + +“Thou dost know,” said Manfred; “and I must know; I will—” + +“Lord! your Highness is not jealous of young Theodore!” said Bianca. + +“Jealous! no, no. Why should I be jealous? perhaps I mean to unite +them—If I were sure Isabella would have no repugnance.” + +“Repugnance! no, I’ll warrant her,” said Bianca; “he is as comely a youth +as ever trod on Christian ground. We are all in love with him; there is +not a soul in the castle but would be rejoiced to have him for our +Prince—I mean, when it shall please heaven to call your Highness to +itself.” + +“Indeed!” said Manfred, “has it gone so far! oh! this cursed Friar!—but I +must not lose time—go, Bianca, attend Isabella; but I charge thee, not a +word of what has passed. Find out how she is affected towards Theodore; +bring me good news, and that ring has a companion. Wait at the foot of +the winding staircase: I am going to visit the Marquis, and will talk +further with thee at my return.” + +Manfred, after some general conversation, desired Frederic to dismiss the +two Knights, his companions, having to talk with him on urgent affairs. + +As soon as they were alone, he began in artful guise to sound the Marquis +on the subject of Matilda; and finding him disposed to his wish, he let +drop hints on the difficulties that would attend the celebration of their +marriage, unless—At that instant Bianca burst into the room with a +wildness in her look and gestures that spoke the utmost terror. + +“Oh! my Lord, my Lord!” cried she; “we are all undone! it is come again! +it is come again!” + +“What is come again?” cried Manfred amazed. + +“Oh! the hand! the Giant! the hand!—support me! I am terrified out of my +senses,” cried Bianca. “I will not sleep in the castle to-night. Where +shall I go? my things may come after me to-morrow—would I had been +content to wed Francesco! this comes of ambition!” + +“What has terrified thee thus, young woman?” said the Marquis. “Thou art +safe here; be not alarmed.” + +“Oh! your Greatness is wonderfully good,” said Bianca, “but I dare +not—no, pray let me go—I had rather leave everything behind me, than stay +another hour under this roof.” + +“Go to, thou hast lost thy senses,” said Manfred. “Interrupt us not; we +were communing on important matters—My Lord, this wench is subject to +fits—Come with me, Bianca.” + +“Oh! the Saints! No,” said Bianca, “for certain it comes to warn your +Highness; why should it appear to me else? I say my prayers morning and +evening—oh! if your Highness had believed Diego! ’Tis the same hand that +he saw the foot to in the gallery-chamber—Father Jerome has often told us +the prophecy would be out one of these days—‘Bianca,’ said he, ‘mark my +words—’” + +“Thou ravest,” said Manfred, in a rage; “be gone, and keep these +fooleries to frighten thy companions.” + +“What! my Lord,” cried Bianca, “do you think I have seen nothing? go to +the foot of the great stairs yourself—as I live I saw it.” + +“Saw what? tell us, fair maid, what thou hast seen,” said Frederic. + +“Can your Highness listen,” said Manfred, “to the delirium of a silly +wench, who has heard stories of apparitions until she believes them?” + +“This is more than fancy,” said the Marquis; “her terror is too natural +and too strongly impressed to be the work of imagination. Tell us, fair +maiden, what it is has moved thee thus?” + +“Yes, my Lord, thank your Greatness,” said Bianca; “I believe I look very +pale; I shall be better when I have recovered myself—I was going to my +Lady Isabella’s chamber, by his Highness’s order—” + +“We do not want the circumstances,” interrupted Manfred. “Since his +Highness will have it so, proceed; but be brief.” + +“Lord! your Highness thwarts one so!” replied Bianca; “I fear my hair—I +am sure I never in my life—well! as I was telling your Greatness, I was +going by his Highness’s order to my Lady Isabella’s chamber; she lies in +the watchet-coloured chamber, on the right hand, one pair of stairs: so +when I came to the great stairs—I was looking on his Highness’s present +here—” + +“Grant me patience!” said Manfred, “will this wench never come to the +point? what imports it to the Marquis, that I gave thee a bauble for thy +faithful attendance on my daughter? we want to know what thou sawest.” + +“I was going to tell your Highness,” said Bianca, “if you would permit +me. So as I was rubbing the ring—I am sure I had not gone up three +steps, but I heard the rattling of armour; for all the world such a +clatter as Diego says he heard when the Giant turned him about in the +gallery-chamber.” + +“What Giant is this, my Lord?” said the Marquis; “is your castle haunted +by giants and goblins?” + +“Lord! what, has not your Greatness heard the story of the Giant in the +gallery-chamber?” cried Bianca. “I marvel his Highness has not told you; +mayhap you do not know there is a prophecy—” + +“This trifling is intolerable,” interrupted Manfred. “Let us dismiss +this silly wench, my Lord! we have more important affairs to discuss.” + +“By your favour,” said Frederic, “these are no trifles. The enormous +sabre I was directed to in the wood, yon casque, its fellow—are these +visions of this poor maiden’s brain?” + +“So Jaquez thinks, may it please your Greatness,” said Bianca. “He says +this moon will not be out without our seeing some strange revolution. +For my part, I should not be surprised if it was to happen to-morrow; +for, as I was saying, when I heard the clattering of armour, I was all in +a cold sweat. I looked up, and, if your Greatness will believe me, I saw +upon the uppermost banister of the great stairs a hand in armour as big +as big. I thought I should have swooned. I never stopped until I came +hither—would I were well out of this castle. My Lady Matilda told me but +yester-morning that her Highness Hippolita knows something.” + +“Thou art an insolent!” cried Manfred. “Lord Marquis, it much misgives +me that this scene is concerted to affront me. Are my own domestics +suborned to spread tales injurious to my honour? Pursue your claim by +manly daring; or let us bury our feuds, as was proposed, by the +intermarriage of our children. But trust me, it ill becomes a Prince of +your bearing to practise on mercenary wenches.” + +“I scorn your imputation,” said Frederic. “Until this hour I never set +eyes on this damsel: I have given her no jewel. My Lord, my Lord, your +conscience, your guilt accuses you, and would throw the suspicion on me; +but keep your daughter, and think no more of Isabella. The judgments +already fallen on your house forbid me matching into it.” + +Manfred, alarmed at the resolute tone in which Frederic delivered these +words, endeavoured to pacify him. Dismissing Bianca, he made such +submissions to the Marquis, and threw in such artful encomiums on +Matilda, that Frederic was once more staggered. However, as his passion +was of so recent a date, it could not at once surmount the scruples he +had conceived. He had gathered enough from Bianca’s discourse to +persuade him that heaven declared itself against Manfred. The proposed +marriages too removed his claim to a distance; and the principality of +Otranto was a stronger temptation than the contingent reversion of it +with Matilda. Still he would not absolutely recede from his engagements; +but purposing to gain time, he demanded of Manfred if it was true in fact +that Hippolita consented to the divorce. The Prince, transported to find +no other obstacle, and depending on his influence over his wife, assured +the Marquis it was so, and that he might satisfy himself of the truth +from her own mouth. + +As they were thus discoursing, word was brought that the banquet was +prepared. Manfred conducted Frederic to the great hall, where they were +received by Hippolita and the young Princesses. Manfred placed the +Marquis next to Matilda, and seated himself between his wife and +Isabella. Hippolita comported herself with an easy gravity; but the +young ladies were silent and melancholy. Manfred, who was determined to +pursue his point with the Marquis in the remainder of the evening, pushed +on the feast until it waxed late; affecting unrestrained gaiety, and +plying Frederic with repeated goblets of wine. The latter, more upon his +guard than Manfred wished, declined his frequent challenges, on pretence +of his late loss of blood; while the Prince, to raise his own disordered +spirits, and to counterfeit unconcern, indulged himself in plentiful +draughts, though not to the intoxication of his senses. + +The evening being far advanced, the banquet concluded. Manfred would +have withdrawn with Frederic; but the latter pleading weakness and want +of repose, retired to his chamber, gallantly telling the Prince that his +daughter should amuse his Highness until himself could attend him. +Manfred accepted the party, and to the no small grief of Isabella, +accompanied her to her apartment. Matilda waited on her mother to enjoy +the freshness of the evening on the ramparts of the castle. + +Soon as the company were dispersed their several ways, Frederic, quitting +his chamber, inquired if Hippolita was alone, and was told by one of her +attendants, who had not noticed her going forth, that at that hour she +generally withdrew to her oratory, where he probably would find her. The +Marquis, during the repast, had beheld Matilda with increase of passion. +He now wished to find Hippolita in the disposition her Lord had promised. +The portents that had alarmed him were forgotten in his desires. +Stealing softly and unobserved to the apartment of Hippolita, he entered +it with a resolution to encourage her acquiescence to the divorce, having +perceived that Manfred was resolved to make the possession of Isabella an +unalterable condition, before he would grant Matilda to his wishes. + +The Marquis was not surprised at the silence that reigned in the +Princess’s apartment. Concluding her, as he had been advertised, in her +oratory, he passed on. The door was ajar; the evening gloomy and +overcast. Pushing open the door gently, he saw a person kneeling before +the altar. As he approached nearer, it seemed not a woman, but one in a +long woollen weed, whose back was towards him. The person seemed +absorbed in prayer. The Marquis was about to return, when the figure, +rising, stood some moments fixed in meditation, without regarding him. +The Marquis, expecting the holy person to come forth, and meaning to +excuse his uncivil interruption, said, + +“Reverend Father, I sought the Lady Hippolita.” + +“Hippolita!” replied a hollow voice; “camest thou to this castle to seek +Hippolita?” and then the figure, turning slowly round, discovered to +Frederic the fleshless jaws and empty sockets of a skeleton, wrapt in a +hermit’s cowl. + +“Angels of grace protect me!” cried Frederic, recoiling. + +“Deserve their protection!” said the Spectre. Frederic, falling on his +knees, adjured the phantom to take pity on him. + +“Dost thou not remember me?” said the apparition. “Remember the wood of +Joppa!” + +“Art thou that holy hermit?” cried Frederic, trembling. “Can I do aught +for thy eternal peace?” + +“Wast thou delivered from bondage,” said the spectre, “to pursue carnal +delights? Hast thou forgotten the buried sabre, and the behest of Heaven +engraven on it?” + +“I have not, I have not,” said Frederic; “but say, blest spirit, what is +thy errand to me? What remains to be done?” + +“To forget Matilda!” said the apparition; and vanished. + +Frederic’s blood froze in his veins. For some minutes he remained +motionless. Then falling prostrate on his face before the altar, he +besought the intercession of every saint for pardon. A flood of tears +succeeded to this transport; and the image of the beauteous Matilda +rushing in spite of him on his thoughts, he lay on the ground in a +conflict of penitence and passion. Ere he could recover from this agony +of his spirits, the Princess Hippolita with a taper in her hand entered +the oratory alone. Seeing a man without motion on the floor, she gave a +shriek, concluding him dead. Her fright brought Frederic to himself. +Rising suddenly, his face bedewed with tears, he would have rushed from +her presence; but Hippolita stopping him, conjured him in the most +plaintive accents to explain the cause of his disorder, and by what +strange chance she had found him there in that posture. + +“Ah, virtuous Princess!” said the Marquis, penetrated with grief, and +stopped. + +“For the love of Heaven, my Lord,” said Hippolita, “disclose the cause of +this transport! What mean these doleful sounds, this alarming +exclamation on my name? What woes has heaven still in store for the +wretched Hippolita? Yet silent! By every pitying angel, I adjure thee, +noble Prince,” continued she, falling at his feet, “to disclose the +purport of what lies at thy heart. I see thou feelest for me; thou +feelest the sharp pangs that thou inflictest—speak, for pity! Does aught +thou knowest concern my child?” + +“I cannot speak,” cried Frederic, bursting from her. “Oh, Matilda!” + +Quitting the Princess thus abruptly, he hastened to his own apartment. +At the door of it he was accosted by Manfred, who flushed by wine and +love had come to seek him, and to propose to waste some hours of the +night in music and revelling. Frederic, offended at an invitation so +dissonant from the mood of his soul, pushed him rudely aside, and +entering his chamber, flung the door intemperately against Manfred, and +bolted it inwards. The haughty Prince, enraged at this unaccountable +behaviour, withdrew in a frame of mind capable of the most fatal +excesses. As he crossed the court, he was met by the domestic whom he +had planted at the convent as a spy on Jerome and Theodore. This man, +almost breathless with the haste he had made, informed his Lord that +Theodore, and some lady from the castle were, at that instant, in private +conference at the tomb of Alfonso in St. Nicholas’s church. He had +dogged Theodore thither, but the gloominess of the night had prevented +his discovering who the woman was. + +Manfred, whose spirits were inflamed, and whom Isabella had driven from +her on his urging his passion with too little reserve, did not doubt but +the inquietude she had expressed had been occasioned by her impatience to +meet Theodore. Provoked by this conjecture, and enraged at her father, +he hastened secretly to the great church. Gliding softly between the +aisles, and guided by an imperfect gleam of moonshine that shone faintly +through the illuminated windows, he stole towards the tomb of Alfonso, to +which he was directed by indistinct whispers of the persons he sought. +The first sounds he could distinguish were— + +“Does it, alas! depend on me? Manfred will never permit our union.” + +“No, this shall prevent it!” cried the tyrant, drawing his dagger, and +plunging it over her shoulder into the bosom of the person that spoke. + +“Ah, me, I am slain!” cried Matilda, sinking. “Good heaven, receive my +soul!” + +“Savage, inhuman monster, what hast thou done!” cried Theodore, rushing +on him, and wrenching his dagger from him. + +“Stop, stop thy impious hand!” cried Matilda; “it is my father!” + +Manfred, waking as from a trance, beat his breast, twisted his hands in +his locks, and endeavoured to recover his dagger from Theodore to +despatch himself. Theodore, scarce less distracted, and only mastering +the transports of his grief to assist Matilda, had now by his cries drawn +some of the monks to his aid. While part of them endeavoured, in concert +with the afflicted Theodore, to stop the blood of the dying Princess, the +rest prevented Manfred from laying violent hands on himself. + +Matilda, resigning herself patiently to her fate, acknowledged with looks +of grateful love the zeal of Theodore. Yet oft as her faintness would +permit her speech its way, she begged the assistants to comfort her +father. Jerome, by this time, had learnt the fatal news, and reached the +church. His looks seemed to reproach Theodore, but turning to Manfred, +he said, + +“Now, tyrant! behold the completion of woe fulfilled on thy impious and +devoted head! The blood of Alfonso cried to heaven for vengeance; and +heaven has permitted its altar to be polluted by assassination, that thou +mightest shed thy own blood at the foot of that Prince’s sepulchre!” + +“Cruel man!” cried Matilda, “to aggravate the woes of a parent; may +heaven bless my father, and forgive him as I do! My Lord, my gracious +Sire, dost thou forgive thy child? Indeed, I came not hither to meet +Theodore. I found him praying at this tomb, whither my mother sent me to +intercede for thee, for her—dearest father, bless your child, and say you +forgive her.” + +“Forgive thee! Murderous monster!” cried Manfred, “can assassins +forgive? I took thee for Isabella; but heaven directed my bloody hand to +the heart of my child. Oh, Matilda!—I cannot utter it—canst thou forgive +the blindness of my rage?” + +“I can, I do; and may heaven confirm it!” said Matilda; “but while I have +life to ask it—oh! my mother! what will she feel? Will you comfort her, +my Lord? Will you not put her away? Indeed she loves you! Oh, I am +faint! bear me to the castle. Can I live to have her close my eyes?” + +Theodore and the monks besought her earnestly to suffer herself to be +borne into the convent; but her instances were so pressing to be carried +to the castle, that placing her on a litter, they conveyed her thither as +she requested. Theodore, supporting her head with his arm, and hanging +over her in an agony of despairing love, still endeavoured to inspire her +with hopes of life. Jerome, on the other side, comforted her with +discourses of heaven, and holding a crucifix before her, which she bathed +with innocent tears, prepared her for her passage to immortality. +Manfred, plunged in the deepest affliction, followed the litter in +despair. + +Ere they reached the castle, Hippolita, informed of the dreadful +catastrophe, had flown to meet her murdered child; but when she saw the +afflicted procession, the mightiness of her grief deprived her of her +senses, and she fell lifeless to the earth in a swoon. Isabella and +Frederic, who attended her, were overwhelmed in almost equal sorrow. +Matilda alone seemed insensible to her own situation: every thought was +lost in tenderness for her mother. + +Ordering the litter to stop, as soon as Hippolita was brought to herself, +she asked for her father. He approached, unable to speak. Matilda, +seizing his hand and her mother’s, locked them in her own, and then +clasped them to her heart. Manfred could not support this act of +pathetic piety. He dashed himself on the ground, and cursed the day he +was born. Isabella, apprehensive that these struggles of passion were +more than Matilda could support, took upon herself to order Manfred to be +borne to his apartment, while she caused Matilda to be conveyed to the +nearest chamber. Hippolita, scarce more alive than her daughter, was +regardless of everything but her; but when the tender Isabella’s care +would have likewise removed her, while the surgeons examined Matilda’s +wound, she cried, + +“Remove me! never, never! I lived but in her, and will expire with her.” + +Matilda raised her eyes at her mother’s voice, but closed them again +without speaking. Her sinking pulse and the damp coldness of her hand +soon dispelled all hopes of recovery. Theodore followed the surgeons +into the outer chamber, and heard them pronounce the fatal sentence with +a transport equal to frenzy. + +“Since she cannot live mine,” cried he, “at least she shall be mine in +death! Father! Jerome! will you not join our hands?” cried he to the +Friar, who, with the Marquis, had accompanied the surgeons. + +“What means thy distracted rashness?” said Jerome. “Is this an hour for +marriage?” + +“It is, it is,” cried Theodore. “Alas! there is no other!” + +“Young man, thou art too unadvised,” said Frederic. “Dost thou think we +are to listen to thy fond transports in this hour of fate? What +pretensions hast thou to the Princess?” + +“Those of a Prince,” said Theodore; “of the sovereign of Otranto. This +reverend man, my father, has informed me who I am.” + +“Thou ravest,” said the Marquis. “There is no Prince of Otranto but +myself, now Manfred, by murder, by sacrilegious murder, has forfeited all +pretensions.” + +“My Lord,” said Jerome, assuming an air of command, “he tells you true. +It was not my purpose the secret should have been divulged so soon, but +fate presses onward to its work. What his hot-headed passion has +revealed, my tongue confirms. Know, Prince, that when Alfonso set sail +for the Holy Land—” + +“Is this a season for explanations?” cried Theodore. “Father, come and +unite me to the Princess; she shall be mine! In every other thing I will +dutifully obey you. My life! my adored Matilda!” continued Theodore, +rushing back into the inner chamber, “will you not be mine? Will you not +bless your—” + +Isabella made signs to him to be silent, apprehending the Princess was +near her end. + +“What, is she dead?” cried Theodore; “is it possible!” + +The violence of his exclamations brought Matilda to herself. Lifting up +her eyes, she looked round for her mother. + +“Life of my soul, I am here!” cried Hippolita; “think not I will quit +thee!” + +“Oh! you are too good,” said Matilda. “But weep not for me, my mother! +I am going where sorrow never dwells—Isabella, thou hast loved me; +wouldst thou not supply my fondness to this dear, dear woman? Indeed I +am faint!” + +“Oh! my child! my child!” said Hippolita in a flood of tears, “can I not +withhold thee a moment?” + +“It will not be,” said Matilda; “commend me to heaven—Where is my father? +forgive him, dearest mother—forgive him my death; it was an error. Oh! +I had forgotten—dearest mother, I vowed never to see Theodore +more—perhaps that has drawn down this calamity—but it was not +intentional—can you pardon me?” + +“Oh! wound not my agonising soul!” said Hippolita; “thou never couldst +offend me—Alas! she faints! help! help!” + +“I would say something more,” said Matilda, struggling, “but it cannot +be—Isabella—Theodore—for my sake—Oh!—” she expired. + +Isabella and her women tore Hippolita from the corse; but Theodore +threatened destruction to all who attempted to remove him from it. He +printed a thousand kisses on her clay-cold hands, and uttered every +expression that despairing love could dictate. + +Isabella, in the meantime, was accompanying the afflicted Hippolita to +her apartment; but, in the middle of the court, they were met by Manfred, +who, distracted with his own thoughts, and anxious once more to behold +his daughter, was advancing to the chamber where she lay. As the moon +was now at its height, he read in the countenances of this unhappy +company the event he dreaded. + +“What! is she dead?” cried he in wild confusion. A clap of thunder at +that instant shook the castle to its foundations; the earth rocked, and +the clank of more than mortal armour was heard behind. Frederic and +Jerome thought the last day was at hand. The latter, forcing Theodore +along with them, rushed into the court. The moment Theodore appeared, +the walls of the castle behind Manfred were thrown down with a mighty +force, and the form of Alfonso, dilated to an immense magnitude, appeared +in the centre of the ruins. + +“Behold in Theodore the true heir of Alfonso!” said the vision: And +having pronounced those words, accompanied by a clap of thunder, it +ascended solemnly towards heaven, where the clouds parting asunder, the +form of St. Nicholas was seen, and receiving Alfonso’s shade, they were +soon wrapt from mortal eyes in a blaze of glory. + +The beholders fell prostrate on their faces, acknowledging the divine +will. The first that broke silence was Hippolita. + +“My Lord,” said she to the desponding Manfred, “behold the vanity of +human greatness! Conrad is gone! Matilda is no more! In Theodore we +view the true Prince of Otranto. By what miracle he is so I know +not—suffice it to us, our doom is pronounced! shall we not, can we but +dedicate the few deplorable hours we have to live, in deprecating the +further wrath of heaven? heaven ejects us—whither can we fly, but to yon +holy cells that yet offer us a retreat.” + +“Thou guiltless but unhappy woman! unhappy by my crimes!” replied +Manfred, “my heart at last is open to thy devout admonitions. Oh! +could—but it cannot be—ye are lost in wonder—let me at last do justice on +myself! To heap shame on my own head is all the satisfaction I have left +to offer to offended heaven. My story has drawn down these judgments: +Let my confession atone—but, ah! what can atone for usurpation and a +murdered child? a child murdered in a consecrated place? List, sirs, and +may this bloody record be a warning to future tyrants!” + +“Alfonso, ye all know, died in the Holy Land—ye would interrupt me; ye +would say he came not fairly to his end—it is most true—why else this +bitter cup which Manfred must drink to the dregs. Ricardo, my +grandfather, was his chamberlain—I would draw a veil over my ancestor’s +crimes—but it is in vain! Alfonso died by poison. A fictitious will +declared Ricardo his heir. His crimes pursued him—yet he lost no Conrad, +no Matilda! I pay the price of usurpation for all! A storm overtook +him. Haunted by his guilt he vowed to St. Nicholas to found a church and +two convents, if he lived to reach Otranto. The sacrifice was accepted: +the saint appeared to him in a dream, and promised that Ricardo’s +posterity should reign in Otranto until the rightful owner should be +grown too large to inhabit the castle, and as long as issue male from +Ricardo’s loins should remain to enjoy it—alas! alas! nor male nor +female, except myself, remains of all his wretched race! I have done—the +woes of these three days speak the rest. How this young man can be +Alfonso’s heir I know not—yet I do not doubt it. His are these +dominions; I resign them—yet I knew not Alfonso had an heir—I question +not the will of heaven—poverty and prayer must fill up the woeful space, +until Manfred shall be summoned to Ricardo.” + +“What remains is my part to declare,” said Jerome. “When Alfonso set +sail for the Holy Land he was driven by a storm to the coast of Sicily. +The other vessel, which bore Ricardo and his train, as your Lordship must +have heard, was separated from him.” + +“It is most true,” said Manfred; “and the title you give me is more than +an outcast can claim—well! be it so—proceed.” + +Jerome blushed, and continued. “For three months Lord Alfonso was +wind-bound in Sicily. There he became enamoured of a fair virgin named +Victoria. He was too pious to tempt her to forbidden pleasures. They +were married. Yet deeming this amour incongruous with the holy vow of +arms by which he was bound, he determined to conceal their nuptials until +his return from the Crusade, when he purposed to seek and acknowledge her +for his lawful wife. He left her pregnant. During his absence she was +delivered of a daughter. But scarce had she felt a mother’s pangs ere +she heard the fatal rumour of her Lord’s death, and the succession of +Ricardo. What could a friendless, helpless woman do? Would her +testimony avail?—yet, my lord, I have an authentic writing—” + +“It needs not,” said Manfred; “the horrors of these days, the vision we +have but now seen, all corroborate thy evidence beyond a thousand +parchments. Matilda’s death and my expulsion—” + +“Be composed, my Lord,” said Hippolita; “this holy man did not mean to +recall your griefs.” Jerome proceeded. + +“I shall not dwell on what is needless. The daughter of which Victoria +was delivered, was at her maturity bestowed in marriage on me. Victoria +died; and the secret remained locked in my breast. Theodore’s narrative +has told the rest.” + +The Friar ceased. The disconsolate company retired to the remaining part +of the castle. In the morning Manfred signed his abdication of the +principality, with the approbation of Hippolita, and each took on them +the habit of religion in the neighbouring convents. Frederic offered his +daughter to the new Prince, which Hippolita’s tenderness for Isabella +concurred to promote. But Theodore’s grief was too fresh to admit the +thought of another love; and it was not until after frequent discourses +with Isabella of his dear Matilda, that he was persuaded he could know no +happiness but in the society of one with whom he could for ever indulge +the melancholy that had taken possession of his soul. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CASTLE OF OTRANTO *** + +***** This file should be named 696-0.txt or 696-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/6/9/696/ + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Castle of Otranto</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Horace Walpole</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 22, 1996 [eBook #696]<br /> +[Most recently updated: April 9, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Price</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CASTLE OF OTRANTO ***</div> + +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="GutSmall">CASSELL’S NATIONAL LIBRARY</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">(New Series)</span> +</p> +<div class="gapshortline"></div> +<h1>The<br /> +Castle of Otranto</h1> +<div class="gapspace"></div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br +/> +HORACE WALPOLE. +</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p0b.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decorative graphic" +title= +"Decorative graphic" +src="images/p0s.jpg" /> +</a> +</p> + +<p style="text-align: center">CASSELL <span +class="GutSmall">AND</span> COMPANY, <span +class="smcap">Limited</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall"><i>LONDON</i></span><span +class="GutSmall">, </span><span +class="GutSmall"><i>PARIS</i></span><span class="GutSmall">, +</span><span class="GutSmall"><i>NEW YORK & +MELBOURNE</i></span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">1901</span> +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">Horace Walpole</span> was the youngest son of Sir Robert +Walpole, the great statesman, who died Earl of Orford. He was born in 1717, the +year in which his father resigned office, remaining in opposition for almost +three years before his return to a long tenure of power. Horace Walpole was +educated at Eton, where he formed a school friendship with Thomas Gray, who was +but a few months older. In 1739 Gray was travelling-companion with Walpole in +France and Italy until they differed and parted; but the friendship was +afterwards renewed, and remained firm to the end. Horace Walpole went from Eton +to King’s College, Cambridge, and entered Parliament in 1741, the year +before his father’s final resignation and acceptance of an earldom. His +way of life was made easy to him. As Usher of the Exchequer, Comptroller of the +Pipe, and Clerk of the Estreats in the Exchequer, he received nearly two +thousand a year for doing nothing, lived with his father, and amused himself. +</p> + +<p> +Horace Walpole idled, and amused himself with the small life of the fashionable +world to which he was proud of belonging, though he had a quick eye for its +vanities. He had social wit, and liked to put it to small uses. But he was not +an empty idler, and there were seasons when he could become a sharp judge of +himself. “I am sensible,” he wrote to his most intimate friend, +“I am sensible of having more follies and weaknesses and fewer real good +qualities than most men. I sometimes reflect on this, though, I own, too +seldom. I always want to begin acting like a man, and a sensible one, which I +think I might be if I would.” He had deep home affections, and, under +many polite affectations, plenty of good sense. +</p> + +<p> +Horace Walpole’s father died in 1745. The eldest son, who succeeded to +the earldom, died in 1751, and left a son, George, who was for a time insane, +and lived until 1791. As George left no child, the title and estates passed to +Horace Walpole, then seventy-four years old, and the only uncle who survived. +Horace Walpole thus became Earl of Orford, during the last six years of his +life. As to the title, he said that he felt himself being called names in his +old age. He died unmarried, in the year 1797, at the age of eighty. +</p> + +<p> +He had turned his house at Strawberry Hill, by the Thames, near Twickenham, +into a Gothic villa—eighteenth-century Gothic—and amused himself by +spending freely upon its adornment with such things as were then fashionable as +objects of taste. But he delighted also in his flowers and his trellises of +roses, and the quiet Thames. When confined by gout to his London house in +Arlington Street, flowers from Strawberry Hill and a bird were necessary +consolations. He set up also at Strawberry Hill a private printing press, at +which he printed his friend Gray’s poems, also in 1758 his own +“Catalogue of the Royal and Noble Authors of England,” and five +volumes of “Anecdotes of Painting in England,” between 1762 and +1771. +</p> + +<p> +Horace Walpole produced <i>The Castle of Otranto</i> in 1765, at the mature age +of forty-eight. It was suggested by a dream from which he said he waked one +morning, and of which “all I could recover was, that I had thought myself +in an ancient castle (a very natural dream for a head like mine, filled with +Gothic story), and that on the uppermost banister of a great staircase I saw a +gigantic hand in armour. In the evening I sat down and began to write, without +knowing in the least what I intended to say or relate.” So began the tale +which professed to be translated by “William Marshal, gentleman, from the +Italian of Onuphro Muralto, canon of the Church of St. Nicholas, at +Otranto.” It was written in two months. Walpole’s friend Gray +reported to him that at Cambridge the book made “some of them cry a +little, and all in general afraid to go to bed o’ nights.” <i>The +Castle of Otranto</i> was, in its own way, an early sign of the reaction +towards romance in the latter part of the last century. This gives it interest. +But it has had many followers, and the hardy modern reader, when he +reads Gray’s note from Cambridge, needs to be reminded of its date. +</p> + +<p style="text-align: right"> +H. M. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.</h2> + +<p> +The following work was found in the library of an ancient Catholic family in +the north of England. It was printed at Naples, in the black letter, in the +year 1529. How much sooner it was written does not appear. The principal +incidents are such as were believed in the darkest ages of Christianity; but +the language and conduct have nothing that savours of barbarism. The style is +the purest Italian. +</p> + +<p> +If the story was written near the time when it is supposed to have happened, it +must have been between 1095, the era of the first Crusade, and 1243, the date +of the last, or not long afterwards. There is no other circumstance in the work +that can lead us to guess at the period in which the scene is laid: the names +of the actors are evidently fictitious, and probably disguised on purpose: yet +the Spanish names of the domestics seem to indicate that this work was not +composed until the establishment of the Arragonian Kings in Naples had made +Spanish appellations familiar in that country. The beauty of the diction, and +the zeal of the author (moderated, however, by singular judgment) concur to +make me think that the date of the composition was little antecedent to that of +the impression. Letters were then in their most flourishing state in Italy, and +contributed to dispel the empire of superstition, at that time so forcibly +attacked by the reformers. It is not unlikely that an artful priest might +endeavour to turn their own arms on the innovators, and might avail himself of +his abilities as an author to confirm the populace in their ancient errors and +superstitions. If this was his view, he has certainly acted with signal +address. Such a work as the following would enslave a hundred vulgar minds +beyond half the books of controversy that have been written from the days of +Luther to the present hour. +</p> + +<p> +This solution of the author’s motives is, however, offered as a mere +conjecture. Whatever his views were, or whatever effects the execution of them +might have, his work can only be laid before the public at present as a matter +of entertainment. Even as such, some apology for it is necessary. Miracles, +visions, necromancy, dreams, and other preternatural events, are exploded now +even from romances. That was not the case when our author wrote; much less when +the story itself is supposed to have happened. Belief in every kind of prodigy +was so established in those dark ages, that an author would not be faithful to +the manners of the times, who should omit all mention of them. He is not bound +to believe them himself, but he must represent his actors as believing them. +</p> + +<p> +If this air of the miraculous is excused, the reader will find nothing else +unworthy of his perusal. Allow the possibility of the facts, and all the actors +comport themselves as persons would do in their situation. There is no bombast, +no similes, flowers, digressions, or unnecessary descriptions. Everything tends +directly to the catastrophe. Never is the reader’s attention relaxed. The +rules of the drama are almost observed throughout the conduct of the piece. The +characters are well drawn, and still better maintained. Terror, the +author’s principal engine, prevents the story from ever languishing; and +it is so often contrasted by pity, that the mind is kept up in a constant +vicissitude of interesting passions. +</p> + +<p> +Some persons may perhaps think the characters of the domestics too little +serious for the general cast of the story; but besides their opposition to the +principal personages, the art of the author is very observable in his conduct +of the subalterns. They discover many passages essential to the story, which +could not be well brought to light but by their <i>naïveté</i> and +simplicity. In particular, the womanish terror and foibles of Bianca, in the +last chapter, conduce essentially towards advancing the catastrophe. +</p> + +<p> +It is natural for a translator to be prejudiced in favour of his adopted work. +More impartial readers may not be so much struck with the beauties of this +piece as I was. Yet I am not blind to my author’s defects. I could wish +he had grounded his plan on a more useful moral than this: that “the sins +of fathers are visited on their children to the third and fourth +generation.” I doubt whether, in his time, any more than at present, +ambition curbed its appetite of dominion from the dread of so remote a +punishment. And yet this moral is weakened by that less direct insinuation, +that even such anathema may be diverted by devotion to St. Nicholas. Here the +interest of the Monk plainly gets the better of the judgment of the author. +However, with all its faults, I have no doubt but the English reader will be +pleased with a sight of this performance. The piety that reigns throughout, the +lessons of virtue that are inculcated, and the rigid purity of the sentiments, +exempt this work from the censure to which romances are but too liable. Should +it meet with the success I hope for, I may be encouraged to reprint the +original Italian, though it will tend to depreciate my own labour. Our language +falls far short of the charms of the Italian, both for variety and harmony. The +latter is peculiarly excellent for simple narrative. It is difficult in English +to relate without falling too low or rising too high; a fault obviously +occasioned by the little care taken to speak pure language in common +conversation. Every Italian or Frenchman of any rank piques himself on speaking +his own tongue correctly and with choice. I cannot flatter myself with having +done justice to my author in this respect: his style is as elegant as his +conduct of the passions is masterly. It is a pity that he did not apply his +talents to what they were evidently proper for—the theatre. +</p> + +<p> +I will detain the reader no longer, but to make one short remark. Though the +machinery is invention, and the names of the actors imaginary, I cannot but +believe that the groundwork of the story is founded on truth. The scene is +undoubtedly laid in some real castle. The author seems frequently, without +design, to describe particular parts. “The chamber,” says he, +“on the right hand;” “the door on the left hand;” +“the distance from the chapel to Conrad’s apartment:” these +and other passages are strong presumptions that the author had some certain +building in his eye. Curious persons, who have leisure to employ in such +researches, may possibly discover in the Italian writers the foundation on +which our author has built. If a catastrophe, at all resembling that which he +describes, is believed to have given rise to this work, it will contribute to +interest the reader, and will make the “Castle of Otranto” a still +more moving story. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>SONNET TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LADY MARY COKE.</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +The gentle maid, whose hapless tale<br /> + These melancholy pages speak;<br /> +Say, gracious lady, shall she fail<br /> + To draw the tear adown thy cheek?<br /> +<br /> +No; never was thy pitying breast<br /> + Insensible to human woes;<br /> +Tender, tho’ firm, it melts distrest<br /> + For weaknesses it never knows.<br /> +<br /> +Oh! guard the marvels I relate<br /> +Of fell ambition scourg’d by fate,<br /> + From reason’s peevish blame.<br /> +Blest with thy smile, my dauntless sail<br /> +I dare expand to Fancy’s gale,<br /> + For sure thy smiles are Fame. +</p> + +<p style="text-align: right"> +H. W. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<p> +Manfred, Prince of Otranto, had one son and one daughter: the latter, a most +beautiful virgin, aged eighteen, was called Matilda. Conrad, the son, was three +years younger, a homely youth, sickly, and of no promising disposition; yet he +was the darling of his father, who never showed any symptoms of affection to +Matilda. Manfred had contracted a marriage for his son with the Marquis of +Vicenza’s daughter, Isabella; and she had already been delivered by her +guardians into the hands of Manfred, that he might celebrate the wedding as +soon as Conrad’s infirm state of health would permit. +</p> + +<p> +Manfred’s impatience for this ceremonial was remarked by his family and +neighbours. The former, indeed, apprehending the severity of their +Prince’s disposition, did not dare to utter their surmises on this +precipitation. Hippolita, his wife, an amiable lady, did sometimes venture to +represent the danger of marrying their only son so early, considering his great +youth, and greater infirmities; but she never received any other answer than +reflections on her own sterility, who had given him but one heir. His tenants +and subjects were less cautious in their discourses. They attributed this hasty +wedding to the Prince’s dread of seeing accomplished an ancient prophecy, +which was said to have pronounced that the castle and lordship of Otranto +“should pass from the present family, whenever the real owner should be +grown too large to inhabit it.” It was difficult to make any sense of +this prophecy; and still less easy to conceive what it had to do with the +marriage in question. Yet these mysteries, or contradictions, did not make the +populace adhere the less to their opinion. +</p> + +<p> +Young Conrad’s birthday was fixed for his espousals. The company was +assembled in the chapel of the Castle, and everything ready for beginning the +divine office, when Conrad himself was missing. Manfred, impatient of the least +delay, and who had not observed his son retire, despatched one of his +attendants to summon the young Prince. The servant, who had not stayed long +enough to have crossed the court to Conrad’s apartment, came running back +breathless, in a frantic manner, his eyes staring, and foaming at the mouth. He +said nothing, but pointed to the court. +</p> + +<p> +The company were struck with terror and amazement. The Princess Hippolita, +without knowing what was the matter, but anxious for her son, swooned away. +Manfred, less apprehensive than enraged at the procrastination of the nuptials, +and at the folly of his domestic, asked imperiously what was the matter? The +fellow made no answer, but continued pointing towards the courtyard; and at +last, after repeated questions put to him, cried out, “Oh! the helmet! +the helmet!” +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime, some of the company had run into the court, from whence was +heard a confused noise of shrieks, horror, and surprise. Manfred, who began to +be alarmed at not seeing his son, went himself to get information of what +occasioned this strange confusion. Matilda remained endeavouring to assist her +mother, and Isabella stayed for the same purpose, and to avoid showing any +impatience for the bridegroom, for whom, in truth, she had conceived little +affection. +</p> + +<p> +The first thing that struck Manfred’s eyes was a group of his servants +endeavouring to raise something that appeared to him a mountain of sable +plumes. He gazed without believing his sight. +</p> + +<p> +“What are ye doing?” cried Manfred, wrathfully; “where is my +son?” +</p> + +<p> +A volley of voices replied, “Oh! my Lord! the Prince! the Prince! the +helmet! the helmet!” +</p> + +<p> +Shocked with these lamentable sounds, and dreading he knew not what, he +advanced hastily,—but what a sight for a father’s eyes!—he +beheld his child dashed to pieces, and almost buried under an enormous helmet, +an hundred times more large than any casque ever made for human being, and +shaded with a proportionable quantity of black feathers. +</p> + +<p> +The horror of the spectacle, the ignorance of all around how this misfortune +had happened, and above all, the tremendous phenomenon before him, took away +the Prince’s speech. Yet his silence lasted longer than even grief could +occasion. He fixed his eyes on what he wished in vain to believe a vision; and +seemed less attentive to his loss, than buried in meditation on the stupendous +object that had occasioned it. He touched, he examined the fatal casque; nor +could even the bleeding mangled remains of the young Prince divert the eyes of +Manfred from the portent before him. +</p> + +<p> +All who had known his partial fondness for young Conrad, were as much surprised +at their Prince’s insensibility, as thunderstruck themselves at the +miracle of the helmet. They conveyed the disfigured corpse into the hall, +without receiving the least direction from Manfred. As little was he attentive +to the ladies who remained in the chapel. On the contrary, without mentioning +the unhappy princesses, his wife and daughter, the first sounds that dropped +from Manfred’s lips were, “Take care of the Lady Isabella.” +</p> + +<p> +The domestics, without observing the singularity of this direction, were guided +by their affection to their mistress, to consider it as peculiarly addressed to +her situation, and flew to her assistance. They conveyed her to her chamber +more dead than alive, and indifferent to all the strange circumstances she +heard, except the death of her son. +</p> + +<p> +Matilda, who doted on her mother, smothered her own grief and amazement, and +thought of nothing but assisting and comforting her afflicted parent. Isabella, +who had been treated by Hippolita like a daughter, and who returned that +tenderness with equal duty and affection, was scarce less assiduous about the +Princess; at the same time endeavouring to partake and lessen the weight of +sorrow which she saw Matilda strove to suppress, for whom she had conceived the +warmest sympathy of friendship. Yet her own situation could not help finding +its place in her thoughts. She felt no concern for the death of young Conrad, +except commiseration; and she was not sorry to be delivered from a marriage +which had promised her little felicity, either from her destined bridegroom, or +from the severe temper of Manfred, who, though he had distinguished her by +great indulgence, had imprinted her mind with terror, from his causeless rigour +to such amiable princesses as Hippolita and Matilda. +</p> + +<p> +While the ladies were conveying the wretched mother to her bed, Manfred +remained in the court, gazing on the ominous casque, and regardless of the +crowd which the strangeness of the event had now assembled around him. The few +words he articulated, tended solely to inquiries, whether any man knew from +whence it could have come? Nobody could give him the least information. +However, as it seemed to be the sole object of his curiosity, it soon became so +to the rest of the spectators, whose conjectures were as absurd and improbable, +as the catastrophe itself was unprecedented. In the midst of their senseless +guesses, a young peasant, whom rumour had drawn thither from a neighbouring +village, observed that the miraculous helmet was exactly like that on the +figure in black marble of Alfonso the Good, one of their former princes, in the +church of St. Nicholas. +</p> + +<p> +“Villain! What sayest thou?” cried Manfred, starting from his +trance in a tempest of rage, and seizing the young man by the collar; +“how darest thou utter such treason? Thy life shall pay for it.” +</p> + +<p> +The spectators, who as little comprehended the cause of the Prince’s fury +as all the rest they had seen, were at a loss to unravel this new circumstance. +The young peasant himself was still more astonished, not conceiving how he had +offended the Prince. Yet recollecting himself, with a mixture of grace and +humility, he disengaged himself from Manfred’s grip, and then with an +obeisance, which discovered more jealousy of innocence than dismay, he asked, +with respect, of what he was guilty? Manfred, more enraged at the vigour, +however decently exerted, with which the young man had shaken off his hold, +than appeased by his submission, ordered his attendants to seize him, and, if +he had not been withheld by his friends whom he had invited to the nuptials, +would have poignarded the peasant in their arms. +</p> + +<p> +During this altercation, some of the vulgar spectators had run to the great +church, which stood near the castle, and came back open-mouthed, declaring that +the helmet was missing from Alfonso’s statue. Manfred, at this news, grew +perfectly frantic; and, as if he sought a subject on which to vent the tempest +within him, he rushed again on the young peasant, crying— +</p> + +<p> +“Villain! Monster! Sorcerer! ’tis thou hast done this! ’tis +thou hast slain my son!” +</p> + +<p> +The mob, who wanted some object within the scope of their capacities, on whom +they might discharge their bewildered reasoning, caught the words from the +mouth of their lord, and re-echoed— +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, ay; ’tis he, ’tis he: he has stolen the helmet from good +Alfonso’s tomb, and dashed out the brains of our young Prince with +it,” never reflecting how enormous the disproportion was between the +marble helmet that had been in the church, and that of steel before their eyes; +nor how impossible it was for a youth seemingly not twenty, to wield a piece of +armour of so prodigious a weight. +</p> + +<p> +The folly of these ejaculations brought Manfred to himself: yet whether +provoked at the peasant having observed the resemblance between the two +helmets, and thereby led to the farther discovery of the absence of that in the +church, or wishing to bury any such rumour under so impertinent a supposition, +he gravely pronounced that the young man was certainly a necromancer, and that +till the Church could take cognisance of the affair, he would have the +Magician, whom they had thus detected, kept prisoner under the helmet itself, +which he ordered his attendants to raise, and place the young man under it; +declaring he should be kept there without food, with which his own infernal art +might furnish him. +</p> + +<p> +It was in vain for the youth to represent against this preposterous sentence: +in vain did Manfred’s friends endeavour to divert him from this savage +and ill-grounded resolution. The generality were charmed with their +lord’s decision, which, to their apprehensions, carried great appearance +of justice, as the Magician was to be punished by the very instrument with +which he had offended: nor were they struck with the least compunction at the +probability of the youth being starved, for they firmly believed that, by his +diabolic skill, he could easily supply himself with nutriment. +</p> + +<p> +Manfred thus saw his commands even cheerfully obeyed; and appointing a guard +with strict orders to prevent any food being conveyed to the prisoner, he +dismissed his friends and attendants, and retired to his own chamber, after +locking the gates of the castle, in which he suffered none but his domestics to +remain. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime, the care and zeal of the young Ladies had brought the Princess +Hippolita to herself, who amidst the transports of her own sorrow frequently +demanded news of her lord, would have dismissed her attendants to watch over +him, and at last enjoined Matilda to leave her, and visit and comfort her +father. Matilda, who wanted no affectionate duty to Manfred, though she +trembled at his austerity, obeyed the orders of Hippolita, whom she tenderly +recommended to Isabella; and inquiring of the domestics for her father, was +informed that he was retired to his chamber, and had commanded that nobody +should have admittance to him. Concluding that he was immersed in sorrow for +the death of her brother, and fearing to renew his tears by the sight of his +sole remaining child, she hesitated whether she should break in upon his +affliction; yet solicitude for him, backed by the commands of her mother, +encouraged her to venture disobeying the orders he had given; a fault she had +never been guilty of before. +</p> + +<p> +The gentle timidity of her nature made her pause for some minutes at his door. +She heard him traverse his chamber backwards, and forwards with disordered +steps; a mood which increased her apprehensions. She was, however, just going +to beg admittance, when Manfred suddenly opened the door; and as it was now +twilight, concurring with the disorder of his mind, he did not distinguish the +person, but asked angrily, who it was? Matilda replied, trembling— +</p> + +<p> +“My dearest father, it is I, your daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +Manfred, stepping back hastily, cried, “Begone! I do not want a +daughter;” and flinging back abruptly, clapped the door against the +terrified Matilda. +</p> + +<p> +She was too well acquainted with her father’s impetuosity to venture a +second intrusion. When she had a little recovered the shock of so bitter a +reception, she wiped away her tears to prevent the additional stab that the +knowledge of it would give to Hippolita, who questioned her in the most anxious +terms on the health of Manfred, and how he bore his loss. Matilda assured her +he was well, and supported his misfortune with manly fortitude. +</p> + +<p> +“But will he not let me see him?” said Hippolita mournfully; +“will he not permit me to blend my tears with his, and shed a +mother’s sorrows in the bosom of her Lord? Or do you deceive me, Matilda? +I know how Manfred doted on his son: is not the stroke too heavy for him? has +he not sunk under it? You do not answer me—alas! I dread the +worst!—Raise me, my maidens; I will, I will see my Lord. Bear me to him +instantly: he is dearer to me even than my children.” +</p> + +<p> +Matilda made signs to Isabella to prevent Hippolita’s rising; and both +those lovely young women were using their gentle violence to stop and calm the +Princess, when a servant, on the part of Manfred, arrived and told Isabella +that his Lord demanded to speak with her. +</p> + +<p> +“With me!” cried Isabella. +</p> + +<p> +“Go,” said Hippolita, relieved by a message from her Lord: +“Manfred cannot support the sight of his own family. He thinks you less +disordered than we are, and dreads the shock of my grief. Console him, dear +Isabella, and tell him I will smother my own anguish rather than add to +his.” +</p> + +<p> +As it was now evening the servant who conducted Isabella bore a torch before +her. When they came to Manfred, who was walking impatiently about the gallery, +he started, and said hastily— +</p> + +<p> +“Take away that light, and begone.” +</p> + +<p> +Then shutting the door impetuously, he flung himself upon a bench against the +wall, and bade Isabella sit by him. She obeyed trembling. +</p> + +<p> +“I sent for you, Lady,” said he—and then stopped under great +appearance of confusion. +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I sent for you on a matter of great moment,” resumed he. +“Dry your tears, young Lady—you have lost your bridegroom. Yes, +cruel fate! and I have lost the hopes of my race! But Conrad was not worthy of +your beauty.” +</p> + +<p> +“How, my Lord!” said Isabella; “sure you do not suspect me of +not feeling the concern I ought: my duty and affection would have +always—” +</p> + +<p> +“Think no more of him,” interrupted Manfred; “he was a +sickly, puny child, and Heaven has perhaps taken him away, that I might not +trust the honours of my house on so frail a foundation. The line of Manfred +calls for numerous supports. My foolish fondness for that boy blinded the eyes +of my prudence—but it is better as it is. I hope, in a few years, to have +reason to rejoice at the death of Conrad.” +</p> + +<p> +Words cannot paint the astonishment of Isabella. At first she apprehended that +grief had disordered Manfred’s understanding. Her next thought suggested +that this strange discourse was designed to ensnare her: she feared that +Manfred had perceived her indifference for his son: and in consequence of that +idea she replied— +</p> + +<p> +“Good my Lord, do not doubt my tenderness: my heart would have +accompanied my hand. Conrad would have engrossed all my care; and wherever fate +shall dispose of me, I shall always cherish his memory, and regard your +Highness and the virtuous Hippolita as my parents.” +</p> + +<p> +“Curse on Hippolita!” cried Manfred. “Forget her from this +moment, as I do. In short, Lady, you have missed a husband undeserving of your +charms: they shall now be better disposed of. Instead of a sickly boy, you +shall have a husband in the prime of his age, who will know how to value your +beauties, and who may expect a numerous offspring.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, my Lord!” said Isabella, “my mind is too sadly +engrossed by the recent catastrophe in your family to think of another +marriage. If ever my father returns, and it shall be his pleasure, I shall +obey, as I did when I consented to give my hand to your son: but until his +return, permit me to remain under your hospitable roof, and employ the +melancholy hours in assuaging yours, Hippolita’s, and the fair +Matilda’s affliction.” +</p> + +<p> +“I desired you once before,” said Manfred angrily, “not to +name that woman: from this hour she must be a stranger to you, as she must be +to me. In short, Isabella, since I cannot give you my son, I offer you +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Heavens!” cried Isabella, waking from her delusion, “what do +I hear? You! my Lord! You! My father-in-law! the father of Conrad! the husband +of the virtuous and tender Hippolita!” +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you,” said Manfred imperiously, “Hippolita is no +longer my wife; I divorce her from this hour. Too long has she cursed me by her +unfruitfulness. My fate depends on having sons, and this night I trust will +give a new date to my hopes.” +</p> + +<p> +At those words he seized the cold hand of Isabella, who was half dead with +fright and horror. She shrieked, and started from him, Manfred rose to pursue +her, when the moon, which was now up, and gleamed in at the opposite casement, +presented to his sight the plumes of the fatal helmet, which rose to the height +of the windows, waving backwards and forwards in a tempestuous manner, and +accompanied with a hollow and rustling sound. Isabella, who gathered courage +from her situation, and who dreaded nothing so much as Manfred’s pursuit +of his declaration, cried— +</p> + +<p> +“Look, my Lord! see, Heaven itself declares against your impious +intentions!” +</p> + +<p> +“Heaven nor Hell shall impede my designs,” said Manfred, advancing +again to seize the Princess. +</p> + +<p> +At that instant the portrait of his grandfather, which hung over the bench +where they had been sitting, uttered a deep sigh, and heaved its breast. +</p> + +<p> +Isabella, whose back was turned to the picture, saw not the motion, nor knew +whence the sound came, but started, and said— +</p> + +<p> +“Hark, my Lord! What sound was that?” and at the same time made +towards the door. +</p> + +<p> +Manfred, distracted between the flight of Isabella, who had now reached the +stairs, and yet unable to keep his eyes from the picture, which began to move, +had, however, advanced some steps after her, still looking backwards on the +portrait, when he saw it quit its panel, and descend on the floor with a grave +and melancholy air. +</p> + +<p> +“Do I dream?” cried Manfred, returning; “or are the devils +themselves in league against me? Speak, infernal spectre! Or, if thou art my +grandsire, why dost thou too conspire against thy wretched descendant, who too +dearly pays for—” Ere he could finish the sentence, the vision +sighed again, and made a sign to Manfred to follow him. +</p> + +<p> +“Lead on!” cried Manfred; “I will follow thee to the gulf of +perdition.” +</p> + +<p> +The spectre marched sedately, but dejected, to the end of the gallery, and +turned into a chamber on the right hand. Manfred accompanied him at a little +distance, full of anxiety and horror, but resolved. As he would have entered +the chamber, the door was clapped to with violence by an invisible hand. The +Prince, collecting courage from this delay, would have forcibly burst open the +door with his foot, but found that it resisted his utmost efforts. +</p> + +<p> +“Since Hell will not satisfy my curiosity,” said Manfred, “I +will use the human means in my power for preserving my race; Isabella shall not +escape me.” +</p> + +<p> +The lady, whose resolution had given way to terror the moment she had quitted +Manfred, continued her flight to the bottom of the principal staircase. There +she stopped, not knowing whither to direct her steps, nor how to escape from +the impetuosity of the Prince. The gates of the castle, she knew, were locked, +and guards placed in the court. Should she, as her heart prompted her, go and +prepare Hippolita for the cruel destiny that awaited her, she did not doubt but +Manfred would seek her there, and that his violence would incite him to double +the injury he meditated, without leaving room for them to avoid the impetuosity +of his passions. Delay might give him time to reflect on the horrid measures he +had conceived, or produce some circumstance in her favour, if she +could—for that night, at least—avoid his odious purpose. Yet where +conceal herself? How avoid the pursuit he would infallibly make throughout the +castle? +</p> + +<p> +As these thoughts passed rapidly through her mind, she recollected a +subterraneous passage which led from the vaults of the castle to the church of +St. Nicholas. Could she reach the altar before she was overtaken, she knew even +Manfred’s violence would not dare to profane the sacredness of the place; +and she determined, if no other means of deliverance offered, to shut herself +up for ever among the holy virgins whose convent was contiguous to the +cathedral. In this resolution, she seized a lamp that burned at the foot of the +staircase, and hurried towards the secret passage. +</p> + +<p> +The lower part of the castle was hollowed into several intricate cloisters; and +it was not easy for one under so much anxiety to find the door that opened into +the cavern. An awful silence reigned throughout those subterraneous regions, +except now and then some blasts of wind that shook the doors she had passed, +and which, grating on the rusty hinges, were re-echoed through that long +labyrinth of darkness. Every murmur struck her with new terror; yet more she +dreaded to hear the wrathful voice of Manfred urging his domestics to pursue +her. +</p> + +<p> +She trod as softly as impatience would give her leave, yet frequently stopped +and listened to hear if she was followed. In one of those moments she thought +she heard a sigh. She shuddered, and recoiled a few paces. In a moment she +thought she heard the step of some person. Her blood curdled; she concluded it +was Manfred. Every suggestion that horror could inspire rushed into her mind. +She condemned her rash flight, which had thus exposed her to his rage in a +place where her cries were not likely to draw anybody to her assistance. Yet +the sound seemed not to come from behind. If Manfred knew where she was, he +must have followed her. She was still in one of the cloisters, and the steps +she had heard were too distinct to proceed from the way she had come. Cheered +with this reflection, and hoping to find a friend in whoever was not the +Prince, she was going to advance, when a door that stood ajar, at some distance +to the left, was opened gently: but ere her lamp, which she held up, could +discover who opened it, the person retreated precipitately on seeing the light. +</p> + +<p> +Isabella, whom every incident was sufficient to dismay, hesitated whether she +should proceed. Her dread of Manfred soon outweighed every other terror. The +very circumstance of the person avoiding her gave her a sort of courage. It +could only be, she thought, some domestic belonging to the castle. Her +gentleness had never raised her an enemy, and conscious innocence made her hope +that, unless sent by the Prince’s order to seek her, his servants would +rather assist than prevent her flight. Fortifying herself with these +reflections, and believing by what she could observe that she was near the +mouth of the subterraneous cavern, she approached the door that had been +opened; but a sudden gust of wind that met her at the door extinguished her +lamp, and left her in total darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Words cannot paint the horror of the Princess’s situation. Alone in so +dismal a place, her mind imprinted with all the terrible events of the day, +hopeless of escaping, expecting every moment the arrival of Manfred, and far +from tranquil on knowing she was within reach of somebody, she knew not whom, +who for some cause seemed concealed thereabouts; all these thoughts crowded on +her distracted mind, and she was ready to sink under her apprehensions. She +addressed herself to every saint in heaven, and inwardly implored their +assistance. For a considerable time she remained in an agony of despair. +</p> + +<p> +At last, as softly as was possible, she felt for the door, and having found it, +entered trembling into the vault from whence she had heard the sigh and steps. +It gave her a kind of momentary joy to perceive an imperfect ray of clouded +moonshine gleam from the roof of the vault, which seemed to be fallen in, and +from whence hung a fragment of earth or building, she could not distinguish +which, that appeared to have been crushed inwards. She advanced eagerly towards +this chasm, when she discerned a human form standing close against the wall. +</p> + +<p> +She shrieked, believing it the ghost of her betrothed Conrad. The figure, +advancing, said, in a submissive voice— +</p> + +<p> +“Be not alarmed, Lady; I will not injure you.” +</p> + +<p> +Isabella, a little encouraged by the words and tone of voice of the stranger, +and recollecting that this must be the person who had opened the door, +recovered her spirits enough to reply— +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, whoever you are, take pity on a wretched Princess, standing on the +brink of destruction. Assist me to escape from this fatal castle, or in a few +moments I may be made miserable for ever.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” said the stranger, “what can I do to assist you? I +will die in your defence; but I am unacquainted with the castle, and +want—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said Isabella, hastily interrupting him; “help me but +to find a trap-door that must be hereabout, and it is the greatest service you +can do me, for I have not a minute to lose.” +</p> + +<p> +Saying these words, she felt about on the pavement, and directed the stranger +to search likewise, for a smooth piece of brass enclosed in one of the stones. +</p> + +<p> +“That,” said she, “is the lock, which opens with a spring, of +which I know the secret. If we can find that, I may escape—if not, alas! +courteous stranger, I fear I shall have involved you in my misfortunes: Manfred +will suspect you for the accomplice of my flight, and you will fall a victim to +his resentment.” +</p> + +<p> +“I value not my life,” said the stranger, “and it will be +some comfort to lose it in trying to deliver you from his tyranny.” +</p> + +<p> +“Generous youth,” said Isabella, “how shall I ever +requite—” +</p> + +<p> +As she uttered those words, a ray of moonshine, streaming through a cranny of +the ruin above, shone directly on the lock they sought. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! transport!” said Isabella; “here is the +trap-door!” and, taking out the key, she touched the spring, which, +starting aside, discovered an iron ring. “Lift up the door,” said +the Princess. +</p> + +<p> +The stranger obeyed, and beneath appeared some stone steps descending into a +vault totally dark. +</p> + +<p> +“We must go down here,” said Isabella. “Follow me; dark and +dismal as it is, we cannot miss our way; it leads directly to the church of St. +Nicholas. But, perhaps,” added the Princess modestly, “you have no +reason to leave the castle, nor have I farther occasion for your service; in a +few minutes I shall be safe from Manfred’s rage—only let me know to +whom I am so much obliged.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will never quit you,” said the stranger eagerly, “until I +have placed you in safety—nor think me, Princess, more generous than I +am; though you are my principal care—” +</p> + +<p> +The stranger was interrupted by a sudden noise of voices that seemed +approaching, and they soon distinguished these words— +</p> + +<p> +“Talk not to me of necromancers; I tell you she must be in the castle; I +will find her in spite of enchantment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, heavens!” cried Isabella; “it is the voice of Manfred! +Make haste, or we are ruined! and shut the trap-door after you.” +</p> + +<p> +Saying this, she descended the steps precipitately; and as the stranger +hastened to follow her, he let the door slip out of his hands: it fell, and the +spring closed over it. He tried in vain to open it, not having observed +Isabella’s method of touching the spring; nor had he many moments to make +an essay. The noise of the falling door had been heard by Manfred, who, +directed by the sound, hastened thither, attended by his servants with torches. +</p> + +<p> +“It must be Isabella,” cried Manfred, before he entered the vault. +“She is escaping by the subterraneous passage, but she cannot have got +far.” +</p> + +<p> +What was the astonishment of the Prince when, instead of Isabella, the light of +the torches discovered to him the young peasant whom he thought confined under +the fatal helmet! +</p> + +<p> +“Traitor!” said Manfred; “how camest thou here? I thought +thee in durance above in the court.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am no traitor,” replied the young man boldly, “nor am I +answerable for your thoughts.” +</p> + +<p> +“Presumptuous villain!” cried Manfred; “dost thou provoke my +wrath? Tell me, how hast thou escaped from above? Thou hast corrupted thy +guards, and their lives shall answer it.” +</p> + +<p> +“My poverty,” said the peasant calmly, “will disculpate them: +though the ministers of a tyrant’s wrath, to thee they are faithful, and +but too willing to execute the orders which you unjustly imposed upon +them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Art thou so hardy as to dare my vengeance?” said the Prince; +“but tortures shall force the truth from thee. Tell me; I will know thy +accomplices.” +</p> + +<p> +“There was my accomplice!” said the youth, smiling, and pointing to +the roof. +</p> + +<p> +Manfred ordered the torches to be held up, and perceived that one of the cheeks +of the enchanted casque had forced its way through the pavement of the court, +as his servants had let it fall over the peasant, and had broken through into +the vault, leaving a gap, through which the peasant had pressed himself some +minutes before he was found by Isabella. +</p> + +<p> +“Was that the way by which thou didst descend?” said Manfred. +</p> + +<p> +“It was,” said the youth. +</p> + +<p> +“But what noise was that,” said Manfred, “which I heard as I +entered the cloister?” +</p> + +<p> +“A door clapped,” said the peasant; “I heard it as well as +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What door?” said Manfred hastily. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not acquainted with your castle,” said the peasant; +“this is the first time I ever entered it, and this vault the only part +of it within which I ever was.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I tell thee,” said Manfred (wishing to find out if the youth +had discovered the trap-door), “it was this way I heard the noise. My +servants heard it too.” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord,” interrupted one of them officiously, “to be sure +it was the trap-door, and he was going to make his escape.” +</p> + +<p> +“Peace, blockhead!” said the Prince angrily; “if he was going +to escape, how should he come on this side? I will know from his own mouth what +noise it was I heard. Tell me truly; thy life depends on thy veracity.” +</p> + +<p> +“My veracity is dearer to me than my life,” said the peasant; +“nor would I purchase the one by forfeiting the other.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, young philosopher!” said Manfred contemptuously; +“tell me, then, what was the noise I heard?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ask me what I can answer,” said he, “and put me to death +instantly if I tell you a lie.” +</p> + +<p> +Manfred, growing impatient at the steady valour and indifference of the youth, +cried— +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, thou man of truth, answer! Was it the fall of the trap-door +that I heard?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was,” said the youth. +</p> + +<p> +“It was!” said the Prince; “and how didst thou come to know +there was a trap-door here?” +</p> + +<p> +“I saw the plate of brass by a gleam of moonshine,” replied he. +</p> + +<p> +“But what told thee it was a lock?” said Manfred. “How didst +thou discover the secret of opening it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Providence, that delivered me from the helmet, was able to direct me to +the spring of a lock,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Providence should have gone a little farther, and have placed thee out +of the reach of my resentment,” said Manfred. “When Providence had +taught thee to open the lock, it abandoned thee for a fool, who did not know +how to make use of its favours. Why didst thou not pursue the path pointed out +for thy escape? Why didst thou shut the trap-door before thou hadst descended +the steps?” +</p> + +<p> +“I might ask you, my Lord,” said the peasant, “how I, totally +unacquainted with your castle, was to know that those steps led to any outlet? +but I scorn to evade your questions. Wherever those steps lead to, perhaps I +should have explored the way—I could not be in a worse situation than I +was. But the truth is, I let the trap-door fall: your immediate arrival +followed. I had given the alarm—what imported it to me whether I was +seized a minute sooner or a minute later?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou art a resolute villain for thy years,” said Manfred; +“yet on reflection I suspect thou dost but trifle with me. Thou hast not +yet told me how thou didst open the lock.” +</p> + +<p> +“That I will show you, my Lord,” said the peasant; and, taking up a +fragment of stone that had fallen from above, he laid himself on the trap-door, +and began to beat on the piece of brass that covered it, meaning to gain time +for the escape of the Princess. This presence of mind, joined to the frankness +of the youth, staggered Manfred. He even felt a disposition towards pardoning +one who had been guilty of no crime. Manfred was not one of those savage +tyrants who wanton in cruelty unprovoked. The circumstances of his fortune had +given an asperity to his temper, which was naturally humane; and his virtues +were always ready to operate, when his passions did not obscure his reason. +</p> + +<p> +While the Prince was in this suspense, a confused noise of voices echoed +through the distant vaults. As the sound approached, he distinguished the +clamours of some of his domestics, whom he had dispersed through the castle in +search of Isabella, calling out— +</p> + +<p> +“Where is my Lord? where is the Prince?” +</p> + +<p> +“Here I am,” said Manfred, as they came nearer; “have you +found the Princess?” +</p> + +<p> +The first that arrived, replied, “Oh, my Lord! I am glad we have found +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Found me!” said Manfred; “have you found the +Princess?” +</p> + +<p> +“We thought we had, my Lord,” said the fellow, looking terrified, +“but—” +</p> + +<p> +“But, what?” cried the Prince; “has she escaped?” +</p> + +<p> +“Jaquez and I, my Lord—” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I and Diego,” interrupted the second, who came up in still +greater consternation. +</p> + +<p> +“Speak one of you at a time,” said Manfred; “I ask you, where +is the Princess?” +</p> + +<p> +“We do not know,” said they both together; “but we are +frightened out of our wits.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I think, blockheads,” said Manfred; “what is it has +scared you thus?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! my Lord,” said Jaquez, “Diego has seen such a sight! +your Highness would not believe our eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +“What new absurdity is this?” cried Manfred; “give me a +direct answer, or, by Heaven—” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, my Lord, if it please your Highness to hear me,” said the +poor fellow, “Diego and I—” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I and Jaquez—” cried his comrade. +</p> + +<p> +“Did not I forbid you to speak both at a time?” said the Prince: +“you, Jaquez, answer; for the other fool seems more distracted than thou +art; what is the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“My gracious Lord,” said Jaquez, “if it please your Highness +to hear me; Diego and I, according to your Highness’s orders, went to +search for the young Lady; but being comprehensive that we might meet the ghost +of my young Lord, your Highness’s son, God rest his soul, as he has not +received Christian burial—” +</p> + +<p> +“Sot!” cried Manfred in a rage; “is it only a ghost, then, +that thou hast seen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! worse! worse! my Lord,” cried Diego: “I had rather have +seen ten whole ghosts.” +</p> + +<p> +“Grant me patience!” said Manfred; “these blockheads distract +me. Out of my sight, Diego! and thou, Jaquez, tell me in one word, art thou +sober? art thou raving? thou wast wont to have some sense: has the other sot +frightened himself and thee too? Speak; what is it he fancies he has +seen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, my Lord,” replied Jaquez, trembling, “I was going to +tell your Highness, that since the calamitous misfortune of my young Lord, God +rest his precious soul! not one of us your Highness’s faithful +servants—indeed we are, my Lord, though poor men—I say, not one of +us has dared to set a foot about the castle, but two together: so Diego and I, +thinking that my young Lady might be in the great gallery, went up there to +look for her, and tell her your Highness wanted something to impart to +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“O blundering fools!” cried Manfred; “and in the meantime, +she has made her escape, because you were afraid of goblins!—Why, thou +knave! she left me in the gallery; I came from thence myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“For all that, she may be there still for aught I know,” said +Jaquez; “but the devil shall have me before I seek her there +again—poor Diego! I do not believe he will ever recover it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Recover what?” said Manfred; “am I never to learn what it is +has terrified these rascals?—but I lose my time; follow me, slave; I will +see if she is in the gallery.” +</p> + +<p> +“For Heaven’s sake, my dear, good Lord,” cried Jaquez, +“do not go to the gallery. Satan himself I believe is in the chamber next +to the gallery.” +</p> + +<p> +Manfred, who hitherto had treated the terror of his servants as an idle panic, +was struck at this new circumstance. He recollected the apparition of the +portrait, and the sudden closing of the door at the end of the gallery. His +voice faltered, and he asked with disorder— +</p> + +<p> +“What is in the great chamber?” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord,” said Jaquez, “when Diego and I came into the +gallery, he went first, for he said he had more courage than I. So when we came +into the gallery we found nobody. We looked under every bench and stool; and +still we found nobody.” +</p> + +<p> +“Were all the pictures in their places?” said Manfred. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my Lord,” answered Jaquez; “but we did not think of +looking behind them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well!” said Manfred; “proceed.” +</p> + +<p> +“When we came to the door of the great chamber,” continued Jaquez, +“we found it shut.” +</p> + +<p> +“And could not you open it?” said Manfred. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! yes, my Lord; would to Heaven we had not!” replied +he—“nay, it was not I neither; it was Diego: he was grown +foolhardy, and would go on, though I advised him not—if ever I open a +door that is shut again—” +</p> + +<p> +“Trifle not,” said Manfred, shuddering, “but tell me what you +saw in the great chamber on opening the door.” +</p> + +<p> +“I, my Lord!” said Jaquez; “I was behind Diego; but I heard +the noise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jaquez,” said Manfred, in a solemn tone of voice; “tell me, +I adjure thee by the souls of my ancestors, what was it thou sawest? what was +it thou heardest?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was Diego saw it, my Lord, it was not I,” replied Jaquez; +“I only heard the noise. Diego had no sooner opened the door, than he +cried out, and ran back. I ran back too, and said, ‘Is it the +ghost?’ ‘The ghost! no, no,’ said Diego, and his hair stood +on end—‘it is a giant, I believe; he is all clad in armour, for I +saw his foot and part of his leg, and they are as large as the helmet below in +the court.’ As he said these words, my Lord, we heard a violent motion +and the rattling of armour, as if the giant was rising, for Diego has told me +since that he believes the giant was lying down, for the foot and leg were +stretched at length on the floor. Before we could get to the end of the +gallery, we heard the door of the great chamber clap behind us, but we did not +dare turn back to see if the giant was following us—yet, now I think on +it, we must have heard him if he had pursued us—but for Heaven’s +sake, good my Lord, send for the chaplain, and have the castle exorcised, for, +for certain, it is enchanted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, pray do, my Lord,” cried all the servants at once, “or +we must leave your Highness’s service.” +</p> + +<p> +“Peace, dotards!” said Manfred, “and follow me; I will know +what all this means.” +</p> + +<p> +“We! my Lord!” cried they with one voice; “we would not go up +to the gallery for your Highness’s revenue.” The young peasant, who +had stood silent, now spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Will your Highness,” said he, “permit me to try this +adventure? My life is of consequence to nobody; I fear no bad angel, and have +offended no good one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your behaviour is above your seeming,” said Manfred, viewing him +with surprise and admiration—“hereafter I will reward your +bravery—but now,” continued he with a sigh, “I am so +circumstanced, that I dare trust no eyes but my own. However, I give you leave +to accompany me.” +</p> + +<p> +Manfred, when he first followed Isabella from the gallery, had gone directly to +the apartment of his wife, concluding the Princess had retired thither. +Hippolita, who knew his step, rose with anxious fondness to meet her Lord, whom +she had not seen since the death of their son. She would have flown in a +transport mixed of joy and grief to his bosom, but he pushed her rudely off, +and said— +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Isabella?” +</p> + +<p> +“Isabella! my Lord!” said the astonished Hippolita. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Isabella,” cried Manfred imperiously; “I want +Isabella.” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord,” replied Matilda, who perceived how much his behaviour +had shocked her mother, “she has not been with us since your Highness +summoned her to your apartment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me where she is,” said the Prince; “I do not want to +know where she has been.” +</p> + +<p> +“My good Lord,” says Hippolita, “your daughter tells you the +truth: Isabella left us by your command, and has not returned since;—but, +my good Lord, compose yourself: retire to your rest: this dismal day has +disordered you. Isabella shall wait your orders in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, then, you know where she is!” cried Manfred. “Tell me +directly, for I will not lose an instant—and you, woman,” speaking +to his wife, “order your chaplain to attend me forthwith.” +</p> + +<p> +“Isabella,” said Hippolita calmly, “is retired, I suppose, to +her chamber: she is not accustomed to watch at this late hour. Gracious my +Lord,” continued she, “let me know what has disturbed you. Has +Isabella offended you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Trouble me not with questions,” said Manfred, “but tell me +where she is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Matilda shall call her,” said the Princess. “Sit down, my +Lord, and resume your wonted fortitude.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, art thou jealous of Isabella?” replied he, “that you +wish to be present at our interview!” +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens! my Lord,” said Hippolita, “what is it your +Highness means?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou wilt know ere many minutes are passed,” said the cruel +Prince. “Send your chaplain to me, and wait my pleasure here.” +</p> + +<p> +At these words he flung out of the room in search of Isabella, leaving the +amazed ladies thunderstruck with his words and frantic deportment, and lost in +vain conjectures on what he was meditating. +</p> + +<p> +Manfred was now returning from the vault, attended by the peasant and a few of +his servants whom he had obliged to accompany him. He ascended the staircase +without stopping till he arrived at the gallery, at the door of which he met +Hippolita and her chaplain. When Diego had been dismissed by Manfred, he had +gone directly to the Princess’s apartment with the alarm of what he had +seen. That excellent Lady, who no more than Manfred doubted of the reality of +the vision, yet affected to treat it as a delirium of the servant. Willing, +however, to save her Lord from any additional shock, and prepared by a series +of griefs not to tremble at any accession to it, she determined to make herself +the first sacrifice, if fate had marked the present hour for their destruction. +Dismissing the reluctant Matilda to her rest, who in vain sued for leave to +accompany her mother, and attended only by her chaplain, Hippolita had visited +the gallery and great chamber; and now with more serenity of soul than she had +felt for many hours, she met her Lord, and assured him that the vision of the +gigantic leg and foot was all a fable; and no doubt an impression made by fear, +and the dark and dismal hour of the night, on the minds of his servants. She +and the chaplain had examined the chamber, and found everything in the usual +order. +</p> + +<p> +Manfred, though persuaded, like his wife, that the vision had been no work of +fancy, recovered a little from the tempest of mind into which so many strange +events had thrown him. Ashamed, too, of his inhuman treatment of a Princess who +returned every injury with new marks of tenderness and duty, he felt returning +love forcing itself into his eyes; but not less ashamed of feeling remorse +towards one against whom he was inwardly meditating a yet more bitter outrage, +he curbed the yearnings of his heart, and did not dare to lean even towards +pity. The next transition of his soul was to exquisite villainy. +</p> + +<p> +Presuming on the unshaken submission of Hippolita, he flattered himself that +she would not only acquiesce with patience to a divorce, but would obey, if it +was his pleasure, in endeavouring to persuade Isabella to give him her +hand—but ere he could indulge his horrid hope, he reflected that Isabella +was not to be found. Coming to himself, he gave orders that every avenue to the +castle should be strictly guarded, and charged his domestics on pain of their +lives to suffer nobody to pass out. The young peasant, to whom he spoke +favourably, he ordered to remain in a small chamber on the stairs, in which +there was a pallet-bed, and the key of which he took away himself, telling the +youth he would talk with him in the morning. Then dismissing his attendants, +and bestowing a sullen kind of half-nod on Hippolita, he retired to his own +chamber. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<p> +Matilda, who by Hippolita’s order had retired to her apartment, was +ill-disposed to take any rest. The shocking fate of her brother had deeply +affected her. She was surprised at not seeing Isabella; but the strange words +which had fallen from her father, and his obscure menace to the Princess his +wife, accompanied by the most furious behaviour, had filled her gentle mind +with terror and alarm. She waited anxiously for the return of Bianca, a young +damsel that attended her, whom she had sent to learn what was become of +Isabella. Bianca soon appeared, and informed her mistress of what she had +gathered from the servants, that Isabella was nowhere to be found. She related +the adventure of the young peasant who had been discovered in the vault, though +with many simple additions from the incoherent accounts of the domestics; and +she dwelt principally on the gigantic leg and foot which had been seen in the +gallery-chamber. This last circumstance had terrified Bianca so much, that she +was rejoiced when Matilda told her that she would not go to rest, but would +watch till the Princess should rise. +</p> + +<p> +The young Princess wearied herself in conjectures on the flight of Isabella, +and on the threats of Manfred to her mother. “But what business could he +have so urgent with the chaplain?” said Matilda, “Does he intend to +have my brother’s body interred privately in the chapel?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Madam!” said Bianca, “now I guess. As you are become his +heiress, he is impatient to have you married: he has always been raving for +more sons; I warrant he is now impatient for grandsons. As sure as I live, +Madam, I shall see you a bride at last.—Good madam, you won’t cast +off your faithful Bianca: you won’t put Donna Rosara over me now you are +a great Princess.” +</p> + +<p> +“My poor Bianca,” said Matilda, “how fast your thoughts +amble! I a great princess! What hast thou seen in Manfred’s behaviour +since my brother’s death that bespeaks any increase of tenderness to me? +No, Bianca; his heart was ever a stranger to me—but he is my father, and +I must not complain. Nay, if Heaven shuts my father’s heart against me, +it overpays my little merit in the tenderness of my mother—O that dear +mother! yes, Bianca, ’tis there I feel the rugged temper of Manfred. I +can support his harshness to me with patience; but it wounds my soul when I am +witness to his causeless severity towards her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Madam,” said Bianca, “all men use their wives so, when +they are weary of them.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet you congratulated me but now,” said Matilda, “when +you fancied my father intended to dispose of me!” +</p> + +<p> +“I would have you a great Lady,” replied Bianca, “come what +will. I do not wish to see you moped in a convent, as you would be if you had +your will, and if my Lady, your mother, who knows that a bad husband is better +than no husband at all, did not hinder you.—Bless me! what noise is that! +St. Nicholas forgive me! I was but in jest.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is the wind,” said Matilda, “whistling through the +battlements in the tower above: you have heard it a thousand times.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” said Bianca, “there was no harm neither in what I +said: it is no sin to talk of matrimony—and so, Madam, as I was saying, +if my Lord Manfred should offer you a handsome young Prince for a bridegroom, +you would drop him a curtsey, and tell him you would rather take the +veil?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank Heaven! I am in no such danger,” said Matilda: “you +know how many proposals for me he has rejected—” +</p> + +<p> +“And you thank him, like a dutiful daughter, do you, Madam? But come, +Madam; suppose, to-morrow morning, he was to send for you to the great council +chamber, and there you should find at his elbow a lovely young Prince, with +large black eyes, a smooth white forehead, and manly curling locks like jet; in +short, Madam, a young hero resembling the picture of the good Alfonso in the +gallery, which you sit and gaze at for hours together—” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not speak lightly of that picture,” interrupted Matilda +sighing; “I know the adoration with which I look at that picture is +uncommon—but I am not in love with a coloured panel. The character of +that virtuous Prince, the veneration with which my mother has inspired me for +his memory, the orisons which, I know not why, she has enjoined me to pour +forth at his tomb, all have concurred to persuade me that somehow or other my +destiny is linked with something relating to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord, Madam! how should that be?” said Bianca; “I have +always heard that your family was in no way related to his: and I am sure I +cannot conceive why my Lady, the Princess, sends you in a cold morning or a +damp evening to pray at his tomb: he is no saint by the almanack. If you must +pray, why does she not bid you address yourself to our great St. Nicholas? I am +sure he is the saint I pray to for a husband.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps my mind would be less affected,” said Matilda, “if +my mother would explain her reasons to me: but it is the mystery she observes, +that inspires me with this—I know not what to call it. As she never acts +from caprice, I am sure there is some fatal secret at bottom—nay, I know +there is: in her agony of grief for my brother’s death she dropped some +words that intimated as much.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! dear Madam,” cried Bianca, “what were they?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Matilda, “if a parent lets fall a word, and wishes +it recalled, it is not for a child to utter it.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! was she sorry for what she had said?” asked Bianca; “I +am sure, Madam, you may trust me—” +</p> + +<p> +“With my own little secrets when I have any, I may,” said Matilda; +“but never with my mother’s: a child ought to have no ears or eyes +but as a parent directs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well! to be sure, Madam, you were born to be a saint,” said +Bianca, “and there is no resisting one’s vocation: you will end in +a convent at last. But there is my Lady Isabella would not be so reserved to +me: she will let me talk to her of young men: and when a handsome cavalier has +come to the castle, she has owned to me that she wished your brother Conrad +resembled him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bianca,” said the Princess, “I do not allow you to mention +my friend disrespectfully. Isabella is of a cheerful disposition, but her soul +is pure as virtue itself. She knows your idle babbling humour, and perhaps has +now and then encouraged it, to divert melancholy, and enliven the solitude in +which my father keeps us—” +</p> + +<p> +“Blessed Mary!” said Bianca, starting, “there it is again! +Dear Madam, do you hear nothing? this castle is certainly haunted!” +</p> + +<p> +“Peace!” said Matilda, “and listen! I did think I heard a +voice—but it must be fancy: your terrors, I suppose, have infected +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed! indeed! Madam,” said Bianca, half-weeping with agony, +“I am sure I heard a voice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does anybody lie in the chamber beneath?” said the Princess. +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody has dared to lie there,” answered Bianca, “since the +great astrologer, that was your brother’s tutor, drowned himself. For +certain, Madam, his ghost and the young Prince’s are now met in the +chamber below—for Heaven’s sake let us fly to your mother’s +apartment!” +</p> + +<p> +“I charge you not to stir,” said Matilda. “If they are +spirits in pain, we may ease their sufferings by questioning them. They can +mean no hurt to us, for we have not injured them—and if they should, +shall we be more safe in one chamber than in another? Reach me my beads; we +will say a prayer, and then speak to them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! dear Lady, I would not speak to a ghost for the world!” cried +Bianca. As she said those words they heard the casement of the little chamber +below Matilda’s open. They listened attentively, and in a few minutes +thought they heard a person sing, but could not distinguish the words. +</p> + +<p> +“This can be no evil spirit,” said the Princess, in a low voice; +“it is undoubtedly one of the family—open the window, and we shall +know the voice.” +</p> + +<p> +“I dare not, indeed, Madam,” said Bianca. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou art a very fool,” said Matilda, opening the window gently +herself. The noise the Princess made was, however, heard by the person beneath, +who stopped; and they concluded had heard the casement open. +</p> + +<p> +“Is anybody below?” said the Princess; “if there is, +speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said an unknown voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is it?” said Matilda. +</p> + +<p> +“A stranger,” replied the voice. +</p> + +<p> +“What stranger?” said she; “and how didst thou come there at +this unusual hour, when all the gates of the castle are locked?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not here willingly,” answered the voice. “But pardon +me, Lady, if I have disturbed your rest; I knew not that I was overheard. Sleep +had forsaken me; I left a restless couch, and came to waste the irksome hours +with gazing on the fair approach of morning, impatient to be dismissed from +this castle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thy words and accents,” said Matilda, “are of melancholy +cast; if thou art unhappy, I pity thee. If poverty afflicts thee, let me know +it; I will mention thee to the Princess, whose beneficent soul ever melts for +the distressed, and she will relieve thee.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am indeed unhappy,” said the stranger; “and I know not +what wealth is. But I do not complain of the lot which Heaven has cast for me; +I am young and healthy, and am not ashamed of owing my support to +myself—yet think me not proud, or that I disdain your generous offers. I +will remember you in my orisons, and will pray for blessings on your gracious +self and your noble mistress—if I sigh, Lady, it is for others, not for +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now I have it, Madam,” said Bianca, whispering the Princess; +“this is certainly the young peasant; and, by my conscience, he is in +love—Well! this is a charming adventure!—do, Madam, let us sift +him. He does not know you, but takes you for one of my Lady Hippolita’s +women.” +</p> + +<p> +“Art thou not ashamed, Bianca!” said the Princess. “What +right have we to pry into the secrets of this young man’s heart? He seems +virtuous and frank, and tells us he is unhappy. Are those circumstances that +authorise us to make a property of him? How are we entitled to his +confidence?” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord, Madam! how little you know of love!” replied Bianca; +“why, lovers have no pleasure equal to talking of their mistress.” +</p> + +<p> +“And would you have <i>me</i> become a peasant’s confidante?” +said the Princess. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, let me talk to him,” said Bianca; “though I have +the honour of being your Highness’s maid of honour, I was not always so +great. Besides, if love levels ranks, it raises them too; I have a respect for +any young man in love.” +</p> + +<p> +“Peace, simpleton!” said the Princess. “Though he said he was +unhappy, it does not follow that he must be in love. Think of all that has +happened to-day, and tell me if there are no misfortunes but what love +causes.—Stranger,” resumed the Princess, “if thy misfortunes +have not been occasioned by thy own fault, and are within the compass of the +Princess Hippolita’s power to redress, I will take upon me to answer that +she will be thy protectress. When thou art dismissed from this castle, repair +to holy father Jerome, at the convent adjoining to the church of St. Nicholas, +and make thy story known to him, as far as thou thinkest meet. He will not fail +to inform the Princess, who is the mother of all that want her assistance. +Farewell; it is not seemly for me to hold farther converse with a man at this +unwonted hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“May the saints guard thee, gracious Lady!” replied the peasant; +“but oh! if a poor and worthless stranger might presume to beg a +minute’s audience farther; am I so happy? the casement is not shut; might +I venture to ask—” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak quickly,” said Matilda; “the morning dawns apace: +should the labourers come into the fields and perceive us—What wouldst +thou ask?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know not how, I know not if I dare,” said the young stranger, +faltering; “yet the humanity with which you have spoken to me +emboldens—Lady! dare I trust you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Heavens!” said Matilda, “what dost thou mean? With what +wouldst thou trust me? Speak boldly, if thy secret is fit to be entrusted to a +virtuous breast.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would ask,” said the peasant, recollecting himself, +“whether what I have heard from the domestics is true, that the Princess +is missing from the castle?” +</p> + +<p> +“What imports it to thee to know?” replied Matilda. “Thy +first words bespoke a prudent and becoming gravity. Dost thou come hither to +pry into the secrets of Manfred? Adieu. I have been mistaken in thee.” +Saying these words she shut the casement hastily, without giving the young man +time to reply. +</p> + +<p> +“I had acted more wisely,” said the Princess to Bianca, with some +sharpness, “if I had let thee converse with this peasant; his +inquisitiveness seems of a piece with thy own.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not fit for me to argue with your Highness,” replied Bianca; +“but perhaps the questions I should have put to him would have been more +to the purpose than those you have been pleased to ask him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! no doubt,” said Matilda; “you are a very discreet +personage! May I know what <i>you</i> would have asked him?” +</p> + +<p> +“A bystander often sees more of the game than those that play,” +answered Bianca. “Does your Highness think, Madam, that this question +about my Lady Isabella was the result of mere curiosity? No, no, Madam, there +is more in it than you great folks are aware of. Lopez told me that all the +servants believe this young fellow contrived my Lady Isabella’s escape; +now, pray, Madam, observe you and I both know that my Lady Isabella never much +fancied the Prince your brother. Well! he is killed just in a critical +minute—I accuse nobody. A helmet falls from the moon—so, my Lord, +your father says; but Lopez and all the servants say that this young spark is a +magician, and stole it from Alfonso’s tomb—” +</p> + +<p> +“Have done with this rhapsody of impertinence,” said Matilda. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Madam, as you please,” cried Bianca; “yet it is very +particular though, that my Lady Isabella should be missing the very same day, +and that this young sorcerer should be found at the mouth of the trap-door. I +accuse nobody; but if my young Lord came honestly by his death—” +</p> + +<p> +“Dare not on thy duty,” said Matilda, “to breathe a suspicion +on the purity of my dear Isabella’s fame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Purity, or not purity,” said Bianca, “gone she is—a +stranger is found that nobody knows; you question him yourself; he tells you he +is in love, or unhappy, it is the same thing—nay, he owned he was unhappy +about others; and is anybody unhappy about another, unless they are in love +with them? and at the very next word, he asks innocently, pour soul! if my Lady +Isabella is missing.” +</p> + +<p> +“To be sure,” said Matilda, “thy observations are not totally +without foundation—Isabella’s flight amazes me. The curiosity of +the stranger is very particular; yet Isabella never concealed a thought from +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“So she told you,” said Bianca, “to fish out your secrets; +but who knows, Madam, but this stranger may be some Prince in disguise? Do, +Madam, let me open the window, and ask him a few questions.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied Matilda, “I will ask him myself, if he knows +aught of Isabella; he is not worthy I should converse farther with him.” +She was going to open the casement, when they heard the bell ring at the +postern-gate of the castle, which is on the right hand of the tower, where +Matilda lay. This prevented the Princess from renewing the conversation with +the stranger. +</p> + +<p> +After continuing silent for some time, “I am persuaded,” said she +to Bianca, “that whatever be the cause of Isabella’s flight it had +no unworthy motive. If this stranger was accessory to it, she must be satisfied +with his fidelity and worth. I observed, did not you, Bianca? that his words +were tinctured with an uncommon infusion of piety. It was no ruffian’s +speech; his phrases were becoming a man of gentle birth.” +</p> + +<p> +“I told you, Madam,” said Bianca, “that I was sure he was +some Prince in disguise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet,” said Matilda, “if he was privy to her escape, how will +you account for his not accompanying her in her flight? why expose himself +unnecessarily and rashly to my father’s resentment?” +</p> + +<p> +“As for that, Madam,” replied she, “if he could get from +under the helmet, he will find ways of eluding your father’s anger. I do +not doubt but he has some talisman or other about him.” +</p> + +<p> +“You resolve everything into magic,” said Matilda; “but a man +who has any intercourse with infernal spirits, does not dare to make use of +those tremendous and holy words which he uttered. Didst thou not observe with +what fervour he vowed to remember <i>me</i> to heaven in his prayers? Yes; +Isabella was undoubtedly convinced of his piety.” +</p> + +<p> +“Commend me to the piety of a young fellow and a damsel that consult to +elope!” said Bianca. “No, no, Madam, my Lady Isabella is of another +guess mould than you take her for. She used indeed to sigh and lift up her eyes +in your company, because she knows you are a saint; but when your back was +turned—” +</p> + +<p> +“You wrong her,” said Matilda; “Isabella is no hypocrite; she +has a due sense of devotion, but never affected a call she has not. On the +contrary, she always combated my inclination for the cloister; and though I own +the mystery she has made to me of her flight confounds me; though it seems +inconsistent with the friendship between us; I cannot forget the disinterested +warmth with which she always opposed my taking the veil. She wished to see me +married, though my dower would have been a loss to her and my brother’s +children. For her sake I will believe well of this young peasant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you do think there is some liking between them,” said Bianca. +While she was speaking, a servant came hastily into the chamber and told the +Princess that the Lady Isabella was found. +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” said Matilda. +</p> + +<p> +“She has taken sanctuary in St. Nicholas’s church,” replied +the servant; “Father Jerome has brought the news himself; he is below +with his Highness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is my mother?” said Matilda. +</p> + +<p> +“She is in her own chamber, Madam, and has asked for you.” +</p> + +<p> +Manfred had risen at the first dawn of light, and gone to Hippolita’s +apartment, to inquire if she knew aught of Isabella. While he was questioning +her, word was brought that Jerome demanded to speak with him. Manfred, little +suspecting the cause of the Friar’s arrival, and knowing he was employed +by Hippolita in her charities, ordered him to be admitted, intending to leave +them together, while he pursued his search after Isabella. +</p> + +<p> +“Is your business with me or the Princess?” said Manfred. +</p> + +<p> +“With both,” replied the holy man. “The Lady +Isabella—” +</p> + +<p> +“What of her?” interrupted Manfred, eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Is at St. Nicholas’s altar,” replied Jerome. +</p> + +<p> +“That is no business of Hippolita,” said Manfred with confusion; +“let us retire to my chamber, Father, and inform me how she came +thither.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, my Lord,” replied the good man, with an air of firmness and +authority, that daunted even the resolute Manfred, who could not help revering +the saint-like virtues of Jerome; “my commission is to both, and with +your Highness’s good-liking, in the presence of both I shall deliver it; +but first, my Lord, I must interrogate the Princess, whether she is acquainted +with the cause of the Lady Isabella’s retirement from your castle.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, on my soul,” said Hippolita; “does Isabella charge me +with being privy to it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” interrupted Manfred, “I pay due reverence to your +holy profession; but I am sovereign here, and will allow no meddling priest to +interfere in the affairs of my domestic. If you have aught to say attend me to +my chamber; I do not use to let my wife be acquainted with the secret affairs +of my state; they are not within a woman’s province.” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord,” said the holy man, “I am no intruder into the +secrets of families. My office is to promote peace, to heal divisions, to +preach repentance, and teach mankind to curb their headstrong passions. I +forgive your Highness’s uncharitable apostrophe; I know my duty, and am +the minister of a mightier prince than Manfred. Hearken to him who speaks +through my organs.” +</p> + +<p> +Manfred trembled with rage and shame. Hippolita’s countenance declared +her astonishment and impatience to know where this would end. Her silence more +strongly spoke her observance of Manfred. +</p> + +<p> +“The Lady Isabella,” resumed Jerome, “commends herself to +both your Highnesses; she thanks both for the kindness with which she has been +treated in your castle: she deplores the loss of your son, and her own +misfortune in not becoming the daughter of such wise and noble Princes, whom +she shall always respect as Parents; she prays for uninterrupted union and +felicity between you” [Manfred’s colour changed]: “but as it +is no longer possible for her to be allied to you, she entreats your consent to +remain in sanctuary, till she can learn news of her father, or, by the +certainty of his death, be at liberty, with the approbation of her guardians, +to dispose of herself in suitable marriage.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall give no such consent,” said the Prince, “but insist +on her return to the castle without delay: I am answerable for her person to +her guardians, and will not brook her being in any hands but my own.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Highness will recollect whether that can any longer be +proper,” replied the Friar. +</p> + +<p> +“I want no monitor,” said Manfred, colouring; +“Isabella’s conduct leaves room for strange suspicions—and +that young villain, who was at least the accomplice of her flight, if not the +cause of it—” +</p> + +<p> +“The cause!” interrupted Jerome; “was a <i>young</i> man the +cause?” +</p> + +<p> +“This is not to be borne!” cried Manfred. “Am I to be bearded +in my own palace by an insolent Monk? Thou art privy, I guess, to their +amours.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would pray to heaven to clear up your uncharitable surmises,” +said Jerome, “if your Highness were not satisfied in your conscience how +unjustly you accuse me. I do pray to heaven to pardon that uncharitableness: +and I implore your Highness to leave the Princess at peace in that holy place, +where she is not liable to be disturbed by such vain and worldly fantasies as +discourses of love from any man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cant not to me,” said Manfred, “but return and bring the +Princess to her duty.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is my duty to prevent her return hither,” said Jerome. +“She is where orphans and virgins are safest from the snares and wiles of +this world; and nothing but a parent’s authority shall take her +thence.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am her parent,” cried Manfred, “and demand her.” +</p> + +<p> +“She wished to have you for her parent,” said the Friar; “but +Heaven that forbad that connection has for ever dissolved all ties betwixt you: +and I announce to your Highness—” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop! audacious man,” said Manfred, “and dread my +displeasure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Holy Father,” said Hippolita, “it is your office to be no +respecter of persons: you must speak as your duty prescribes: but it is my duty +to hear nothing that it pleases not my Lord I should hear. Attend the Prince to +his chamber. I will retire to my oratory, and pray to the blessed Virgin to +inspire you with her holy counsels, and to restore the heart of my gracious +Lord to its wonted peace and gentleness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Excellent woman!” said the Friar. “My Lord, I attend your +pleasure.” +</p> + +<p> +Manfred, accompanied by the Friar, passed to his own apartment, where shutting +the door, “I perceive, Father,” said he, “that Isabella has +acquainted you with my purpose. Now hear my resolve, and obey. Reasons of +state, most urgent reasons, my own and the safety of my people, demand that I +should have a son. It is in vain to expect an heir from Hippolita. I have made +choice of Isabella. You must bring her back; and you must do more. I know the +influence you have with Hippolita: her conscience is in your hands. She is, I +allow, a faultless woman: her soul is set on heaven, and scorns the little +grandeur of this world: you can withdraw her from it entirely. Persuade her to +consent to the dissolution of our marriage, and to retire into a +monastery—she shall endow one if she will; and she shall have the means +of being as liberal to your order as she or you can wish. Thus you will divert +the calamities that are hanging over our heads, and have the merit of saving +the principality of Otranto from destruction. You are a prudent man, and though +the warmth of my temper betrayed me into some unbecoming expressions, I honour +your virtue, and wish to be indebted to you for the repose of my life and the +preservation of my family.” +</p> + +<p> +“The will of heaven be done!” said the Friar. “I am but its +worthless instrument. It makes use of my tongue to tell thee, Prince, of thy +unwarrantable designs. The injuries of the virtuous Hippolita have mounted to +the throne of pity. By me thou art reprimanded for thy adulterous intention of +repudiating her: by me thou art warned not to pursue the incestuous design on +thy contracted daughter. Heaven that delivered her from thy fury, when the +judgments so recently fallen on thy house ought to have inspired thee with +other thoughts, will continue to watch over her. Even I, a poor and despised +Friar, am able to protect her from thy violence—I, sinner as I am, and +uncharitably reviled by your Highness as an accomplice of I know not what +amours, scorn the allurements with which it has pleased thee to tempt mine +honesty. I love my order; I honour devout souls; I respect the piety of thy +Princess—but I will not betray the confidence she reposes in me, nor +serve even the cause of religion by foul and sinful compliances—but +forsooth! the welfare of the state depends on your Highness having a son! +Heaven mocks the short-sighted views of man. But yester-morn, whose house was +so great, so flourishing as Manfred’s?—where is young Conrad +now?—My Lord, I respect your tears—but I mean not to check +them—let them flow, Prince! They will weigh more with heaven toward the +welfare of thy subjects, than a marriage, which, founded on lust or policy, +could never prosper. The sceptre, which passed from the race of Alfonso to +thine, cannot be preserved by a match which the church will never allow. If it +is the will of the Most High that Manfred’s name must perish, resign +yourself, my Lord, to its decrees; and thus deserve a crown that can never pass +away. Come, my Lord; I like this sorrow—let us return to the Princess: +she is not apprised of your cruel intentions; nor did I mean more than to alarm +you. You saw with what gentle patience, with what efforts of love, she heard, +she rejected hearing, the extent of your guilt. I know she longs to fold you in +her arms, and assure you of her unalterable affection.” +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” said the Prince, “you mistake my compunction: true, +I honour Hippolita’s virtues; I think her a Saint; and wish it were for +my soul’s health to tie faster the knot that has united us—but +alas! Father, you know not the bitterest of my pangs! it is some time that I +have had scruples on the legality of our union: Hippolita is related to me in +the fourth degree—it is true, we had a dispensation: but I have been +informed that she had also been contracted to another. This it is that sits +heavy at my heart: to this state of unlawful wedlock I impute the visitation +that has fallen on me in the death of Conrad!—ease my conscience of this +burden: dissolve our marriage, and accomplish the work of godliness—which +your divine exhortations have commenced in my soul.” +</p> + +<p> +How cutting was the anguish which the good man felt, when he perceived this +turn in the wily Prince! He trembled for Hippolita, whose ruin he saw was +determined; and he feared if Manfred had no hope of recovering Isabella, that +his impatience for a son would direct him to some other object, who might not +be equally proof against the temptation of Manfred’s rank. For some time +the holy man remained absorbed in thought. At length, conceiving some hopes +from delay, he thought the wisest conduct would be to prevent the Prince from +despairing of recovering Isabella. Her the Friar knew he could dispose, from +her affection to Hippolita, and from the aversion she had expressed to him for +Manfred’s addresses, to second his views, till the censures of the church +could be fulminated against a divorce. With this intention, as if struck with +the Prince’s scruples, he at length said: +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord, I have been pondering on what your Highness has said; and if in +truth it is delicacy of conscience that is the real motive of your repugnance +to your virtuous Lady, far be it from me to endeavour to harden your heart. The +church is an indulgent mother: unfold your griefs to her: she alone can +administer comfort to your soul, either by satisfying your conscience, or upon +examination of your scruples, by setting you at liberty, and indulging you in +the lawful means of continuing your lineage. In the latter case, if the Lady +Isabella can be brought to consent—” +</p> + +<p> +Manfred, who concluded that he had either over-reached the good man, or that +his first warmth had been but a tribute paid to appearance, was overjoyed at +this sudden turn, and repeated the most magnificent promises, if he should +succeed by the Friar’s mediation. The well-meaning priest suffered him to +deceive himself, fully determined to traverse his views, instead of seconding +them. +</p> + +<p> +“Since we now understand one another,” resumed the Prince, “I +expect, Father, that you satisfy me in one point. Who is the youth that I found +in the vault? He must have been privy to Isabella’s flight: tell me +truly, is he her lover? or is he an agent for another’s passion? I have +often suspected Isabella’s indifference to my son: a thousand +circumstances crowd on my mind that confirm that suspicion. She herself was so +conscious of it, that while I discoursed her in the gallery, she outran my +suspicions, and endeavoured to justify herself from coolness to Conrad.” +</p> + +<p> +The Friar, who knew nothing of the youth, but what he had learnt occasionally +from the Princess, ignorant what was become of him, and not sufficiently +reflecting on the impetuosity of Manfred’s temper, conceived that it +might not be amiss to sow the seeds of jealousy in his mind: they might be +turned to some use hereafter, either by prejudicing the Prince against +Isabella, if he persisted in that union or by diverting his attention to a +wrong scent, and employing his thoughts on a visionary intrigue, prevent his +engaging in any new pursuit. With this unhappy policy, he answered in a manner +to confirm Manfred in the belief of some connection between Isabella and the +youth. The Prince, whose passions wanted little fuel to throw them into a +blaze, fell into a rage at the idea of what the Friar suggested. +</p> + +<p> +“I will fathom to the bottom of this intrigue,” cried he; and +quitting Jerome abruptly, with a command to remain there till his return, he +hastened to the great hall of the castle, and ordered the peasant to be brought +before him. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou hardened young impostor!” said the Prince, as soon as he saw +the youth; “what becomes of thy boasted veracity now? it was Providence, +was it, and the light of the moon, that discovered the lock of the trap-door to +thee? Tell me, audacious boy, who thou art, and how long thou hast been +acquainted with the Princess—and take care to answer with less +equivocation than thou didst last night, or tortures shall wring the truth from +thee.” +</p> + +<p> +The young man, perceiving that his share in the flight of the Princess was +discovered, and concluding that anything he should say could no longer be of +any service or detriment to her, replied— +</p> + +<p> +“I am no impostor, my Lord, nor have I deserved opprobrious language. I +answered to every question your Highness put to me last night with the same +veracity that I shall speak now: and that will not be from fear of your +tortures, but because my soul abhors a falsehood. Please to repeat your +questions, my Lord; I am ready to give you all the satisfaction in my +power.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know my questions,” replied the Prince, “and only want +time to prepare an evasion. Speak directly; who art thou? and how long hast +thou been known to the Princess?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am a labourer at the next village,” said the peasant; “my +name is Theodore. The Princess found me in the vault last night: before that +hour I never was in her presence.” +</p> + +<p> +“I may believe as much or as little as I please of this,” said +Manfred; “but I will hear thy own story before I examine into the truth +of it. Tell me, what reason did the Princess give thee for making her escape? +thy life depends on thy answer.” +</p> + +<p> +“She told me,” replied Theodore, “that she was on the brink +of destruction, and that if she could not escape from the castle, she was in +danger in a few moments of being made miserable for ever.” +</p> + +<p> +“And on this slight foundation, on a silly girl’s report,” +said Manfred, “thou didst hazard my displeasure?” +</p> + +<p> +“I fear no man’s displeasure,” said Theodore, “when a +woman in distress puts herself under my protection.” +</p> + +<p> +During this examination, Matilda was going to the apartment of Hippolita. At +the upper end of the hall, where Manfred sat, was a boarded gallery with +latticed windows, through which Matilda and Bianca were to pass. Hearing her +father’s voice, and seeing the servants assembled round him, she stopped +to learn the occasion. The prisoner soon drew her attention: the steady and +composed manner in which he answered, and the gallantry of his last reply, +which were the first words she heard distinctly, interested her in his favour. +His person was noble, handsome, and commanding, even in that situation: but his +countenance soon engrossed her whole care. +</p> + +<p> +“Heavens! Bianca,” said the Princess softly, “do I dream? or +is not that youth the exact resemblance of Alfonso’s picture in the +gallery?” +</p> + +<p> +She could say no more, for her father’s voice grew louder at every word. +</p> + +<p> +“This bravado,” said he, “surpasses all thy former insolence. +Thou shalt experience the wrath with which thou darest to trifle. Seize +him,” continued Manfred, “and bind him—the first news the +Princess hears of her champion shall be, that he has lost his head for her +sake.” +</p> + +<p> +“The injustice of which thou art guilty towards me,” said Theodore, +“convinces me that I have done a good deed in delivering the Princess +from thy tyranny. May she be happy, whatever becomes of me!” +</p> + +<p> +“This is a lover!” cried Manfred in a rage: “a peasant within +sight of death is not animated by such sentiments. Tell me, tell me, rash boy, +who thou art, or the rack shall force thy secret from thee.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou hast threatened me with death already,” said the youth, +“for the truth I have told thee: if that is all the encouragement I am to +expect for sincerity, I am not tempted to indulge thy vain curiosity +farther.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then thou wilt not speak?” said Manfred. +</p> + +<p> +“I will not,” replied he. +</p> + +<p> +“Bear him away into the courtyard,” said Manfred; “I will see +his head this instant severed from his body.” +</p> + +<p> +Matilda fainted at hearing those words. Bianca shrieked, and cried—“Help! help! the Princess is dead!” +</p> + +<p> +Manfred started at this +ejaculation, and demanded what was the matter! The young peasant, who heard it +too, was struck with horror, and asked eagerly the same question; but Manfred +ordered him to be hurried into the court, and kept there for execution, till he +had informed himself of the cause of Bianca’s shrieks. When he learned +the meaning, he treated it as a womanish panic, and ordering Matilda to be +carried to her apartment, he rushed into the court, and calling for one of his +guards, bade Theodore kneel down, and prepare to receive the fatal blow. +</p> + +<p> +The undaunted youth received the bitter sentence with a resignation that +touched every heart but Manfred’s. He wished earnestly to know the +meaning of the words he had heard relating to the Princess; but fearing to +exasperate the tyrant more against her, he desisted. The only boon he deigned +to ask was, that he might be permitted to have a confessor, and make his peace +with heaven. Manfred, who hoped by the confessor’s means to come at the +youth’s history, readily granted his request; and being convinced that +Father Jerome was now in his interest, he ordered him to be called and shrive +the prisoner. The holy man, who had little foreseen the catastrophe that his +imprudence occasioned, fell on his knees to the Prince, and adjured him in the +most solemn manner not to shed innocent blood. He accused himself in the +bitterest terms for his indiscretion, endeavoured to disculpate the youth, and +left no method untried to soften the tyrant’s rage. Manfred, more +incensed than appeased by Jerome’s intercession, whose retraction now +made him suspect he had been imposed upon by both, commanded the Friar to do +his duty, telling him he would not allow the prisoner many minutes for +confession. +</p> + +<p> +“Nor do I ask many, my Lord,” said the unhappy young man. “My +sins, thank heaven, have not been numerous; nor exceed what might be expected +at my years. Dry your tears, good Father, and let us despatch. This is a bad +world; nor have I had cause to leave it with regret.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh wretched youth!” said Jerome; “how canst thou bear the +sight of me with patience? I am thy murderer! it is I have brought this dismal +hour upon thee!” +</p> + +<p> +“I forgive thee from my soul,” said the youth, “as I hope +heaven will pardon me. Hear my confession, Father; and give me thy +blessing.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can I prepare thee for thy passage as I ought?” said Jerome. +“Thou canst not be saved without pardoning thy foes—and canst thou +forgive that impious man there?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can,” said Theodore; “I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“And does not this touch thee, cruel Prince?” said the Friar. +</p> + +<p> +“I sent for thee to confess him,” said Manfred, sternly; “not +to plead for him. Thou didst first incense me against him—his blood be +upon thy head!” +</p> + +<p> +“It will! it will!” said the good man, in an agony of sorrow. +“Thou and I must never hope to go where this blessed youth is +going!” +</p> + +<p> +“Despatch!” said Manfred; “I am no more to be moved by the +whining of priests than by the shrieks of women.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” said the youth; “is it possible that my fate could +have occasioned what I heard! Is the Princess then again in thy power?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou dost but remember me of my wrath,” said Manfred. +“Prepare thee, for this moment is thy last.” +</p> + +<p> +The youth, who felt his indignation rise, and who was touched with the sorrow +which he saw he had infused into all the spectators, as well as into the Friar, +suppressed his emotions, and putting off his doublet, and unbuttoning his +collar, knelt down to his prayers. As he stooped, his shirt slipped down below +his shoulder, and discovered the mark of a bloody arrow. +</p> + +<p> +“Gracious heaven!” cried the holy man, starting; “what do I +see? It is my child! my Theodore!” +</p> + +<p> +The passions that ensued must be conceived; they cannot be painted. The tears +of the assistants were suspended by wonder, rather than stopped by joy. They +seemed to inquire in the eyes of their Lord what they ought to feel. Surprise, +doubt, tenderness, respect, succeeded each other in the countenance of the +youth. He received with modest submission the effusion of the old man’s +tears and embraces. Yet afraid of giving a loose to hope, and suspecting from +what had passed the inflexibility of Manfred’s temper, he cast a glance +towards the Prince, as if to say, canst thou be unmoved at such a scene as +this? +</p> + +<p> +Manfred’s heart was capable of being touched. He forgot his anger in his +astonishment; yet his pride forbad his owning himself affected. He even doubted +whether this discovery was not a contrivance of the Friar to save the youth. +</p> + +<p> +“What may this mean?” said he. “How can he be thy son? Is it +consistent with thy profession or reputed sanctity to avow a peasant’s +offspring for the fruit of thy irregular amours!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, God!” said the holy man, “dost thou question his being +mine? Could I feel the anguish I do if I were not his father? Spare him! good +Prince! spare him! and revile me as thou pleasest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Spare him! spare him!” cried the attendants; “for this good +man’s sake!” +</p> + +<p> +“Peace!” said Manfred, sternly. “I must know more ere I am +disposed to pardon. A Saint’s bastard may be no saint himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Injurious Lord!” said Theodore, “add not insult to cruelty. +If I am this venerable man’s son, though no Prince, as thou art, know the +blood that flows in my veins—” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the Friar, interrupting him, “his blood is noble; +nor is he that abject thing, my Lord, you speak him. He is my lawful son, and +Sicily can boast of few houses more ancient than that of Falconara. But alas! +my Lord, what is blood! what is nobility! We are all reptiles, miserable, +sinful creatures. It is piety alone that can distinguish us from the dust +whence we sprung, and whither we must return.” +</p> + +<p> +“Truce to your sermon,” said Manfred; “you forget you are no +longer Friar Jerome, but the Count of Falconara. Let me know your history; you +will have time to moralise hereafter, if you should not happen to obtain the +grace of that sturdy criminal there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mother of God!” said the Friar, “is it possible my Lord can +refuse a father the life of his only, his long-lost, child! Trample me, my +Lord, scorn, afflict me, accept my life for his, but spare my son!” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou canst feel, then,” said Manfred, “what it is to lose an +only son! A little hour ago thou didst preach up resignation to me: <i>my</i> +house, if fate so pleased, must perish—but the Count of +Falconara—” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! my Lord,” said Jerome, “I confess I have offended; but +aggravate not an old man’s sufferings! I boast not of my family, nor +think of such vanities—it is nature, that pleads for this boy; it is the +memory of the dear woman that bore him. Is she, Theodore, is she dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“Her soul has long been with the blessed,” said Theodore. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! how?” cried Jerome, “tell me—no—she is +happy! Thou art all my care now!—Most dread Lord! will you—will you +grant me my poor boy’s life?” +</p> + +<p> +“Return to thy convent,” answered Manfred; “conduct the +Princess hither; obey me in what else thou knowest; and I promise thee the life +of thy son.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! my Lord,” said Jerome, “is my honesty the price I must +pay for this dear youth’s safety?” +</p> + +<p> +“For me!” cried Theodore. “Let me die a thousand deaths, +rather than stain thy conscience. What is it the tyrant would exact of thee? Is +the Princess still safe from his power? Protect her, thou venerable old man; +and let all the weight of his wrath fall on me.” +</p> + +<p> +Jerome endeavoured to check the impetuosity of the youth; and ere Manfred could +reply, the trampling of horses was heard, and a brazen trumpet, which hung +without the gate of the castle, was suddenly sounded. At the same instant the +sable plumes on the enchanted helmet, which still remained at the other end of +the court, were tempestuously agitated, and nodded thrice, as if bowed by some +invisible wearer. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<p> +Manfred’s heart misgave him when he beheld the plumage on the miraculous +casque shaken in concert with the sounding of the brazen trumpet. +</p> + +<p> +“Father!” said he to Jerome, whom he now ceased to treat as Count +of Falconara, “what mean these portents? If I have offended—” +the plumes were shaken with greater violence than before. +</p> + +<p> +“Unhappy Prince that I am,” cried Manfred. “Holy Father! will +you not assist me with your prayers?” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord,” replied Jerome, “heaven is no doubt displeased +with your mockery of its servants. Submit yourself to the church; and cease to +persecute her ministers. Dismiss this innocent youth; and learn to respect the +holy character I wear. Heaven will not be trifled with: you see—” +the trumpet sounded again. +</p> + +<p> +“I acknowledge I have been too hasty,” said Manfred. “Father, +do you go to the wicket, and demand who is at the gate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you grant me the life of Theodore?” replied the Friar. +</p> + +<p> +“I do,” said Manfred; “but inquire who is without!” +</p> + +<p> +Jerome, falling on the neck of his son, discharged a flood of tears, that spoke +the fulness of his soul. +</p> + +<p> +“You promised to go to the gate,” said Manfred. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought,” replied the Friar, “your Highness would excuse +my thanking you first in this tribute of my heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go, dearest Sir,” said Theodore; “obey the Prince. I do not +deserve that you should delay his satisfaction for me.” +</p> + +<p> +Jerome, inquiring who was without, was answered, “A Herald.” +</p> + +<p> +“From whom?” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“From the Knight of the Gigantic Sabre,” said the Herald; +“and I must speak with the usurper of Otranto.” +</p> + +<p> +Jerome returned to the Prince, and did not fail to repeat the message in the +very words it had been uttered. The first sounds struck Manfred with terror; +but when he heard himself styled usurper, his rage rekindled, and all his +courage revived. +</p> + +<p> +“Usurper!—insolent villain!” cried he; “who dares to +question my title? Retire, Father; this is no business for Monks: I will meet +this presumptuous man myself. Go to your convent and prepare the +Princess’s return. Your son shall be a hostage for your fidelity: his +life depends on your obedience.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good heaven! my Lord,” cried Jerome, “your Highness did but +this instant freely pardon my child—have you so soon forgot the +interposition of heaven?” +</p> + +<p> +“Heaven,” replied Manfred, “does not send Heralds to question +the title of a lawful Prince. I doubt whether it even notifies its will through +Friars—but that is your affair, not mine. At present you know my +pleasure; and it is not a saucy Herald that shall save your son, if you do not +return with the Princess.” +</p> + +<p> +It was in vain for the holy man to reply. Manfred commanded him to be conducted +to the postern-gate, and shut out from the castle. And he ordered some of his +attendants to carry Theodore to the top of the black tower, and guard him +strictly; scarce permitting the father and son to exchange a hasty embrace at +parting. He then withdrew to the hall, and seating himself in princely state, +ordered the Herald to be admitted to his presence. +</p> + +<p> +“Well! thou insolent!” said the Prince, “what wouldst thou +with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I come,” replied he, “to thee, Manfred, usurper of the +principality of Otranto, from the renowned and invincible Knight, the Knight of +the Gigantic Sabre: in the name of his Lord, Frederic, Marquis of Vicenza, he +demands the Lady Isabella, daughter of that Prince, whom thou hast basely and +traitorously got into thy power, by bribing her false guardians during his +absence; and he requires thee to resign the principality of Otranto, which thou +hast usurped from the said Lord Frederic, the nearest of blood to the last +rightful Lord, Alfonso the Good. If thou dost not instantly comply with these +just demands, he defies thee to single combat to the last extremity.” And +so saying the Herald cast down his warder. +</p> + +<p> +“And where is this braggart who sends thee?” said Manfred. +</p> + +<p> +“At the distance of a league,” said the Herald: “he comes to +make good his Lord’s claim against thee, as he is a true knight, and thou +an usurper and ravisher.” +</p> + +<p> +Injurious as this challenge was, Manfred reflected that it was not his interest +to provoke the Marquis. He knew how well founded the claim of Frederic was; nor +was this the first time he had heard of it. Frederic’s ancestors had +assumed the style of Princes of Otranto, from the death of Alfonso the Good +without issue; but Manfred, his father, and grandfather, had been too powerful +for the house of Vicenza to dispossess them. Frederic, a martial and amorous +young Prince, had married a beautiful young lady, of whom he was enamoured, and +who had died in childbed of Isabella. Her death affected him so much that he +had taken the cross and gone to the Holy Land, where he was wounded in an +engagement against the infidels, made prisoner, and reported to be dead. When +the news reached Manfred’s ears, he bribed the guardians of the Lady +Isabella to deliver her up to him as a bride for his son Conrad, by which +alliance he had proposed to unite the claims of the two houses. This motive, on +Conrad’s death, had co-operated to make him so suddenly resolve on +espousing her himself; and the same reflection determined him now to endeavour +at obtaining the consent of Frederic to this marriage. A like policy inspired +him with the thought of inviting Frederic’s champion into the castle, +lest he should be informed of Isabella’s flight, which he strictly +enjoined his domestics not to disclose to any of the Knight’s retinue. +</p> + +<p> +“Herald,” said Manfred, as soon as he had digested these +reflections, “return to thy master, and tell him, ere we liquidate our +differences by the sword, Manfred would hold some converse with him. Bid him +welcome to my castle, where by my faith, as I am a true Knight, he shall have +courteous reception, and full security for himself and followers. If we cannot +adjust our quarrel by amicable means, I swear he shall depart in safety, and +shall have full satisfaction according to the laws of arms: So help me God and +His holy Trinity!” +</p> + +<p> +The Herald made three obeisances and retired. +</p> + +<p> +During this interview Jerome’s mind was agitated by a thousand contrary +passions. He trembled for the life of his son, and his first thought was to +persuade Isabella to return to the castle. Yet he was scarce less alarmed at +the thought of her union with Manfred. He dreaded Hippolita’s unbounded +submission to the will of her Lord; and though he did not doubt but he could +alarm her piety not to consent to a divorce, if he could get access to her; yet +should Manfred discover that the obstruction came from him, it might be equally +fatal to Theodore. He was impatient to know whence came the Herald, who with so +little management had questioned the title of Manfred: yet he did not dare +absent himself from the convent, lest Isabella should leave it, and her flight +be imputed to him. He returned disconsolately to the monastery, uncertain on +what conduct to resolve. A Monk, who met him in the porch and observed his +melancholy air, said— +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! brother, is it then true that we have lost our excellent Princess +Hippolita?” +</p> + +<p> +The holy man started, and cried, “What meanest thou, brother? I come this +instant from the castle, and left her in perfect health.” +</p> + +<p> +“Martelli,” replied the other Friar, “passed by the convent +but a quarter of an hour ago on his way from the castle, and reported that her +Highness was dead. All our brethren are gone to the chapel to pray for her +happy transit to a better life, and willed me to wait thy arrival. They know +thy holy attachment to that good Lady, and are anxious for the affliction it +will cause in thee—indeed we have all reason to weep; she was a mother to +our house. But this life is but a pilgrimage; we must not murmur—we shall +all follow her! May our end be like hers!” +</p> + +<p> +“Good brother, thou dreamest,” said Jerome. “I tell thee I +come from the castle, and left the Princess well. Where is the Lady +Isabella?” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor Gentlewoman!” replied the Friar; “I told her the sad +news, and offered her spiritual comfort. I reminded her of the transitory +condition of mortality, and advised her to take the veil: I quoted the example +of the holy Princess Sanchia of Arragon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thy zeal was laudable,” said Jerome, impatiently; “but at +present it was unnecessary: Hippolita is well—at least I trust in the +Lord she is; I heard nothing to the contrary—yet, methinks, the +Prince’s earnestness—Well, brother, but where is the Lady +Isabella?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know not,” said the Friar; “she wept much, and said she +would retire to her chamber.” +</p> + +<p> +Jerome left his comrade abruptly, and hastened to the Princess, but she was not +in her chamber. He inquired of the domestics of the convent, but could learn no +news of her. He searched in vain throughout the monastery and the church, and +despatched messengers round the neighbourhood, to get intelligence if she had +been seen; but to no purpose. Nothing could equal the good man’s +perplexity. He judged that Isabella, suspecting Manfred of having precipitated +his wife’s death, had taken the alarm, and withdrawn herself to some more +secret place of concealment. This new flight would probably carry the +Prince’s fury to the height. The report of Hippolita’s death, +though it seemed almost incredible, increased his consternation; and though +Isabella’s escape bespoke her aversion of Manfred for a husband, Jerome +could feel no comfort from it, while it endangered the life of his son. He +determined to return to the castle, and made several of his brethren accompany +him to attest his innocence to Manfred, and, if necessary, join their +intercession with his for Theodore. +</p> + +<p> +The Prince, in the meantime, had passed into the court, and ordered the gates +of the castle to be flung open for the reception of the stranger Knight and his +train. In a few minutes the cavalcade arrived. First came two harbingers with +wands. Next a herald, followed by two pages and two trumpets. Then a hundred +foot-guards. These were attended by as many horse. After them fifty footmen, +clothed in scarlet and black, the colours of the Knight. Then a led horse. Two +heralds on each side of a gentleman on horseback bearing a banner with the arms +of Vicenza and Otranto quarterly—a circumstance that much offended +Manfred—but he stifled his resentment. Two more pages. The Knight’s +confessor telling his beads. Fifty more footmen clad as before. Two Knights +habited in complete armour, their beavers down, comrades to the principal +Knight. The squires of the two Knights, carrying their shields and devices. The +Knight’s own squire. A hundred gentlemen bearing an enormous sword, and +seeming to faint under the weight of it. The Knight himself on a chestnut +steed, in complete armour, his lance in the rest, his face entirely concealed +by his vizor, which was surmounted by a large plume of scarlet and black +feathers. Fifty foot-guards with drums and trumpets closed the procession, +which wheeled off to the right and left to make room for the principal Knight. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as he approached the gate he stopped; and the herald advancing, read +again the words of the challenge. Manfred’s eyes were fixed on the +gigantic sword, and he scarce seemed to attend to the cartel: but his attention +was soon diverted by a tempest of wind that rose behind him. He turned and +beheld the Plumes of the enchanted helmet agitated in the same extraordinary +manner as before. It required intrepidity like Manfred’s not to sink +under a concurrence of circumstances that seemed to announce his fate. Yet +scorning in the presence of strangers to betray the courage he had always +manifested, he said boldly— +</p> + +<p> +“Sir Knight, whoever thou art, I bid thee welcome. If thou art of mortal +mould, thy valour shall meet its equal: and if thou art a true Knight, thou +wilt scorn to employ sorcery to carry thy point. Be these omens from heaven or +hell, Manfred trusts to the righteousness of his cause and to the aid of St. +Nicholas, who has ever protected his house. Alight, Sir Knight, and repose +thyself. To-morrow thou shalt have a fair field, and heaven befriend the juster +side!” +</p> + +<p> +The Knight made no reply, but dismounting, was conducted by Manfred to the +great hall of the castle. As they traversed the court, the Knight stopped to +gaze on the miraculous casque; and kneeling down, seemed to pray inwardly for +some minutes. Rising, he made a sign to the Prince to lead on. As soon as they +entered the hall, Manfred proposed to the stranger to disarm, but the Knight +shook his head in token of refusal. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir Knight,” said Manfred, “this is not courteous, but by my +good faith I will not cross thee, nor shalt thou have cause to complain of the +Prince of Otranto. No treachery is designed on my part; I hope none is intended +on thine; here take my gage” (giving him his ring): “your friends +and you shall enjoy the laws of hospitality. Rest here until refreshments are +brought. I will but give orders for the accommodation of your train, and return +to you.” The three Knights bowed as accepting his courtesy. Manfred +directed the stranger’s retinue to be conducted to an adjacent hospital, +founded by the Princess Hippolita for the reception of pilgrims. As they made +the circuit of the court to return towards the gate, the gigantic sword burst +from the supporters, and falling to the ground opposite to the helmet, remained +immovable. Manfred, almost hardened to preternatural appearances, surmounted +the shock of this new prodigy; and returning to the hall, where by this time +the feast was ready, he invited his silent guests to take their places. +Manfred, however ill his heart was at ease, endeavoured to inspire the company +with mirth. He put several questions to them, but was answered only by signs. +They raised their vizors but sufficiently to feed themselves, and that +sparingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Sirs” said the Prince, “ye are the first guests I ever +treated within these walls who scorned to hold any intercourse with me: nor has +it oft been customary, I ween, for princes to hazard their state and dignity +against strangers and mutes. You say you come in the name of Frederic of +Vicenza; I have ever heard that he was a gallant and courteous Knight; nor +would he, I am bold to say, think it beneath him to mix in social converse with +a Prince that is his equal, and not unknown by deeds in arms. Still ye are +silent—well! be it as it may—by the laws of hospitality and +chivalry ye are masters under this roof: ye shall do your pleasure. But come, +give me a goblet of wine; ye will not refuse to pledge me to the healths of +your fair mistresses.” +</p> + +<p> +The principal Knight sighed and crossed himself, and was rising from the board. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir Knight,” said Manfred, “what I said was but in sport. I +shall constrain you in nothing: use your good liking. Since mirth is not your +mood, let us be sad. Business may hit your fancies better. Let us withdraw, and +hear if what I have to unfold may be better relished than the vain efforts I +have made for your pastime.” +</p> + +<p> +Manfred then conducting the three Knights into an inner chamber, shut the door, +and inviting them to be seated, began thus, addressing himself to the chief +personage:— +</p> + +<p> +“You come, Sir Knight, as I understand, in the name of the Marquis of +Vicenza, to re-demand the Lady Isabella, his daughter, who has been contracted +in the face of Holy Church to my son, by the consent of her legal guardians; +and to require me to resign my dominions to your Lord, who gives himself for +the nearest of blood to Prince Alfonso, whose soul God rest! I shall speak to +the latter article of your demands first. You must know, your Lord knows, that +I enjoy the principality of Otranto from my father, Don Manuel, as he received +it from his father, Don Ricardo. Alfonso, their predecessor, dying childless in +the Holy Land, bequeathed his estates to my grandfather, Don Ricardo, in +consideration of his faithful services.” The stranger shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir Knight,” said Manfred, warmly, “Ricardo was a valiant +and upright man; he was a pious man; witness his munificent foundation of the +adjoining church and two convents. He was peculiarly patronised by St. +Nicholas—my grandfather was incapable—I say, Sir, Don Ricardo was +incapable—excuse me, your interruption has disordered me. I venerate the +memory of my grandfather. Well, Sirs, he held this estate; he held it by his +good sword and by the favour of St. Nicholas—so did my father; and so, +Sirs, will I, come what come will. But Frederic, your Lord, is nearest in +blood. I have consented to put my title to the issue of the sword. Does that +imply a vicious title? I might have asked, where is Frederic your Lord? Report +speaks him dead in captivity. You say, your actions say, he lives—I +question it not—I might, Sirs, I might—but I do not. Other Princes +would bid Frederic take his inheritance by force, if he can: they would not +stake their dignity on a single combat: they would not submit it to the +decision of unknown mutes!—pardon me, gentlemen, I am too warm: but +suppose yourselves in my situation: as ye are stout Knights, would it not move +your choler to have your own and the honour of your ancestors called in +question?” +“But to the point. Ye require me to deliver up the Lady Isabella. Sirs, I +must ask if ye are authorised to receive her?” +</p> + +<p> +The Knight nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Receive her,” continued Manfred; “well, you are authorised +to receive her, but, gentle Knight, may I ask if you have full powers?” +</p> + +<p> +The Knight nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“’Tis well,” said Manfred; “then hear what I have to +offer. Ye see, gentlemen, before you, the most unhappy of men!” (he began +to weep); “afford me your compassion; I am entitled to it, indeed I am. +Know, I have lost my only hope, my joy, the support of my house—Conrad +died yester morning.” +</p> + +<p> +The Knights discovered signs of surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Sirs, fate has disposed of my son. Isabella is at liberty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you then restore her?” cried the chief Knight, breaking +silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Afford me your patience,” said Manfred. “I rejoice to find, +by this testimony of your goodwill, that this matter may be adjusted without +blood. It is no interest of mine dictates what little I have farther to say. Ye +behold in me a man disgusted with the world: the loss of my son has weaned me +from earthly cares. Power and greatness have no longer any charms in my eyes. I +wished to transmit the sceptre I had received from my ancestors with honour to +my son—but that is over! Life itself is so indifferent to me, that I +accepted your defiance with joy. A good Knight cannot go to the grave with more +satisfaction than when falling in his vocation: whatever is the will of heaven, +I submit; for alas! Sirs, I am a man of many sorrows. Manfred is no object of +envy, but no doubt you are acquainted with my story.” +</p> + +<p> +The Knight made signs of ignorance, and seemed curious to have Manfred proceed. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it possible, Sirs,” continued the Prince, “that my story +should be a secret to you? Have you heard nothing relating to me and the +Princess Hippolita?” +</p> + +<p> +They shook their heads. +</p> + +<p> +“No! Thus, then, Sirs, it is. You think me ambitious: ambition, alas! is +composed of more rugged materials. If I were ambitious, I should not for so +many years have been a prey to all the hell of conscientious scruples. But I +weary your patience: I will be brief. Know, then, that I have long been +troubled in mind on my union with the Princess Hippolita. Oh! Sirs, if ye were +acquainted with that excellent woman! if ye knew that I adore her like a +mistress, and cherish her as a friend—but man was not born for perfect +happiness! She shares my scruples, and with her consent I have brought this +matter before the church, for we are related within the forbidden degrees. I +expect every hour the definitive sentence that must separate us for +ever—I am sure you feel for me—I see you do—pardon these +tears!” +</p> + +<p> +The Knights gazed on each other, wondering where this would end. +</p> + +<p> +Manfred continued— +</p> + +<p> +“The death of my son betiding while my soul was under this anxiety, I +thought of nothing but resigning my dominions, and retiring for ever from the +sight of mankind. My only difficulty was to fix on a successor, who would be +tender of my people, and to dispose of the Lady Isabella, who is dear to me as +my own blood. I was willing to restore the line of Alfonso, even in his most +distant kindred. And though, pardon me, I am satisfied it was his will that +Ricardo’s lineage should take place of his own relations; yet where was I +to search for those relations? I knew of none but Frederic, your Lord; he was a +captive to the infidels, or dead; and were he living, and at home, would he +quit the flourishing State of Vicenza for the inconsiderable principality of +Otranto? If he would not, could I bear the thought of seeing a hard, unfeeling, +Viceroy set over my poor faithful people? for, Sirs, I love my people, and +thank heaven am beloved by them. But ye will ask whither tends this long +discourse? Briefly, then, thus, Sirs. Heaven in your arrival seems to point out +a remedy for these difficulties and my misfortunes. The Lady Isabella is at +liberty; I shall soon be so. I would submit to anything for the good of my +people. Were it not the best, the only way to extinguish the feuds between our +families, if I was to take the Lady Isabella to wife? You start. But though +Hippolita’s virtues will ever be dear to me, a Prince must not consider +himself; he is born for his people.” A servant at that instant entering +the chamber apprised Manfred that Jerome and several of his brethren demanded +immediate access to him. +</p> + +<p> +The Prince, provoked at this interruption, and fearing that the Friar would +discover to the strangers that Isabella had taken sanctuary, was going to +forbid Jerome’s entrance. But recollecting that he was certainly arrived +to notify the Princess’s return, Manfred began to excuse himself to the +Knights for leaving them for a few moments, but was prevented by the arrival of +the Friars. Manfred angrily reprimanded them for their intrusion, and would +have forced them back from the chamber; but Jerome was too much agitated to be +repulsed. He declared aloud the flight of Isabella, with protestations of his +own innocence. +</p> + +<p> +Manfred, distracted at the news, and not less at its coming to the knowledge of +the strangers, uttered nothing but incoherent sentences, now upbraiding the +Friar, now apologising to the Knights, earnest to know what was become of +Isabella, yet equally afraid of their knowing; impatient to pursue her, yet +dreading to have them join in the pursuit. He offered to despatch messengers in +quest of her, but the chief Knight, no longer keeping silence, reproached +Manfred in bitter terms for his dark and ambiguous dealing, and demanded the +cause of Isabella’s first absence from the castle. Manfred, casting a +stern look at Jerome, implying a command of silence, pretended that on +Conrad’s death he had placed her in sanctuary until he could determine +how to dispose of her. Jerome, who trembled for his son’s life, did not +dare contradict this falsehood, but one of his brethren, not under the same +anxiety, declared frankly that she had fled to their church in the preceding +night. The Prince in vain endeavoured to stop this discovery, which overwhelmed +him with shame and confusion. The principal stranger, amazed at the +contradictions he heard, and more than half persuaded that Manfred had secreted +the Princess, notwithstanding the concern he expressed at her flight, rushing +to the door, said— +</p> + +<p> +“Thou traitor Prince! Isabella shall be found.” +</p> + +<p> +Manfred endeavoured to hold him, but the other Knights assisting their comrade, +he broke from the Prince, and hastened into the court, demanding his +attendants. Manfred, finding it vain to divert him from the pursuit, offered to +accompany him and summoning his attendants, and taking Jerome and some of the +Friars to guide them, they issued from the castle; Manfred privately giving +orders to have the Knight’s company secured, while to the knight he +affected to despatch a messenger to require their assistance. +</p> + +<p> +The company had no sooner quitted the castle than Matilda, who felt herself +deeply interested for the young peasant, since she had seen him condemned to +death in the hall, and whose thoughts had been taken up with concerting +measures to save him, was informed by some of the female attendants that +Manfred had despatched all his men various ways in pursuit of Isabella. He had +in his hurry given this order in general terms, not meaning to extend it to the +guard he had set upon Theodore, but forgetting it. The domestics, officious to +obey so peremptory a Prince, and urged by their own curiosity and love of +novelty to join in any precipitate chase, had to a man left the castle. Matilda +disengaged herself from her women, stole up to the black tower, and unbolting +the door, presented herself to the astonished Theodore. +</p> + +<p> +“Young man,” said she, “though filial duty and womanly +modesty condemn the step I am taking, yet holy charity, surmounting all other +ties, justifies this act. Fly; the doors of thy prison are open: my father and +his domestics are absent; but they may soon return. Be gone in safety; and may +the angels of heaven direct thy course!” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou art surely one of those angels!” said the enraptured +Theodore: “none but a blessed saint could speak, could act—could +look—like thee. May I not know the name of my divine protectress? +Methought thou namedst thy father. Is it possible? Can Manfred’s blood +feel holy pity! Lovely Lady, thou answerest not. But how art thou here thyself? +Why dost thou neglect thy own safety, and waste a thought on a wretch like +Theodore? Let us fly together: the life thou bestowest shall be dedicated to +thy defence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! thou mistakest,” said Matilda, sighing: “I am +Manfred’s daughter, but no dangers await me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Amazement!” said Theodore; “but last night I blessed myself +for yielding thee the service thy gracious compassion so charitably returns me +now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still thou art in an error,” said the Princess; “but this is +no time for explanation. Fly, virtuous youth, while it is in my power to save +thee: should my father return, thou and I both should indeed have cause to +tremble.” +</p> + +<p> +“How!” said Theodore; “thinkest thou, charming maid, that I +will accept of life at the hazard of aught calamitous to thee? Better I endured +a thousand deaths.” +</p> + +<p> +“I run no risk,” said Matilda, “but by thy delay. Depart; it +cannot be known that I have assisted thy flight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Swear by the saints above,” said Theodore, “that thou canst +not be suspected; else here I vow to await whatever can befall me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! thou art too generous,” said Matilda; “but rest assured +that no suspicion can alight on me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me thy beauteous hand in token that thou dost not deceive +me,” said Theodore; “and let me bathe it with the warm tears of +gratitude.” +</p> + +<p> +“Forbear!” said the Princess; “this must not be.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” said Theodore, “I have never known but calamity until +this hour—perhaps shall never know other fortune again: suffer the chaste +raptures of holy gratitude: ’tis my soul would print its effusions on thy +hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Forbear, and be gone,” said Matilda. “How would Isabella +approve of seeing thee at my feet?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is Isabella?” said the young man with surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, me! I fear,” said the Princess, “I am serving a +deceitful one. Hast thou forgot thy curiosity this morning?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thy looks, thy actions, all thy beauteous self seem an emanation of +divinity,” said Theodore; “but thy words are dark and mysterious. +Speak, Lady; speak to thy servant’s comprehension.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou understandest but too well!” said Matilda; “but once +more I command thee to be gone: thy blood, which I may preserve, will be on my +head, if I waste the time in vain discourse.” +</p> + +<p> +“I go, Lady,” said Theodore, “because it is thy will, and +because I would not bring the grey hairs of my father with sorrow to the grave. +Say but, adored Lady, that I have thy gentle pity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stay,” said Matilda; “I will conduct thee to the +subterraneous vault by which Isabella escaped; it will lead thee to the church +of St. Nicholas, where thou mayst take sanctuary.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” said Theodore, “was it another, and not thy lovely +self that I assisted to find the subterraneous passage?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was,” said Matilda; “but ask no more; I tremble to see +thee still abide here; fly to the sanctuary.” +</p> + +<p> +“To sanctuary,” said Theodore; “no, Princess; sanctuaries are +for helpless damsels, or for criminals. Theodore’s soul is free from +guilt, nor will wear the appearance of it. Give me a sword, Lady, and thy +father shall learn that Theodore scorns an ignominious flight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rash youth!” said Matilda; “thou wouldst not dare to lift +thy presumptuous arm against the Prince of Otranto?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not against thy father; indeed, I dare not,” said Theodore. +“Excuse me, Lady; I had forgotten. But could I gaze on thee, and remember +thou art sprung from the tyrant Manfred! But he is thy father, and from this +moment my injuries are buried in oblivion.” +</p> + +<p> +A deep and hollow groan, which seemed to come from above, startled the Princess +and Theodore. +</p> + +<p> +“Good heaven! we are overheard!” said the Princess. They listened; +but perceiving no further noise, they both concluded it the effect of pent-up +vapours. And the Princess, preceding Theodore softly, carried him to her +father’s armoury, where, equipping him with a complete suit, he was +conducted by Matilda to the postern-gate. +</p> + +<p> +“Avoid the town,” said the Princess, “and all the western +side of the castle. ’Tis there the search must be making by Manfred and +the strangers; but hie thee to the opposite quarter. Yonder behind that forest +to the east is a chain of rocks, hollowed into a labyrinth of caverns that +reach to the sea coast. There thou mayst lie concealed, till thou canst make +signs to some vessel to put on shore, and take thee off. Go! heaven be thy +guide!—and sometimes in thy prayers remember—Matilda!” +</p> + +<p> +Theodore flung himself at her feet, and seizing her lily hand, which with +struggles she suffered him to kiss, he vowed on the earliest opportunity to get +himself knighted, and fervently entreated her permission to swear himself +eternally her knight. Ere the Princess could reply, a clap of thunder was +suddenly heard that shook the battlements. Theodore, regardless of the tempest, +would have urged his suit: but the Princess, dismayed, retreated hastily into +the castle, and commanded the youth to be gone with an air that would not be +disobeyed. He sighed, and retired, but with eyes fixed on the gate, until +Matilda, closing it, put an end to an interview, in which the hearts of both +had drunk so deeply of a passion, which both now tasted for the first time. +</p> + +<p> +Theodore went pensively to the convent, to acquaint his father with his +deliverance. There he learned the absence of Jerome, and the pursuit that was +making after the Lady Isabella, with some particulars of whose story he now +first became acquainted. The generous gallantry of his nature prompted him to +wish to assist her; but the Monks could lend him no lights to guess at the +route she had taken. He was not tempted to wander far in search of her, for the +idea of Matilda had imprinted itself so strongly on his heart, that he could +not bear to absent himself at much distance from her abode. The tenderness +Jerome had expressed for him concurred to confirm this reluctance; and he even +persuaded himself that filial affection was the chief cause of his hovering +between the castle and monastery. +</p> + +<p> +Until Jerome should return at night, Theodore at length determined to repair to +the forest that Matilda had pointed out to him. Arriving there, he sought the +gloomiest shades, as best suited to the pleasing melancholy that reigned in his +mind. In this mood he roved insensibly to the caves which had formerly served +as a retreat to hermits, and were now reported round the country to be haunted +by evil spirits. He recollected to have heard this tradition; and being of a +brave and adventurous disposition, he willingly indulged his curiosity in +exploring the secret recesses of this labyrinth. He had not penetrated far +before he thought he heard the steps of some person who seemed to retreat +before him. +</p> + +<p> +Theodore, though firmly grounded in all our holy faith enjoins to be believed, +had no apprehension that good men were abandoned without cause to the malice of +the powers of darkness. He thought the place more likely to be infested by +robbers than by those infernal agents who are reported to molest and bewilder +travellers. He had long burned with impatience to approve his valour. Drawing +his sabre, he marched sedately onwards, still directing his steps as the +imperfect rustling sound before him led the way. The armour he wore was a like +indication to the person who avoided him. Theodore, now convinced that he was +not mistaken, redoubled his pace, and evidently gained on the person that fled, +whose haste increasing, Theodore came up just as a woman fell breathless before +him. He hasted to raise her, but her terror was so great that he apprehended +she would faint in his arms. He used every gentle word to dispel her alarms, +and assured her that far from injuring, he would defend her at the peril of his +life. The Lady recovering her spirits from his courteous demeanour, and gazing +on her protector, said— +</p> + +<p> +“Sure, I have heard that voice before!” +</p> + +<p> +“Not to my knowledge,” replied Theodore; “unless, as I +conjecture, thou art the Lady Isabella.” +</p> + +<p> +“Merciful heaven!” cried she. “Thou art not sent in quest of +me, art thou?” And saying those words, she threw herself at his feet, and +besought him not to deliver her up to Manfred. +</p> + +<p> +“To Manfred!” cried Theodore—“no, Lady; I have once +already delivered thee from his tyranny, and it shall fare hard with me now, +but I will place thee out of the reach of his daring.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it possible,” said she, “that thou shouldst be the +generous unknown whom I met last night in the vault of the castle? Sure thou +art not a mortal, but my guardian angel. On my knees, let me +thank—” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold! gentle Princess,” said Theodore, “nor demean thyself +before a poor and friendless young man. If heaven has selected me for thy +deliverer, it will accomplish its work, and strengthen my arm in thy cause. But +come, Lady, we are too near the mouth of the cavern; let us seek its inmost +recesses. I can have no tranquillity till I have placed thee beyond the reach +of danger.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! what mean you, sir?” said she. “Though all your +actions are noble, though your sentiments speak the purity of your soul, is it +fitting that I should accompany you alone into these perplexed retreats? Should +we be found together, what would a censorious world think of my conduct?” +</p> + +<p> +“I respect your virtuous delicacy,” said Theodore; “nor do +you harbour a suspicion that wounds my honour. I meant to conduct you into the +most private cavity of these rocks, and then at the hazard of my life to guard +their entrance against every living thing. Besides, Lady,” continued he, +drawing a deep sigh, “beauteous and all perfect as your form is, and +though my wishes are not guiltless of aspiring, know, my soul is dedicated to +another; and although—” A sudden noise prevented Theodore from +proceeding. They soon distinguished these sounds— +</p> + +<p> +“Isabella! what, ho! Isabella!” The trembling Princess relapsed +into her former agony of fear. Theodore endeavoured to encourage her, but in +vain. He assured her he would die rather than suffer her to return under +Manfred’s power; and begging her to remain concealed, he went forth to +prevent the person in search of her from approaching. +</p> + +<p> +At the mouth of the cavern he found an armed Knight, discoursing with a +peasant, who assured him he had seen a lady enter the passes of the rock. The +Knight was preparing to seek her, when Theodore, placing himself in his way, +with his sword drawn, sternly forbad him at his peril to advance. +</p> + +<p> +“And who art thou, who darest to cross my way?” said the Knight, +haughtily. +</p> + +<p> +“One who does not dare more than he will perform,” said Theodore. +</p> + +<p> +“I seek the Lady Isabella,” said the Knight, “and understand +she has taken refuge among these rocks. Impede me not, or thou wilt repent +having provoked my resentment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thy purpose is as odious as thy resentment is contemptible,” said +Theodore. “Return whence thou camest, or we shall soon know whose +resentment is most terrible.” +</p> + +<p> +The stranger, who was the principal Knight that had arrived from the Marquis of +Vicenza, had galloped from Manfred as he was busied in getting information of +the Princess, and giving various orders to prevent her falling into the power +of the three Knights. Their chief had suspected Manfred of being privy to the +Princess’s absconding, and this insult from a man, who he concluded was +stationed by that Prince to secrete her, confirming his suspicions, he made no +reply, but discharging a blow with his sabre at Theodore, would soon have +removed all obstruction, if Theodore, who took him for one of Manfred’s +captains, and who had no sooner given the provocation than prepared to support +it, had not received the stroke on his shield. The valour that had so long been +smothered in his breast broke forth at once; he rushed impetuously on the +Knight, whose pride and wrath were not less powerful incentives to hardy deeds. +The combat was furious, but not long. Theodore wounded the Knight in three +several places, and at last disarmed him as he fainted by the loss of blood. +</p> + +<p> +The peasant, who had fled on the first onset, had given the alarm to some of +Manfred’s domestics, who, by his orders, were dispersed through the +forest in pursuit of Isabella. They came up as the Knight fell, whom they soon +discovered to be the noble stranger. Theodore, notwithstanding his hatred to +Manfred, could not behold the victory he had gained without emotions of pity +and generosity. But he was more touched when he learned the quality of his +adversary, and was informed that he was no retainer, but an enemy, of Manfred. +He assisted the servants of the latter in disarming the Knight, and in +endeavouring to stanch the blood that flowed from his wounds. The Knight +recovering his speech, said, in a faint and faltering voice— +</p> + +<p> +“Generous foe, we have both been in an error. I took thee for an +instrument of the tyrant; I perceive thou hast made the like mistake. It is too +late for excuses. I faint. If Isabella is at hand—call her—I have +important secrets to—” +</p> + +<p> +“He is dying!” said one of the attendants; “has nobody a +crucifix about them? Andrea, do thou pray over him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fetch some water,” said Theodore, “and pour it down his +throat, while I hasten to the Princess.” +</p> + +<p> +Saying this, he flew to Isabella, and in few words told her modestly that he +had been so unfortunate by mistake as to wound a gentleman from her +father’s court, who wished, ere he died, to impart something of +consequence to her. +</p> + +<p> +The Princess, who had been transported at hearing the voice of Theodore, as he +called to her to come forth, was astonished at what she heard. Suffering +herself to be conducted by Theodore, the new proof of whose valour recalled her +dispersed spirits, she came where the bleeding Knight lay speechless on the +ground. But her fears returned when she beheld the domestics of Manfred. She +would again have fled if Theodore had not made her observe that they were +unarmed, and had not threatened them with instant death if they should dare to +seize the Princess. +</p> + +<p> +The stranger, opening his eyes, and beholding a woman, said, “Art +thou—pray tell me truly—art thou Isabella of Vicenza?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am,” said she: “good heaven restore thee!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then thou—then thou”—said the Knight, struggling for +utterance—“seest—thy father. Give me one—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! amazement! horror! what do I hear! what do I see!” cried +Isabella. “My father! You my father! How came you here, Sir? For +heaven’s sake, speak! Oh! run for help, or he will expire!” +</p> + +<p> +“’Tis most true,” said the wounded Knight, exerting all his +force; “I am Frederic thy father. Yes, I came to deliver thee. It will +not be. Give me a parting kiss, and take—” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said Theodore, “do not exhaust yourself; suffer us to +convey you to the castle.” +</p> + +<p> +“To the castle!” said Isabella. “Is there no help nearer than +the castle? Would you expose my father to the tyrant? If he goes thither, I +dare not accompany him; and yet, can I leave him!” +</p> + +<p> +“My child,” said Frederic, “it matters not for me whither I +am carried. A few minutes will place me beyond danger; but while I have eyes to +dote on thee, forsake me not, dear Isabella! This brave Knight—I know not +who he is—will protect thy innocence. Sir, you will not abandon my child, +will you?” +</p> + +<p> +Theodore, shedding tears over his victim, and vowing to guard the Princess at +the expense of his life, persuaded Frederic to suffer himself to be conducted +to the castle. They placed him on a horse belonging to one of the domestics, +after binding up his wounds as well as they were able. Theodore marched by his +side; and the afflicted Isabella, who could not bear to quit him, followed +mournfully behind. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<p> +The sorrowful troop no sooner arrived at the castle, than they were met by +Hippolita and Matilda, whom Isabella had sent one of the domestics before to +advertise of their approach. The ladies causing Frederic to be conveyed into +the nearest chamber, retired, while the surgeons examined his wounds. Matilda +blushed at seeing Theodore and Isabella together; but endeavoured to conceal it +by embracing the latter, and condoling with her on her father’s +mischance. The surgeons soon came to acquaint Hippolita that none of the +Marquis’s wounds were dangerous; and that he was desirous of seeing his +daughter and the Princesses. +</p> + +<p> +Theodore, under pretence of expressing his joy at being freed from his +apprehensions of the combat being fatal to Frederic, could not resist the +impulse of following Matilda. Her eyes were so often cast down on meeting his, +that Isabella, who regarded Theodore as attentively as he gazed on Matilda, +soon divined who the object was that he had told her in the cave engaged his +affections. While this mute scene passed, Hippolita demanded of Frederic the +cause of his having taken that mysterious course for reclaiming his daughter; +and threw in various apologies to excuse her Lord for the match contracted +between their children. +</p> + +<p> +Frederic, however incensed against Manfred, was not insensible to the courtesy +and benevolence of Hippolita: but he was still more struck with the lovely form +of Matilda. Wishing to detain them by his bedside, he informed Hippolita of his +story. He told her that, while prisoner to the infidels, he had dreamed that +his daughter, of whom he had learned no news since his captivity, was detained +in a castle, where she was in danger of the most dreadful misfortunes: and that +if he obtained his liberty, and repaired to a wood near Joppa, he would learn +more. Alarmed at this dream, and incapable of obeying the direction given by +it, his chains became more grievous than ever. But while his thoughts were +occupied on the means of obtaining his liberty, he received the agreeable news +that the confederate Princes who were warring in Palestine had paid his ransom. +He instantly set out for the wood that had been marked in his dream. +</p> + +<p> +For three days he and his attendants had wandered in the forest without seeing +a human form: but on the evening of the third they came to a cell, in which +they found a venerable hermit in the agonies of death. Applying rich cordials, +they brought the fainting man to his speech. +</p> + +<p> +“My sons,” said he, “I am bounden to your charity—but +it is in vain—I am going to my eternal rest—yet I die with the +satisfaction of performing the will of heaven. When first I repaired to this +solitude, after seeing my country become a prey to unbelievers—it is +alas! above fifty years since I was witness to that dreadful scene! St. +Nicholas appeared to me, and revealed a secret, which he bade me never disclose +to mortal man, but on my death-bed. This is that tremendous hour, and ye are no +doubt the chosen warriors to whom I was ordered to reveal my trust. As soon as +ye have done the last offices to this wretched corse, dig under the seventh +tree on the left hand of this poor cave, and your pains will—Oh! good +heaven receive my soul!” With those words the devout man breathed his +last. +</p> + +<p> +“By break of day,” continued Frederic, “when we had committed +the holy relics to earth, we dug according to direction. But what was our +astonishment when about the depth of six feet we discovered an enormous +sabre—the very weapon yonder in the court. On the blade, which was then +partly out of the scabbard, though since closed by our efforts in removing it, +were written the following lines—no; excuse me, Madam,” added the +Marquis, turning to Hippolita; “if I forbear to repeat them: I respect +your sex and rank, and would not be guilty of offending your ear with sounds +injurious to aught that is dear to you.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused. Hippolita trembled. She did not doubt but Frederic was destined by +heaven to accomplish the fate that seemed to threaten her house. Looking with +anxious fondness at Matilda, a silent tear stole down her cheek: but +recollecting herself, she said— +</p> + +<p> +“Proceed, my Lord; heaven does nothing in vain; mortals must receive its +divine behests with lowliness and submission. It is our part to deprecate its +wrath, or bow to its decrees. Repeat the sentence, my Lord; we listen +resigned.” +</p> + +<p> +Frederic was grieved that he had proceeded so far. The dignity and patient +firmness of Hippolita penetrated him with respect, and the tender silent +affection with which the Princess and her daughter regarded each other, melted +him almost to tears. Yet apprehensive that his forbearance to obey would be +more alarming, he repeated in a faltering and low voice the following lines: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Where’er a casque that suits this sword is found,<br /> +With perils is thy daughter compass’d round;<br /> +<i>Alfonso’s</i> blood alone can save the maid,<br /> +And quiet a long restless Prince’s shade.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is there in these lines,” said Theodore impatiently, +“that affects these Princesses? Why were they to be shocked by a +mysterious delicacy, that has so little foundation?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your words are rude, young man,” said the Marquis; “and +though fortune has favoured you once—” +</p> + +<p> +“My honoured Lord,” said Isabella, who resented Theodore’s +warmth, which she perceived was dictated by his sentiments for Matilda, +“discompose not yourself for the glosing of a peasant’s son: he +forgets the reverence he owes you; but he is not accustomed—” +</p> + +<p> +Hippolita, concerned at the heat that had arisen, checked Theodore for his +boldness, but with an air acknowledging his zeal; and changing the +conversation, demanded of Frederic where he had left her Lord? As the Marquis +was going to reply, they heard a noise without, and rising to inquire the +cause, Manfred, Jerome, and part of the troop, who had met an imperfect rumour +of what had happened, entered the chamber. Manfred advanced hastily towards +Frederic’s bed to condole with him on his misfortune, and to learn the +circumstances of the combat, when starting in an agony of terror and amazement, +he cried— +</p> + +<p> +“Ha! what art thou? thou dreadful spectre! is my hour come?” +</p> + +<p> +“My dearest, gracious Lord,” cried Hippolita, clasping him in her +arms, “what is it you see! Why do you fix your eye-balls thus?” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” cried Manfred breathless; “dost thou see nothing, +Hippolita? Is this ghastly phantom sent to me alone—to me, who did +not—” +</p> + +<p> +“For mercy’s sweetest self, my Lord,” said Hippolita, +“resume your soul, command your reason. There is none here, but us, your +friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, is not that Alfonso?” cried Manfred. “Dost thou not +see him? can it be my brain’s delirium?” +</p> + +<p> +“This! my Lord,” said Hippolita; “this is Theodore, the youth +who has been so unfortunate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Theodore!” said Manfred mournfully, and striking his forehead; +“Theodore or a phantom, he has unhinged the soul of Manfred. But how +comes he here? and how comes he in armour?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe he went in search of Isabella,” said Hippolita. +</p> + +<p> +“Of Isabella!” said Manfred, relapsing into rage; “yes, yes, +that is not doubtful—. But how did he escape from durance in which I left +him? Was it Isabella, or this hypocritical old Friar, that procured his +enlargement?” +</p> + +<p> +“And would a parent be criminal, my Lord,” said Theodore, “if +he meditated the deliverance of his child?” +</p> + +<p> +Jerome, amazed to hear himself in a manner accused by his son, and without +foundation, knew not what to think. He could not comprehend how Theodore had +escaped, how he came to be armed, and to encounter Frederic. Still he would not +venture to ask any questions that might tend to inflame Manfred’s wrath +against his son. Jerome’s silence convinced Manfred that he had contrived +Theodore’s release. +</p> + +<p> +“And is it thus, thou ungrateful old man,” said the Prince, +addressing himself to the Friar, “that thou repayest mine and +Hippolita’s bounties? And not content with traversing my heart’s +nearest wishes, thou armest thy bastard, and bringest him into my own castle to +insult me!” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord,” said Theodore, “you wrong my father: neither he +nor I are capable of harbouring a thought against your peace. Is it insolence +thus to surrender myself to your Highness’s pleasure?” added he, +laying his sword respectfully at Manfred’s feet. “Behold my bosom; +strike, my Lord, if you suspect that a disloyal thought is lodged there. There +is not a sentiment engraven on my heart that does not venerate you and +yours.” +</p> + +<p> +The grace and fervour with which Theodore uttered these words interested every +person present in his favour. Even Manfred was touched—yet still +possessed with his resemblance to Alfonso, his admiration was dashed with +secret horror. +</p> + +<p> +“Rise,” said he; “thy life is not my present purpose. But +tell me thy history, and how thou camest connected with this old traitor +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord,” said Jerome eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Peace! impostor!” said Manfred; “I will not have him +prompted.” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord,” said Theodore, “I want no assistance; my story is +very brief. I was carried at five years of age to Algiers with my mother, who +had been taken by corsairs from the coast of Sicily. She died of grief in less +than a twelvemonth;” the tears gushed from Jerome’s eyes, on whose +countenance a thousand anxious passions stood expressed. “Before she +died,” continued Theodore, “she bound a writing about my arm under +my garments, which told me I was the son of the Count Falconara.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is most true,” said Jerome; “I am that wretched +father.” +</p> + +<p> +“Again I enjoin thee silence,” said Manfred: “proceed.” +</p> + +<p> +“I remained in slavery,” said Theodore, “until within these +two years, when attending on my master in his cruises, I was delivered by a +Christian vessel, which overpowered the pirate; and discovering myself to the +captain, he generously put me on shore in Sicily; but alas! instead of finding +a father, I learned that his estate, which was situated on the coast, had, +during his absence, been laid waste by the Rover who had carried my mother and +me into captivity: that his castle had been burnt to the ground, and that my +father on his return had sold what remained, and was retired into religion in +the kingdom of Naples, but where no man could inform me. Destitute and +friendless, hopeless almost of attaining the transport of a parent’s +embrace, I took the first opportunity of setting sail for Naples, from whence, +within these six days, I wandered into this province, still supporting myself +by the labour of my hands; nor until yester-morn did I believe that heaven had +reserved any lot for me but peace of mind and contented poverty. This, my Lord, +is Theodore’s story. I am blessed beyond my hope in finding a father; I +am unfortunate beyond my desert in having incurred your Highness’s +displeasure.” +</p> + +<p> +He ceased. A murmur of approbation gently arose from the audience. +</p> + +<p> +“This is not all,” said Frederic; “I am bound in honour to +add what he suppresses. Though he is modest, I must be generous; he is one of +the bravest youths on Christian ground. He is warm too; and from the short +knowledge I have of him, I will pledge myself for his veracity: if what he +reports of himself were not true, he would not utter it—and for me, +youth, I honour a frankness which becomes thy birth; but now, and thou didst +offend me: yet the noble blood which flows in thy veins, may well be allowed to +boil out, when it has so recently traced itself to its source. Come, my +Lord,” (turning to Manfred), “if I can pardon him, surely you may; +it is not the youth’s fault, if you took him for a spectre.” +</p> + +<p> +This bitter taunt galled the soul of Manfred. +</p> + +<p> +“If beings from another world,” replied he haughtily, “have +power to impress my mind with awe, it is more than living man can do; nor could +a stripling’s arm.” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord,” interrupted Hippolita, “your guest has occasion +for repose: shall we not leave him to his rest?” Saying this, and taking +Manfred by the hand, she took leave of Frederic, and led the company forth. +</p> + +<p> +The Prince, not sorry to quit a conversation which recalled to mind the +discovery he had made of his most secret sensations, suffered himself to be +conducted to his own apartment, after permitting Theodore, though under +engagement to return to the castle on the morrow (a condition the young man +gladly accepted), to retire with his father to the convent. Matilda and +Isabella were too much occupied with their own reflections, and too little +content with each other, to wish for farther converse that night. They +separated each to her chamber, with more expressions of ceremony and fewer of +affection than had passed between them since their childhood. +</p> + +<p> +If they parted with small cordiality, they did but meet with greater +impatience, as soon as the sun was risen. Their minds were in a situation that +excluded sleep, and each recollected a thousand questions which she wished she +had put to the other overnight. Matilda reflected that Isabella had been twice +delivered by Theodore in very critical situations, which she could not believe +accidental. His eyes, it was true, had been fixed on her in Frederic’s +chamber; but that might have been to disguise his passion for Isabella from the +fathers of both. It were better to clear this up. She wished to know the truth, +lest she should wrong her friend by entertaining a passion for Isabella’s +lover. Thus jealousy prompted, and at the same time borrowed an excuse from +friendship to justify its curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +Isabella, not less restless, had better foundation for her suspicions. Both +Theodore’s tongue and eyes had told her his heart was engaged; it was +true—yet, perhaps, Matilda might not correspond to his passion; she had +ever appeared insensible to love: all her thoughts were set on heaven. +</p> + +<p> +“Why did I dissuade her?” said Isabella to herself; “I am +punished for my generosity; but when did they meet? where? It cannot be; I have +deceived myself; perhaps last night was the first time they ever beheld each +other; it must be some other object that has prepossessed his +affections—if it is, I am not so unhappy as I thought; if it is not my +friend Matilda—how! Can I stoop to wish for the affection of a man, who +rudely and unnecessarily acquainted me with his indifference? and that at the +very moment in which common courtesy demanded at least expressions of civility. +I will go to my dear Matilda, who will confirm me in this becoming pride. Man +is false—I will advise with her on taking the veil: she will rejoice to +find me in this disposition; and I will acquaint her that I no longer oppose +her inclination for the cloister.” +</p> + +<p> +In this frame of mind, and determined to open her heart entirely to Matilda, +she went to that Princess’s chamber, whom she found already dressed, and +leaning pensively on her arm. This attitude, so correspondent to what she felt +herself, revived Isabella’s suspicions, and destroyed the confidence she +had purposed to place in her friend. They blushed at meeting, and were too much +novices to disguise their sensations with address. After some unmeaning +questions and replies, Matilda demanded of Isabella the cause of her flight? +The latter, who had almost forgotten Manfred’s passion, so entirely was +she occupied by her own, concluding that Matilda referred to her last escape +from the convent, which had occasioned the events of the preceding evening, +replied— +</p> + +<p> +“Martelli brought word to the convent that your mother was dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said Matilda, interrupting her, “Bianca has explained +that mistake to me: on seeing me faint, she cried out, ‘The Princess is +dead!’ and Martelli, who had come for the usual dole to the +castle—” +</p> + +<p> +“And what made you faint?” said Isabella, indifferent to the rest. +Matilda blushed and stammered— +</p> + +<p> +“My father—he was sitting in judgment on a criminal—” +</p> + +<p> +“What criminal?” said Isabella eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“A young man,” said Matilda; “I believe—I think it was that young man that—” +</p> + +<p> +“What, Theodore?” said Isabella. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered she; “I never saw him before; I do not know +how he had offended my father, but as he has been of service to you, I am glad +my Lord has pardoned him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Served me!” replied Isabella; “do you term it serving me, to +wound my father, and almost occasion his death? Though it is but since +yesterday that I am blessed with knowing a parent, I hope Matilda does not +think I am such a stranger to filial tenderness as not to resent the boldness +of that audacious youth, and that it is impossible for me ever to feel any +affection for one who dared to lift his arm against the author of my being. No, +Matilda, my heart abhors him; and if you still retain the friendship for me +that you have vowed from your infancy, you will detest a man who has been on +the point of making me miserable for ever.” +</p> + +<p> +Matilda held down her head and replied: “I hope my dearest Isabella does +not doubt her Matilda’s friendship: I never beheld that youth until +yesterday; he is almost a stranger to me: but as the surgeons have pronounced +your father out of danger, you ought not to harbour uncharitable resentment +against one, who I am persuaded did not know the Marquis was related to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You plead his cause very pathetically,” said Isabella, +“considering he is so much a stranger to you! I am mistaken, or he +returns your charity.” +</p> + +<p> +“What mean you?” said Matilda. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” said Isabella, repenting that she had given Matilda a +hint of Theodore’s inclination for her. Then changing the discourse, she +asked Matilda what occasioned Manfred to take Theodore for a spectre? +</p> + +<p> +“Bless me,” said Matilda, “did not you observe his extreme +resemblance to the portrait of Alfonso in the gallery? I took notice of it to +Bianca even before I saw him in armour; but with the helmet on, he is the very +image of that picture.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not much observe pictures,” said Isabella: “much less +have I examined this young man so attentively as you seem to have done. Ah? +Matilda, your heart is in danger, but let me warn you as a friend, he has owned +to me that he is in love; it cannot be with you, for yesterday was the first +time you ever met—was it not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” replied Matilda; “but why does my dearest +Isabella conclude from anything I have said, that”—she +paused—then continuing: “he saw you first, and I am far from having +the vanity to think that my little portion of charms could engage a heart +devoted to you; may you be happy, Isabella, whatever is the fate of +Matilda!” +</p> + +<p> +“My lovely friend,” said Isabella, whose heart was too honest to +resist a kind expression, “it is you that Theodore admires; I saw it; I +am persuaded of it; nor shall a thought of my own happiness suffer me to +interfere with yours.” +</p> + +<p> +This frankness drew tears from the gentle Matilda; and jealousy that for a +moment had raised a coolness between these amiable maidens soon gave way to the +natural sincerity and candour of their souls. Each confessed to the other the +impression that Theodore had made on her; and this confidence was followed by a +struggle of generosity, each insisting on yielding her claim to her friend. At +length the dignity of Isabella’s virtue reminding her of the preference +which Theodore had almost declared for her rival, made her determine to conquer +her passion, and cede the beloved object to her friend. +</p> + +<p> +During this contest of amity, Hippolita entered her daughter’s chamber. +</p> + +<p> +“Madam,” said she to Isabella, “you have so much tenderness +for Matilda, and interest yourself so kindly in whatever affects our wretched +house, that I can have no secrets with my child which are not proper for you to +hear.” +</p> + +<p> +The princesses were all attention and anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +“Know then, Madam,” continued Hippolita, “and you my dearest +Matilda, that being convinced by all the events of these two last ominous days, +that heaven purposes the sceptre of Otranto should pass from Manfred’s +hands into those of the Marquis Frederic, I have been perhaps inspired with the +thought of averting our total destruction by the union of our rival houses. +With this view I have been proposing to Manfred, my lord, to tender this dear, +dear child to Frederic, your father.” +</p> + +<p> +“Me to Lord Frederic!” cried Matilda; “good heavens! my +gracious mother—and have you named it to my father?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have,” said Hippolita; “he listened benignly to my +proposal, and is gone to break it to the Marquis.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! wretched princess!” cried Isabella; “what hast thou +done! what ruin has thy inadvertent goodness been preparing for thyself, for +me, and for Matilda!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ruin from me to you and to my child!” said Hippolita “what +can this mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” said Isabella, “the purity of your own heart prevents +your seeing the depravity of others. Manfred, your lord, that impious +man—” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold,” said Hippolita; “you must not in my presence, young +lady, mention Manfred with disrespect: he is my lord and husband, +and—” +</p> + +<p> +“Will not long be so,” said Isabella, “if his wicked purposes +can be carried into execution.” +</p> + +<p> +“This language amazes me,” said Hippolita. “Your feeling, +Isabella, is warm; but until this hour I never knew it betray you into +intemperance. What deed of Manfred authorises you to treat him as a murderer, +an assassin?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou virtuous, and too credulous Princess!” replied Isabella; +“it is not thy life he aims at—it is to separate himself from thee! +to divorce thee! to—” +</p> + +<p> +“To divorce me!” “To divorce my mother!” cried +Hippolita and Matilda at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Isabella; “and to complete his crime, he +meditates—I cannot speak it!” +</p> + +<p> +“What can surpass what thou hast already uttered?” said Matilda. +</p> + +<p> +Hippolita was silent. Grief choked her speech; and the recollection of +Manfred’s late ambiguous discourses confirmed what she heard. +</p> + +<p> +“Excellent, dear lady! madam! mother!” cried Isabella, flinging +herself at Hippolita’s feet in a transport of passion; “trust me, +believe me, I will die a thousand deaths sooner than consent to injure you, +than yield to so odious—oh!—” +</p> + +<p> +“This is too much!” cried Hippolita: “What crimes does one +crime suggest! Rise, dear Isabella; I do not doubt your virtue. Oh! Matilda, +this stroke is too heavy for thee! weep not, my child; and not a murmur, I +charge thee. Remember, he is thy father still!” +</p> + +<p> +“But you are my mother too,” said Matilda fervently; “and you +are virtuous, you are guiltless!—Oh! must not I, must not I +complain?” +</p> + +<p> +“You must not,” said Hippolita—“come, all will yet be +well. Manfred, in the agony for the loss of thy brother, knew not what he said; +perhaps Isabella misunderstood him; his heart is good—and, my child, thou +knowest not all! There is a destiny hangs over us; the hand of Providence is +stretched out; oh! could I but save thee from the wreck! Yes,” continued +she in a firmer tone, “perhaps the sacrifice of myself may atone for all; +I will go and offer myself to this divorce—it boots not what becomes of +me. I will withdraw into the neighbouring monastery, and waste the remainder of +life in prayers and tears for my child and—the Prince!” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou art as much too good for this world,” said Isabella, +“as Manfred is execrable; but think not, lady, that thy weakness shall +determine for me. I swear, hear me all ye angels—” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop, I adjure thee,” cried Hippolita: “remember thou dost +not depend on thyself; thou hast a father.” +</p> + +<p> +“My father is too pious, too noble,” interrupted Isabella, +“to command an impious deed. But should he command it; can a father +enjoin a cursed act? I was contracted to the son, can I wed the father? No, +madam, no; force should not drag me to Manfred’s hated bed. I loathe him, +I abhor him: divine and human laws forbid—and my friend, my dearest +Matilda! would I wound her tender soul by injuring her adored mother? my own +mother—I never have known another”— +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! she is the mother of both!” cried Matilda: “can we, can +we, Isabella, adore her too much?” +</p> + +<p> +“My lovely children,” said the touched Hippolita, “your +tenderness overpowers me—but I must not give way to it. It is not ours to +make election for ourselves: heaven, our fathers, and our husbands must decide +for us. Have patience until you hear what Manfred and Frederic have determined. +If the Marquis accepts Matilda’s hand, I know she will readily obey. +Heaven may interpose and prevent the rest. What means my child?” +continued she, seeing Matilda fall at her feet with a flood of speechless +tears—“But no; answer me not, my daughter: I must not hear a word +against the pleasure of thy father.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! doubt not my obedience, my dreadful obedience to him and to +you!” said Matilda. “But can I, most respected of women, can I +experience all this tenderness, this world of goodness, and conceal a thought +from the best of mothers?” +</p> + +<p> +“What art thou going to utter?” said Isabella trembling. +“Recollect thyself, Matilda.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Isabella,” said the Princess, “I should not deserve this +incomparable parent, if the inmost recesses of my soul harboured a thought +without her permission—nay, I have offended her; I have suffered a +passion to enter my heart without her avowal—but here I disclaim it; here +I vow to heaven and her—” +</p> + +<p> +“My child! my child;” said Hippolita, “what words are these! +what new calamities has fate in store for us! Thou, a passion? Thou, in this +hour of destruction—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I see all my guilt!” said Matilda. “I abhor myself, if I +cost my mother a pang. She is the dearest thing I have on earth—Oh! I +will never, never behold him more!” +</p> + +<p> +“Isabella,” said Hippolita, “thou art conscious to this +unhappy secret, whatever it is. Speak!” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” cried Matilda, “have I so forfeited my mother’s +love, that she will not permit me even to speak my own guilt? oh! wretched, +wretched Matilda!” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou art too cruel,” said Isabella to Hippolita: “canst thou +behold this anguish of a virtuous mind, and not commiserate it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not pity my child!” said Hippolita, catching Matilda in her +arms—“Oh! I know she is good, she is all virtue, all tenderness, +and duty. I do forgive thee, my excellent, my only hope!” +</p> + +<p> +The princesses then revealed to Hippolita their mutual inclination for +Theodore, and the purpose of Isabella to resign him to Matilda. Hippolita +blamed their imprudence, and showed them the improbability that either father +would consent to bestow his heiress on so poor a man, though nobly born. Some +comfort it gave her to find their passion of so recent a date, and that +Theodore had had but little cause to suspect it in either. She strictly +enjoined them to avoid all correspondence with him. This Matilda fervently +promised: but Isabella, who flattered herself that she meant no more than to +promote his union with her friend, could not determine to avoid him; and made +no reply. +</p> + +<p> +“I will go to the convent,” said Hippolita, “and order new +masses to be said for a deliverance from these calamities.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! my mother,” said Matilda, “you mean to quit us: you mean +to take sanctuary, and to give my father an opportunity of pursuing his fatal +intention. Alas! on my knees I supplicate you to forbear; will you leave me a +prey to Frederic? I will follow you to the convent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be at peace, my child,” said Hippolita: “I will return +instantly. I will never abandon thee, until I know it is the will of heaven, +and for thy benefit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not deceive me,” said Matilda. “I will not marry Frederic +until thou commandest it. Alas! what will become of me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why that exclamation?” said Hippolita. “I have promised thee +to return—” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! my mother,” replied Matilda, “stay and save me from +myself. A frown from thee can do more than all my father’s severity. I +have given away my heart, and you alone can make me recall it.” +</p> + +<p> +“No more,” said Hippolita; “thou must not relapse, +Matilda.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can quit Theodore,” said she, “but must I wed another? let +me attend thee to the altar, and shut myself from the world for ever.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thy fate depends on thy father,” said Hippolita; “I have +ill-bestowed my tenderness, if it has taught thee to revere aught beyond him. +Adieu! my child: I go to pray for thee.” +</p> + +<p> +Hippolita’s real purpose was to demand of Jerome, whether in conscience +she might not consent to the divorce. She had oft urged Manfred to resign the +principality, which the delicacy of her conscience rendered an hourly burthen +to her. These scruples concurred to make the separation from her husband appear +less dreadful to her than it would have seemed in any other situation. +</p> + +<p> +Jerome, at quitting the castle overnight, had questioned Theodore severely why +he had accused him to Manfred of being privy to his escape. Theodore owned it +had been with design to prevent Manfred’s suspicion from alighting on +Matilda; and added, the holiness of Jerome’s life and character secured +him from the tyrant’s wrath. Jerome was heartily grieved to discover his +son’s inclination for that princess; and leaving him to his rest, +promised in the morning to acquaint him with important reasons for conquering +his passion. +</p> + +<p> +Theodore, like Isabella, was too recently acquainted with parental authority to +submit to its decisions against the impulse of his heart. He had little +curiosity to learn the Friar’s reasons, and less disposition to obey +them. The lovely Matilda had made stronger impressions on him than filial +affection. All night he pleased himself with visions of love; and it was not +till late after the morning-office, that he recollected the Friar’s +commands to attend him at Alfonso’s tomb. +</p> + +<p> +“Young man,” said Jerome, when he saw him, “this tardiness +does not please me. Have a father’s commands already so little +weight?” +</p> + +<p> +Theodore made awkward excuses, and attributed his delay to having overslept +himself. +</p> + +<p> +“And on whom were thy dreams employed?” said the Friar sternly. His +son blushed. “Come, come,” resumed the Friar, “inconsiderate +youth, this must not be; eradicate this guilty passion from thy +breast—” +</p> + +<p> +“Guilty passion!” cried Theodore: “Can guilt dwell with +innocent beauty and virtuous modesty?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is sinful,” replied the Friar, “to cherish those whom +heaven has doomed to destruction. A tyrant’s race must be swept from the +earth to the third and fourth generation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will heaven visit the innocent for the crimes of the guilty?” said +Theodore. “The fair Matilda has virtues enough—” +</p> + +<p> +“To undo thee:” interrupted Jerome. “Hast thou so soon +forgotten that twice the savage Manfred has pronounced thy sentence?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor have I forgotten, sir,” said Theodore, “that the charity +of his daughter delivered me from his power. I can forget injuries, but never +benefits.” +</p> + +<p> +“The injuries thou hast received from Manfred’s race,” said +the Friar, “are beyond what thou canst conceive. Reply not, but view this +holy image! Beneath this marble monument rest the ashes of the good Alfonso; a +prince adorned with every virtue: the father of his people! the delight of +mankind! Kneel, headstrong boy, and list, while a father unfolds a tale of +horror that will expel every sentiment from thy soul, but sensations of sacred +vengeance—Alfonso! much injured prince! let thy unsatisfied shade sit +awful on the troubled air, while these trembling lips—Ha! who comes +there?—” +</p> + +<p> +“The most wretched of women!” said Hippolita, entering the choir. +“Good Father, art thou at leisure?—but why this kneeling youth? +what means the horror imprinted on each countenance? why at this venerable +tomb—alas! hast thou seen aught?” +</p> + +<p> +“We were pouring forth our orisons to heaven,” replied the Friar, +with some confusion, “to put an end to the woes of this deplorable +province. Join with us, Lady! thy spotless soul may obtain an exemption from +the judgments which the portents of these days but too speakingly denounce +against thy house.” +</p> + +<p> +“I pray fervently to heaven to divert them,” said the pious +Princess. “Thou knowest it has been the occupation of my life to wrest a +blessing for my Lord and my harmless children.—One alas! is taken from +me! would heaven but hear me for my poor Matilda! Father! intercede for +her!” +</p> + +<p> +“Every heart will bless her,” cried Theodore with rapture. +</p> + +<p> +“Be dumb, rash youth!” said Jerome. “And thou, fond Princess, +contend not with the Powers above! the Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away: +bless His holy name, and submit to his decrees.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do most devoutly,” said Hippolita; “but will He not spare +my only comfort? must Matilda perish too?—ah! Father, I came—but +dismiss thy son. No ear but thine must hear what I have to utter.” +</p> + +<p> +“May heaven grant thy every wish, most excellent Princess!” said +Theodore retiring. Jerome frowned. +</p> + +<p> +Hippolita then acquainted the Friar with the proposal she had suggested to +Manfred, his approbation of it, and the tender of Matilda that he was gone to +make to Frederic. Jerome could not conceal his dislike of the notion, which he +covered under pretence of the improbability that Frederic, the nearest of blood +to Alfonso, and who was come to claim his succession, would yield to an +alliance with the usurper of his right. But nothing could equal the perplexity +of the Friar, when Hippolita confessed her readiness not to oppose the +separation, and demanded his opinion on the legality of her acquiescence. The +Friar caught eagerly at her request of his advice, and without explaining his +aversion to the proposed marriage of Manfred and Isabella, he painted to +Hippolita in the most alarming colours the sinfulness of her consent, denounced +judgments against her if she complied, and enjoined her in the severest terms +to treat any such proposition with every mark of indignation and refusal. +</p> + +<p> +Manfred, in the meantime, had broken his purpose to Frederic, and proposed the +double marriage. That weak Prince, who had been struck with the charms of +Matilda, listened but too eagerly to the offer. He forgot his enmity to +Manfred, whom he saw but little hope of dispossessing by force; and flattering +himself that no issue might succeed from the union of his daughter with the +tyrant, he looked upon his own succession to the principality as facilitated by +wedding Matilda. He made faint opposition to the proposal; affecting, for form +only, not to acquiesce unless Hippolita should consent to the divorce. Manfred +took that upon himself. +</p> + +<p> +Transported with his success, and impatient to see himself in a situation to +expect sons, he hastened to his wife’s apartment, determined to extort +her compliance. He learned with indignation that she was absent at the convent. +His guilt suggested to him that she had probably been informed by Isabella of +his purpose. He doubted whether her retirement to the convent did not import an +intention of remaining there, until she could raise obstacles to their divorce; +and the suspicions he had already entertained of Jerome, made him apprehend +that the Friar would not only traverse his views, but might have inspired +Hippolita with the resolution of taking sanctuary. Impatient to unravel this +clue, and to defeat its success, Manfred hastened to the convent, and arrived +there as the Friar was earnestly exhorting the Princess never to yield to the +divorce. +</p> + +<p> +“Madam,” said Manfred, “what business drew you hither? why +did you not await my return from the Marquis?” +</p> + +<p> +“I came to implore a blessing on your councils,” replied Hippolita. +</p> + +<p> +“My councils do not need a Friar’s intervention,” said +Manfred; “and of all men living is that hoary traitor the only one whom +you delight to confer with?” +</p> + +<p> +“Profane Prince!” said Jerome; “is it at the altar that thou +choosest to insult the servants of the altar?—but, Manfred, thy impious +schemes are known. Heaven and this virtuous lady know them—nay, frown +not, Prince. The Church despises thy menaces. Her thunders will be heard above +thy wrath. Dare to proceed in thy cursed purpose of a divorce, until her +sentence be known, and here I lance her anathema at thy head.” +</p> + +<p> +“Audacious rebel!” said Manfred, endeavouring to conceal the awe +with which the Friar’s words inspired him. “Dost thou presume to +threaten thy lawful Prince?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou art no lawful Prince,” said Jerome; “thou art no +Prince—go, discuss thy claim with Frederic; and when that is +done—” +</p> + +<p> +“It is done,” replied Manfred; “Frederic accepts +Matilda’s hand, and is content to waive his claim, unless I have no male +issue”—as he spoke those words three drops of blood fell from the +nose of Alfonso’s statue. Manfred turned pale, and the Princess sank on +her knees. +</p> + +<p> +“Behold!” said the Friar; “mark this miraculous indication +that the blood of Alfonso will never mix with that of Manfred!” +</p> + +<p> +“My gracious Lord,” said Hippolita, “let us submit ourselves +to heaven. Think not thy ever obedient wife rebels against thy authority. I +have no will but that of my Lord and the Church. To that revered tribunal let +us appeal. It does not depend on us to burst the bonds that unite us. If the +Church shall approve the dissolution of our marriage, be it so—I have but +few years, and those of sorrow, to pass. Where can they be worn away so well as +at the foot of this altar, in prayers for thine and Matilda’s +safety?” +</p> + +<p> +“But thou shalt not remain here until then,” said Manfred. +“Repair with me to the castle, and there I will advise on the proper +measures for a divorce;—but this meddling Friar comes not thither; my +hospitable roof shall never more harbour a traitor—and for thy +Reverence’s offspring,” continued he, “I banish him from my +dominions. He, I ween, is no sacred personage, nor under the protection of the +Church. Whoever weds Isabella, it shall not be Father Falconara’s +started-up son.” +</p> + +<p> +“They start up,” said the Friar, “who are suddenly beheld in +the seat of lawful Princes; but they wither away like the grass, and their +place knows them no more.” +</p> + +<p> +Manfred, casting a look of scorn at the Friar, led Hippolita forth; but at the +door of the church whispered one of his attendants to remain concealed about +the convent, and bring him instant notice, if any one from the castle should +repair thither. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<p> +Every reflection which Manfred made on the Friar’s behaviour, conspired +to persuade him that Jerome was privy to an amour between Isabella and +Theodore. But Jerome’s new presumption, so dissonant from his former +meekness, suggested still deeper apprehensions. The Prince even suspected that +the Friar depended on some secret support from Frederic, whose arrival, +coinciding with the novel appearance of Theodore, seemed to bespeak a +correspondence. Still more was he troubled with the resemblance of Theodore to +Alfonso’s portrait. The latter he knew had unquestionably died without +issue. Frederic had consented to bestow Isabella on him. These contradictions +agitated his mind with numberless pangs. +</p> + +<p> +He saw but two methods of extricating himself from his difficulties. The one +was to resign his dominions to the Marquis—pride, ambition, and his +reliance on ancient prophecies, which had pointed out a possibility of his +preserving them to his posterity, combated that thought. The other was to press +his marriage with Isabella. After long ruminating on these anxious thoughts, as +he marched silently with Hippolita to the castle, he at last discoursed with +that Princess on the subject of his disquiet, and used every insinuating and +plausible argument to extract her consent to, even her promise of promoting the +divorce. Hippolita needed little persuasions to bend her to his pleasure. She +endeavoured to win him over to the measure of resigning his dominions; but +finding her exhortations fruitless, she assured him, that as far as her +conscience would allow, she would raise no opposition to a separation, though +without better founded scruples than what he yet alleged, she would not engage +to be active in demanding it. +</p> + +<p> +This compliance, though inadequate, was sufficient to raise Manfred’s +hopes. He trusted that his power and wealth would easily advance his suit at +the court of Rome, whither he resolved to engage Frederic to take a journey on +purpose. That Prince had discovered so much passion for Matilda, that Manfred +hoped to obtain all he wished by holding out or withdrawing his +daughter’s charms, according as the Marquis should appear more or less +disposed to co-operate in his views. Even the absence of Frederic would be a +material point gained, until he could take further measures for his security. +</p> + +<p> +Dismissing Hippolita to her apartment, he repaired to that of the Marquis; but +crossing the great hall through which he was to pass he met Bianca. The damsel +he knew was in the confidence of both the young ladies. It immediately occurred +to him to sift her on the subject of Isabella and Theodore. Calling her aside +into the recess of the oriel window of the hall, and soothing her with many +fair words and promises, he demanded of her whether she knew aught of the state +of Isabella’s affections. +</p> + +<p> +“I! my Lord! no my Lord—yes my Lord—poor Lady! she is +wonderfully alarmed about her father’s wounds; but I tell her he will do +well; don’t your Highness think so?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not ask you,” replied Manfred, “what she thinks about +her father; but you are in her secrets. Come, be a good girl and tell me; is +there any young man—ha!—you understand me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord bless me! understand your Highness? no, not I. I told her a few +vulnerary herbs and repose—” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not talking,” replied the Prince, impatiently, “about +her father; I know he will do well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bless me, I rejoice to hear your Highness say so; for though I thought +it not right to let my young Lady despond, methought his greatness had a wan +look, and a something—I remember when young Ferdinand was wounded by the +Venetian—” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou answerest from the point,” interrupted Manfred; “but +here, take this jewel, perhaps that may fix thy attention—nay, no +reverences; my favour shall not stop here—come, tell me truly; how stands +Isabella’s heart?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well! your Highness has such a way!” said Bianca, “to be +sure—but can your Highness keep a secret? if it should ever come out of +your lips—” +</p> + +<p> +“It shall not, it shall not,” cried Manfred. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, but swear, your Highness.” +</p> + +<p> +“By my halidame, if it should ever be known that I said it—” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, truth is truth, I do not think my Lady Isabella ever much +affectioned my young Lord your son; yet he was a sweet youth as one should see; +I am sure, if I had been a Princess—but bless me! I must attend my Lady +Matilda; she will marvel what is become of me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stay,” cried Manfred; “thou hast not satisfied my question. +Hast thou ever carried any message, any letter?” +</p> + +<p> +“I! good gracious!” cried Bianca; “I carry a letter? I would +not to be a Queen. I hope your Highness thinks, though I am poor, I am honest. +Did your Highness never hear what Count Marsigli offered me, when he came a +wooing to my Lady Matilda?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have not leisure,” said Manfred, “to listen to thy tale. I +do not question thy honesty. But it is thy duty to conceal nothing from me. How +long has Isabella been acquainted with Theodore?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, there is nothing can escape your Highness!” said Bianca; +“not that I know any thing of the matter. Theodore, to be sure, is a +proper young man, and, as my Lady Matilda says, the very image of good Alfonso. +Has not your Highness remarked it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,—No—thou torturest me,” said Manfred. +“Where did they meet? when?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who! my Lady Matilda?” said Bianca. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, not Matilda: Isabella; when did Isabella first become acquainted +with this Theodore!” +</p> + +<p> +“Virgin Mary!” said Bianca, “how should I know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou dost know,” said Manfred; “and I must know; I +will—” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord! your Highness is not jealous of young Theodore!” said +Bianca. +</p> + +<p> +“Jealous! no, no. Why should I be jealous? perhaps I mean to unite +them—If I were sure Isabella would have no repugnance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Repugnance! no, I’ll warrant her,” said Bianca; “he is +as comely a youth as ever trod on Christian ground. We are all in love with +him; there is not a soul in the castle but would be rejoiced to have him for +our Prince—I mean, when it shall please heaven to call your Highness to +itself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” said Manfred, “has it gone so far! oh! this cursed +Friar!—but I must not lose time—go, Bianca, attend Isabella; but I +charge thee, not a word of what has passed. Find out how she is affected +towards Theodore; bring me good news, and that ring has a companion. Wait at +the foot of the winding staircase: I am going to visit the Marquis, and will +talk further with thee at my return.” +</p> + +<p> +Manfred, after some general conversation, desired Frederic to dismiss the two +Knights, his companions, having to talk with him on urgent affairs. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as they were alone, he began in artful guise to sound the Marquis on +the subject of Matilda; and finding him disposed to his wish, he let drop hints +on the difficulties that would attend the celebration of their marriage, +unless—At that instant Bianca burst into the room with a wildness in her +look and gestures that spoke the utmost terror. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! my Lord, my Lord!” cried she; “we are all undone! it is +come again! it is come again!” +</p> + +<p> +“What is come again?” cried Manfred amazed. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! the hand! the Giant! the hand!—support me! I am terrified out +of my senses,” cried Bianca. “I will not sleep in the castle +to-night. Where shall I go? my things may come after me to-morrow—would I +had been content to wed Francesco! this comes of ambition!” +</p> + +<p> +“What has terrified thee thus, young woman?” said the Marquis. +“Thou art safe here; be not alarmed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! your Greatness is wonderfully good,” said Bianca, “but I +dare not—no, pray let me go—I had rather leave everything behind +me, than stay another hour under this roof.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go to, thou hast lost thy senses,” said Manfred. “Interrupt +us not; we were communing on important matters—My Lord, this wench is +subject to fits—Come with me, Bianca.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! the Saints! No,” said Bianca, “for certain it comes to +warn your Highness; why should it appear to me else? I say my prayers morning +and evening—oh! if your Highness had believed Diego! ’Tis the same +hand that he saw the foot to in the gallery-chamber—Father Jerome has +often told us the prophecy would be out one of these +days—‘Bianca,’ said he, ‘mark my +words—’” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou ravest,” said Manfred, in a rage; “be gone, and keep +these fooleries to frighten thy companions.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! my Lord,” cried Bianca, “do you think I have seen +nothing? go to the foot of the great stairs yourself—as I live I saw +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Saw what? tell us, fair maid, what thou hast seen,” said Frederic. +</p> + +<p> +“Can your Highness listen,” said Manfred, “to the delirium of +a silly wench, who has heard stories of apparitions until she believes +them?” +</p> + +<p> +“This is more than fancy,” said the Marquis; “her terror is +too natural and too strongly impressed to be the work of imagination. Tell us, +fair maiden, what it is has moved thee thus?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my Lord, thank your Greatness,” said Bianca; “I believe +I look very pale; I shall be better when I have recovered myself—I was +going to my Lady Isabella’s chamber, by his Highness’s +order—” +</p> + +<p> +“We do not want the circumstances,” interrupted Manfred. +“Since his Highness will have it so, proceed; but be brief.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord! your Highness thwarts one so!” replied Bianca; “I fear +my hair—I am sure I never in my life—well! as I was telling your +Greatness, I was going by his Highness’s order to my Lady +Isabella’s chamber; she lies in the watchet-coloured chamber, on the +right hand, one pair of stairs: so when I came to the great stairs—I was +looking on his Highness’s present here—” +</p> + +<p> +“Grant me patience!” said Manfred, “will this wench never +come to the point? what imports it to the Marquis, that I gave thee a bauble +for thy faithful attendance on my daughter? we want to know what thou +sawest.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was going to tell your Highness,” said Bianca, “if you +would permit me. So as I was rubbing the ring—I am sure I had not gone up +three steps, but I heard the rattling of armour; for all the world such a +clatter as Diego says he heard when the Giant turned him about in the +gallery-chamber.” +</p> + +<p> +“What Giant is this, my Lord?” said the Marquis; “is your +castle haunted by giants and goblins?” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord! what, has not your Greatness heard the story of the Giant in the +gallery-chamber?” cried Bianca. “I marvel his Highness has not told +you; mayhap you do not know there is a prophecy—” +</p> + +<p> +“This trifling is intolerable,” interrupted Manfred. “Let us +dismiss this silly wench, my Lord! we have more important affairs to +discuss.” +</p> + +<p> +“By your favour,” said Frederic, “these are no trifles. The +enormous sabre I was directed to in the wood, yon casque, its fellow—are +these visions of this poor maiden’s brain?” +</p> + +<p> +“So Jaquez thinks, may it please your Greatness,” said Bianca. +“He says this moon will not be out without our seeing some strange +revolution. For my part, I should not be surprised if it was to happen +to-morrow; for, as I was saying, when I heard the clattering of armour, I was +all in a cold sweat. I looked up, and, if your Greatness will believe me, I saw +upon the uppermost banister of the great stairs a hand in armour as big as big. +I thought I should have swooned. I never stopped until I came +hither—would I were well out of this castle. My Lady Matilda told me but +yester-morning that her Highness Hippolita knows something.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou art an insolent!” cried Manfred. “Lord Marquis, it much +misgives me that this scene is concerted to affront me. Are my own domestics +suborned to spread tales injurious to my honour? Pursue your claim by manly +daring; or let us bury our feuds, as was proposed, by the intermarriage of our +children. But trust me, it ill becomes a Prince of your bearing to practise on +mercenary wenches.” +</p> + +<p> +“I scorn your imputation,” said Frederic. “Until this hour I +never set eyes on this damsel: I have given her no jewel. My Lord, my Lord, +your conscience, your guilt accuses you, and would throw the suspicion on me; +but keep your daughter, and think no more of Isabella. The judgments already +fallen on your house forbid me matching into it.” +</p> + +<p> +Manfred, alarmed at the resolute tone in which Frederic delivered these words, +endeavoured to pacify him. Dismissing Bianca, he made such submissions to the +Marquis, and threw in such artful encomiums on Matilda, that Frederic was once +more staggered. However, as his passion was of so recent a date, it could not +at once surmount the scruples he had conceived. He had gathered enough from +Bianca’s discourse to persuade him that heaven declared itself against +Manfred. The proposed marriages too removed his claim to a distance; and the +principality of Otranto was a stronger temptation than the contingent reversion +of it with Matilda. Still he would not absolutely recede from his engagements; +but purposing to gain time, he demanded of Manfred if it was true in fact that +Hippolita consented to the divorce. The Prince, transported to find no other +obstacle, and depending on his influence over his wife, assured the Marquis it +was so, and that he might satisfy himself of the truth from her own mouth. +</p> + +<p> +As they were thus discoursing, word was brought that the banquet was prepared. +Manfred conducted Frederic to the great hall, where they were received by +Hippolita and the young Princesses. Manfred placed the Marquis next to Matilda, +and seated himself between his wife and Isabella. Hippolita comported herself +with an easy gravity; but the young ladies were silent and melancholy. Manfred, +who was determined to pursue his point with the Marquis in the remainder of the +evening, pushed on the feast until it waxed late; affecting unrestrained +gaiety, and plying Frederic with repeated goblets of wine. The latter, more +upon his guard than Manfred wished, declined his frequent challenges, on +pretence of his late loss of blood; while the Prince, to raise his own +disordered spirits, and to counterfeit unconcern, indulged himself in plentiful +draughts, though not to the intoxication of his senses. +</p> + +<p> +The evening being far advanced, the banquet concluded. Manfred would have +withdrawn with Frederic; but the latter pleading weakness and want of repose, +retired to his chamber, gallantly telling the Prince that his daughter should +amuse his Highness until himself could attend him. Manfred accepted the party, +and to the no small grief of Isabella, accompanied her to her apartment. +Matilda waited on her mother to enjoy the freshness of the evening on the +ramparts of the castle. +</p> + +<p> +Soon as the company were dispersed their several ways, Frederic, quitting his +chamber, inquired if Hippolita was alone, and was told by one of her +attendants, who had not noticed her going forth, that at that hour she +generally withdrew to her oratory, where he probably would find her. The +Marquis, during the repast, had beheld Matilda with increase of passion. He now +wished to find Hippolita in the disposition her Lord had promised. The portents +that had alarmed him were forgotten in his desires. Stealing softly and +unobserved to the apartment of Hippolita, he entered it with a resolution to +encourage her acquiescence to the divorce, having perceived that Manfred was +resolved to make the possession of Isabella an unalterable condition, before he +would grant Matilda to his wishes. +</p> + +<p> +The Marquis was not surprised at the silence that reigned in the +Princess’s apartment. Concluding her, as he had been advertised, in her +oratory, he passed on. The door was ajar; the evening gloomy and overcast. +Pushing open the door gently, he saw a person kneeling before the altar. As he +approached nearer, it seemed not a woman, but one in a long woollen weed, whose +back was towards him. The person seemed absorbed in prayer. The Marquis was +about to return, when the figure, rising, stood some moments fixed in +meditation, without regarding him. The Marquis, expecting the holy person to +come forth, and meaning to excuse his uncivil interruption, said, +</p> + +<p> +“Reverend Father, I sought the Lady Hippolita.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hippolita!” replied a hollow voice; “camest thou to this +castle to seek Hippolita?” and then the figure, turning slowly round, +discovered to Frederic the fleshless jaws and empty sockets of a skeleton, +wrapt in a hermit’s cowl. +</p> + +<p> +“Angels of grace protect me!” cried Frederic, recoiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Deserve their protection!” said the Spectre. Frederic, falling on +his knees, adjured the phantom to take pity on him. +</p> + +<p> +“Dost thou not remember me?” said the apparition. “Remember +the wood of Joppa!” +</p> + +<p> +“Art thou that holy hermit?” cried Frederic, trembling. “Can +I do aught for thy eternal peace?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wast thou delivered from bondage,” said the spectre, “to +pursue carnal delights? Hast thou forgotten the buried sabre, and the behest of +Heaven engraven on it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have not, I have not,” said Frederic; “but say, blest +spirit, what is thy errand to me? What remains to be done?” +</p> + +<p> +“To forget Matilda!” said the apparition; and vanished. +</p> + +<p> +Frederic’s blood froze in his veins. For some minutes he remained +motionless. Then falling prostrate on his face before the altar, he besought +the intercession of every saint for pardon. A flood of tears succeeded to this +transport; and the image of the beauteous Matilda rushing in spite of him on +his thoughts, he lay on the ground in a conflict of penitence and passion. Ere +he could recover from this agony of his spirits, the Princess Hippolita with a +taper in her hand entered the oratory alone. Seeing a man without motion on the +floor, she gave a shriek, concluding him dead. Her fright brought Frederic to +himself. Rising suddenly, his face bedewed with tears, he would have rushed +from her presence; but Hippolita stopping him, conjured him in the most +plaintive accents to explain the cause of his disorder, and by what strange +chance she had found him there in that posture. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, virtuous Princess!” said the Marquis, penetrated with grief, +and stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“For the love of Heaven, my Lord,” said Hippolita, “disclose +the cause of this transport! What mean these doleful sounds, this alarming +exclamation on my name? What woes has heaven still in store for the wretched +Hippolita? Yet silent! By every pitying angel, I adjure thee, noble +Prince,” continued she, falling at his feet, “to disclose the +purport of what lies at thy heart. I see thou feelest for me; thou feelest the +sharp pangs that thou inflictest—speak, for pity! Does aught thou knowest +concern my child?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot speak,” cried Frederic, bursting from her. “Oh, +Matilda!” +</p> + +<p> +Quitting the Princess thus abruptly, he hastened to his own apartment. At the +door of it he was accosted by Manfred, who flushed by wine and love had come to +seek him, and to propose to waste some hours of the night in music and +revelling. Frederic, offended at an invitation so dissonant from the mood of +his soul, pushed him rudely aside, and entering his chamber, flung the door +intemperately against Manfred, and bolted it inwards. The haughty Prince, +enraged at this unaccountable behaviour, withdrew in a frame of mind capable of +the most fatal excesses. As he crossed the court, he was met by the domestic +whom he had planted at the convent as a spy on Jerome and Theodore. This man, +almost breathless with the haste he had made, informed his Lord that Theodore, +and some lady from the castle were, at that instant, in private conference at +the tomb of Alfonso in St. Nicholas’s church. He had dogged Theodore +thither, but the gloominess of the night had prevented his discovering who the +woman was. +</p> + +<p> +Manfred, whose spirits were inflamed, and whom Isabella had driven from her on +his urging his passion with too little reserve, did not doubt but the +inquietude she had expressed had been occasioned by her impatience to meet +Theodore. Provoked by this conjecture, and enraged at her father, he hastened +secretly to the great church. Gliding softly between the aisles, and guided by +an imperfect gleam of moonshine that shone faintly through the illuminated +windows, he stole towards the tomb of Alfonso, to which he was directed by +indistinct whispers of the persons he sought. The first sounds he could +distinguish were— +</p> + +<p> +“Does it, alas! depend on me? Manfred will never permit our union.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, this shall prevent it!” cried the tyrant, drawing his dagger, +and plunging it over her shoulder into the bosom of the person that spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, me, I am slain!” cried Matilda, sinking. “Good heaven, +receive my soul!” +</p> + +<p> +“Savage, inhuman monster, what hast thou done!” cried Theodore, +rushing on him, and wrenching his dagger from him. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop, stop thy impious hand!” cried Matilda; “it is my +father!” +</p> + +<p> +Manfred, waking as from a trance, beat his breast, twisted his hands in his +locks, and endeavoured to recover his dagger from Theodore to despatch himself. +Theodore, scarce less distracted, and only mastering the transports of his +grief to assist Matilda, had now by his cries drawn some of the monks to his +aid. While part of them endeavoured, in concert with the afflicted Theodore, to +stop the blood of the dying Princess, the rest prevented Manfred from laying +violent hands on himself. +</p> + +<p> +Matilda, resigning herself patiently to her fate, acknowledged with looks of +grateful love the zeal of Theodore. Yet oft as her faintness would permit her +speech its way, she begged the assistants to comfort her father. Jerome, by +this time, had learnt the fatal news, and reached the church. His looks seemed +to reproach Theodore, but turning to Manfred, he said, +</p> + +<p> +“Now, tyrant! behold the completion of woe fulfilled on thy impious and +devoted head! The blood of Alfonso cried to heaven for vengeance; and heaven +has permitted its altar to be polluted by assassination, that thou mightest +shed thy own blood at the foot of that Prince’s sepulchre!” +</p> + +<p> +“Cruel man!” cried Matilda, “to aggravate the woes of a +parent; may heaven bless my father, and forgive him as I do! My Lord, my +gracious Sire, dost thou forgive thy child? Indeed, I came not hither to meet +Theodore. I found him praying at this tomb, whither my mother sent me to +intercede for thee, for her—dearest father, bless your child, and say you +forgive her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Forgive thee! Murderous monster!” cried Manfred, “can +assassins forgive? I took thee for Isabella; but heaven directed my bloody hand +to the heart of my child. Oh, Matilda!—I cannot utter it—canst thou +forgive the blindness of my rage?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can, I do; and may heaven confirm it!” said Matilda; “but +while I have life to ask it—oh! my mother! what will she feel? Will you +comfort her, my Lord? Will you not put her away? Indeed she loves you! Oh, I am +faint! bear me to the castle. Can I live to have her close my eyes?” +</p> + +<p> +Theodore and the monks besought her earnestly to suffer herself to be borne +into the convent; but her instances were so pressing to be carried to the +castle, that placing her on a litter, they conveyed her thither as she +requested. Theodore, supporting her head with his arm, and hanging over her in +an agony of despairing love, still endeavoured to inspire her with hopes of +life. Jerome, on the other side, comforted her with discourses of heaven, and +holding a crucifix before her, which she bathed with innocent tears, prepared +her for her passage to immortality. Manfred, plunged in the deepest affliction, +followed the litter in despair. +</p> + +<p> +Ere they reached the castle, Hippolita, informed of the dreadful catastrophe, +had flown to meet her murdered child; but when she saw the afflicted +procession, the mightiness of her grief deprived her of her senses, and she +fell lifeless to the earth in a swoon. Isabella and Frederic, who attended her, +were overwhelmed in almost equal sorrow. Matilda alone seemed insensible to her +own situation: every thought was lost in tenderness for her mother. +</p> + +<p> +Ordering the litter to stop, as soon as Hippolita was brought to herself, she +asked for her father. He approached, unable to speak. Matilda, seizing his hand +and her mother’s, locked them in her own, and then clasped them to her +heart. Manfred could not support this act of pathetic piety. He dashed himself +on the ground, and cursed the day he was born. Isabella, apprehensive that +these struggles of passion were more than Matilda could support, took upon +herself to order Manfred to be borne to his apartment, while she caused Matilda +to be conveyed to the nearest chamber. Hippolita, scarce more alive than her +daughter, was regardless of everything but her; but when the tender +Isabella’s care would have likewise removed her, while the surgeons +examined Matilda’s wound, she cried, +</p> + +<p> +“Remove me! never, never! I lived but in her, and will expire with +her.” +</p> + +<p> +Matilda raised her eyes at her mother’s voice, but closed them again +without speaking. Her sinking pulse and the damp coldness of her hand soon +dispelled all hopes of recovery. Theodore followed the surgeons into the outer +chamber, and heard them pronounce the fatal sentence with a transport equal to +frenzy. +</p> + +<p> +“Since she cannot live mine,” cried he, “at least she shall +be mine in death! Father! Jerome! will you not join our hands?” cried he +to the Friar, who, with the Marquis, had accompanied the surgeons. +</p> + +<p> +“What means thy distracted rashness?” said Jerome. “Is this +an hour for marriage?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is, it is,” cried Theodore. “Alas! there is no +other!” +</p> + +<p> +“Young man, thou art too unadvised,” said Frederic. “Dost +thou think we are to listen to thy fond transports in this hour of fate? What +pretensions hast thou to the Princess?” +</p> + +<p> +“Those of a Prince,” said Theodore; “of the sovereign of +Otranto. This reverend man, my father, has informed me who I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou ravest,” said the Marquis. “There is no Prince of +Otranto but myself, now Manfred, by murder, by sacrilegious murder, has +forfeited all pretensions.” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord,” said Jerome, assuming an air of command, “he tells +you true. It was not my purpose the secret should have been divulged so soon, +but fate presses onward to its work. What his hot-headed passion has revealed, +my tongue confirms. Know, Prince, that when Alfonso set sail for the Holy +Land—” +</p> + +<p> +“Is this a season for explanations?” cried Theodore. “Father, +come and unite me to the Princess; she shall be mine! In every other thing I +will dutifully obey you. My life! my adored Matilda!” continued Theodore, +rushing back into the inner chamber, “will you not be mine? Will you not +bless your—” +</p> + +<p> +Isabella made signs to him to be silent, apprehending the Princess was near her +end. +</p> + +<p> +“What, is she dead?” cried Theodore; “is it possible!” +</p> + +<p> +The violence of his exclamations brought Matilda to herself. Lifting up her +eyes, she looked round for her mother. +</p> + +<p> +“Life of my soul, I am here!” cried Hippolita; “think not I +will quit thee!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! you are too good,” said Matilda. “But weep not for me, +my mother! I am going where sorrow never dwells—Isabella, thou hast loved +me; wouldst thou not supply my fondness to this dear, dear woman? Indeed I am +faint!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! my child! my child!” said Hippolita in a flood of tears, +“can I not withhold thee a moment?” +</p> + +<p> +“It will not be,” said Matilda; “commend me to +heaven—Where is my father? forgive him, dearest mother—forgive him +my death; it was an error. Oh! I had forgotten—dearest mother, I vowed +never to see Theodore more—perhaps that has drawn down this +calamity—but it was not intentional—can you pardon me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! wound not my agonising soul!” said Hippolita; “thou +never couldst offend me—Alas! she faints! help! help!” +</p> + +<p> +“I would say something more,” said Matilda, struggling, “but +it cannot be—Isabella—Theodore—for my +sake—Oh!—” she expired. +</p> + +<p> +Isabella and her women tore Hippolita from the corse; but Theodore threatened +destruction to all who attempted to remove him from it. He printed a thousand +kisses on her clay-cold hands, and uttered every expression that despairing +love could dictate. +</p> + +<p> +Isabella, in the meantime, was accompanying the afflicted Hippolita to her +apartment; but, in the middle of the court, they were met by Manfred, who, +distracted with his own thoughts, and anxious once more to behold his daughter, +was advancing to the chamber where she lay. As the moon was now at its height, +he read in the countenances of this unhappy company the event he dreaded. +</p> + +<p> +“What! is she dead?” cried he in wild confusion. A clap of thunder +at that instant shook the castle to its foundations; the earth rocked, and the +clank of more than mortal armour was heard behind. Frederic and Jerome thought +the last day was at hand. The latter, forcing Theodore along with them, rushed +into the court. The moment Theodore appeared, the walls of the castle behind +Manfred were thrown down with a mighty force, and the form of Alfonso, dilated +to an immense magnitude, appeared in the centre of the ruins. +</p> + +<p> +“Behold in Theodore the true heir of Alfonso!” said the vision: And +having pronounced those words, accompanied by a clap of thunder, it ascended +solemnly towards heaven, where the clouds parting asunder, the form of St. +Nicholas was seen, and receiving Alfonso’s shade, they were soon wrapt +from mortal eyes in a blaze of glory. +</p> + +<p> +The beholders fell prostrate on their faces, acknowledging the divine will. The +first that broke silence was Hippolita. +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord,” said she to the desponding Manfred, “behold the +vanity of human greatness! Conrad is gone! Matilda is no more! In Theodore we +view the true Prince of Otranto. By what miracle he is so I know +not—suffice it to us, our doom is pronounced! shall we not, can we but +dedicate the few deplorable hours we have to live, in deprecating the further +wrath of heaven? heaven ejects us—whither can we fly, but to yon holy +cells that yet offer us a retreat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou guiltless but unhappy woman! unhappy by my crimes!” replied +Manfred, “my heart at last is open to thy devout admonitions. Oh! +could—but it cannot be—ye are lost in wonder—let me at last +do justice on myself! To heap shame on my own head is all the satisfaction I +have left to offer to offended heaven. My story has drawn down these judgments: +Let my confession atone—but, ah! what can atone for usurpation and a +murdered child? a child murdered in a consecrated place? List, sirs, and may +this bloody record be a warning to future tyrants!” +</p> + +<p> +“Alfonso, ye all know, died in the Holy Land—ye would interrupt me; +ye would say he came not fairly to his end—it is most true—why else +this bitter cup which Manfred must drink to the dregs. Ricardo, my grandfather, +was his chamberlain—I would draw a veil over my ancestor’s +crimes—but it is in vain! Alfonso died by poison. A fictitious will +declared Ricardo his heir. His crimes pursued him—yet he lost no Conrad, +no Matilda! I pay the price of usurpation for all! A storm overtook him. +Haunted by his guilt he vowed to St. Nicholas to found a church and two +convents, if he lived to reach Otranto. The sacrifice was accepted: the saint +appeared to him in a dream, and promised that Ricardo’s posterity should +reign in Otranto until the rightful owner should be grown too large to inhabit +the castle, and as long as issue male from Ricardo’s loins should remain +to enjoy it—alas! alas! nor male nor female, except myself, remains of +all his wretched race! I have done—the woes of these three days speak the +rest. How this young man can be Alfonso’s heir I know not—yet I do +not doubt it. His are these dominions; I resign them—yet I knew not +Alfonso had an heir—I question not the will of heaven—poverty and +prayer must fill up the woeful space, until Manfred shall be summoned to +Ricardo.” +</p> + +<p> +“What remains is my part to declare,” said Jerome. “When +Alfonso set sail for the Holy Land he was driven by a storm to the coast of +Sicily. The other vessel, which bore Ricardo and his train, as your Lordship +must have heard, was separated from him.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is most true,” said Manfred; “and the title you give me +is more than an outcast can claim—well! be it so—proceed.” +</p> + +<p> +Jerome blushed, and continued. “For three months Lord Alfonso was +wind-bound in Sicily. There he became enamoured of a fair virgin named +Victoria. He was too pious to tempt her to forbidden pleasures. They were +married. Yet deeming this amour incongruous with the holy vow of arms by which +he was bound, he determined to conceal their nuptials until his return from the +Crusade, when he purposed to seek and acknowledge her for his lawful wife. He +left her pregnant. During his absence she was delivered of a daughter. But +scarce had she felt a mother’s pangs ere she heard the fatal rumour of +her Lord’s death, and the succession of Ricardo. What could a friendless, +helpless woman do? Would her testimony avail?—yet, my lord, I have an +authentic writing—” +</p> + +<p> +“It needs not,” said Manfred; “the horrors of these days, the +vision we have but now seen, all corroborate thy evidence beyond a thousand +parchments. Matilda’s death and my expulsion—” +</p> + +<p> +“Be composed, my Lord,” said Hippolita; “this holy man did +not mean to recall your griefs.” Jerome proceeded. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall not dwell on what is needless. The daughter of which Victoria +was delivered, was at her maturity bestowed in marriage on me. Victoria died; +and the secret remained locked in my breast. Theodore’s narrative has +told the rest.” +</p> + +<p> +The Friar ceased. The disconsolate company retired to the remaining part of the +castle. In the morning Manfred signed his abdication of the principality, with +the approbation of Hippolita, and each took on them the habit of religion in +the neighbouring convents. Frederic offered his daughter to the new Prince, +which Hippolita’s tenderness for Isabella concurred to promote. But +Theodore’s grief was too fresh to admit the thought of another love; and +it was not until after frequent discourses with Isabella of his dear Matilda, +that he was persuaded he could know no happiness but in the society of one with +whom he could for ever indulge the melancholy that had taken possession of his +soul. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CASTLE OF OTRANTO ***</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 696-h.htm or 696-h.zip</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/6/9/696/</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Castle of Otranto + +Author: Horace Walpole + +Release Date: October, 1996 [EBook #696] +[This file was first posted on October 22, 1996] +[Most recently updated: September 8, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE CASTLE OF OTRANTO *** + + + + +Credit + + + +Transcribed from the 1901 Cassell and Company edition by David +Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + +THE CASTLE OF OTRANTO + + + + +PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. + + + +The following work was found in the library of an ancient Catholic +family in the north of England. It was printed at Naples, in the +black letter, in the year 1529. How much sooner it was written +does not appear. The principal incidents are such as were believed +in the darkest ages of Christianity; but the language and conduct +have nothing that savours of barbarism. The style is the purest +Italian. + +If the story was written near the time when it is supposed to have +happened, it must have been between 1095, the era of the first +Crusade, and 1243, the date of the last, or not long afterwards. +There is no other circumstance in the work that can lead us to +guess at the period in which the scene is laid: the names of the +actors are evidently fictitious, and probably disguised on purpose: +yet the Spanish names of the domestics seem to indicate that this +work was not composed until the establishment of the Arragonian +Kings in Naples had made Spanish appellations familiar in that +country. The beauty of the diction, and the zeal of the author +(moderated, however, by singular judgment) concur to make me think +that the date of the composition was little antecedent to that of +the impression. Letters were then in their most flourishing state +in Italy, and contributed to dispel the empire of superstition, at +that time so forcibly attacked by the reformers. It is not +unlikely that an artful priest might endeavour to turn their own +arms on the innovators, and might avail himself of his abilities as +an author to confirm the populace in their ancient errors and +superstitions. If this was his view, he has certainly acted with +signal address. Such a work as the following would enslave a +hundred vulgar minds beyond half the books of controversy that have +been written from the days of Luther to the present hour. + +This solution of the author's motives is, however, offered as a +mere conjecture. Whatever his views were, or whatever effects the +execution of them might have, his work can only be laid before the +public at present as a matter of entertainment. Even as such, some +apology for it is necessary. Miracles, visions, necromancy, +dreams, and other preternatural events, are exploded now even from +romances. That was not the case when our author wrote; much less +when the story itself is supposed to have happened. Belief in +every kind of prodigy was so established in those dark ages, that +an author would not be faithful to the manners of the times, who +should omit all mention of them. He is not bound to believe them +himself, but he must represent his actors as believing them. + +If this air of the miraculous is excused, the reader will find +nothing else unworthy of his perusal. Allow the possibility of the +facts, and all the actors comport themselves as persons would do in +their situation. There is no bombast, no similes, flowers, +digressions, or unnecessary descriptions. Everything tends +directly to the catastrophe. Never is the reader's attention +relaxed. The rules of the drama are almost observed throughout the +conduct of the piece. The characters are well drawn, and still +better maintained. Terror, the author's principal engine, prevents +the story from ever languishing; and it is so often contrasted by +pity, that the mind is kept up in a constant vicissitude of +interesting passions. + +Some persons may perhaps think the characters of the domestics too +little serious for the general cast of the story; but besides their +opposition to the principal personages, the art of the author is +very observable in his conduct of the subalterns. They discover +many passages essential to the story, which could not be well +brought to light but by their naivete and simplicity. In +particular, the womanish terror and foibles of Bianca, in the last +chapter, conduce essentially towards advancing the catastrophe. + +It is natural for a translator to be prejudiced in favour of his +adopted work. More impartial readers may not be so much struck +with the beauties of this piece as I was. Yet I am not blind to my +author's defects. I could wish he had grounded his plan on a more +useful moral than this: that "the sins of fathers are visited on +their children to the third and fourth generation." I doubt +whether, in his time, any more than at present, ambition curbed its +appetite of dominion from the dread of so remote a punishment. And +yet this moral is weakened by that less direct insinuation, that +even such anathema may be diverted by devotion to St. Nicholas. +Here the interest of the Monk plainly gets the better of the +judgment of the author. However, with all its faults, I have no +doubt but the English reader will be pleased with a sight of this +performance. The piety that reigns throughout, the lessons of +virtue that are inculcated, and the rigid purity of the sentiments, +exempt this work from the censure to which romances are but too +liable. Should it meet with the success I hope for, I may be +encouraged to reprint the original Italian, though it will tend to +depreciate my own labour. Our language falls far short of the +charms of the Italian, both for variety and harmony. The latter is +peculiarly excellent for simple narrative. It is difficult in +English to relate without falling too low or rising too high; a +fault obviously occasioned by the little care taken to speak pure +language in common conversation. Every Italian or Frenchman of any +rank piques himself on speaking his own tongue correctly and with +choice. I cannot flatter myself with having done justice to my +author in this respect: his style is as elegant as his conduct of +the passions is masterly. It is a pity that he did not apply his +talents to what they were evidently proper for--the theatre. + +I will detain the reader no longer, but to make one short remark. +Though the machinery is invention, and the names of the actors +imaginary, I cannot but believe that the groundwork of the story is +founded on truth. The scene is undoubtedly laid in some real +castle. The author seems frequently, without design, to describe +particular parts. "The chamber," says he, "on the right hand;" +"the door on the left hand;" "the distance from the chapel to +Conrad's apartment:" these and other passages are strong +presumptions that the author had some certain building in his eye. +Curious persons, who have leisure to employ in such researches, may +possibly discover in the Italian writers the foundation on which +our author has built. If a catastrophe, at all resembling that +which he describes, is believed to have given rise to this work, it +will contribute to interest the reader, and will make the "Castle +of Otranto" a still more moving story. + + + +SONNET TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LADY MARY COKE. + + + +The gentle maid, whose hapless tale +These melancholy pages speak; +Say, gracious lady, shall she fail +To draw the tear adown thy cheek? + +No; never was thy pitying breast +Insensible to human woes; +Tender, tho' firm, it melts distrest +For weaknesses it never knows. + +Oh! guard the marvels I relate +Of fell ambition scourg'd by fate, +From reason's peevish blame. +Blest with thy smile, my dauntless sail +I dare expand to Fancy's gale, +For sure thy smiles are Fame. + +H. W. + + + +CHAPTER I. + + + +Manfred, Prince of Otranto, had one son and one daughter: the +latter, a most beautiful virgin, aged eighteen, was called Matilda. +Conrad, the son, was three years younger, a homely youth, sickly, +and of no promising disposition; yet he was the darling of his +father, who never showed any symptoms of affection to Matilda. +Manfred had contracted a marriage for his son with the Marquis of +Vicenza's daughter, Isabella; and she had already been delivered by +her guardians into the hands of Manfred, that he might celebrate +the wedding as soon as Conrad's infirm state of health would +permit. + +Manfred's impatience for this ceremonial was remarked by his family +and neighbours. The former, indeed, apprehending the severity of +their Prince's disposition, did not dare to utter their surmises on +this precipitation. Hippolita, his wife, an amiable lady, did +sometimes venture to represent the danger of marrying their only +son so early, considering his great youth, and greater infirmities; +but she never received any other answer than reflections on her own +sterility, who had given him but one heir. His tenants and +subjects were less cautious in their discourses. They attributed +this hasty wedding to the Prince's dread of seeing accomplished an +ancient prophecy, which was said to have pronounced that the castle +and lordship of Otranto "should pass from the present family, +whenever the real owner should be grown too large to inhabit it." +It was difficult to make any sense of this prophecy; and still less +easy to conceive what it had to do with the marriage in question. +Yet these mysteries, or contradictions, did not make the populace +adhere the less to their opinion. + +Young Conrad's birthday was fixed for his espousals. The company +was assembled in the chapel of the Castle, and everything ready for +beginning the divine office, when Conrad himself was missing. +Manfred, impatient of the least delay, and who had not observed his +son retire, despatched one of his attendants to summon the young +Prince. The servant, who had not stayed long enough to have +crossed the court to Conrad's apartment, came running back +breathless, in a frantic manner, his eyes staring, and foaming at +the month. He said nothing, but pointed to the court. + +The company were struck with terror and amazement. The Princess +Hippolita, without knowing what was the matter, but anxious for her +son, swooned away. Manfred, less apprehensive than enraged at the +procrastination of the nuptials, and at the folly of his domestic, +asked imperiously what was the matter? The fellow made no answer, +but continued pointing towards the courtyard; and at last, after +repeated questions put to him, cried out, "Oh! the helmet! the +helmet!" + +In the meantime, some of the company had run into the court, from +whence was heard a confused noise of shrieks, horror, and surprise. +Manfred, who began to be alarmed at not seeing his son, went +himself to get information of what occasioned this strange +confusion. Matilda remained endeavouring to assist her mother, and +Isabella stayed for the same purpose, and to avoid showing any +impatience for the bridegroom, for whom, in truth, she had +conceived little affection. + +The first thing that struck Manfred's eyes was a group of his +servants endeavouring to raise something that appeared to him a +mountain of sable plumes. He gazed without believing his sight. + +"What are ye doing?" cried Manfred, wrathfully; "where is my son?" + +A volley of voices replied, "Oh! my Lord! the Prince! the Prince! +the helmet! the helmet!" + +Shocked with these lamentable sounds, and dreading he knew not +what, he advanced hastily,--but what a sight for a father's eyes!-- +he beheld his child dashed to pieces, and almost buried under an +enormous helmet, an hundred times more large than any casque ever +made for human being, and shaded with a proportionable quantity of +black feathers. + +The horror of the spectacle, the ignorance of all around how this +misfortune had happened, and above all, the tremendous phenomenon +before him, took away the Prince's speech. Yet his silence lasted +longer than even grief could occasion. He fixed his eyes on what +he wished in vain to believe a vision; and seemed less attentive to +his loss, than buried in meditation on the stupendous object that +had occasioned it. He touched, he examined the fatal casque; nor +could even the bleeding mangled remains of the young Prince divert +the eyes of Manfred from the portent before him. + +All who had known his partial fondness for young Conrad, were as +much surprised at their Prince's insensibility, as thunderstruck +themselves at the miracle of the helmet. They conveyed the +disfigured corpse into the hall, without receiving the least +direction from Manfred. As little was he attentive to the ladies +who remained in the chapel. On the contrary, without mentioning +the unhappy princesses, his wife and daughter, the first sounds +that dropped from Manfred's lips were, "Take care of the Lady +Isabella." + +The domestics, without observing the singularity of this direction, +were guided by their affection to their mistress, to consider it as +peculiarly addressed to her situation, and flew to her assistance. +They conveyed her to her chamber more dead than alive, and +indifferent to all the strange circumstances she heard, except the +death of her son. + +Matilda, who doted on her mother, smothered her own grief and +amazement, and thought of nothing but assisting and comforting her +afflicted parent. Isabella, who had been treated by Hippolita like +a daughter, and who returned that tenderness with equal duty and +affection, was scarce less assiduous about the Princess; at the +same time endeavouring to partake and lessen the weight of sorrow +which she saw Matilda strove to suppress, for whom she had +conceived the warmest sympathy of friendship. Yet her own +situation could not help finding its place in her thoughts. She +felt no concern for the death of young Conrad, except +commiseration; and she was not sorry to be delivered from a +marriage which had promised her little felicity, either from her +destined bridegroom, or from the severe temper of Manfred, who, +though he had distinguished her by great indulgence, had imprinted +her mind with terror, from his causeless rigour to such amiable +princesses as Hippolita and Matilda. + +While the ladies were conveying the wretched mother to her bed, +Manfred remained in the court, gazing on the ominous casque, and +regardless of the crowd which the strangeness of the event had now +assembled around him. The few words he articulated, tended solely +to inquiries, whether any man knew from whence it could have come? +Nobody could give him the least information. However, as it seemed +to be the sole object of his curiosity, it soon became so to the +rest of the spectators, whose conjectures were as absurd and +improbable, as the catastrophe itself was unprecedented. In the +midst of their senseless guesses, a young peasant, whom rumour had +drawn thither from a neighbouring village, observed that the +miraculous helmet was exactly like that on the figure in black +marble of Alfonso the Good, one of their former princes, in the +church of St. Nicholas. + +"Villain! What sayest thou?" cried Manfred, starting from his +trance in a tempest of rage, and seizing the young man by the +collar; "how darest thou utter such treason? Thy life shall pay +for it." + +The spectators, who as little comprehended the cause of the +Prince's fury as all the rest they had seen, were at a loss to +unravel this new circumstance. The young peasant himself was still +more astonished, not conceiving how he had offended the Prince. +Yet recollecting himself, with a mixture of grace and humility, he +disengaged himself from Manfred's grip, and then with an obeisance, +which discovered more jealousy of innocence than dismay, he asked, +with respect, of what he was guilty? Manfred, more enraged at the +vigour, however decently exerted, with which the young man had +shaken off his hold, than appeased by his submission, ordered his +attendants to seize him, and, if he had not been withheld by his +friends whom he had invited to the nuptials, would have poignarded +the peasant in their arms. + +During this altercation, some of the vulgar spectators had run to +the great church, which stood near the castle, and came back open- +mouthed, declaring that the helmet was missing from Alfonso's +statue. Manfred, at this news, grew perfectly frantic; and, as if +he sought a subject on which to vent the tempest within him, he +rushed again on the young peasant, crying - + +"Villain! Monster! Sorcerer! 'tis thou hast done this! 'tis thou +hast slain my son!" + +The mob, who wanted some object within the scope of their +capacities, on whom they might discharge their bewildered +reasoning, caught the words from the mouth of their lord, and re- +echoed - + +"Ay, ay; 'tis he, 'tis he: he has stolen the helmet from good +Alfonso's tomb, and dashed out the brains of our young Prince with +it," never reflecting how enormous the disproportion was between +the marble helmet that had been in the church, and that of steel +before their eyes; nor how impossible it was for a youth seemingly +not twenty, to wield a piece of armour of so prodigious a weight + +The folly of these ejaculations brought Manfred to himself: yet +whether provoked at the peasant having observed the resemblance +between the two helmets, and thereby led to the farther discovery +of the absence of that in the church, or wishing to bury any such +rumour under so impertinent a supposition, he gravely pronounced +that the young man was certainly a necromancer, and that till the +Church could take cognisance of the affair, he would have the +Magician, whom they had thus detected, kept prisoner under the +helmet itself, which he ordered his attendants to raise, and place +the young man under it; declaring he should be kept there without +food, with which his own infernal art might furnish him. + +It was in vain for the youth to represent against this preposterous +sentence: in vain did Manfred's friends endeavour to divert him +from this savage and ill-grounded resolution. The generality were +charmed with their lord's decision, which, to their apprehensions, +carried great appearance of justice, as the Magician was to be +punished by the very instrument with which he had offended: nor +were they struck with the least compunction at the probability of +the youth being starved, for they firmly believed that, by his +diabolic skill, he could easily supply himself with nutriment. + +Manfred thus saw his commands even cheerfully obeyed; and +appointing a guard with strict orders to prevent any food being +conveyed to the prisoner, he dismissed his friends and attendants, +and retired to his own chamber, after locking the gates of the +castle, in which he suffered none but his domestics to remain. + +In the meantime, the care and zeal of the young Ladies had brought +the Princess Hippolita to herself, who amidst the transports of her +own sorrow frequently demanded news of her lord, would have +dismissed her attendants to watch over him, and at last enjoined +Matilda to leave her, and visit and comfort her father. Matilda, +who wanted no affectionate duty to Manfred, though she trembled at +his austerity, obeyed the orders of Hippolita, whom she tenderly +recommended to Isabella; and inquiring of the domestics for her +father, was informed that he was retired to his chamber, and had +commanded that nobody should have admittance to him. Concluding +that he was immersed in sorrow for the death of her brother, and +fearing to renew his tears by the sight of his sole remaining +child, she hesitated whether she should break in upon his +affliction; yet solicitude for him, backed by the commands of her +mother, encouraged her to venture disobeying the orders he had +given; a fault she had never been guilty of before. + +The gentle timidity of her nature made her pause for some minutes +at his door. She heard him traverse his chamber backwards, and +forwards with disordered steps; a mood which increased her +apprehensions. She was, however, just going to beg admittance, +when Manfred suddenly opened the door; and as it was now twilight, +concurring with the disorder of his mind, he did not distinguish +the person, but asked angrily, who it was? Matilda replied, +trembling - + +"My dearest father, it is I, your daughter." + +Manfred, stepping back hastily, cried, "Begone! I do not want a +daughter;" and flinging back abruptly, clapped the door against the +terrified Matilda. + +She was too well acquainted with her father's impetuosity to +venture a second intrusion. When she had a little recovered the +shock of so bitter a reception, she wiped away her tears to prevent +the additional stab that the knowledge of it would give to +Hippolita, who questioned her in the most anxious terms on the +health of Manfred, and how he bore his loss. Matilda assured her +he was well, and supported his misfortune with manly fortitude. + +"But will he not let me see him?" said Hippolita mournfully; "will +he not permit me to blend my tears with his, and shed a mother's +sorrows in the bosom of her Lord? Or do you deceive me, Matilda? +I know how Manfred doted on his son: is not the stroke too heavy +for him? has he not sunk under it? You do not answer me--alas! I +dread the worst!--Raise me, my maidens; I will, I will see my Lord. +Bear me to him instantly: he is dearer to me even than my +children." + +Matilda made signs to Isabella to prevent Hippolita's rising; and +both those lovely young women were using their gentle violence to +stop and calm the Princess, when a servant, on the part of Manfred, +arrived and told Isabella that his Lord demanded to speak with her. + +"With me!" cried Isabella. + +"Go," said Hippolita, relieved by a message from her Lord: +"Manfred cannot support the sight of his own family. He thinks you +less disordered than we are, and dreads the shock of my grief. +Console him, dear Isabella, and tell him I will smother my own +anguish rather than add to his." + +As it was now evening the servant who conducted Isabella bore a +torch before her. When they came to Manfred, who was walking +impatiently about the gallery, he started, and said hastily - + +"Take away that light, and begone." + +Then shutting the door impetuously, he flung himself upon a bench +against the wall, and bade Isabella sit by him. She obeyed +trembling. + +"I sent for you, Lady," said he--and then stopped under great +appearance of confusion. + +"My Lord!" + +"Yes, I sent for you on a matter of great moment," resumed he. +"Dry your tears, young Lady--you have lost your bridegroom. Yes, +cruel fate! and I have lost the hopes of my race! But Conrad was +not worthy of your beauty." + +"How, my Lord!" said Isabella; "sure you do not suspect me of not +feeling the concern I ought: my duty and affection would have +always--" + +"Think no more of him," interrupted Manfred; "he was a sickly, puny +child, and Heaven has perhaps taken him away, that I might not +trust the honours of my house on so frail a foundation. The line +of Manfred calls for numerous supports. My foolish fondness for +that boy blinded the eyes of my prudence--but it is better as it +is. I hope, in a few years, to have reason to rejoice at the death +of Conrad." + +Words cannot paint the astonishment of Isabella. At first she +apprehended that grief had disordered Manfred's understanding. Her +next thought suggested that this strange discourse was designed to +ensnare her: she feared that Manfred had perceived her +indifference for his son: and in consequence of that idea she +replied - + +"Good my Lord, do not doubt my tenderness: my heart would have +accompanied my hand. Conrad would have engrossed all my care; and +wherever fate shall dispose of me, I shall always cherish his +memory, and regard your Highness and the virtuous Hippolita as my +parents." + +"Curse on Hippolita!" cried Manfred. "Forget her from this moment, +as I do. In short, Lady, you have missed a husband undeserving of +your charms: they shall now be better disposed of. Instead of a +sickly boy, you shall have a husband in the prime of his age, who +will know how to value your beauties, and who may expect a numerous +offspring." + +"Alas, my Lord!" said Isabella, "my mind is too sadly engrossed by +the recent catastrophe in your family to think of another marriage. +If ever my father returns, and it shall be his pleasure, I shall +obey, as I did when I consented to give my hand to your son: but +until his return, permit me to remain under your hospitable roof, +and employ the melancholy hours in assuaging yours, Hippolita's, +and the fair Matilda's affliction." + +"I desired you once before," said Manfred angrily, "not to name +that woman: from this hour she must be a stranger to you, as she +must be to me. In short, Isabella, since I cannot give you my son, +I offer you myself." + +"Heavens!" cried Isabella, waking from her delusion, "what do I +hear? You! my Lord! You! My father-in-law! the father of Conrad! +the husband of the virtuous and tender Hippolita!" + +"I tell you," said Manfred imperiously, "Hippolita is no longer my +wife; I divorce her from this hour. Too long has she cursed me by +her unfruitfulness. My fate depends on having sons, and this night +I trust will give a new date to my hopes." + +At those words he seized the cold hand of Isabella, who was half +dead with fright and horror. She shrieked, and started from him, +Manfred rose to pursue her, when the moon, which was now up, and +gleamed in at the opposite casement, presented to his sight the +plumes of the fatal helmet, which rose to the height of the +windows, waving backwards and forwards in a tempestuous manner, and +accompanied with a hollow and rustling sound. Isabella, who +gathered courage from her situation, and who dreaded nothing so +much as Manfred's pursuit of his declaration, cried - + +"Look, my Lord! see, Heaven itself declares against your impious +intentions!" + +"Heaven nor Hell shall impede my designs," said Manfred, advancing +again to seize the Princess. + +At that instant the portrait of his grandfather, which hung over +the bench where they had been sitting, uttered a deep sigh, and +heaved its breast. + +Isabella, whose back was turned to the picture, saw not the motion, +nor knew whence the sound came, but started, and said - + +"Hark, my Lord! What sound was that?" and at the same time made +towards the door. + +Manfred, distracted between the flight of Isabella, who had now +reached the stairs, and yet unable to keep his eyes from the +picture, which began to move, had, however, advanced some steps +after her, still looking backwards on the portrait, when he saw it +quit its panel, and descend on the floor with a grave and +melancholy air. + +"Do I dream?" cried Manfred, returning; "or are the devils +themselves in league against me? Speak, internal spectre! Or, if +thou art my grandsire, why dost thou too conspire against thy +wretched descendant, who too dearly pays for--" Ere he could +finish the sentence, the vision sighed again, and made a sign to +Manfred to follow him. + +"Lead on!" cried Manfred; "I will follow thee to the gulf of +perdition." + +The spectre marched sedately, but dejected, to the end of the +gallery, and turned into a chamber on the right hand. Manfred +accompanied him at a little distance, full of anxiety and horror, +but resolved. As he would have entered the chamber, the door was +clapped to with violence by an invisible hand. The Prince, +collecting courage from this delay, would have forcibly burst open +the door with his foot, but found that it resisted his utmost +efforts. + +"Since Hell will not satisfy my curiosity," said Manfred, "I will +use the human means in my power for preserving my race; Isabella +shall not escape me." + +The lady, whose resolution had given way to terror the moment she +had quitted Manfred, continued her flight to the bottom of the +principal staircase. There she stopped, not knowing whither to +direct her steps, nor how to escape from the impetuosity of the +Prince. The gates of the castle, she knew, were locked, and guards +placed in the court. Should she, as her heart prompted her, go and +prepare Hippolita for the cruel destiny that awaited her, she did +not doubt but Manfred would seek her there, and that his violence +would incite him to double the injury he meditated, without leaving +room for them to avoid the impetuosity of his passions. Delay +might give him time to reflect on the horrid measures he had +conceived, or produce some circumstance in her favour, if she +could--for that night, at least--avoid his odious purpose. Yet +where conceal herself? How avoid the pursuit he would infallibly +make throughout the castle? + +As these thoughts passed rapidly through her mind, she recollected +a subterraneous passage which led from the vaults of the castle to +the church of St. Nicholas. Could she reach the altar before she +was overtaken, she knew even Manfred's violence would not dare to +profane the sacredness of the place; and she determined, if no +other means of deliverance offered, to shut herself up for ever +among the holy virgins whose convent was contiguous to the +cathedral. In this resolution, she seized a lamp that burned at +the foot of the staircase, and hurried towards the secret passage. + +The lower part of the castle was hollowed into several intricate +cloisters; and it was not easy for one under so much anxiety to +find the door that opened into the cavern. An awful silence +reigned throughout those subterraneous regions, except now and then +some blasts of wind that shook the doors she had passed, and which, +grating on the rusty hinges, were re-echoed through that long +labyrinth of darkness. Every murmur struck her with new terror; +yet more she dreaded to hear the wrathful voice of Manfred urging +his domestics to pursue her. + +She trod as softly as impatience would give her leave, yet +frequently stopped and listened to hear if she was followed. In +one of those moments she thought she heard a sigh. She shuddered, +and recoiled a few paces. In a moment she thought she heard the +step of some person. Her blood curdled; she concluded it was +Manfred. Every suggestion that horror could inspire rushed into +her mind. She condemned her rash flight, which had thus exposed +her to his rage in a place where her cries were not likely to draw +anybody to her assistance. Yet the sound seemed not to come from +behind. If Manfred knew where she was, he must have followed her. +She was still in one of the cloisters, and the steps she had heard +were too distinct to proceed from the way she had come. Cheered +with this reflection, and hoping to find a friend in whoever was +not the Prince, she was going to advance, when a door that stood +ajar, at some distance to the left, was opened gently: but ere her +lamp, which she held up, could discover who opened it, the person +retreated precipitately on seeing the light. + +Isabella, whom every incident was sufficient to dismay, hesitated +whether she should proceed. Her dread of Manfred soon outweighed +every other terror. The very circumstance of the person avoiding +her gave her a sort of courage. It could only be, she thought, +some domestic belonging to the castle. Her gentleness had never +raised her an enemy, and conscious innocence made her hope that, +unless sent by the Prince's order to seek her, his servants would +rather assist than prevent her flight. Fortifying herself with +these reflections, and believing by what she could observe that she +was near the mouth of the subterraneous cavern, she approached the +door that had been opened; but a sudden gust of wind that met her +at the door extinguished her lamp, and left her in total darkness. + +Words cannot paint the horror of the Princess's situation. Alone +in so dismal a place, her mind imprinted with all the terrible +events of the day, hopeless of escaping, expecting every moment the +arrival of Manfred, and far from tranquil on knowing she was within +reach of somebody, she knew not whom, who for some cause seemed +concealed thereabouts; all these thoughts crowded on her distracted +mind, and she was ready to sink under her apprehensions. She +addressed herself to every saint in heaven, and inwardly implored +their assistance. For a considerable time she remained in an agony +of despair. + +At last, as softly as was possible, she felt for the door, and +having found it, entered trembling into the vault from whence she +had heard the sigh and steps. It gave her a kind of momentary joy +to perceive an imperfect ray of clouded moonshine gleam from the +roof of the vault, which seemed to be fallen in, and from whence +hung a fragment of earth or building, she could not distinguish +which, that appeared to have been crushed inwards. She advanced +eagerly towards this chasm, when she discerned a human form +standing close against the wall. + +She shrieked, believing it the ghost of her betrothed Conrad. The +figure, advancing, said, in a submissive voice - + +"Be not alarmed, Lady; I will not injure you." + +Isabella, a little encouraged by the words and tone of voice of the +stranger, and recollecting that this must be the person who had +opened the door, recovered her spirits enough to reply - + +"Sir, whoever you are, take pity on a wretched Princess, standing +on the brink of destruction. Assist me to escape from this fatal +castle, or in a few moments I may be made miserable for ever." + +"Alas!" said the stranger, "what can I do to assist you? I will +die in your defence; but I am unacquainted with the castle, and +want--" + +"Oh!" said Isabella, hastily interrupting him; "help me but to find +a trap-door that must be hereabout, and it is the greatest service +you can do me, for I have not a minute to lose." + +Saying a these words, she felt about on the pavement, and directed +the stranger to search likewise, for a smooth piece of brass +enclosed in one of the stones. + +"That," said she, "is the lock, which opens with a spring, of which +I know the secret. If we can find that, I may escape--if not, +alas! courteous stranger, I fear I shall have involved you in my +misfortunes: Manfred will suspect you for the accomplice of my +flight, and you will fall a victim to his resentment." + +"I value not my life," said the stranger, "and it will be some +comfort to lose it in trying to deliver you from his tyranny." + +"Generous youth," said Isabella, "how shall I ever requite--" + +As she uttered those words, a ray of moonshine, streaming through a +cranny of the ruin above, shone directly on the lock they sought. + +"Oh! transport!" said Isabella; "here is the trap-door!" and, +taking out the key, she touched the spring, which, starting aside, +discovered an iron ring. "Lift up the door," said the Princess. + +The stranger obeyed, and beneath appeared some stone steps +descending into a vault totally dark. + +"We must go down here," said Isabella. "Follow me; dark and dismal +as it is, we cannot miss our way; it leads directly to the church +of St. Nicholas. But, perhaps," added the Princess modestly, "you +have no reason to leave the castle, nor have I farther occasion for +your service; in a few minutes I shall be safe from Manfred's rage- +-only let me know to whom I am so much obliged." + +"I will never quit you," said the stranger eagerly, "until I have +placed you in safety--nor think me, Princess, more generous than I +am; though you are my principal care--" + +The stranger was interrupted by a sudden noise of voices that +seemed approaching, and they soon distinguished these words - + +"Talk not to me of necromancers; I tell you she must be in the +castle; I will find her in spite of enchantment." + +"Oh, heavens!" cried Isabella; "it is the voice of Manfred! Make +haste, or we are ruined! and shut the trap-door after you." + +Saying this, she descended the steps precipitately; and as the +stranger hastened to follow her, he let the door slip out of his +hands: it fell, and the spring closed over it. He tried in vain +to open it, not having observed Isabella's method of touching the +spring; nor had he many moments to make an essay. The noise of the +falling door had been heard by Manfred, who, directed by the sound, +hastened thither, attended by his servants with torches. + +"It must be Isabella," cried Manfred, before he entered the vault. +"She is escaping by the subterraneous passage, but she cannot have +got far." + +What was the astonishment of the Prince when, instead of Isabella, +the light of the torches discovered to him the young peasant whom +he thought confined under the fatal helmet! + +"Traitor!" said Manfred; "how camest thou here? I thought thee in +durance above in the court." + +"I am no traitor," replied the young man boldly, "nor am I +answerable for your thoughts." + +"Presumptuous villain!" cried Manfred; "dost thou provoke my wrath? +Tell me, how hast thou escaped from above? Thou hast corrupted thy +guards, and their lives shall answer it." + +"My poverty," said the peasant calmly, "will disculpate them: +though the ministers of a tyrant's wrath, to thee they are +faithful, and but too willing to execute the orders which you +unjustly imposed upon them." + +"Art thou so hardy as to dare my vengeance?" said the Prince; "but +tortures shall force the truth from thee. Tell me; I will know thy +accomplices." + +"There was my accomplice!" said the youth, smiling, and pointing to +the roof. + +Manfred ordered the torches to be held up, and perceived that one +of the cheeks of the enchanted casque had forced its way through +the pavement of the court, as his servants had let it fall over the +peasant, and had broken through into the vault, leaving a gap, +through which the peasant had pressed himself some minutes before +he was found by Isabella. + +"Was that the way by which thou didst descend?" said Manfred. + +"It was," said the youth. + +"But what noise was that," said Manfred, "which I heard as I +entered the cloister?" + +"A door clapped," said the peasant; "I heard it as well as you." + +"What door?" said Manfred hastily. + +"I am not acquainted with your castle," said the peasant; "this is +the first time I ever entered it, and this vault the only part of +it within which I ever was." + +"But I tell thee," said Manfred (wishing to find out if the youth +had discovered the trap-door), "it was this way I heard the noise. +My servants heard it too." + +"My Lord," interrupted one of them officiously, "to be sure it was +the trap-door, and he was going to make his escape." + +"Peace, blockhead!" said the Prince angrily; "if he was going to +escape, how should he come on this side? I will know from his own +mouth what noise it was I heard. Tell me truly; thy life depends +on thy veracity." + +"My veracity is dearer to me than my life," said the peasant; "nor +would I purchase the one by forfeiting the other." + +"Indeed, young philosopher!" said Manfred contemptuously; "tell me, +then, what was the noise I heard?" + +"Ask me what I can answer," said he, "and put me to death instantly +if I tell you a lie." + +Manfred, growing impatient at the steady valour and indifference of +the youth, cried - + +"Well, then, thou man of truth, answer! Was it the fall of the +trap-door that I heard?" + +"It was," said the youth. + +"It was!" said the Prince; "and how didst thou come to know there +was a trap-door here?" + +"I saw the plate of brass by a gleam of moonshine," replied he. + +"But what told thee it was a lock?" said Manfred. "How didst thou +discover the secret of opening it?" + +"Providence, that delivered me from the helmet, was able to direct +me to the spring of a lock," said he. + +"Providence should have gone a little farther, and have placed thee +out of the reach of my resentment," said Manfred. "When Providence +had taught thee to open the lock, it abandoned thee for a fool, who +did not know how to make use of its favours. Why didst thou not +pursue the path pointed out for thy escape? Why didst thou shut +the trap-door before thou hadst descended the steps?" + +"I might ask you, my Lord," said the peasant, "how I, totally +unacquainted with your castle, was to know that those steps led to +any outlet? but I scorn to evade your questions. Wherever those +steps lead to, perhaps I should have explored the way--I could not +be in a worse situation than I was. But the truth is, I let the +trap-door fall: your immediate arrival followed. I had given the +alarm--what imported it to me whether I was seized a minute sooner +or a minute later?" + +"Thou art a resolute villain for thy years," said Manfred; "yet on +reflection I suspect thou dost but trifle with me. Thou hast not +yet told me how thou didst open the lock." + +"That I will show you, my Lord," said the peasant; and, taking up a +fragment of stone that had fallen from above, he laid himself on +the trap-door, and began to beat on the piece of brass that covered +it, meaning to gain time for the escape of the Princess. This +presence of mind, joined to the frankness of the youth, staggered +Manfred. He even felt a disposition towards pardoning one who had +been guilty of no crime. Manfred was not one of those savage +tyrants who wanton in cruelty unprovoked. The circumstances of his +fortune had given an asperity to his temper, which was naturally +humane; and his virtues were always ready to operate, when his +passions did not obscure his reason. + +While the Prince was in this suspense, a confused noise of voices +echoed through the distant vaults. As the sound approached, he +distinguished the clamours of some of his domestics, whom he had +dispersed through the castle in search of Isabella, calling out - + +"Where is my Lord? where is the Prince?" + +"Here I am," said Manfred, as they came nearer; "have you found the +Princess?" + +The first that arrived, replied, "Oh, my Lord! I am glad we have +found you." + +"Found me!" said Manfred; "have you found the Princess?" + +"We thought we had, my Lord," said the fellow, looking terrified, +"but--" + +"But, what?" cried the Prince; "has she escaped?" + +"Jaquez and I, my Lord--" + +"Yes, I and Diego," interrupted the second, who came up in still +greater consternation. + +"Speak one of you at a time," said Manfred; "I ask you, where is +the Princess?" + +"We do not know," said they both together; "but we are frightened +out of our wits." + +"So I think, blockheads," said Manfred; "what is it has scared you +thus?" + +"Oh! my Lord," said Jaquez, "Diego has seen such a sight! your +Highness would not believe our eyes." + +"What new absurdity is this?" cried Manfred; "give me a direct +answer, or, by Heaven--" + +"Why, my Lord, if it please your Highness to hear me," said the +poor fellow, "Diego and I--" + +"Yes, I and Jaquez--" cried his comrade. + +"Did not I forbid you to speak both at a time?" said the Prince: +"you, Jaquez, answer; for the other fool seems more distracted than +thou art; what is the matter?" + +"My gracious Lord," said Jaquez, "if it please your Highness to +hear me; Diego and I, according to your Highness's orders, went to +search for the young Lady; but being comprehensive that we might +meet the ghost of my young Lord, your Highness's son, God rest his +soul, as he has not received Christian burial--" + +"Sot!" cried Manfred in a rage; "is it only a ghost, then, that +thou hast seen?" + +"Oh! worse! worse! my Lord," cried Diego: "I had rather have seen +ten whole ghosts." + +"Grant me patience!" said Manfred; "these blockheads distract me. +Out of my sight, Diego! and thou, Jaquez, tell me in one word, art +thou sober? art thou raving? thou wast wont to have some sense: +has the other sot frightened himself and thee too? Speak; what is +it he fancies he has seen?" + +"Why, my Lord," replied Jaquez, trembling, "I was going to tell +your Highness, that since the calamitous misfortune of my young +Lord, God rest his precious soul! not one of us your Highness's +faithful servants--indeed we are, my Lord, though poor men--I say, +not one of us has dared to set a foot about the castle, but two +together: so Diego and I, thinking that my young Lady might be in +the great gallery, went up there to look for her, and tell her your +Highness wanted something to impart to her." + +"O blundering fools!" cried Manfred; "and in the meantime, she has +made her escape, because you were afraid of goblins!--Why, thou +knave! she left me in the gallery; I came from thence myself." + +"For all that, she may be there still for aught I know," said +Jaquez; "but the devil shall have me before I seek her there again- +-poor Diego! I do not believe he will ever recover it." + +"Recover what?" said Manfred; "am I never to learn what it is has +terrified these rascals?--but I lose my time; follow me, slave; I +will see if she is in the gallery." + +"For Heaven's sake, my dear, good Lord," cried Jaquez, "do not go +to the gallery. Satan himself I believe is in the chamber next to +the gallery." + +Manfred, who hitherto had treated the terror of his servants as an +idle panic, was struck at this new circumstance. He recollected +the apparition of the portrait, and the sudden closing of the door +at the end of the gallery. His voice faltered, and he asked with +disorder - + +"What is in the great chamber?" + +"My Lord," said Jaquez, "when Diego and I came into the gallery, he +went first, for he said he had more courage than I. So when we +came into the gallery we found nobody. We looked under every bench +and stool; and still we found nobody." + +"Were all the pictures in their places?" said Manfred. + +"Yes, my Lord," answered Jaquez; "but we did not think of looking +behind them." + +"Well, well!" said Manfred; "proceed." + +"When we came to the door of the great chamber," continued Jaquez, +"we found it shut." + +"And could not you open it?" said Manfred. + +"Oh! yes, my Lord; would to Heaven we had not!" replied he--"nay, +it was not I neither; it was Diego: he was grown foolhardy, and +would go on, though I advised him not--if ever I open a door that +is shut again--" + +"Trifle not," said Manfred, shuddering, "but tell me what you saw +in the great chamber on opening the door." + +"I! my Lord!" said Jaquez; "I was behind Diego; but I heard the +noise." + +"Jaquez," said Manfred, in a solemn tone of voice; "tell me, I +adjure thee by the souls of my ancestors, what was it thou sawest? +what was it thou heardest?" + +"It was Diego saw it, my Lord, it was not I," replied Jaquez; "I +only heard the noise. Diego had no sooner opened the door, than he +cried out, and ran back. I ran back too, and said, 'Is it the +ghost?' 'The ghost! no, no,' said Diego, and his hair stood on +end--'it is a giant, I believe; he is all clad in armour, for I saw +his foot and part of his leg, and they are as large as the helmet +below in the court.' As he said these words, my Lord, we heard a +violent motion and the rattling of armour, as if the giant was +rising, for Diego has told me since that he believes the giant was +lying down, for the foot and leg were stretched at length on the +floor. Before we could get to the end of the gallery, we heard the +door of the great chamber clap behind us, but we did not dare turn +back to see if the giant was following us--yet, now I think on it, +we must have heard him if he had pursued us--but for Heaven's sake, +good my Lord, send for the chaplain, and have the castle exorcised, +for, for certain, it is enchanted." + +"Ay, pray do, my Lord," cried all the servants at once, "or we must +leave your Highness's service." + +"Peace, dotards!" said Manfred, "and follow me; I will know what +all this means." + +"We! my Lord!" cried they with one voice; "we would not go up to +the gallery for your Highness's revenue." The young peasant, who +had stood silent, now spoke. + +"Will your Highness," said he, "permit me to try this adventure? +My life is of consequence to nobody; I fear no bad angel, and have +offended no good one." + +"Your behaviour is above your seeming," said Manfred, viewing him +with surprise and admiration--"hereafter I will reward your +bravery--but now," continued he with a sigh, "I am so +circumstanced, that I dare trust no eyes but my own. However, I +give you leave to accompany me." + +Manfred, when he first followed Isabella from the gallery, had gone +directly to the apartment of his wife, concluding the Princess had +retired thither. Hippolita, who knew his step, rose with anxious +fondness to meet her Lord, whom she had not seen since the death of +their son. She would have flown in a transport mixed of joy and +grief to his bosom, but he pushed her rudely off, and said - + +"Where is Isabella?" + +"Isabella! my Lord!" said the astonished Hippolita. + +"Yes, Isabella," cried Manfred imperiously; "I want Isabella." + +"My Lord," replied Matilda, who perceived how much his behaviour +had shocked her mother, "she has not been with us since your +Highness summoned her to your apartment." + +"Tell me where she is," said the Prince; "I do not want to know +where she has been." + +"My good Lord," says Hippolita, "your daughter tells you the truth: +Isabella left us by your command, and has not returned since;--but, +my good Lord, compose yourself: retire to your rest: this dismal +day has disordered you. Isabella shall wait your orders in the +morning." + +"What, then, you know where she is!" cried Manfred. "Tell me +directly, for I will not lose an instant--and you, woman," speaking +to his wife, "order your chaplain to attend me forthwith." + +"Isabella," said Hippolita calmly, "is retired, I suppose, to her +chamber: she is not accustomed to watch at this late hour. +Gracious my Lord," continued she, "let me know what has disturbed +you. Has Isabella offended you?" + +"Trouble me not with questions," said Manfred, "but tell me where +she is." + +"Matilda shall call her," said the Princess. "Sit down, my Lord, +and resume your wonted fortitude." + +"What, art thou jealous of Isabella?" replied he, "that you wish to +be present at our interview!" + +"Good heavens! my Lord," said Hippolita, "what is it your Highness +means?" + +"Thou wilt know ere many minutes are passed," said the cruel +Prince. "Send your chaplain to me, and wait my pleasure here." + +At these words he flung out of the room in search of Isabella, +leaving the amazed ladies thunderstruck with his words and frantic +deportment, and lost in vain conjectures on what he was meditating. + +Manfred was now returning from the vault, attended by the peasant +and a few of his servants whom he had obliged to accompany him. He +ascended the staircase without stopping till he arrived at the +gallery, at the door of which he met Hippolita and her chaplain. +When Diego had been dismissed by Manfred, he had gone directly to +the Princess's apartment with the alarm of what he had seen. That +excellent Lady, who no more than Manfred doubted of the reality of +the vision, yet affected to treat it as a delirium of the servant. +Willing, however, to save her Lord from any additional shock, and +prepared by a series of griefs not to tremble at any accession to +it, she determined to make herself the first sacrifice, if fate had +marked the present hour for their destruction. Dismissing the +reluctant Matilda to her rest, who in vain sued for leave to +accompany her mother, and attended only by her chaplain, Hippolita +had visited the gallery and great chamber; and now with more +serenity of soul than she had felt for many hours, she met her +Lord, and assured him that the vision of the gigantic leg and foot +was all a fable; and no doubt an impression made by fear, and the +dark and dismal hour of the night, on the minds of his servants. +She and the chaplain had examined the chamber, and found everything +in the usual order. + +Manfred, though persuaded, like his wife, that the vision had been +no work of fancy, recovered a little from the tempest of mind into +which so many strange events had thrown him. Ashamed, too, of his +inhuman treatment of a Princess who returned every injury with new +marks of tenderness and duty, he felt returning love forcing itself +into his eyes; but not less ashamed of feeling remorse towards one +against whom he was inwardly meditating a yet more bitter outrage, +he curbed the yearnings of his heart, and did not dare to lean even +towards pity. The next transition of his soul was to exquisite +villainy. + +Presuming on the unshaken submission of Hippolita, he flattered +himself that she would not only acquiesce with patience to a +divorce, but would obey, if it was his pleasure, in endeavouring to +persuade Isabella to give him her hand--but ere he could indulge +his horrid hope, he reflected that Isabella was not to be found. +Coming to himself, he gave orders that every avenue to the castle +should be strictly guarded, and charged his domestics on pain of +their lives to suffer nobody to pass out. The young peasant, to +whom he spoke favourably, he ordered to remain in a small chamber +on the stairs, in which there was a pallet-bed, and the key of +which he took away himself, telling the youth he would talk with +him in the morning. Then dismissing his attendants, and bestowing +a sullen kind of half-nod on Hippolita, he retired to his own +chamber. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + + +Matilda, who by Hippolita's order had retired to her apartment, was +ill-disposed to take any rest. The shocking fate of her brother +had deeply affected her. She was surprised at not seeing Isabella; +but the strange words which had fallen from her father, and his +obscure menace to the Princess his wife, accompanied by the most +furious behaviour, had filled her gentle mind with terror and +alarm. She waited anxiously for the return of Bianca, a young +damsel that attended her, whom she had sent to learn what was +become of Isabella. Bianca soon appeared, and informed her +mistress of what she had gathered from the servants, that Isabella +was nowhere to be found. She related the adventure of the young +peasant who had been discovered in the vault, though with many +simple additions from the incoherent accounts of the domestics; and +she dwelt principally on the gigantic leg and foot which had been +seen in the gallery-chamber. This last circumstance had terrified +Bianca so much, that she was rejoiced when Matilda told her that +she would not go to rest, but would watch till the Princess should +rise. + +The young Princess wearied herself in conjectures on the flight of +Isabella, and on the threats of Manfred to her mother. "But what +business could he have so urgent with the chaplain?" said Matilda, +"Does he intend to have my brother's body interred privately in the +chapel?" + +"Oh, Madam!" said Bianca, "now I guess. As you are become his +heiress, he is impatient to have you married: he has always been +raving for more sons; I warrant he is now impatient for grandsons. +As sure as I live, Madam, I shall see you a bride at last.--Good +madam, you won't cast off your faithful Bianca: you won't put +Donna Rosara over me now you are a great Princess." + +"My poor Bianca," said Matilda, "how fast your thoughts amble! I a +great princess! What hast thou seen in Manfred's behaviour since +my brother's death that bespeaks any increase of tenderness to me? +No, Bianca; his heart was ever a stranger to me--but he is my +father, and I must not complain. Nay, if Heaven shuts my father's +heart against me, it overpays my little merit in the tenderness of +my mother--O that dear mother! yes, Bianca, 'tis there I feel the +rugged temper of Manfred. I can support his harshness to me with +patience; but it wounds my soul when I am witness to his causeless +severity towards her." + +"Oh! Madam," said Bianca, "all men use their wives so, when they +are weary of them." + +"And yet you congratulated me but now," said Matilda, "when you +fancied my father intended to dispose of me!" + +"I would have you a great Lady," replied Bianca, "come what will. +I do not wish to see you moped in a convent, as you would be if you +had your will, and if my Lady, your mother, who knows that a bad +husband is better than no husband at all, did not hinder you.-- +Bless me! what noise is that! St. Nicholas forgive me! I was but +in jest." + +"It is the wind," said Matilda, "whistling through the battlements +in the tower above: you have heard it a thousand times." + +"Nay," said Bianca, "there was no harm neither in what I said: it +is no sin to talk of matrimony--and so, Madam, as I was saying, if +my Lord Manfred should offer you a handsome young Prince for a +bridegroom, you would drop him a curtsey, and tell him you would +rather take the veil?" + +"Thank Heaven! I am in no such danger," said Matilda: "you know +how many proposals for me he has rejected--" + +"And you thank him, like a dutiful daughter, do you, Madam? But +come, Madam; suppose, to-morrow morning, he was to send for you to +the great council chamber, and there you should find at his elbow a +lovely young Prince, with large black eyes, a smooth white +forehead, and manly curling locks like jet; in short, Madam, a +young hero resembling the picture of the good Alfonso in the +gallery, which you sit and gaze at for hours together--" + +"Do not speak lightly of that picture," interrupted Matilda +sighing; "I know the adoration with which I look at that picture is +uncommon--but I am not in love with a coloured panel. The +character of that virtuous Prince, the veneration with which my +mother has inspired me for his memory, the orisons which, I know +not why, she has enjoined me to pour forth at his tomb, all have +concurred to persuade me that somehow or other my destiny is linked +with something relating to him." + +"Lord, Madam! how should that be?" said Bianca; "I have always +heard that your family was in no way related to his: and I am sure +I cannot conceive why my Lady, the Princess, sends you in a cold +morning or a damp evening to pray at his tomb: he is no saint by +the almanack. If you must pray, why does she not bid you address +yourself to our great St. Nicholas? I am sure he is the saint I +pray to for a husband." + +"Perhaps my mind would be less affected," said Matilda, "if my +mother would explain her reasons to me: but it is the mystery she +observes, that inspires me with this--I know not what to call it. +As she never acts from caprice, I am sure there is some fatal +secret at bottom--nay, I know there is: in her agony of grief for +my brother's death she dropped some words that intimated as much." + +"Oh! dear Madam," cried Bianca, "what were they?" + +"No," said Matilda, "if a parent lets fall a word, and wishes it +recalled, it is not for a child to utter it." + +"What! was she sorry for what she had said?" asked Bianca; "I am +sure, Madam, you may trust me--" + +"With my own little secrets when I have any, I may," said Matilda; +"but never with my mother's: a child ought to have no ears or eyes +but as a parent directs." + +"Well! to be sure, Madam, you were born to be a saint," said +Bianca, "and there is no resisting one's vocation: you will end in +a convent at last. But there is my Lady Isabella would not be so +reserved to me: she will let me talk to her of young men: and +when a handsome cavalier has come to the castle, she has owned to +me that she wished your brother Conrad resembled him." + +"Bianca," said the Princess, "I do not allow you to mention my +friend disrespectfully. Isabella is of a cheerful disposition, but +her soul is pure as virtue itself. She knows your idle babbling +humour, and perhaps has now and then encouraged it, to divert +melancholy, and enliven the solitude in which my father keeps us--" + +"Blessed Mary!" said Bianca, starting, "there it is again! Dear +Madam, do you hear nothing? this castle is certainly haunted!" + +"Peace!" said Matilda, "and listen! I did think I heard a voice-- +but it must be fancy: your terrors, I suppose, have infected me." + +"Indeed! indeed! Madam," said Bianca, half-weeping with agony, "I +am sure I heard a voice." + +"Does anybody lie in the chamber beneath?" said the Princess. + +"Nobody has dared to lie there," answered Bianca, "since the great +astrologer, that was your brother's tutor, drowned himself. For +certain, Madam, his ghost and the young Prince's are now met in the +chamber below--for Heaven's sake let us fly to your mother's +apartment!" + +"I charge you not to stir," said Matilda. "If they are spirits in +pain, we may ease their sufferings by questioning them. They can +mean no hurt to us, for we have not injured them--and if they +should, shall we be more safe in one chamber than in another? +Reach me my beads; we will say a prayer, and then speak to them." + +"Oh! dear Lady, I would not speak to a ghost for the world!" cried +Bianca. As she said those words they heard the casement of the +little chamber below Matilda's open. They listened attentively, +and in a few minutes thought they heard a person sing, but could +not distinguish the words. + +"This can be no evil spirit," said the Princess, in a low voice; +"it is undoubtedly one of the family--open the window, and we shall +know the voice." + +"I dare not, indeed, Madam," said Bianca. + +"Thou art a very fool," said Matilda, opening the window gently +herself. The noise the Princess made was, however, heard by the +person beneath, who stopped; and they concluded had heard the +casement open. + +"Is anybody below?" said the Princess; "if there is, speak." + +"Yes," said an unknown voice. + +"Who is it?" said Matilda. + +"A stranger," replied the voice. + +"What stranger?" said she; "and how didst thou come there at this +unusual hour, when all the gates of the castle are locked?" + +"I am not here willingly," answered the voice. "But pardon me, +Lady, if I have disturbed your rest; I knew not that I was +overheard. Sleep had forsaken me; I left a restless couch, and +came to waste the irksome hours with gazing on the fair approach of +morning, impatient to be dismissed from this castle." + +"Thy words and accents," said Matilda, "are of melancholy cast; if +thou art unhappy, I pity thee. If poverty afflicts thee, let me +know it; I will mention thee to the Princess, whose beneficent soul +ever melts for the distressed, and she will relieve thee." + +"I am indeed unhappy," said the stranger; "and I know not what +wealth is. But I do not complain of the lot which Heaven has cast +for me; I am young and healthy, and am not ashamed of owing my +support to myself--yet think me not proud, or that I disdain your +generous offers. I will remember you in my orisons, and will pray +for blessings on your gracious self and your noble mistress--if I +sigh, Lady, it is for others, not for myself." + +"Now I have it, Madam," said Bianca, whispering the Princess; "this +is certainly the young peasant; and, by my conscience, he is in +love--Well! this is a charming adventure!--do, Madam, let us sift +him. He does not know you, but takes you for one of my Lady +Hippolita's women." + +"Art thou not ashamed, Bianca!" said the Princess. "What right +have we to pry into the secrets of this young man's heart? He +seems virtuous and frank, and tells us he is unhappy. Are those +circumstances that authorise us to make a property of him? How are +we entitled to his confidence?" + +"Lord, Madam! how little you know of love!" replied Bianca; "why, +lovers have no pleasure equal to talking of their mistress." + +"And would you have ME become a peasant's confidante?" said the +Princess. + +"Well, then, let me talk to him," said Bianca; "though I have the +honour of being your Highness's maid of honour, I was not always so +great. Besides, if love levels ranks, it raises them too; I have a +respect for any young man in love." + +"Peace, simpleton!" said the Princess. "Though he said he was +unhappy, it does not follow that he must be in love. Think of all +that has happened to-day, and tell me if there are no misfortunes +but what love causes.--Stranger," resumed the Princess, "if thy +misfortunes have not been occasioned by thy own fault, and are +within the compass of the Princess Hippolita's power to redress, I +will take upon me to answer that she will be thy protectress. When +thou art dismissed from this castle, repair to holy father Jerome, +at the convent adjoining to the church of St. Nicholas, and make +thy story known to him, as far as thou thinkest meet. He will not +fail to inform the Princess, who is the mother of all that want her +assistance. Farewell; it is not seemly for me to hold farther +converse with a man at this unwonted hour." + +"May the saints guard thee, gracious Lady!" replied the peasant; +"but oh! if a poor and worthless stranger might presume to beg a +minute's audience farther; am I so happy? the casement is not shut; +might I venture to ask--" + +"Speak quickly," said Matilda; "the morning dawns apace: should +the labourers come into the fields and perceive us--What wouldst +thou ask?" + +"I know not how, I know not if I dare," said the Young stranger, +faltering; "yet the humanity with which you have spoken to me +emboldens--Lady! dare I trust you?" + +"Heavens!" said Matilda, "what dost thou mean? With what wouldst +thou trust me? Speak boldly, if thy secret is fit to be entrusted +to a virtuous breast." + +"I would ask," said the peasant, recollecting himself, "whether +what I have heard from the domestics is true, that the Princess is +missing from the castle?" + +"What imports it to thee to know?" replied Matilda. "Thy first +words bespoke a prudent and becoming gravity. Dost thou come +hither to pry into the secrets of Manfred? Adieu. I have been +mistaken in thee." Saying these words she shut the casement +hastily, without giving the young man time to reply. + +"I had acted more wisely," said the Princess to Bianca, with some +sharpness, "if I had let thee converse with this peasant; his +inquisitiveness seems of a piece with thy own." + +"It is not fit for me to argue with your Highness," replied Bianca; +"but perhaps the questions I should have put to him would have been +more to the purpose than those you have been pleased to ask him." + +"Oh! no doubt," said Matilda; "you are a very discreet personage! +May I know what YOU would have asked him?" + +"A bystander often sees more of the game than those that play," +answered Bianca. "Does your Highness think, Madam, that this +question about my Lady Isabella was the result of mere curiosity? +No, no, Madam, there is more in it than you great folks are aware +of. Lopez told me that all the servants believe this young fellow +contrived my Lady Isabella's escape; now, pray, Madam, observe you +and I both know that my Lady Isabella never much fancied the Prince +your brother. Well! he is killed just in a critical minute--I +accuse nobody. A helmet falls from the moon--so, my Lord, your +father says; but Lopez and all the servants say that this young +spark is a magician, and stole it from Alfonso's tomb--" + +"Have done with this rhapsody of impertinence," said Matilda. + +"Nay, Madam, as you please," cried Bianca; "yet it is very +particular though, that my Lady Isabella should be missing the very +same day, and that this young sorcerer should be found at the mouth +of the trap-door. I accuse nobody; but if my young Lord came +honestly by his death--" + +"Dare not on thy duty," said Matilda, "to breathe a suspicion on +the purity of my dear Isabella's fame." + +"Purity, or not purity," said Bianca, "gone she is--a stranger is +found that nobody knows; you question him yourself; he tells you he +is in love, or unhappy, it is the same thing--nay, he owned he was +unhappy about others; and is anybody unhappy about another, unless +they are in love with them? and at the very next word, he asks +innocently, pour soul! if my Lady Isabella is missing." + +"To be sure," said Matilda, "thy observations are not totally +without foundation--Isabella's flight amazes me. The curiosity of +the stranger is very particular; yet Isabella never concealed a +thought from me." + +"So she told you," said Bianca, "to fish out your secrets; but who +knows, Madam, but this stranger may be some Prince in disguise? +Do, Madam, let me open the window, and ask him a few questions." + +"No," replied Matilda, "I will ask him myself, if he knows aught of +Isabella; he is not worthy I should converse farther with him." +She was going to open the casement, when they heard the bell ring +at the postern-gate of the castle, which is on the right hand of +the tower, where Matilda lay. This prevented the Princess from +renewing the conversation with the stranger. + +After continuing silent for some time, "I am persuaded," said she +to Bianca, "that whatever be the cause of Isabella's flight it had +no unworthy motive. If this stranger was accessory to it, she must +be satisfied with his fidelity and worth. I observed, did not you, +Bianca? that his words were tinctured with an uncommon infusion of +piety. It was no ruffian's speech; his phrases were becoming a man +of gentle birth." + +"I told you, Madam," said Bianca, "that I was sure he was some +Prince in disguise." + +"Yet," said Matilda, "if he was privy to her escape, how will you +account for his not accompanying her in her flight? why expose +himself unnecessarily and rashly to my father's resentment?" + +"As for that, Madam," replied she, "if he could get from under the +helmet, he will find ways of eluding your father's anger. I do not +doubt but he has some talisman or other about him." + +"You resolve everything into magic," said Matilda; "but a man who +has any intercourse with infernal spirits, does not dare to make +use of those tremendous and holy words which he uttered. Didst +thou not observe with what fervour he vowed to remember ME to +heaven in his prayers? Yes; Isabella was undoubtedly convinced of +his piety." + +"Commend me to the piety of a young fellow and a damsel that +consult to elope!" said Bianca. "No, no, Madam, my Lady Isabella +is of another guess mould than you take her for. She used indeed +to sigh and lift up her eyes in your company, because she knows you +are a saint; but when your back was turned--" + +"You wrong her," said Matilda; "Isabella is no hypocrite; she has a +due sense of devotion, but never affected a call she has not. On +the contrary, she always combated my inclination for the cloister; +and though I own the mystery she has made to me of her flight +confounds me; though it seems inconsistent with the friendship +between us; I cannot forget the disinterested warmth with which she +always opposed my taking the veil. She wished to see me married, +though my dower would have been a loss to her and my brother's +children. For her sake I will believe well of this young peasant." + +"Then you do think there is some liking between them," said Bianca. +While she was speaking, a servant came hastily into the chamber and +told the Princess that the Lady Isabella was found. + +"Where?" said Matilda. + +"She has taken sanctuary in St. Nicholas's church," replied the +servant; "Father Jerome has brought the news himself; he is below +with his Highness." + +"Where is my mother?" said Matilda. + +"She is in her own chamber, Madam, and has asked for you." + +Manfred had risen at the first dawn of light, and gone to +Hippolita's apartment, to inquire if she knew aught of Isabella. +While he was questioning her, word was brought that Jerome demanded +to speak with him. Manfred, little suspecting the cause of the +Friar's arrival, and knowing he was employed by Hippolita in her +charities, ordered him to be admitted, intending to leave them +together, while he pursued his search after Isabella. + +"Is your business with me or the Princess?" said Manfred. + +"With both," replied the holy man. "The Lady Isabella--" + +"What of her?" interrupted Manfred, eagerly. + +"Is at St. Nicholas's altar," replied Jerome. + +"That is no business of Hippolita," said Manfred with confusion; +"let us retire to my chamber, Father, and inform me how she came +thither." + +"No, my Lord," replied the good man, with an air of firmness and +authority, that daunted even the resolute Manfred, who could not +help revering the saint-like virtues of Jerome; "my commission is +to both, and with your Highness's good-liking, in the presence of +both I shall deliver it; but first, my Lord, I must interrogate the +Princess, whether she is acquainted with the cause of the Lady +Isabella's retirement from your castle." + +"No, on my soul," said Hippolita; "does Isabella charge me with +being privy to it?" + +"Father," interrupted Manfred, "I pay due reverence to your holy +profession; but I am sovereign here, and will allow no meddling +priest to interfere in the affairs of my domestic. If you have +aught to say attend me to my chamber; I do not use to let my wife +be acquainted with the secret affairs of my state; they are not +within a woman's province." + +"My Lord," said the holy man, "I am no intruder into the secrets of +families. My office is to promote peace, to heal divisions, to +preach repentance, and teach mankind to curb their headstrong +passions. I forgive your Highness's uncharitable apostrophe; I +know my duty, and am the minister of a mightier prince than +Manfred. Hearken to him who speaks through my organs." + +Manfred trembled with rage and shame. Hippolita's countenance +declared her astonishment and impatience to know where this would +end. Her silence more strongly spoke her observance of Manfred. + +"The Lady Isabella," resumed Jerome, "commends herself to both your +Highnesses; she thanks both for the kindness with which she has +been treated in your castle: she deplores the loss of your son, +and her own misfortune in not becoming the daughter of such wise +and noble Princes, whom she shall always respect as Parents; she +prays for uninterrupted union and felicity between you" [Manfred's +colour changed]: "but as it is no longer possible for her to be +allied to you, she entreats your consent to remain in sanctuary, +till she can learn news of her father, or, by the certainty of his +death, be at liberty, with the approbation of her guardians, to +dispose of herself in suitable marriage." + +"I shall give no such consent," said the Prince, "but insist on her +return to the castle without delay: I am answerable for her person +to her guardians, and will not brook her being in any hands but my +own." + +"Your Highness will recollect whether that can any longer be +proper," replied the Friar. + +"I want no monitor," said Manfred, colouring; "Isabella's conduct +leaves room for strange suspicions--and that young villain, who was +at least the accomplice of her flight, if not the cause of it--" + +"The cause!" interrupted Jerome; "was a YOUNG man the cause?" + +"This is not to be borne!" cried Manfred. "Am I to be bearded in +my own palace by an insolent Monk? Thou art privy, I guess, to +their amours." + +"I would pray to heaven to clear up your uncharitable surmises," +said Jerome, "if your Highness were not satisfied in your +conscience how unjustly you accuse me. I do pray to heaven to +pardon that uncharitableness: and I implore your Highness to leave +the Princess at peace in that holy place, where she is not liable +to be disturbed by such vain and worldly fantasies as discourses of +love from any man." + +"Cant not to me," said Manfred, "but return and bring the Princess +to her duty." + +"It is my duty to prevent her return hither," said Jerome. "She is +where orphans and virgins are safest from the snares and wiles of +this world; and nothing but a parent's authority shall take her +thence." + +"I am her parent," cried Manfred, "and demand her." + +"She wished to have you for her parent," said the Friar; "but +Heaven that forbad that connection has for ever dissolved all ties +betwixt you: and I announce to your Highness--" + +"Stop! audacious man," said Manfred, "and dread my displeasure." + +"Holy farther," said Hippolita, "it is your office to be no +respecter of persons: you must speak as your duty prescribes: but +it is my duty to hear nothing that it pleases not my Lord I should +hear. Attend the Prince to his chamber. I will retire to my +oratory, and pray to the blessed Virgin to inspire you with her +holy counsels, and to restore the heart of my gracious Lord to its +wonted peace and gentleness." + +"Excellent woman!" said the Friar. "My Lord, I attend your +pleasure." + +Manfred, accompanied by the Friar, passed to his own apartment, +where shutting the door, "I perceive, Father," said he, "that +Isabella has acquainted you with my purpose. Now hear my resolve, +and obey. Reasons of state, most urgent reasons, my own and the +safety of my people, demand that I should have a son. It is in +vain to expect an heir from Hippolita. I have made choice of +Isabella. You must bring her back; and you must do more. I know +the influence you have with Hippolita: her conscience is in your +hands. She is, I allow, a faultless woman: her soul is set on +heaven, and scorns the little grandeur of this world: you can +withdraw her from it entirely. Persuade her to consent to the +dissolution of our marriage, and to retire into a monastery--she +shall endow one if she will; and she shall have the means of being +as liberal to your order as she or you can wish. Thus you will +divert the calamities that are hanging over our heads, and have the +merit of saying the principality of Otranto from destruction. You +are a prudent man, and though the warmth of my temper betrayed me +into some unbecoming expressions, I honour your virtue, and wish to +be indebted to you for the repose of my life and the preservation +of my family." + +"The will of heaven be done!" said the Friar. "I am but its +worthless instrument. It makes use of my tongue to tell thee, +Prince, of thy unwarrantable designs. The injuries of the virtuous +Hippolita have mounted to the throne of pity. By me thou art +reprimanded for thy adulterous intention of repudiating her: by me +thou art warned not to pursue the incestuous design on thy +contracted daughter. Heaven that delivered her from thy fury, when +the judgments so recently fallen on thy house ought to have +inspired thee with other thoughts, will continue to watch over her. +Even I, a poor and despised Friar, am able to protect her from thy +violence--I, sinner as I am, and uncharitably reviled by your +Highness as an accomplice of I know not what amours, scorn the +allurements with which it has pleased thee to tempt mine honesty. +I love my order; I honour devout souls; I respect the piety of thy +Princess--but I will not betray the confidence she reposes in me, +nor serve even the cause of religion by foul and sinful +compliances--but forsooth! the welfare of the state depends on your +Highness having a son! Heaven mocks the short-sighted views of +man. But yester-morn, whose house was so great, so flourishing as +Manfred's?--where is young Conrad now?--My Lord, I respect your +tears--but I mean not to check them--let them flow, Prince! They +will weigh more with heaven toward the welfare of thy subjects, +than a marriage, which, founded on lust or policy, could never +prosper. The sceptre, which passed from the race of Alfonso to +thine, cannot be preserved by a match which the church will never +allow. If it is the will of the Most High that Manfred's name must +perish, resign yourself, my Lord, to its decrees; and thus deserve +a crown that can never pass away. Come, my Lord; I like this +sorrow--let us return to the Princess: she is not apprised of your +cruel intentions; nor did I mean more than to alarm you. You saw +with what gentle patience, with what efforts of love, she heard, +she rejected hearing, the extent of your guilt. I know she longs +to fold you in her arms, and assure you of her unalterable +affection." + +"Father," said the Prince, "you mistake my compunction: true, I +honour Hippolita's virtues; I think her a Saint; and wish it were +for my soul's health to tie faster the knot that has united us--but +alas! Father, you know not the bitterest of my pangs! it is some +time that I have had scruples on the legality of our union: +Hippolita is related to me in the fourth degree--it is true, we had +a dispensation: but I have been informed that she had also been +contracted to another. This it is that sits heavy at my heart: to +this state of unlawful wedlock I impute the visitation that has +fallen on me in the death of Conrad!--ease my conscience of this +burden: dissolve our marriage, and accomplish the work of +godliness--which your divine exhortations have commenced in my +soul." + +How cutting was the anguish which the good man felt, when he +perceived this turn in the wily Prince! He trembled for Hippolita, +whose ruin he saw was determined; and he feared if Manfred had no +hope of recovering Isabella, that his impatience for a son would +direct him to some other object, who might not be equally proof +against the temptation of Manfred's rank. For some time the holy +man remained absorbed in thought. At length, conceiving some hopes +from delay, he thought the wisest conduct would be to prevent the +Prince from despairing of recovering Isabella. Her the Friar knew +he could dispose, from her affection to Hippolita, and from the +aversion she had expressed to him for Manfred's addresses, to +second his views, till the censures of the church could be +fulminated against a divorce. With this intention, as if struck +with the Prince's scruples, he at length said: + +"My Lord, I have been pondering on what your Highness has said; and +if in truth it is delicacy of conscience that is the real motive of +your repugnance to your virtuous Lady, far be it from me to +endeavour to harden your heart. The church is an indulgent mother: +unfold your griefs to her: she alone can administer comfort to +your soul, either by satisfying your conscience, or upon +examination of your scruples, by setting you at liberty, and +indulging you in the lawful means of continuing your lineage. In +the latter case, if the Lady Isabella can be brought to consent--" + +Manfred, who concluded that he had either over-reached the good +man, or that his first warmth had been but a tribute paid to +appearance, was overjoyed at this sudden turn, and repeated the +most magnificent promises, if he should succeed by the Friar's +mediation. The well-meaning priest suffered him to deceive +himself, fully determined to traverse his views, instead of +seconding them. + +"Since we now understand one another," resumed the Prince, "I +expect, Father, that you satisfy me in one point. Who is the youth +that I found in the vault? He must have been privy to Isabella's +flight: tell me truly, is he her lover? or is he an agent for +another's passion? I have often suspected Isabella's indifference +to my son: a thousand circumstances crowd on my mind that confirm +that suspicion. She herself was so conscious of it, that while I +discoursed her in the gallery, she outran my suspicious, and +endeavoured to justify herself from coolness to Conrad." + +The Friar, who knew nothing of the youth, but what he had learnt +occasionally from the Princess, ignorant what was become of him, +and not sufficiently reflecting on the impetuosity of Manfred's +temper, conceived that it might not be amiss to sow the seeds of +jealousy in his mind: they might be turned to some use hereafter, +either by prejudicing the Prince against Isabella, if he persisted +in that union or by diverting his attention to a wrong scent, and +employing his thoughts on a visionary intrigue, prevent his +engaging in any new pursuit. With this unhappy policy, he answered +in a manner to confirm Manfred in the belief of some connection +between Isabella and the youth. The Prince, whose passions wanted +little fuel to throw them into a blaze, fell into a rage at the +idea of what the Friar suggested. + + "I will fathom to the bottom of this intrigue," cried he; and +quitting Jerome abruptly, with a command to remain there till his +return, he hastened to the great hall of the castle, and ordered +the peasant to be brought before him. + +"Thou hardened young impostor!" said the Prince, as soon as he saw +the youth; "what becomes of thy boasted veracity now? it was +Providence, was it, and the light of the moon, that discovered the +lock of the trap-door to thee? Tell me, audacious boy, who thou +art, and how long thou hast been acquainted with the Princess--and +take care to answer with less equivocation than thou didst last +night, or tortures shall wring the truth from thee." + +The young man, perceiving that his share in the flight of the +Princess was discovered, and concluding that anything he should say +could no longer be of any service or detriment to her, replied - + +"I am no impostor, my Lord, nor have I deserved opprobrious +language. I answered to every question your Highness put to me +last night with the same veracity that I shall speak now: and that +will not be from fear of your tortures, but because my soul abhors +a falsehood. Please to repeat your questions, my Lord; I am ready +to give you all the satisfaction in my power." + +"You know my questions," replied the Prince, "and only want time to +prepare an evasion. Speak directly; who art thou? and how long +hast thou been known to the Princess?" + +"I am a labourer at the next village," said the peasant; "my name +is Theodore. The Princess found me in the vault last night: +before that hour I never was in her presence." + +"I may believe as much or as little as I please of this," said +Manfred; "but I will hear thy own story before I examine into the +truth of it. Tell me, what reason did the Princess give thee for +making her escape? thy life depends on thy answer." + +"She told me," replied Theodore, "that she was on the brink of +destruction, and that if she could not escape from the castle, she +was in danger in a few moments of being made miserable for ever." + +"And on this slight foundation, on a silly girl's report," said +Manfred, "thou didst hazard my displeasure?" + +"I fear no man's displeasure," said Theodore, "when a woman in +distress puts herself under my protection." + +During this examination, Matilda was going to the apartment of +Hippolita. At the upper end of the hall, where Manfred sat, was a +boarded gallery with latticed windows, through which Matilda and +Bianca were to pass. Hearing her father's voice, and seeing the +servants assembled round him, she stopped to learn the occasion. +The prisoner soon drew her attention: the steady and composed +manner in which he answered, and the gallantry of his last reply, +which were the first words she heard distinctly, interested her in +his flavour. His person was noble, handsome, and commanding, even +in that situation: but his countenance soon engrossed her whole +care. + +"Heavens! Bianca," said the Princess softly, "do I dream? or is +not that youth the exact resemblance of Alfonso's picture in the +gallery?" + +She could say no more, for her father's voice grew louder at every +word. + +"This bravado," said he, "surpasses all thy former insolence. Thou +shalt experience the wrath with which thou darest to trifle. Seize +him," continued Manfred, "and 'bind him--the first news the +Princess hears of her champion shall be, that he has lost his head +for her sake." + +"The injustice of which thou art guilty towards me," said Theodore, +"convinces me that I have done a good deed in delivering the +Princess from thy tyranny. May she be happy, whatever becomes of +me!" + +"This is a lover!" cried Manfred in a rage: "a peasant within +sight of death is not animated by such sentiments. Tell me, tell +me, rash boy, who thou art, or the rack shall force thy secret from +thee." + +"Thou hast threatened me with death already," said the youth, "for +the truth I have told thee: if that is all the encouragement I am +to expect for sincerity, I am not tempted to indulge thy vain +curiosity farther." + +"Then thou wilt not speak?" said Manfred. + +"I will not," replied he. + +"Bear him away into the courtyard," said Manfred; "I will see his +head this instant severed from his body." + +Matilda fainted at hearing those words. Bianca shrieked, and cried +- + +"Help! help! the Princess is dead!" Manfred started at this +ejaculation, and demanded what was the matter! The young peasant, +who heard it too, was struck with horror, and asked eagerly the +same question; but Manfred ordered him to be hurried into the +court, and kept there for execution, till he had informed himself +of the cause of Bianca's shrieks. When he learned the meaning, he +treated it as a womanish panic, and ordering Matilda to be carried +to her apartment, he rushed into the court, and calling for one of +his guards, bade Theodore kneel down, and prepare to receive the +fatal blow. + +The undaunted youth received the bitter sentence with a resignation +that touched every heart but Manfred's. He wished earnestly to +know the meaning of the words he had heard relating to the +Princess; but fearing to exasperate the tyrant more against her, he +desisted. The only boon he deigned to ask was, that he might be +permitted to have a confessor, and make his peace with heaven. +Manfred, who hoped by the confessor's means to come at the youth's +history, readily granted his request; and being convinced that +Father Jerome was now in his interest, he ordered him to be called +and shrive the prisoner. The holy man, who had little foreseen the +catastrophe that his imprudence occasioned, fell on his knees to +the Prince, and adjured him in the most solemn manner not to shed +innocent blood. He accused himself in the bitterest terms for his +indiscretion, endeavoured to disculpate the youth, and left no +method untried to soften the tyrant's rage. Manfred, more incensed +than appeased by Jerome's intercession, whose retraction now made +him suspect he had been imposed upon by both, commanded the Friar +to do his duty, telling him he would not allow the prisoner many +minutes for confession. + +"Nor do I ask many, my Lord," said the unhappy young man. "My +sins, thank heaven, have not been numerous; nor exceed what might +be expected at my years. Dry your tears, good Father, and let us +despatch. This is a bad world; nor have I had cause to leave it +with regret." + +"Oh wretched youth!" said Jerome; "how canst thou bear the sight of +me with patience? I am thy murderer! it is I have brought this +dismal hour upon thee!" + +"I forgive thee from my soul," said the youth, "as I hope heaven +will pardon me. Hear my confession, Father; and give me thy +blessing." + +"How can I prepare thee for thy passage as I ought?" said Jerome. +"Thou canst not be saved without pardoning thy foes--and canst thou +forgive that impious man there?" + +"I can," said Theodore; "I do." + +"And does not this touch thee, cruel Prince?" said the Friar. + +"I sent for thee to confess him," said Manfred, sternly; "not to +plead for him. Thou didst first incense me against him--his blood +be upon thy head!" + +"It will! it will!" said the good main, in an agony of sorrow. +"Thou and I must never hope to go where this blessed youth is +going!" + +"Despatch!" said Manfred; "I am no more to be moved by the whining +of priests than by the shrieks of women." + +"What!" said the youth; "is it possible that my fate could have +occasioned what I heard! Is the Princess then again in thy power?" + +"Thou dost but remember me of my wrath," said Manfred. "Prepare +thee, for this moment is thy last." + +The youth, who felt his indignation rise, and who was touched with +the sorrow which he saw he had infused into all the spectators, as +well as into the Friar, suppressed his emotions, and putting off +his doublet, and unbuttoning, his collar, knelt down to his +prayers. As he stooped, his shirt slipped down below his shoulder, +and discovered the mark of a bloody arrow. + +"Gracious heaven!" cried the holy man, starting; "what do I see? +It is my child! my Theodore!" + +The passions that ensued must be conceived; they cannot be painted. +The tears of the assistants were suspended by wonder, rather than +stopped by joy. They seemed to inquire in the eyes of their Lord +what they ought to feel. Surprise, doubt, tenderness, respect, +succeeded each other in the countenance of the youth. He received +with modest submission the effusion of the old man's tears and +embraces. Yet afraid of giving a loose to hope, and suspecting +from what had passed the inflexibility of Manfred's temper, he cast +a glance towards the Prince, as if to say, canst thou be unmoved at +such a scene as this? + +Manfred's heart was capable of being touched. He forgot his anger +in his astonishment; yet his pride forbad his owning himself +affected. He even doubted whether this discovery was not a +contrivance of the Friar to save the youth. + +"What may this mean?" said he. "How can he be thy son? Is it +consistent with thy profession or reputed sanctity to avow a +peasant's offspring for the fruit of thy irregular amours!" + +"Oh, God!" said the holy man, "dost thou question his being mine? +Could I feel the anguish I do if I were not his father? Spare him! +good Prince! spare him! and revile me as thou pleasest." + +"Spare him! spare him!" cried the attendants; "for this good man's +sake!" + +"Peace!" said Manfred, sternly. "I must know more ere I am +disposed to pardon. A Saint's bastard may be no saint himself." + +"Injurious Lord!" said Theodore, "add not insult to cruelty. If I +am this venerable man's son, though no Prince, as thou art, know +the blood that flows in my veins--" + +"Yes," said the Friar, interrupting him, "his blood is noble; nor +is he that abject thing, my Lord, you speak him. He is my lawful +son, and Sicily can boast of few houses more ancient than that of +Falconara. But alas! my Lord, what is blood! what is nobility! We +are all reptiles, miserable, sinful creatures. It is piety alone +that can distinguish us from the dust whence we sprung, and whither +we must return." + +"Truce to your sermon," said Manfred; "you forget you are no longer +Friar Jerome, but the Count of Falconara. Let me know your +history; you will have time to moralise hereafter, if you should +not happen to obtain the grace of that sturdy criminal there." + +"Mother of God!" said the Friar, "is it possible my Lord can refuse +a father the life of his only, his long-lost, child! Trample me, +my Lord, scorn, afflict me, accept my life for his, but spare my +son!" + +"Thou canst feel, then," said Manfred, "what it is to lose an only +son! A little hour ago thou didst preach up resignation to me: MY +house, if fate so pleased, must perish--but the Count of Falconara- +-" + +"Alas! my Lord," said Jerome, "I confess I have offended; but +aggravate not an old man's sufferings! I boast not of my family, +nor think of such vanities--it is nature, that pleads for this boy; +it is the memory of the dear woman that bore him. Is she, +Theodore, is she dead?" + +"Her soul has long been with the blessed," said Theodore. + +"Oh! how?" cried Jerome, "tell me--no--she is happy! Thou art all +my care now!--Most dread Lord! will you--will you grant me my poor +boy's life?" + +"Return to thy convent," answered Manfred; "conduct the Princess +hither; obey me in what else thou knowest; and I promise thee the +life of thy son." + +"Oh! my Lord," said Jerome, "is my honesty the price I must pay for +this dear youth's safety?" + +"For me!" cried Theodore. "Let me die a thousand deaths, rather +than stain thy conscience. What is it the tyrant would exact of +thee? Is the Princess still safe from his power? Protect her, +thou venerable old man; and let all the weight of his wrath fall on +me." + +Jerome endeavoured to check the impetuosity of the youth; and ere +Manfred could reply, the trampling of horses was heard, and a +brazen trumpet, which hung without the gate of the castle, was +suddenly sounded. At the same instant the sable plumes on the +enchanted helmet, which still remained at the other end of the +court, were tempestuously agitated, and nodded thrice, as if bowed +by some invisible wearer. + + + +CHAPTER III. + + + +Manfred's heart misgave him when he beheld the plumage on the +miraculous casque shaken in concert with the sounding of the brazen +trumpet. + +"Father!" said he to Jerome, whom he now ceased to treat as Count +of Falconara, "what mean these portents? If I have offended--" the +plumes were shaken with greater violence than before. + +"Unhappy Prince that I am," cried Manfred. "Holy Father! will you +not assist me with your prayers?" + +"My Lord," replied Jerome, "heaven is no doubt displeased with your +mockery of its servants. Submit yourself to the church; and cease +to persecute her ministers. Dismiss this innocent youth; and learn +to respect the holy character I wear. Heaven will not be trifled +with: you see--" the trumpet sounded again. + +"I acknowledge I have been too hasty," said Manfred. "Father, do +you go to the wicket, and demand who is at the gate." + +"Do you grant me the life of Theodore?" replied the Friar. + +"I do," said Manfred; "but inquire who is without!" + +Jerome, falling on the neck of his son, discharged a flood of +tears, that spoke the fulness of his soul. + +"You promised to go to the gate," said Manfred. + +"I thought," replied the Friar, "your Highness would excuse my +thanking you first in this tribute of my heart." + +"Go, dearest Sir," said Theodore; "obey the Prince. I do not +deserve that you should delay his satisfaction for me." + +Jerome, inquiring who was without, was answered, "A Herald." + +"From whom?" said he. + +"From the Knight of the Gigantic Sabre," said the Herald; "and I +must speak with the usurper of Otranto." + +Jerome returned to the Prince, and did not fail to repeat the +message in the very words it had been uttered. The first sounds +struck Manfred with terror; but when he heard himself styled +usurper, his rage rekindled, and all his courage revived. + +"Usurper!--insolent villain!" cried he; "who dares to question my +title? Retire, Father; this is no business for Monks: I will meet +this presumptuous man myself. Go to your convent and prepare the +Princess's return. Your son shall be a hostage for your fidelity: +his life depends on your obedience." + +"Good heaven! my Lord," cried Jerome, "your Highness did but this +instant freely pardon my child--have you so soon forgot the +interposition of heaven?" + +"Heaven," replied Manfred, "does not send Heralds to question the +title of a lawful Prince. I doubt whether it even notifies its +will through Friars--but that is your affair, not mine. At present +you know my pleasure; and it is not a saucy Herald that shall save +your son, if you do not return with the Princess." + +It was in vain for the holy man to reply. Manfred commanded him to +be conducted to the postern-gate, and shut out from the castle. +And he ordered some of his attendants to carry Theodore to the top +of the black tower, and guard him strictly; scarce permitting the +father and son to exchange a hasty embrace at parting. He then +withdrew to the hall, and seating himself in princely state, +ordered the Herald to be admitted to his presence. + +"Well! thou insolent!" said the Prince, "what wouldst thou with +me?" + +"I come," replied he, "to thee, Manfred, usurper of the +principality of Otranto, from the renowned and invincible Knight, +the Knight of the Gigantic Sabre: in the name of his Lord, +Frederic, Marquis of Vicenza, he demands the Lady Isabella, +daughter of that Prince, whom thou hast basely and traitorously got +into thy power, by bribing her false guardians during his absence; +and he requires thee to resign the principality of Otranto, which +thou hast usurped from the said Lord Frederic, the nearest of blood +to the last rightful Lord, Alfonso the Good. If thou dost not +instantly comply with these just demands, he defies thee to single +combat to the last extremity." And so saying the Herald cast down +his warder. + +"And where is this braggart who sends thee?" said Manfred. + +"At the distance of a league," said the Herald: "he comes to make +good his Lord's claim against thee, as he is a true knight, and +thou an usurper and ravisher." + +Injurious as this challenge was, Manfred reflected that it was not +his interest to provoke the Marquis. He knew how well founded the +claim of Frederic was; nor was this the first time he had heard of +it. Frederic's ancestors had assumed the style of Princes of +Otranto, from the death of Alfonso the Good without issue; but +Manfred, his father, and grandfather, had been too powerful for the +house of Vicenza to dispossess them. Frederic, a martial and +amorous young Prince, had married a beautiful young lady, of whom +he was enamoured, and who had died in childbed of Isabella. Her +death affected him so much that he had taken the cross and gone to +the Holy Land, where he was wounded in an engagement against the +infidels, made prisoner, and reported to be dead. When the news +reached Manfred's ears, he bribed the guardians of the Lady +Isabella to deliver her up to him as a bride for his son Conrad, by +which alliance he had proposed to unite the claims of the two +houses. This motive, on Conrad's death, had co-operated to make +him so suddenly resolve on espousing her himself; and the same +reflection determined him now to endeavour at obtaining the consent +of Frederic to this marriage. A like policy inspired him with the +thought of inviting Frederic's champion into the castle, lest he +should be informed of Isabella's flight, which he strictly enjoined +his domestics not to disclose to any of the Knight's retinue. + +"Herald," said Manfred, as soon as he had digested these +reflections, "return to thy master, and tell him, ere we liquidate +our differences by the sword, Manfred would hold some converse with +him. Bid him welcome to my castle, where by my faith, as I am a +true Knight, he shall have courteous reception, and full security +for himself and followers. If we cannot adjust our quarrel by +amicable means, I swear he shall depart in safety, and shall have +full satisfaction according to the laws of arms: So help me God +and His holy Trinity!" + +The Herald made three obeisances and retired. + +During this interview Jerome's mind was agitated by a thousand +contrary passions. He trembled for the life of his son, and his +first thought was to persuade Isabella to return to the castle. +Yet he was scarce less alarmed at the thought of her union with +Manfred. He dreaded Hippolita's unbounded submission to the will +of her Lord; and though he did not doubt but he could alarm her +piety not to consent to a divorce, if he could get access to her; +yet should Manfred discover that the obstruction came from him, it +might be equally fatal to Theodore. He was impatient to know +whence came the Herald, who with so little management had +questioned the title of Manfred: yet he did not dare absent +himself from the convent, lest Isabella should leave it, and her +flight be imputed to him. He returned disconsolately to the +monastery, uncertain on what conduct to resolve. A Monk, who met +him in the porch and observed his melancholy air, said - + +"Alas! brother, is it then true that we have lost our excellent +Princess Hippolita?" + +The holy man started, and cried, "What meanest thou, brother? I +come this instant from the castle, and left her in perfect health." + +"Martelli," replied the other Friar, "passed by the convent but a +quarter of an hour ago on his way from the castle, and reported +that her Highness was dead. All our brethren are gone to the +chapel to pray for her happy transit to a better life, and willed +me to wait thy arrival. They know thy holy attachment to that good +Lady, and are anxious for the affliction it will cause in thee-- +indeed we have all reason to weep; she was a mother to our house. +But this life is but a pilgrimage; we must not murmur--we shall all +follow her! May our end be like hers!" + + "Good brother, thou dreamest," said Jerome. "I tell thee I come +from the castle, and left the Princess well. Where is the Lady +Isabella?" + +"Poor Gentlewoman!" replied the Friar; "I told her the sad news, +and offered her spiritual comfort. I reminded her of the +transitory condition of mortality, and advised her to take the +veil: I quoted the example of the holy Princess Sanchia of +Arragon." + +"Thy zeal was laudable," said Jerome, impatiently; "but at present +it was unnecessary: Hippolita is well--at least I trust in the +Lord she is; I heard nothing to the contrary--yet, methinks, the +Prince's earnestness--Well, brother, but where is the Lady +Isabella?" + +"I know not," said the Friar; "she wept much, and said she would +retire to her chamber." + +Jerome left his comrade abruptly, and hastened to the Princess, but +she was not in her chamber. He inquired of the domestics of the +convent, but could learn no news of her. He searched in vain +throughout the monastery and the church, and despatched messengers +round the neighbourhood, to get intelligence if she had been seen; +but to no purpose. Nothing could equal the good man's perplexity. +He judged that Isabella, suspecting Manfred of having precipitated +his wife's death, had taken the alarm, and withdrawn herself to +some more secret place of concealment. This new flight would +probably carry the Prince's fury to the height. The report of +Hippolita's death, though it seemed almost incredible, increased +his consternation; and though Isabella's escape bespoke her +aversion of Manfred for a husband, Jerome could feel no comfort +from it, while it endangered the life of his son. He determined to +return to the castle, and made several of his brethren accompany +him to attest his innocence to Manfred, and, if necessary, join +their intercession with his for Theodore. + +The Prince, in the meantime, had passed into the court, and ordered +the gates of the castle to be flung open for the reception of the +stranger Knight and his train. In a few minutes the cavalcade +arrived. First came two harbingers with wands. Next a herald, +followed by two pages and two trumpets. Then a hundred foot- +guards. These were attended by as many horse. After them fifty +footmen, clothed in scarlet and black, the colours of the Knight. +Then a led horse. Two heralds on each side of a gentleman on +horseback bearing a banner with the arms of Vicenza and Otranto +quarterly--a circumstance that much offended Manfred--but he +stifled his resentment. Two more pages. The Knight's confessor +telling his beads. Fifty more footmen clad as before. Two Knights +habited in complete armour, their beavers down, comrades to the +principal Knight. The squires of the two Knights, carrying their +shields and devices. The Knight's own squire. A hundred gentlemen +bearing an enormous sword, and seeming to faint under the weight of +it. The Knight himself on a chestnut steed, in complete armour, +his lance in the rest, his face entirely concealed by his vizor, +which was surmounted by a large plume of scarlet and black +feathers. Fifty foot-guards with drums and trumpets closed the +procession, which wheeled off to the right and left to make room +for the principal Knight. + +As soon as he approached the gate he stopped; and the herald +advancing, read again the words of the challenge. Manfred's eyes +were fixed on the gigantic sword, and he scarce seemed to attend to +the cartel: but his attention was soon diverted by a tempest of +wind that rose behind him. He turned and beheld the Plumes of the +enchanted helmet agitated in the same extraordinary manner as +before. It required intrepidity like Manfred's not to sink under a +concurrence of circumstances that seemed to announce his fate. Yet +scorning in the presence of strangers to betray the courage he had +always manifested, he said boldly - + +"Sir Knight, whoever thou art, I bid thee welcome. If thou art of +mortal mould, thy valour shall meet its equal: and if thou art a +true Knight, thou wilt scorn to employ sorcery to carry thy point. +Be these omens from heaven or hell, Manfred trusts to the +righteousness of his cause and to the aid of St. Nicholas, who has +ever protected his house. Alight, Sir Knight, and repose thyself. +To-morrow thou shalt have a fair field, and heaven befriend the +juster side!" + +The Knight made no reply, but dismounting, was conducted by Manfred +to the great hall of the castle. As they traversed the court, the +Knight stopped to gaze on the miraculous casque; and kneeling down, +seemed to pray inwardly for some minutes. Rising, he made a sign +to the Prince to lead on. As soon as they entered the hall, +Manfred proposed to the stranger to disarm, but the Knight shook +his head in token of refusal. + +"Sir Knight," said Manfred, "this is not courteous, but by my good +faith I will not cross thee, nor shalt thou have cause to complain +of the Prince of Otranto. No treachery is designed on my part; I +hope none is intended on thine; here take my gage" (giving him his +ring): "your friends and you shall enjoy the laws of hospitality. +Rest here until refreshments are brought. I will but give orders +for the accommodation of your train, and return to you." The three +Knights bowed as accepting his courtesy. Manfred directed the +stranger's retinue to be conducted to an adjacent hospital, founded +by the Princess Hippolita for the reception of pilgrims. As they +made the circuit of the court to return towards the gate, the +gigantic sword burst from the supporters, and falling to the ground +opposite to the helmet, remained immovable. Manfred, almost +hardened to preternatural appearances, surmounted the shock of this +new prodigy; and returning to the hall, where by this time the +feast was ready, he invited his silent guests to take their places. +Manfred, however ill his heart was at ease, endeavoured to inspire +the company with mirth. He put several questions to them, but was +answered only by signs. They raised their vizors but sufficiently +to feed themselves, and that sparingly. + +"Sirs" said the Prince, "ye are the first guests I ever treated +within these walls who scorned to hold any intercourse with me: +nor has it oft been customary, I ween, for princes to hazard their +state and dignity against strangers and mutes. You say you come in +the name of Frederic of Vicenza; I have ever heard that he was a +gallant and courteous Knight; nor would he, I am bold to say, think +it beneath him to mix in social converse with a Prince that is his +equal, and not unknown by deeds in arms. Still ye are silent-- +well! be it as it may--by the laws of hospitality and chivalry ye +are masters under this roof: ye shall do your pleasure. But come, +give me a goblet of wine; ye will not refuse to pledge me to the +healths of your fair mistresses." + +The principal Knight sighed and crossed himself, and was rising +from the board. + +"Sir Knight," said Manfred, "what I said was but in sport. I shall +constrain you in nothing: use your good liking. Since mirth is +not your mood, let us be sad. Business may hit your fancies +better. Let us withdraw, and hear if what I have to unfold may be +better relished than the vain efforts I have made for your +pastime." + +Manfred then conducting the three Knights into an inner chamber, +shut the door, and inviting them to be seated, began thus, +addressing himself to the chief personage:- + +"You come, Sir Knight, as I understand, in the name of the Marquis +of Vicenza, to re-demand the Lady Isabella, his daughter, who has +been contracted in the face of Holy Church to my son, by the +consent of her legal guardians; and to require me to resign my +dominions to your Lord, who gives himself for the nearest of blood +to Prince Alfonso, whose soul God rest! I shall speak to the +latter article of your demands first. You must know, your Lord +knows, that I enjoy the principality of Otranto from my father, Don +Manuel, as he received it from his father, Don Ricardo. Alfonso, +their predecessor, dying childless in the Holy Land, bequeathed his +estates to my grandfather, Don Ricardo, in consideration of his +faithful services." The stranger shook his head. + +"Sir Knight," said Manfred, warmly, "Ricardo was a valiant and +upright man; he was a pious man; witness his munificent foundation +of the adjoining church and two converts. He was peculiarly +patronised by St. Nicholas--my grandfather was incapable--I say, +Sir, Don Ricardo was incapable--excuse me, your interruption has +disordered me. I venerate the memory of my grandfather. Well, +Sirs, he held this estate; he held it by his good sword and by the +favour of St. Nicholas--so did my father; and so, Sirs, will I, +come what come will. But Frederic, your Lord, is nearest in blood. +I have consented to put my title to the issue of the sword. Does +that imply a vicious title? I might have asked, where is Frederic +your Lord? Report speaks him dead in captivity. You say, your +actions say, he lives--I question it not--I might, Sirs, I might-- +but I do not. Other Princes would bid Frederic take his +inheritance by force, if he can: they would not stake their +dignity on a single combat: they would not submit it to the +decision of unknown mutes!--pardon me, gentlemen, I am too warm: +but suppose yourselves in my situation: as ye are stout Knights, +would it not move your choler to have your own and the honour of +your ancestors called in question?" + +"But to the point. Ye require me to deliver up the Lady Isabella. +Sirs, I must ask if ye are authorised to receive her?" + +The Knight nodded. + +"Receive her," continued Manfred; "well, you are authorised to +receive her, but, gentle Knight, may I ask if you have full +powers?" + +The Knight nodded. + +"'Tis well," said Manfred; "then hear what I have to offer. Ye +see, gentlemen, before you, the most unhappy of men!" (he began to +weep); "afford me your compassion; I am entitled to it, indeed I +am. Know, I have lost my only hope, my joy, the support of my +house--Conrad died yester morning." + +The Knights discovered signs of surprise. + +"Yes, Sirs, fate has disposed of my son. Isabella is at liberty." + +"Do you then restore her?" cried the chief Knight, breaking +silence. + +"Afford me your patience," said Manfred. "I rejoice to find, by +this testimony of your goodwill, that this matter may be adjusted +without blood. It is no interest of mine dictates what little I +have farther to say. Ye behold in me a man disgusted with the +world: the loss of my son has weaned me from earthly cares. Power +and greatness have no longer any charms in my eyes. I wished to +transmit the sceptre I had received from my ancestors with honour +to my son--but that is over! Life itself is so indifferent to me, +that I accepted your defiance with joy. A good Knight cannot go to +the grave with more satisfaction than when falling in his vocation: +whatever is the will of heaven, I submit; for alas! Sirs, I am a +man of many sorrows. Manfred is no object of envy, but no doubt +you are acquainted with my story." + +The Knight made signs of ignorance, and seemed curious to have +Manfred proceed. + +"Is it possible, Sirs," continued the Prince, "that my story should +be a secret to you? Have you heard nothing relating to me and the +Princess Hippolita?" + +They shook their heads. + +"No! Thus, then, Sirs, it is. You think me ambitious: ambition, +alas! is composed of more rugged materials. If I were ambitious, I +should not for so many years have been a prey to all the hell of +conscientious scruples. But I weary your patience: I will be +brief. Know, then, that I have long been troubled in mind on my +union with the Princess Hippolita. Oh! Sirs, if ye were acquainted +with that excellent woman! if ye knew that I adore her like a +mistress, and cherish her as a friend--but man was not born for +perfect happiness! She shares my scruples, and with her consent I +have brought this matter before the church, for we are related +within the forbidden degrees. I expect every hour the definitive +sentence that must separate us for ever--I am sure you feel for me- +-I see you do--pardon these tears!" + +The Knights gazed on each other, wondering where this would end. + +Manfred continued - + +"The death of my son betiding while my soul was under this anxiety, +I thought of nothing but resigning my dominions, and retiring for +ever from the sight of mankind. My only difficulty was to fix on a +successor, who would be tender of my people, and to dispose of the +Lady Isabella, who is dear to me as my own blood. I was willing to +restore the line of Alfonso, even in his most distant kindred. And +though, pardon me, I am satisfied it was his will that Ricardo's +lineage should take place of his own relations; yet where was I to +search for those relations? I knew of none but Frederic, your +Lord; he was a captive to the infidels, or dead; and were he +living, and at home, would he quit the flourishing State of Vicenza +for the inconsiderable principality of Otranto? If he would not, +could I bear the thought of seeing a hard, unfeeling, Viceroy set +over my poor faithful people? for, Sirs, I love my people, and +thank heaven am beloved by them. But ye will ask whither tends +this long discourse? Briefly, then, thus, Sirs. Heaven in your +arrival seems to point out a remedy for these difficulties and my +misfortunes. The Lady Isabella is at liberty; I shall soon be so. +I would submit to anything for the good of my people. Were it not +the best, the only way to extinguish the feuds between our +families, if I was to take the Lady Isabella to wife? You start. +But though Hippolita's virtues will ever be dear to me, a Prince +must not consider himself; he is born for his people." A servant +at that instant entering the chamber apprised Manfred that Jerome +and several of his brethren demanded immediate access to him. + +The Prince, provoked at this interruption, and fearing that the +Friar would discover to the strangers that Isabella had taken +sanctuary, was going to forbid Jerome's entrance. But recollecting +that he was certainly arrived to notify the Princess's return, +Manfred began to excuse himself to the Knights for leaving them for +a few moments, but was prevented by the arrival of the Friars. +Manfred angrily reprimanded them for their intrusion, and would +have forced them back from the chamber; but Jerome was too much +agitated to be repulsed. He declared aloud the flight of Isabella, +with protestations of his own innocence. + +Manfred, distracted at the news, and not less at its coming to the +knowledge of the strangers, uttered nothing but incoherent +sentences, now upbraiding the Friar, now apologising to the +Knights, earnest to know what was become of Isabella, yet equally +afraid of their knowing; impatient to pursue her, yet dreading to +have them join in the pursuit. He offered to despatch messengers +in quest of her, but the chief Knight, no longer keeping silence, +reproached Manfred in bitter terms for his dark and ambiguous +dealing, and demanded the cause of Isabella's first absence from +the castle. Manfred, casting a stern look at Jerome, implying a +command of silence, pretended that on Conrad's death he had placed +her in sanctuary until he could determine how to dispose of her. +Jerome, who trembled for his son's life, did not dare contradict +this falsehood, but one of his brethren, not under the same +anxiety, declared frankly that she had fled to their church in the +preceding night. The Prince in vain endeavoured to stop this +discovery, which overwhelmed him with shame and confusion. The +principal stranger, amazed at the contradictions he heard, and more +than half persuaded that Manfred had secreted the Princess, +notwithstanding the concern he expressed at her flight, rushing to +the door, said - + +"Thou traitor Prince! Isabella shall be found." + +Manfred endeavoured to hold him, but the other Knights assisting +their comrade, he broke from the Prince, and hastened into the +court, demanding his attendants. Manfred, finding it vain to +divert him from the pursuit, offered to accompany him and summoning +his attendants, and taking Jerome and some of the Friars to guide +them, they issued from the castle; Manfred privately giving orders +to have the Knight's company secured, while to the knight he +affected to despatch a messenger to require their assistance. + +The company had no sooner quitted the castle than Matilda, who felt +herself deeply interested for the young peasant, since she had seen +him condemned to death in the hall, and whose thoughts had been +taken up with concerting measures to save him, was informed by some +of the female attendants that Manfred had despatched all his men +various ways in pursuit of Isabella. He had in his hurry given +this order in general terms, not meaning to extend it to the guard +he had set upon Theodore, but forgetting it. The domestics, +officious to obey so peremptory a Prince, and urged by their own +curiosity and love of novelty to join in any precipitate chase, had +to a man left the castle. Matilda disengaged herself from her +women, stole up to the black tower, and unbolting the door, +presented herself to the astonished Theodore. + +"Young man," said she, "though filial duty and womanly modesty +condemn the step I am taking, yet holy charity, surmounting all +other ties, justifies this act. Fly; the doors of thy prison are +open: my father and his domestics are absent; but they may soon +return. Be gone in safety; and may the angels of heaven direct thy +course!" + +"Thou art surely one of those angels!" said the enraptured +Theodore: "none but a blessed saint could speak, could act--could +look--like thee. May I not know the name of my divine protectress? +Methought thou namedst thy father. Is it possible? Can Manfred's +blood feel holy pity! Lovely Lady, thou answerest not. But how +art thou here thyself? Why dost thou neglect thy own safety, and +waste a thought on a wretch like Theodore? Let us fly together: +the life thou bestowest shall be dedicated to thy defence." + +"Alas! thou mistakest," said Matilda, signing: "I am Manfred's +daughter, but no dangers await me." + +"Amazement!" said Theodore; "but last night I blessed myself for +yielding thee the service thy gracious compassion so charitably +returns me now." + +"Still thou art in an error," said the Princess; "but this is no +time for explanation. Fly, virtuous youth, while it is in my power +to save thee: should my father return, thou and I both should +indeed have cause to tremble." + +"How!" said Theodore; "thinkest thou, charming maid, that I will +accept of life at the hazard of aught calamitous to thee? Better I +endured a thousand deaths." + +"I run no risk," said Matilda, "but by thy delay. Depart; it +cannot be known that I have assisted thy flight." + +"Swear by the saints above," said Theodore, "that thou canst not be +suspected; else here I vow to await whatever can befall me." + +"Oh! thou art too generous," said Matilda; "but rest assured that +no suspicion can alight on me." + +"Give me thy beauteous hand in token that thou dost not deceive +me," said Theodore; "and let me bathe it with the warm tears of +gratitude." + +"Forbear!" said the Princess; "this must not be." + +"Alas!" said Theodore, "I have never known but calamity until this +hour--perhaps shall never know other fortune again: suffer the +chaste raptures of holy gratitude: 'tis my soul would print its +effusions on thy hand." + +"Forbear, and be gone," said Matilda. "How would Isabella approve +of seeing thee at my feet?" + +"Who is Isabella?" said the young man with surprise. + +"Ah, me! I fear," said the Princess, "I am serving a deceitful +one. Hast thou forgot thy curiosity this morning?" + +"Thy looks, thy actions, all thy beauteous self seem an emanation +of divinity," said Theodore; "but thy words are dark and +mysterious. Speak, Lady; speak to thy servant's comprehension." + +"Thou understandest but too well!" said Matilda; "but once more I +command thee to be gone: thy blood, which I may preserve, will be +on my head, if I waste the time in vain discourse." + +"I go, Lady," said Theodore, "because it is thy will, and because I +would not bring the grey hairs of my father with sorrow to the +grave. Say but, adored Lady, that I have thy gentle pity." + +"Stay," said Matilda; "I will conduct thee to the subterraneous +vault by which Isabella escaped; it will lead thee to the church of +St. Nicholas, where thou mayst take sanctuary." + +"What!" said Theodore, "was it another, and not thy lovely self +that I assisted to find the subterraneous passage?" + +"It was," said Matilda; "but ask no more; I tremble to see thee +still abide here; fly to the sanctuary." + +"To sanctuary," said Theodore; "no, Princess; sanctuaries are for +helpless damsels, or for criminals. Theodore's soul is free from +guilt, nor will wear the appearance of it. Give me a sword, Lady, +and thy father shall learn that Theodore scorns an ignominious +flight." + +"Rash youth!" said Matilda; "thou wouldst not dare to lift thy +presumptuous arm against the Prince of Otranto?" + +"Not against thy father; indeed, I dare not," said Theodore. +"Excuse me, Lady; I had forgotten. But could I gaze on thee, and +remember thou art sprung from the tyrant Manfred! But he is thy +father, and from this moment my injuries are buried in oblivion." + +A deep and hollow groan, which seemed to come from above, startled +the Princess and Theodore. + +"Good heaven! we are overheard!" said the Princess. They listened; +but perceiving no further noise, they both concluded it the effect +of pent-up vapours. And the Princess, preceding Theodore softly, +carried him to her father's armoury, where, equipping him with a +complete suit, he was conducted by Matilda to the postern-gate. + +"Avoid the town," said the Princess, "and all the western side of +the castle. 'Tis there the search must be making by Manfred and +the strangers; but hie thee to the opposite quarter. Yonder behind +that forest to the east is a chain of rocks, hollowed into a +labyrinth of caverns that reach to the sea coast. There thou mayst +lie concealed, till thou canst make signs to some vessel to put on +shore, and take thee off. Go! heaven be thy guide!--and sometimes +in thy prayers remember--Matilda!" + +Theodore flung himself at her feet, and seizing her lily hand, +which with struggles she suffered him to kiss, he vowed on the +earliest opportunity to get himself knighted, and fervently +entreated her permission to swear himself eternally her knight. +Ere the Princess could reply, a clap of thunder was suddenly heard +that shook the battlements. Theodore, regardless of the tempest, +would have urged his suit: but the Princess, dismayed, retreated +hastily into the castle, and commanded the youth to be gone with an +air that would not be disobeyed. He sighed, and retired, but with +eyes fixed on the gate, until Matilda, closing it, put an end to an +interview, in which the hearts of both had drunk so deeply of a +passion, which both now tasted for the first time. + +Theodore went pensively to the convent, to acquaint his father with +his deliverance. There he learned the absence of Jerome, and the +pursuit that was making after the Lady Isabella, with some +particulars of whose story he now first became acquainted. The +generous gallantry of his nature prompted him to wish to assist +her; but the Monks could lend him no lights to guess at the route +she had taken. He was not tempted to wander far in search of her, +for the idea of Matilda had imprinted itself so strongly on his +heart, that he could not bear to absent himself at much distance +from her abode. The tenderness Jerome had expressed for him +concurred to confirm this reluctance; and he even persuaded himself +that filial affection was the chief cause of his hovering between +the castle and monastery. + +Until Jerome should return at night, Theodore at length determined +to repair to the forest that Matilda had pointed out to him. +Arriving there, he sought the gloomiest shades, as best suited to +the pleasing melancholy that reigned in his mind. In this mood he +roved insensibly to the caves which had formerly served as a +retreat to hermits, and were now reported round the country to be +haunted by evil spirits. He recollected to have heard this +tradition; and being of a brave and adventurous disposition, he +willingly indulged his curiosity in exploring the secret recesses +of this labyrinth. He had not penetrated far before he thought he +heard the steps of some person who seemed to retreat before him. + +Theodore, though firmly grounded in all our holy faith enjoins to +be believed, had no apprehension that good men were abandoned +without cause to the malice of the powers of darkness. He thought +the place more likely to be infested by robbers than by those +infernal agents who are reported to molest and bewilder travellers. +He had long burned with impatience to approve his valour. Drawing +his sabre, he marched sedately onwards, still directing his steps +as the imperfect rustling sound before him led the way. The armour +he wore was a like indication to the person who avoided him. +Theodore, now convinced that he was not mistaken, redoubled his +pace, and evidently gained on the person that fled, whose haste +increasing, Theodore came up just as a woman fell breathless before +him. He hasted to raise her, but her terror was so great that he +apprehended she would faint in his arms. He used every gentle word +to dispel her alarms, and assured her that far from injuring, he +would defend her at the peril of his life. The Lady recovering her +spirits from his courteous demeanour, and gazing on her protector, +said - + +"Sure, I have heard that voice before!" + +"Not to my knowledge," replied Theodore; "unless, as I conjecture, +thou art the Lady Isabella." + +"Merciful heaven!" cried she. "Thou art not sent in quest of me, +art thou?" And saying those words, she threw herself at his feet, +and besought him not to deliver her up to Manfred. + +"To Manfred!" cried Theodore--"no, Lady; I have once already +delivered thee from his tyranny, and it shall fare hard with me +now, but I will place thee out of the reach of his daring." + +"Is it possible," said she, "that thou shouldst be the generous +unknown whom I met last night in the vault of the castle? Sure +thou art not a mortal, but my guardian angel. On my knees, let me +thank--" + +"Hold! gentle Princess," said Theodore, "nor demean thyself before +a poor and friendless young man. If heaven has selected me for thy +deliverer, it will accomplish its work, and strengthen my arm in +thy cause. But come, Lady, we are too near the mouth of the +cavern; let us seek its inmost recesses. I can have no +tranquillity till I have placed thee beyond the reach of danger." + +"Alas! what mean you, sir?" said she. "Though all your actions are +noble, though your sentiments speak the purity of your soul, is it +fitting that I should accompany you alone into these perplexed +retreats? Should we be found together, what would a censorious +world think of my conduct?" + +"I respect your virtuous delicacy," said Theodore; "nor do you +harbour a suspicion that wounds my honour. I meant to conduct you +into the most private cavity of these rocks, and then at the hazard +of my life to guard their entrance against every living thing. +Besides, Lady," continued he, drawing a deep sigh, "beauteous and +all perfect as your form is, and though my wishes are not guiltless +of aspiring, know, my soul is dedicated to another; and although--" +A sudden noise prevented Theodore from proceeding. They soon +distinguished these sounds - + +"Isabella! what, ho! Isabella!" The trembling Princess relapsed +into her former agony of fear. Theodore endeavoured to encourage +her, but in vain. He assured her he would die rather than suffer +her to return under Manfred's power; and begging her to remain +concealed, he went forth to prevent the person in search of her +from approaching. + +At the mouth of the cavern he found an armed Knight, discoursing +with a peasant, who assured him he had seen a lady enter the passes +of the rock. The Knight was preparing to seek her, when Theodore, +placing himself in his way, with his sword drawn, sternly forbad +him at his peril to advance. + +"And who art thou, who darest to cross my way?" said the Knight, +haughtily. + +"One who does not dare more than he will perform," said Theodore. + +"I seek the Lady Isabella," said the Knight, "and understand she +has taken refuge among these rocks. Impede me not, or thou wilt +repent having provoked my resentment." + +"Thy purpose is as odious as thy resentment is contemptible," said +Theodore. "Return whence thou camest, or we shall soon know whose +resentment is most terrible." + +The stranger, who was the principal Knight that had arrived from +the Marquis of Vicenza, had galloped from Manfred as he was busied +in getting information of the Princess, and giving various orders +to prevent her falling into the power of the three Knights. Their +chief had suspected Manfred of being privy to the Princess's +absconding, and this insult from a man, who he concluded was +stationed by that Prince to secrete her, confirming his suspicions, +he made no reply, but discharging a blow with his sabre at +Theodore, would soon have removed all obstruction, if Theodore, who +took him for one of Manfred's captains, and who had no sooner given +the provocation than prepared to support it, had not received the +stroke on his shield. The valour that had so long been smothered +in his breast broke forth at once; he rushed impetuously on the +Knight, whose pride and wrath were not less powerful incentives to +hardy deeds. The combat was furious, but not long. Theodore +wounded the Knight in three several places, and at last disarmed +him as he fainted by the loss of blood. + +The peasant, who had fled on the first onset, had given the alarm +to some of Manfred's domestics, who, by his orders, were dispersed +through the forest in pursuit of Isabella. They came up as the +Knight fell, whom they soon discovered to be the noble stranger. +Theodore, notwithstanding his hatred to Manfred, could not behold +the victory he had gained without emotions of pity and generosity. +But he was more touched when he learned the quality of his +adversary, and was informed that he was no retainer, but an enemy, +of Manfred. He assisted the servants of the latter in disarming +the Knight, and in endeavouring to stanch the blood that flowed +from his wounds. The Knight recovering his speech, said, in a +faint and faltering voice - + +"Generous foe, we have both been in an error. I took thee for an +instrument of the tyrant; I perceive thou hast made the like +mistake. It is too late for excuses. I faint. If Isabella is at +hand--call her--I have important secrets to--" + +"He is dying!" said one of the attendants; "has nobody a crucifix +about them? Andrea, do thou pray over him." + +"Fetch some water," said Theodore, "and pour it down his throat, +while I hasten to the Princess." + +Saying this, he flew to Isabella, and in few words told her +modestly that he had been so unfortunate by mistake as to wound a +gentleman from her father's court, who wished, ere he died, to +impart something of consequence to her. + +The Princess, who had been transported at hearing the voice of +Theodore, as he called to her to come forth, was astonished at what +she heard. Suffering herself to be conducted by Theodore, the new +proof of whose valour recalled her dispersed spirits, she came +where the bleeding Knight lay speechless on the ground. But her +fears returned when she beheld the domestics of Manfred. She would +again have fled if Theodore had not made her observe that they were +unarmed, and had not threatened them with instant death if they +should dare to seize the Princess. + +The stranger, opening his eyes, and beholding a woman, said, "Art +thou--pray tell me truly--art thou Isabella of Vicenza?" + +"I am," said she: "good heaven restore thee!" + + "Then thou--then thou"--said the Knight, struggling for utterance- +-"seest--thy father. Give me one--" + +"Oh! amazement! horror! what do I hear! what do I see!" cried +Isabella. "My father! You my father! How came you here, Sir? +For heaven's sake, speak! Oh! run for help, or he will expire!" + +"'Tis most true," said the wounded Knight, exerting all his force; +"I am Frederic thy father. Yes, I came to deliver thee. It will +not be. Give me a parting kiss, and take--" + +"Sir," said Theodore, "do not exhaust yourself; suffer us to convey +you to the castle." + +"To the castle!" said Isabella. "Is there no help nearer than the +castle? Would you expose my father to the tyrant? If he goes +thither, I dare not accompany him; and yet, can I leave him!" + +"My child," said Frederic, "it matters not for me whither I am +carried. A few minutes will place me beyond danger; but while I +have eyes to dote on thee, forsake me not, dear Isabella! This +brave Knight--I know not who he is--will protect thy innocence. +Sir, you will not abandon my child, will you?" + +Theodore, shedding tears over his victim, and vowing to guard the +Princess at the expense of his life, persuaded Frederic to suffer +himself to be conducted to the castle. They placed him on a horse +belonging to one of the domestics, after binding up his wounds as +well as they were able. Theodore marched by his side; and the +afflicted Isabella, who could not bear to quit him, followed +mournfully behind. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + + +The sorrowful troop no sooner arrived at the castle, than they were +met by Hippolita and Matilda, whom Isabella had sent one of the +domestics before to advertise of their approach. The ladies +causing Frederic to be conveyed into the nearest chamber, retired, +while the surgeons examined his wounds. Matilda blushed at seeing +Theodore and Isabella together; but endeavoured to conceal it by +embracing the latter, and condoling with her on her father's +mischance. The surgeons soon came to acquaint Hippolita that none +of the Marquis's wounds were dangerous; and that he was desirous of +seeing his daughter and the Princesses. + +Theodore, under pretence of expressing his joy at being freed from +his apprehensions of the combat being fatal to Frederic, could not +resist the impulse of following Matilda. Her eyes were so often +cast down on meeting his, that Isabella, who regarded Theodore as +attentively as he gazed on Matilda, soon divined who the object was +that he had told her in the cave engaged his affections. While +this mute scene passed, Hippolita demanded of Frederic the cause of +his having taken that mysterious course for reclaiming his +daughter; and threw in various apologies to excuse her Lord for the +match contracted between their children. + +Frederic, however incensed against Manfred, was not insensible to +the courtesy and benevolence of Hippolita: but he was still more +struck with the lovely form of Matilda. Wishing to detain them by +his bedside, he informed Hippolita of his story. He told her that, +while prisoner to the infidels, he had dreamed that his daughter, +of whom he had learned no news since his captivity, was detained in +a castle, where she was in danger of the most dreadful misfortunes: +and that if he obtained his liberty, and repaired to a wood near +Joppa, he would learn more. Alarmed at this dream, and incapable +of obeying the direction given by it, his chains became more +grievous than ever. But while his thoughts were occupied on the +means of obtaining his liberty, he received the agreeable news that +the confederate Princes who were warring in Palestine had paid his +ransom. He instantly set out for the wood that had been marked in +his dream. + +For three days he and his attendants had wandered in the forest +without seeing a human form: but on the evening of the third they +came to a cell, in which they found a venerable hermit in the +agonies of death. Applying rich cordials, they brought the +fainting man to his speech. + +"My sons," said he, "I am bounden to your charity--but it is in +vain--I am going to my eternal rest--yet I die with the +satisfaction of performing the will of heaven. When first I +repaired to this solitude, after seeing my country become a prey to +unbelievers--it is alas! above fifty years since I was witness to +that dreadful scene! St. Nicholas appeared to me, and revealed a +secret, which he bade me never disclose to mortal man, but on my +death-bed. This is that tremendous hour, and ye are no doubt the +chosen warriors to whom I was ordered to reveal my trust. As soon +as ye have done the last offices to this wretched corse, dig under +the seventh tree on the left hand of this poor cave, and your pains +will--Oh! good heaven receive my soul!" With those words the +devout man breathed his last. + +"By break of day," continued Frederic, "when we had committed the +holy relics to earth, we dug according to direction. But what was +our astonishment when about the depth of six feet we discovered an +enormous sabre--the very weapon yonder in the court. On the blade, +which was then partly out of the scabbard, though since closed by +our efforts in removing it, were written the following lines--no; +excuse me, Madam," added the Marquis, turning to Hippolita; "if I +forbear to repeat them: I respect your sex and rank, and would not +be guilty of offending your ear with sounds injurious to aught that +is dear to you." + +He paused. Hippolita trembled. She did not doubt but Frederic was +destined by heaven to accomplish the fate that seemed to threaten +her house. Looking with anxious fondness at Matilda, a silent tear +stole down her cheek: but recollecting herself, she said - + +"Proceed, my Lord; heaven does nothing in vain; mortals must +receive its divine behests with lowliness and submission. It is +our part to deprecate its wrath, or bow to its decrees. Repeat the +sentence, my Lord; we listen resigned." + +Frederic was grieved that he had proceeded so far. The dignity and +patient firmness of Hippolita penetrated him with respect, and the +tender silent affection with which the Princess and her daughter +regarded each other, melted him almost to tears. Yet apprehensive +that his forbearance to obey would be more alarming, he repeated in +a faltering and low voice the following lines: + + +"Where'er a casque that suits this sword is found, +With perils is thy daughter compass'd round; +ALFONSO'S blood alone can save the maid, +And quiet a long restless Prince's shade." + + +"What is there in these lines," said Theodore impatiently, "that +affects these Princesses? Why were they to be shocked by a +mysterious delicacy, that has so little foundation?" + +"Your words are rude, young man," said the Marquis; "and though +fortune has favoured you once--" + +"My honoured Lord," said Isabella, who resented Theodore's warmth, +which she perceived was dictated by his sentiments for Matilda, +"discompose not yourself for the glosing of a peasant's son: he +forgets the reverence he owes you; but he is not accustomed--" + +Hippolita, concerned at the heat that had arisen, checked Theodore +for his boldness, but with an air acknowledging his zeal; and +changing the conversation, demanded of Frederic where he had left +her Lord? As the Marquis was going to reply, they heard a noise +without, and rising to inquire the cause, Manfred, Jerome, and part +of the troop, who had met an imperfect rumour of what had happened, +entered the chamber. Manfred advanced hastily towards Frederic's +bed to condole with him on his misfortune, and to learn the +circumstances of the combat, when starting in an agony of terror +and amazement, he cried - + +"Ha! what art thou? thou dreadful spectre! is my hour come?" + +"My dearest, gracious Lord," cried Hippolita, clasping him in her +arms, "what is it you see! Why do you fix your eye-balls thus?" + +"What!" cried Manfred breathless; "dost thou see nothing, +Hippolita? Is this ghastly phantom sent to me alone--to rue, who +did not--" + +"For mercy's sweetest self, my Lord," said Hippolita, "resume your +soul, command your reason. There is none here, but us, your +friends." + +"What, is not that Alfonso?" cried Manfred. "Dost thou not see +him? can it be my brain's delirium?" + +"This! my Lord," said Hippolita; "this is Theodore, the youth who +has been so unfortunate." + +"Theodore!" said Manfred mournfully, and striking his forehead; +"Theodore or a phantom, he has unhinged the soul of Manfred. But +how comes he here? and how comes he in armour?" + +"I believe he went in search of Isabella," said Hippolita. + +"Of Isabella!" said Manfred, relapsing into rage; "yes, yes, that +is not doubtful -. But how did he escape from durance in which I +left him? Was it Isabella, or this hypocritical old Friar, that +procured his enlargement?" + +"And would a parent be criminal, my Lord," said Theodore, "if he +meditated the deliverance of his child?" + +Jerome, amazed to hear himself in a manner accused by his son, and +without foundation, knew not what to think. He could not +comprehend how Theodore had escaped, how he came to be armed, and +to encounter Frederic. Still he would not venture to ask any +questions that might tend to inflame Manfred's wrath against his +son. Jerome's silence convinced Manfred that he had contrived +Theodore's release. + +"And is it thus, thou ungrateful old man," said the Prince, +addressing himself to the Friar, "that thou repayest mine and +Hippolita's bounties? And not content with traversing my heart's +nearest wishes, thou armest thy bastard, and bringest him into my +own castle to insult me!" + +"My Lord," said Theodore, "you wrong my father: neither he nor I +are capable of harbouring a thought against your peace. Is it +insolence thus to surrender myself to your Highness's pleasure?" +added he, laying his sword respectfully at Manfred's feet. "Behold +my bosom; strike, my Lord, if you suspect that a disloyal thought +is lodged there. There is not a sentiment engraven on my heart +that does not venerate you and yours." + +The grace and fervour with which Theodore uttered these words +interested every person present in his favour. Even Manfred was +touched--yet still possessed with his resemblance to Alfonso, his +admiration was dashed with secret horror. + +"Rise," said he; "thy life is not my present purpose. But tell me +thy history, and how thou camest connected with this old traitor +here." + +"My Lord," said Jerome eagerly. + +"Peace! impostor!" said Manfred; "I will not have him prompted." + +"My Lord," said Theodore, "I want no assistance; my story is very +brief. I was carried at five years of age to Algiers with my +mother, who had been taken by corsairs from the coast of Sicily. +She died of grief in less than a twelvemonth;" the tears gushed +from Jerome's eyes, on whose countenance a thousand anxious +passions stood expressed. "Before she died," continued Theodore, +"she bound a writing about my arm under my garments, which told me +I was the son of the Count Falconara." + +"It is most true," said Jerome; "I am that wretched father." + +"Again I enjoin thee silence," said Manfred: "proceed." + +"I remained in slavery," said Theodore, "until within these two +years, when attending on my master in his cruises, I was delivered +by a Christian vessel, which overpowered the pirate; and +discovering myself to the captain, he generously put me on shore in +Sicily; but alas! instead of finding a father, I learned that his +estate, which was situated on the coast, had, during his absence, +been laid waste by the Rover who had carried my mother and me into +captivity: that his castle had been burnt to the ground, and that +my father on his return had sold what remained, and was retired +into religion in the kingdom of Naples, but where no man could +inform me. Destitute and friendless, hopeless almost of attaining +the transport of a parent's embrace, I took the first opportunity +of setting sail for Naples, from whence, within these six days, I +wandered into this province, still supporting myself by the labour +of my hands; nor until yester-morn did I believe that heaven had +reserved any lot for me but peace of mind and contented poverty. +This, my Lord, is Theodore's story. I am blessed beyond my hope in +finding a father; I am unfortunate beyond my desert in having +incurred your Highness's displeasure." + +He ceased. A murmur of approbation gently arose from the audience. + +"This is not all," said Frederic; "I am bound in honour to add what +he suppresses. Though he is modest, I must be generous; he is one +of the bravest youths on Christian ground. He is warm too; and +from the short knowledge I have of him, I will pledge myself for +his veracity: if what he reports of himself were not true, he +would not utter it--and for me, youth, I honour a frankness which +becomes thy birth; but now, and thou didst offend me: yet the +noble blood which flows in thy veins, may well be allowed to boil +out, when it has so recently traced itself to its source. Come, my +Lord," (turning to Manfred), "if I can pardon him, surely you may; +it is not the youth's fault, if you took him for a spectre." + +This bitter taunt galled the soul of Manfred. + +"If beings from another world," replied he haughtily, "have power +to impress my mind with awe, it is more than living man can do; nor +could a stripling's arm." + +"My Lord," interrupted Hippolita, "your guest has occasion for +repose: shall we not leave him to his rest?" Saying this, and +taking Manfred by the hand, she took leave of Frederic, and led the +company forth. + +The Prince, not sorry to quit a conversation which recalled to mind +the discovery he had made of his most secret sensations, suffered +himself to be conducted to his own apartment, after permitting +Theodore, though under engagement to return to the castle on the +morrow (a condition the young man gladly accepted), to retire with +his father to the convent. Matilda and Isabella were too much +occupied with their own reflections, and too little content with +each other, to wish for farther converse that night. They +separated each to her chamber, with more expressions of ceremony +and fewer of affection thou had passed between them since their +childhood. + +If they parted with small cordiality, they did but meet with +greater impatience, as soon as the sun was risen. Their minds were +in a situation that excluded sleep, and each recollected a thousand +questions which she wished she had put to the other overnight. +Matilda reflected that Isabella had been twice delivered by +Theodore in very critical situations, which she could not believe +accidental. His eyes, it was true, had been fixed on her in +Frederic's chamber; but that might have been to disguise his +passion for Isabella from the fathers of both. It were better to +clear this up. She wished to know the truth, lest she should wrong +her friend by entertaining a passion for Isabella's lover. Thus +jealousy prompted, and at the same time borrowed an excuse from +friendship to justify its curiosity. + +Isabella, not less restless, had better foundation for her +suspicions. Both Theodore's tongue and eyes had told her his heart +was engaged; it was true--yet, perhaps, Matilda might not +correspond to his passion; she had ever appeared insensible to +love: all her thoughts were set on heaven. + +"Why did I dissuade her?" said Isabella to herself; "I am punished +for my generosity; but when did they meet? where? It cannot be; I +have deceived myself; perhaps last night was the first time they +ever beheld each other; it must be some other object that has +prepossessed his affections--if it is, I am not so unhappy as I +thought; if it is not my friend Matilda--how! Can I stoop to wish +for the affection of a man, who rudely and unnecessarily acquainted +me with his indifference? and that at the very moment in which +common courtesy demanded at least expressions of civility. I will +go to my dear Matilda, who will confirm me in this becoming pride. +Man is false--I will advise with her on taking the veil: she will +rejoice to find me in this disposition; and I will acquaint her +that I no longer oppose her inclination for the cloister." + +In this frame of mind, and determined to open her heart entirely to +Matilda, she went to that Princess's chamber, whom she found +already dressed, and leaning pensively on her arm. This attitude, +so correspondent to what she felt herself, revived Isabella's +suspicions, and destroyed the confidence she had purposed to place +in her friend. They blushed at meeting, and were too much novices +to disguise their sensations with address. After some unmeaning +questions and replies, Matilda demanded of Isabella the cause of +her flight? The latter, who had almost forgotten Manfred's +passion, so entirely was she occupied by her own, concluding that +Matilda referred to her last escape from the convent, which had +occasioned the events of the preceding evening, replied - + +"Martelli brought word to the convent that your mother was dead." + +"Oh!" said Matilda, interrupting her, "Bianca has explained that +mistake to me: on seeing me faint, she cried out, 'The Princess is +dead!' and Martelli, who had come for the usual dole to the castle- +-" + +"And what made you faint?" said Isabella, indifferent to the rest. +Matilda blushed and stammered - + +"My father--he was sitting in judgment on a criminal--" + +"What criminal?" said Isabella eagerly. + +"A young man," said Matilda; "I believe--" + +"I think it was that young man that--" + +"What, Theodore?" said Isabella. + +"Yes," answered she; "I never saw him before; I do not know how he +had offended my father, but as he has been of service to you, I am +glad my Lord has pardoned him." + +"Served me!" replied Isabella; "do you term it serving me, to wound +my father, and almost occasion his death? Though it is but since +yesterday that I am blessed with knowing a parent, I hope Matilda +does not think I am such a stranger to filial tenderness as not to +resent the boldness of that audacious youth, and that it is +impossible for me ever to feel any affection for one who dared to +lift his arm against the author of my being. No, Matilda, my heart +abhors him; and if you still retain the friendship for me that you +have vowed from your infancy, you will detest a man who has been on +the point of making me miserable for ever." + +Matilda held down her head and replied: "I hope my dearest +Isabella does not doubt her Matilda's friendship: I never beheld +that youth until yesterday; he is almost a stranger to me: but as +the surgeons have pronounced your father out of danger, you ought +not to harbour uncharitable resentment against one, who I am +persuaded did not know the Marquis was related to you." + +"You plead his cause very pathetically," said Isabella, +"considering he is so much a stranger to you! I am mistaken, or he +returns your charity." + +"What mean you?" said Matilda. + +"Nothing," said Isabella, repenting that she had given Matilda a +hint of Theodore's inclination for her. Then changing the +discourse, she asked Matilda what occasioned Manfred to take +Theodore for a spectre? + +"Bless me," said Matilda, "did not you observe his extreme +resemblance to the portrait of Alfonso in the gallery? I took +notice of it to Bianca even before I saw him in armour; but with +the helmet on, he is the very image of that picture." + +"I do not much observe pictures," said Isabella: "much less have I +examined this young man so attentively as you seem to have done. +Ah? Matilda, your heart is in danger, but let me warn you as a +friend, he has owned to me that he is in love; it cannot be with +you, for yesterday was the first time you ever met--was it not?" + +"Certainly," replied Matilda; "but why does my dearest Isabella +conclude from anything I have said, that"--she paused--then +continuing: "he saw you first, and I am far from having the vanity +to think that my little portion of charms could engage a heart +devoted to you; may you be happy, Isabella, whatever is the fate of +Matilda!" + +"My lovely friend," said Isabella, whose heart was too honest to +resist a kind expression, "it is you that Theodore admires; I saw +it; I am persuaded of it; nor shall a thought of my own happiness +suffer me to interfere with yours." + +This frankness drew tears from the gentle Matilda; and jealousy +that for a moment had raised a coolness between these amiable +maidens soon gave way to the natural sincerity and candour of their +souls. Each confessed to the other the impression that Theodore +had made on her; and this confidence was followed by a struggle of +generosity, each insisting on yielding her claim to her friend. At +length the dignity of Isabella's virtue reminding her of the +preference which Theodore had almost declared for her rival, made +her determine to conquer her passion, and cede the beloved object +to her friend. + +During this contest of amity, Hippolita entered her daughter's +chamber. + +"Madam," said she to Isabella, "you have so much tenderness for +Matilda, and interest yourself so kindly in whatever affects our +wretched house, that I can have no secrets with my child which are +not proper for you to hear." + +The princesses were all attention and anxiety. + +"Know then, Madam," continued Hippolita, "and you my dearest +Matilda, that being convinced by all the events of these two last +ominous days, that heaven purposes the sceptre of Otranto should +pass from Manfred's hands into those of the Marquis Frederic, I +have been perhaps inspired with the thought of averting our total +destruction by the union of our rival houses. With this view I +have been proposing to Manfred, my lord, to tender this dear, dear +child to Frederic, your father." + +"Me to Lord Frederic!" cried Matilda; "good heavens! my gracious +mother--and have you named it to my father?" + +"I have," said Hippolita; "he listened benignly to my proposal, and +is gone to break it to the Marquis." + +"Ah! wretched princess!" cried Isabella; "what hast thou done! what +ruin has thy inadvertent goodness been preparing for thyself, for +me, and for Matilda!" + +"Ruin from me to you and to my child!" said Hippolita "what can +this mean?" + +"Alas!" said Isabella, "the purity of your own heart prevents your +seeing the depravity of others. Manfred, your lord, that impious +man--" + +"Hold," said Hippolita; "you must not in my presence, young lady, +mention Manfred with disrespect: he is my lord and husband, and--" + +"Will not long be so," said Isabella, "if his wicked purposes can +be carried into execution." + +"This language amazes me," said Hippolita. "Your feeling, +Isabella, is warm; but until this hour I never knew it betray you +into intemperance. What deed of Manfred authorises you to treat +him as a murderer, an assassin?" + +"Thou virtuous, and too credulous Princess!" replied Isabella; "it +is not thy life he aims at--it is to separate himself from thee! to +divorce thee! to--" + +"To divorce me!" "To divorce my mother!" cried Hippolita and +Matilda at once. + +"Yes," said Isabella; "and to complete his crime, he meditates--I +cannot speak it!" + +"What can surpass what thou hast already uttered?" said Matilda. + +Hippolita was silent. Grief choked her speech; and the +recollection of Manfred's late ambiguous discourses confirmed what +she heard. + +"Excellent, dear lady! madam! mother!" cried Isabella, flinging +herself at Hippolita's feet in a transport of passion; "trust me, +believe me, I will die a thousand deaths sooner than consent to +injure you, than yield to so odious--oh!--" + +"This is too much!" cried Hippolita: "What crimes does one crime +suggest! Rise, dear Isabella; I do not doubt your virtue. Oh! +Matilda, this stroke is too heavy for thee! weep not, my child; and +not a murmur, I charge thee. Remember, he is thy father still!" + +"But you are my mother too," said Matilda fervently; "and you are +virtuous, you are guiltless!--Oh! must not I, must not I complain?" + +"You must not," said Hippolita--"come, all will yet be well. +Manfred, in the agony for the loss of thy brother, knew not what he +said; perhaps Isabella misunderstood him; his heart is good--and, +my child, thou knowest not all! There is a destiny hangs over us; +the hand of Providence is stretched out; oh! could I but save thee +from the wreck! Yes," continued she in a firmer tone, "perhaps the +sacrifice of myself may atone for all; I will go and offer myself +to this divorce--it boots not what becomes of me. I will withdraw +into the neighbouring monastery, and waste the remainder of life in +prayers and tears for my child and--the Prince!" + +"Thou art as much too good for this world," said Isabella, "as +Manfred is execrable; but think not, lady, that thy weakness shall +determine for me. I swear, hear me all ye angels--" + +"Stop, I adjure thee," cried Hippolita: "remember thou dost not +depend on thyself; thou hast a father." + +"My father is too pious, too noble," interrupted Isabella, "to +command an impious deed. But should he command it; can a father +enjoin a cursed act? I was contracted to the son, can I wed the +father? No, madam, no; force should not drag me to Manfred's hated +bed. I loathe him, I abhor him: divine and human laws forbid--and +my friend, my dearest Matilda! would I wound her tender soul by +injuring her adored mother? my own mother--I never have known +another" - + +"Oh! she is the mother of both!" cried Matilda: "can we, can we, +Isabella, adore her too much?" + +"My lovely children," said the touched Hippolita, "your tenderness +overpowers me--but I must not give way to it. It is not ours to +make election for ourselves: heaven, our fathers, and our husbands +must decide for us. Have patience until you hear what Manfred and +Frederic have determined. If the Marquis accepts Matilda's hand, I +know she will readily obey. Heaven may interpose and prevent the +rest. What means my child?" continued she, seeing Matilda fall at +her feet with a flood of speechless tears--"But no; answer me not, +my daughter: I must not hear a word against the pleasure of thy +father." + +"Oh! doubt not my obedience, my dreadful obedience to him and to +you!" said Matilda. "But can I, most respected of women, can I +experience all this tenderness, this world of goodness, and conceal +a thought from the best of mothers?" + +"What art thou going to utter?" said Isabella trembling. +"Recollect thyself, Matilda." + +"No, Isabella," said the Princess, "I should not deserve this +incomparable parent, if the inmost recesses of my soul harboured a +thought without her permission--nay, I have offended her; I have +suffered a passion to enter my heart without her avowal--but here I +disclaim it; here I vow to heaven and her--" + +"My child! my child;" said Hippolita, "what words are these! what +new calamities has fate in store for us! Thou, a passion? Thou, +in this hour of destruction--" + +"Oh! I see all my guilt!" said Matilda. "I abhor myself, if I cost +my mother a pang. She is the dearest thing I have on earth--Oh! I +will never, never behold him more!" + +"Isabella," said Hippolita, "thou art conscious to this unhappy +secret, whatever it is. Speak!" + +"What!" cried Matilda, "have I so forfeited my mother's love, that +she will not permit me even to speak my own guilt? oh! wretched, +wretched Matilda!" + +"Thou art too cruel," said Isabella to Hippolita: "canst thou +behold this anguish of a virtuous mind, and not commiserate it?" + +"Not pity my child!" said Hippolita, catching Matilda in her arms-- +"Oh! I know she is good, she is all virtue, all tenderness, and +duty. I do forgive thee, my excellent, my only hope!" + +The princesses then revealed to Hippolita their mutual inclination +for Theodore, and the purpose of Isabella to resign him to Matilda. +Hippolita blamed their imprudence, and showed them the +improbability that either father would consent to bestow his +heiress on so poor a man, though nobly born. Some comfort it gave +her to find their passion of so recent a date, and that Theodore +had had but little cause to suspect it in either. She strictly +enjoined them to avoid all correspondence with him. This Matilda +fervently promised: but Isabella, who flattered herself that she +meant no more than to promote his union with her friend, could not +determine to avoid him; and made no reply. + +"I will go to the convent," said Hippolita, "and order new masses +to be said for a deliverance from these calamities." + +"Oh! my mother," said Matilda, "you mean to quit us: you mean to +take sanctuary, and to give my father an opportunity of pursuing +his fatal intention. Alas! on my knees I supplicate you to +forbear; will you leave me a prey to Frederic? I will follow you +to the convent." + +"Be at peace, my child," said Hippolita: "I will return instantly. +I will never abandon thee, until I know it is the will of heaven, +and for thy benefit." + +"Do not deceive me," said Matilda. "I will not marry Frederic +until thou commandest it. Alas! what will become of me?" + +"Why that exclamation?" said Hippolita. "I have promised thee to +return--" + +"Ah! my mother," replied Matilda, "stay and save me from myself. A +frown from thee can do more than all my father's severity. I have +given away my heart, and you alone can make me recall it." + +"No more," said Hippolita; "thou must not relapse, Matilda." + +"I can quit Theodore," said she, "but must I wed another? let me +attend thee to the altar, and shut myself from the world for ever." + +"Thy fate depends on thy father," said Hippolita; "I have ill- +bestowed my tenderness, if it has taught thee to revere aught +beyond him. Adieu! my child: I go to pray for thee." + +Hippolita's real purpose was to demand of Jerome, whether in +conscience she might not consent to the divorce. She had oft urged +Manfred to resign the principality, which the delicacy of her +conscience rendered an hourly burthen to her. These scruples +concurred to make the separation from her husband appear less +dreadful to her than it would have seemed in any other situation. + +Jerome, at quitting the castle overnight, had questioned Theodore +severely why he had accused him to Manfred of being privy to his +escape. Theodore owned it had been with design to prevent +Manfred's suspicion from alighting on Matilda; and added, the +holiness of Jerome's life and character secured him from the +tyrant's wrath. Jerome was heartily grieved to discover his son's +inclination for that princess; and leaving him to his rest, +promised in the morning to acquaint him with important reasons for +conquering his passion. + +Theodore, like Isabella, was too recently acquainted with parental +authority to submit to its decisions against the impulse of his +heart. He had little curiosity to learn the Friar's reasons, and +less disposition to obey them. The lovely Matilda had made +stronger impressions on him than filial affection. All night he +pleased himself with visions of love; and it was not till late +after the morning-office, that he recollected the Friar's commands +to attend him at Alfonso's tomb. + +"Young man," said Jerome, when he saw him, "this tardiness does not +please me. Have a father's commands already so little weight?" + +Theodore made awkward excuses, and attributed his delay to having +overslept himself. + +"And on whom were thy dreams employed?" said the Friar sternly. +His son blushed. "Come, come," resumed the Friar, "inconsiderate +youth, this must not be; eradicate this guilty passion from thy +breast--" + +"Guilty passion!" cried Theodore: "Can guilt dwell with innocent +beauty and virtuous modesty?" + +"It is sinful," replied the Friar, "to cherish those whom heaven +has doomed to destruction. A tyrant's race must be swept from the +earth to the third and fourth generation." + +"Will heaven visit the innocent for the crimes of the guilty?" said +Theodore. "The fair Matilda has virtues enough--" + +"To undo thee:" interrupted Jerome. "Hast thou so soon forgotten +that twice the savage Manfred has pronounced thy sentence?" + +"Nor have I forgotten, sir," said Theodore, "that the charity of +his daughter delivered me from his power. I can forget injuries, +but never benefits." + +"The injuries thou hast received from Manfred's race," said the +Friar, "are beyond what thou canst conceive. Reply not, but view +this holy image! Beneath this marble monument rest the ashes of +the good Alfonso; a prince adorned with every virtue: the father +of his people! the delight of mankind! Kneel, headstrong boy, and +list, while a father unfolds a tale of horror that will expel every +sentiment from thy soul, but sensations of sacred vengeance-- +Alfonso! much injured prince! let thy unsatisfied shade sit awful +on the troubled air, while these trembling lips--Ha! who comes +there?--" + +"The most wretched of women!" said Hippolita, entering the choir. +"Good Father, art thou at leisure?--but why this kneeling youth? +what means the horror imprinted on each countenance? why at this +venerable tomb--alas! hast thou seen aught?" + +"We were pouring forth our orisons to heaven," replied the Friar, +with some confusion, "to put an end to the woes of this deplorable +province. Join with us, Lady! thy spotless soul may obtain an +exemption from the judgments which the portents of these days but +too speakingly denounce against thy house." + +"I pray fervently to heaven to divert them," said the pious +Princess. "Thou knowest it has been the occupation of my life to +wrest a blessing for my Lord and my harmless children.--One alas! +is taken from me! would heaven but hear me for my poor Matilda! +Father! intercede for her!" + +"Every heart will bless her," cried Theodore with rapture. + +"Be dumb, rash youth!" said Jerome. "And thou, fond Princess, +contend not with the Powers above! the Lord giveth, and the Lord +taketh away: bless His holy name, and submit to his decrees." + +"I do most devoutly," said Hippolita; "but will He not spare my +only comfort? must Matilda perish too?--ah! Father, I came--but +dismiss thy son. No ear but thine must hear what I have to utter." + +"May heaven grant thy every wish, most excellent Princess!" said +Theodore retiring. Jerome frowned. + +Hippolita then acquainted the Friar with the proposal she had +suggested to Manfred, his approbation of it, and the tender of +Matilda that he was gone to make to Frederic. Jerome could not +conceal his dislike of the notion, which he covered under pretence +of the improbability that Frederic, the nearest of blood to +Alfonso, and who was come to claim his succession, would yield to +an alliance with the usurper of his right. But nothing could equal +the perplexity of the Friar, when Hippolita confessed her readiness +not to oppose the separation, and demanded his opinion on the +legality of her acquiescence. The Friar caught eagerly at her +request of his advice, and without explaining his aversion to the +proposed marriage of Manfred and Isabella, he painted to Hippolita +in the most alarming colours the sinfulness of her consent, +denounced judgments against her if she complied, and enjoined her +in the severest terms to treat any such proposition with every mark +of indignation and refusal. + +Manfred, in the meantime, had broken his purpose to Frederic, and +proposed the double marriage. That weak Prince, who had been +struck with the charms of Matilda, listened but too eagerly to the +offer. He forgot his enmity to Manfred, whom he saw but little +hope of dispossessing by force; and flattering himself that no +issue might succeed from the union of his daughter with the tyrant, +he looked upon his own succession to the principality as +facilitated by wedding Matilda. He made faint opposition to the +proposal; affecting, for form only, not to acquiesce unless +Hippolita should consent to the divorce. Manfred took that upon +himself. + +Transported with his success, and impatient to see himself in a +situation to expect sons, he hastened to his wife's apartment, +determined to extort her compliance. He learned with indignation +that she was absent at the convent. His guilt suggested to him +that she had probably been informed by Isabella of his purpose. He +doubted whether her retirement to the convent did not import an +intention of remaining there, until she could raise obstacles to +their divorce; and the suspicions he had already entertained of +Jerome, made him apprehend that the Friar would not only traverse +his views, but might have inspired Hippolita with the resolution of +talking sanctuary. Impatient to unravel this clue, and to defeat +its success, Manfred hastened to the convent, and arrived there as +the Friar was earnestly exhorting the Princess never to yield to +the divorce. + +"Madam," said Manfred, "what business drew you hither? why did you +not await my return from the Marquis?" + +"I came to implore a blessing on your councils," replied Hippolita. + +"My councils do not need a Friar's intervention," said Manfred; +"and of all men living is that hoary traitor the only one whom you +delight to confer with?" + +"Profane Prince!" said Jerome; "is it at the altar that thou +choosest to insult the servants of the altar?--but, Manfred, thy +impious schemes are known. Heaven and this virtuous lady know +them--nay, frown not, Prince. The Church despises thy menaces. +Her thunders will be heard above thy wrath. Dare to proceed in thy +cursed purpose of a divorce, until her sentence be known, and here +I lance her anathema at thy head." + +"Audacious rebel!" said Manfred, endeavouring to conceal the awe +with which the Friar's words inspired him. "Dost thou presume to +threaten thy lawful Prince?" + +"Thou art no lawful Prince," said Jerome; "thou art no Prince--go, +discuss thy claim with Frederic; and when that is done--" + +"It is done," replied Manfred; "Frederic accepts Matilda's hand, +and is content to waive his claim, unless I have no male issue"--as +he spoke those words three drops of blood fell from the nose of +Alfonso's statue. Manfred turned pale, and the Princess sank on +her knees. + +"Behold!" said the Friar; "mark this miraculous indication that the +blood of Alfonso will never mix with that of Manfred!" + +"My gracious Lord," said Hippolita, "let us submit ourselves to +heaven. Think not thy ever obedient wife rebels against thy +authority. I have no will but that of my Lord and the Church. To +that revered tribunal let us appeal. It does not depend on us to +burst the bonds that unite us. If the Church shall approve the +dissolution of our marriage, be it so--I have but few years, and +those of sorrow, to pass. Where can they be worn away so well as +at the foot of this altar, in prayers for thine and Matilda's +safety?" + +"But thou shalt not remain here until then," said Manfred. "Repair +with me to the castle, and there I will advise on the proper +measures for a divorce;--but this meddling Friar comes not thither; +my hospitable roof shall never more harbour a traitor--and for thy +Reverence's offspring," continued he, "I banish him from my +dominions. He, I ween, is no sacred personage, nor under the +protection of the Church. Whoever weds Isabella, it shall not be +Father Falconara's started-up son." + +"They start up," said the Friar, "who are suddenly beheld in the +seat of lawful Princes; but they wither away like the grass, and +their place knows them no more." + +Manfred, casting a look of scorn at the Friar, led Hippolita forth; +but at the door of the church whispered one of his attendants to +remain concealed about the convent, and bring him instant notice, +if any one from the castle should repair thither. + + + +CHAPTER V. + + + +Every reflection which Manfred made on the Friar's behaviour, +conspired to persuade him that Jerome was privy to an amour between +Isabella and Theodore. But Jerome's new presumption, so dissonant +from his former meekness, suggested still deeper apprehensions. +The Prince even suspected that the Friar depended on some secret +support from Frederic, whose arrival, coinciding with the novel +appearance of Theodore, seemed to bespeak a correspondence. Still +more was he troubled with the resemblance of Theodore to Alfonso's +portrait. The latter he knew had unquestionably died without +issue. Frederic had consented to bestow Isabella on him. These +contradictions agitated his mind with numberless pangs. + +He saw but two methods of extricating himself from his +difficulties. The one was to resign his dominions to the Marquis-- +pride, ambition, and his reliance on ancient prophecies, which had +pointed out a possibility of his preserving them to his posterity, +combated that thought. The other was to press his marriage with +Isabella. After long ruminating on these anxious thoughts, as he +marched silently with Hippolita to the castle, he at last +discoursed with that Princess on the subject of his disquiet, and +used every insinuating and plausible argument to extract her +consent to, even her promise of promoting the divorce. Hippolita +needed little persuasions to bend her to his pleasure. She +endeavoured to win him over to the measure of resigning his +dominions; but finding her exhortations fruitless, she assured him, +that as far as her conscience would allow, she would raise no +opposition to a separation, though without better founded scruples +than what he yet alleged, she would not engage to be active in +demanding it. + +This compliance, though inadequate, was sufficient to raise +Manfred's hopes. He trusted that his power and wealth would easily +advance his suit at the court of Rome, whither he resolved to +engage Frederic to take a journey on purpose. That Prince had +discovered so much passion for Matilda, that Manfred hoped to +obtain all he wished by holding out or withdrawing his daughter's +charms, according as the Marquis should appear more or less +disposed to co-operate in his views. Even the absence of Frederic +would be a material point gained, until he could take further +measures for his security. + +Dismissing Hippolita to her apartment, he repaired to that of the +Marquis; but crossing the great hall through which he was to pass +he met Bianca. The damsel he knew was in the confidence of both +the young ladies. It immediately occurred to him to sift her on +the subject of Isabella and Theodore. Calling her aside into the +recess of the oriel window of the hall, and soothing her with many +fair words and promises, he demanded of her whether she knew aught +of the state of Isabella's affections. + +"I! my Lord! no my Lord--yes my Lord--poor Lady! she is wonderfully +alarmed about her father's wounds; but I tell her he will do well; +don't your Highness think so?" + +"I do not ask you," replied Manfred, "what she thinks about her +father; but you are in her secrets. Come, be a good girl and tell +me; is there any young man--ha!--you understand me." + +"Lord bless me! understand your Highness? no, not I. I told her a +few vulnerary herbs and repose--" + +"I am not talking," replied the Prince, impatiently, "about her +father; I know he will do well." + +"Bless me, I rejoice to hear your Highness say so; for though I +thought it not right to let my young Lady despond, methought his +greatness had a wan look, and a something--I remember when young +Ferdinand was wounded by the Venetian--" + + "Thou answerest from the point," interrupted Manfred; "but here, +take this jewel, perhaps that may fix thy attention--nay, no +reverences; my favour shall not stop here--come, tell me truly; how +stands Isabella's heart?" + +"Well! your Highness has such a way!" said Bianca, "to be sure--but +can your Highness keep a secret? if it should ever come out of your +lips--" + +"It shall not, it shall not," cried Manfred. + +"Nay, but swear, your Highness." + +"By my halidame, if it should ever be known that I said it--" + +"Why, truth is truth, I do not think my Lady Isabella ever much +affectioned my young Lord your son; yet he was a sweet youth as one +should see; I am sure, if I had been a Princess--but bless me! I +must attend my Lady Matilda; she will marvel what is become of me." + +"Stay," cried Manfred; "thou hast not satisfied my question. Hast +thou ever carried any message, any letter?" + +"I! good gracious!" cried Bianca; "I carry a letter? I would not +to be a Queen. I hope your Highness thinks, though I am poor, I am +honest. Did your Highness never hear what Count Marsigli offered +me, when he came a wooing to my Lady Matilda?" + +"I have not leisure," said Manfred, "to listen to thy tale. I do +not question thy honesty. But it is thy duty to conceal nothing +from me. How long has Isabella been acquainted with Theodore?" + +"Nay, there is nothing can escape your Highness!" said Bianca; "not +that I know any thing of the matter. Theodore, to be sure, is a +proper young man, and, as my Lady Matilda says, the very image of +good Alfonso. Has not your Highness remarked it?" + +"Yes, yes,--No--thou torturest me," said Manfred. "Where did they +meet? when?" + +"Who! my Lady Matilda?" said Bianca. + +"No, no, not Matilda: Isabella; when did Isabella first become +acquainted with this Theodore!" + +"Virgin Mary!" said Bianca, "how should I know?" + +"Thou dost know," said Manfred; "and I must know; I will--" + +"Lord! your Highness is not jealous of young Theodore!" said +Bianca. + +"Jealous! no, no. Why should I be jealous? perhaps I mean to unite +them--If I were sure Isabella would have no repugnance." + +"Repugnance! no, I'll warrant her," said Bianca; "he is as comely a +youth as ever trod on Christian ground. We are all in love with +him; there is not a soul in the castle but would be rejoiced to +have him for our Prince--I mean, when it shall please heaven to +call your Highness to itself." + +"Indeed!" said Manfred, "has it gone so far! oh! this cursed +Friar!--but I must not lose time--go, Bianca, attend Isabella; but +I charge thee, not a word of what has passed. Find out how she is +affected towards Theodore; bring me good news, and that ring has a +companion. Wait at the foot of the winding staircase: I am going +to visit the Marquis, and will talk further with thee at my +return." + +Manfred, after some general conversation, desired Frederic to +dismiss the two Knights, his companions, having to talk with him on +urgent affairs. + +As soon as they were alone, he began in artful guise to sound the +Marquis on the subject of Matilda; and finding him disposed to his +wish, he let drop hints on the difficulties that would attend the +celebration of their marriage, unless--At that instant Bianca burst +into the room with a wildness in her look and gestures that spoke +the utmost terror. + +"Oh! my Lord, my Lord!" cried she; "we are all undone! it is come +again! it is come again!" + +"What is come again?" cried Manfred amazed. + +"Oh! the hand! the Giant! the hand!--support me! I am terrified out +of my senses," cried Bianca. "I will not sleep in the castle to- +night. Where shall I go? my things may come after me to-morrow-- +would I had been content to wed Francesco! this comes of ambition!" + +"What has terrified thee thus, young woman?" said the Marquis. +"Thou art safe here; be not alarmed." + +"Oh! your Greatness is wonderfully good," said Bianca, "but I dare +not--no, pray let me go--I had rather leave everything behind me, +than stay another hour under this roof." + +"Go to, thou hast lost thy senses," said Manfred. "Interrupt us +not; we were communing on important matters--My Lord, this wench is +subject to fits--Come with me, Bianca." + +"Oh! the Saints! No," said Bianca, "for certain it comes to warn +your Highness; why should it appear to me else? I say my prayers +morning and evening--oh! if your Highness had believed Diego! 'Tis +the same hand that he saw the foot to in the gallery-chamber-- +Father Jerome has often told us the prophecy would be out one of +these days--'Bianca,' said he, 'mark my words--'" + +"Thou ravest," said Manfred, in a rage; "be gone, and keep these +fooleries to frighten thy companions." + +"What! my Lord," cried Bianca, "do you think I have seen nothing? +go to the foot of the great stairs yourself--as I live I saw it." + +"Saw what? tell us, fair maid, what thou hast seen," said Frederic. + +"Can your Highness listen," said Manfred, "to the delirium of a +silly wench, who has heard stories of apparitions until she +believes them?" + +"This is more than fancy," said the Marquis; "her terror is too +natural and too strongly impressed to be the work of imagination. +Tell us, fair maiden, what it is has moved thee thus?" + +"Yes, my Lord, thank your Greatness," said Bianca; "I believe I +look very pale; I shall be better when I have recovered myself--I +was going to my Lady Isabella's chamber, by his Highness's order--" + +"We do not want the circumstances," interrupted Manfred. "Since +his Highness will have it so, proceed; but be brief." + +"Lord! your Highness thwarts one so!" replied Bianca; "I fear my +hair--I am sure I never in my life--well! as I was telling your +Greatness, I was going by his Highness's order to my Lady +Isabella's chamber; she lies in the watchet-coloured chamber, on +the right hand, one pair of stairs: so when I came to the great +stairs--I was looking on his Highness's present here--" + +"Grant me patience!" said Manfred, "will this wench never come to +the point? what imports it to the Marquis, that I gave thee a +bauble for thy faithful attendance on my daughter? we want to know +what thou sawest." + +"I was going to tell your Highness," said Bianca, "if you would +permit me. So as I was rubbing the ring--I am sure I had not gone +up three steps, but I heard the rattling of armour; for all the +world such a clatter as Diego says he heard when the Giant turned +him about in the gallery-chamber." + +"What Giant is this, my Lord?" said the Marquis; "is your castle +haunted by giants and goblins?" + +"Lord! what, has not your Greatness heard the story of the Giant in +the gallery-chamber?" cried Bianca. "I marvel his Highness has not +told you; mayhap you do not know there is a prophecy--" + +"This trifling is intolerable," interrupted Manfred. "Let us +dismiss this silly wench, my Lord! we have more important affairs +to discuss." + +"By your favour," said Frederic, "these are no trifles. The +enormous sabre I was directed to in the wood, yon casque, its +fellow--are these visions of this poor maiden's brain?" + +"So Jaquez thinks, may it please your Greatness," said Bianca. "He +says this moon will not be out without our seeing some strange +revolution. For my part, I should not be surprised if it was to +happen to-morrow; for, as I was saying, when I heard the clattering +of armour, I was all in a cold sweat. I looked up, and, if your +Greatness will believe me, I saw upon the uppermost banister of the +great stairs a hand in armour as big as big. I thought I should +have swooned. I never stopped until I came hither--would I were +well out of this castle. My Lady Matilda told me but yester- +morning that her Highness Hippolita knows something." + +"Thou art an insolent!" cried Manfred. "Lord Marquis, it much +misgives me that this scene is concerted to affront me. Are my own +domestics suborned to spread tales injurious to my honour? Pursue +your claim by manly daring; or let us bury our feuds, as was +proposed, by the intermarriage of our children. But trust me, it +ill becomes a Prince of your bearing to practise on mercenary +wenches." + +"I scorn your imputation," said Frederic. "Until this hour I never +set eyes on this damsel: I have given her no jewel. My Lord, my +Lord, your conscience, your guilt accuses you, and would throw the +suspicion on me; but keep your daughter, and think no more of +Isabella. The judgments already fallen on your house forbid me +matching into it." + +Manfred, alarmed at the resolute tone in which Frederic delivered +these words, endeavoured to pacify him. Dismissing Bianca, he made +such submissions to the Marquis, and threw in such artful encomiums +on Matilda, that Frederic was once more staggered. However, as his +passion was of so recent a date, it could not at once surmount the +scruples he had conceived. He had gathered enough from Bianca's +discourse to persuade him that heaven declared itself against +Manfred. The proposed marriages too removed his claim to a +distance; and the principality of Otranto was a stronger temptation +than the contingent reversion of it with Matilda. Still he would +not absolutely recede from his engagements; but purposing to gain +time, he demanded of Manfred if it was true in fact that Hippolita +consented to the divorce. The Prince, transported to find no other +obstacle, and depending on his influence over his wife, assured the +Marquis it was so, and that he might satisfy himself of the truth +from her own mouth. + +As they were thus discoursing, word was brought that the banquet +was prepared. Manfred conducted Frederic to the great hall, where +they were received by Hippolita and the young Princesses. Manfred +placed the Marquis next to Matilda, and seated himself between his +wife and Isabella. Hippolita comported herself with an easy +gravity; but the young ladies were silent and melancholy. Manfred, +who was determined to pursue his point with the Marquis in the +remainder of the evening, pushed on the feast until it waxed late; +affecting unrestrained gaiety, and plying Frederic with repeated +goblets of wine. The latter, more upon his guard than Manfred +wished, declined his frequent challenges, on pretence of his late +loss of blood; while the Prince, to raise his own disordered +spirits, and to counterfeit unconcern, indulged himself in +plentiful draughts, though not to the intoxication of his senses. + +The evening being far advanced, the banquet concluded. Manfred +would have withdrawn with Frederic; but the latter pleading +weakness and want of repose, retired to his chamber, gallantly +telling the Prince that his daughter should amuse his Highness +until himself could attend him. Manfred accepted the party, and to +the no small grief of Isabella, accompanied her to her apartment. +Matilda waited on her mother to enjoy the freshness of the evening +on the ramparts of the castle. + +Soon as the company were dispersed their several ways, Frederic, +quitting his chamber, inquired if Hippolita was alone, and was told +by one of her attendants, who had not noticed her going forth, that +at that hour she generally withdrew to her oratory, where he +probably would find her. The Marquis, during the repast, had +beheld Matilda with increase of passion. He now wished to find +Hippolita in the disposition her Lord had promised. The portents +that had alarmed him were forgotten in his desires. Stealing +softly and unobserved to the apartment of Hippolita, he entered it +with a resolution to encourage her acquiescence to the divorce, +having perceived that Manfred was resolved to make the possession +of Isabella an unalterable condition, before he would grant Matilda +to his wishes. + +The Marquis was not surprised at the silence that reigned in the +Princess's apartment. Concluding her, as he had been advertised, +in her oratory, he passed on. The door was ajar; the evening +gloomy and overcast. Pushing open the door gently, he saw a person +kneeling before the altar. As he approached nearer, it seemed not +a woman, but one in a long woollen weed, whose back was towards +him. The person seemed absorbed in prayer. The Marquis was about +to return, when the figure, rising, stood some moments fixed in +meditation, without regarding him. The Marquis, expecting the holy +person to come forth, and meaning to excuse his uncivil +interruption, said, + +"Reverend Father, I sought the Lady Hippolita." + +"Hippolita!" replied a hollow voice; "camest thou to this castle to +seek Hippolita?" and then the figure, turning slowly round, +discovered to Frederic the fleshless jaws and empty sockets of a +skeleton, wrapt in a hermit's cowl. + +"Angels of grace protect me!" cried Frederic, recoiling. + +"Deserve their protection!" said the Spectre. Frederic, falling on +his knees, adjured the phantom to take pity on him. + +"Dost thou not remember me?" said the apparition. "Remember the +wood of Joppa!" + +"Art thou that holy hermit?" cried Frederic, trembling. "Can I do +aught for thy eternal peace?" + +"Wast thou delivered from bondage," said the spectre, "to pursue +carnal delights? Hast thou forgotten the buried sabre, and the +behest of Heaven engraven on it?" + +"I have not, I have not," said Frederic; "but say, blest spirit, +what is thy errand to me? What remains to be done?" + +"To forget Matilda!" said the apparition; and vanished. + +Frederic's blood froze in his veins. For some minutes he remained +motionless. Then falling prostrate on his face before the altar, +he besought the intercession of every saint for pardon. A flood of +tears succeeded to this transport; and the image of the beauteous +Matilda rushing in spite of him on his thoughts, he lay on the +ground in a conflict of penitence and passion. Ere he could +recover from this agony of his spirits, the Princess Hippolita with +a taper in her hand entered the oratory alone. Seeing a man +without motion on the floor, she gave a shriek, concluding him +dead. Her fright brought Frederic to himself. Rising suddenly, +his face bedewed with tears, he would have rushed from her +presence; but Hippolita stopping him, conjured him in the most +plaintive accents to explain the cause of his disorder, and by what +strange chance she had found him there in that posture. + +"Ah, virtuous Princess!" said the Marquis, penetrated with grief, +and stopped. + +"For the love of Heaven, my Lord," said Hippolita, "disclose the +cause of this transport! What mean these doleful sounds, this +alarming exclamation on my name? What woes has heaven still in +store for the wretched Hippolita? Yet silent! By every pitying +angel, I adjure thee, noble Prince," continued she, falling at his +feet, "to disclose the purport of what lies at thy heart. I see +thou feelest for me; thou feelest the sharp pangs that thou +inflictest--speak, for pity! Does aught thou knowest concern my +child?" + +"I cannot speak," cried Frederic, bursting from her. "Oh, +Matilda!" + +Quitting the Princess thus abruptly, he hastened to his own +apartment. At the door of it he was accosted by Manfred, who +flushed by wine and love had come to seek him, and to propose to +waste some hours of the night in music and revelling. Frederic, +offended at an invitation so dissonant from the mood of his soul, +pushed him rudely aside, and entering his chamber, flung the door +intemperately against Manfred, and bolted it inwards. The haughty +Prince, enraged at this unaccountable behaviour, withdrew in a +frame of mind capable of the most fatal excesses. As he crossed +the court, he was met by the domestic whom he had planted at the +convent as a spy on Jerome and Theodore. This man, almost +breathless with the haste he had made, informed his Lord that +Theodore, and some lady from the castle were, at that instant, in +private conference at the tomb of Alfonso in St. Nicholas's church. +He had dogged Theodore thither, but the gloominess of the night had +prevented his discovering who the woman was. + +Manfred, whose spirits were inflamed, and whom Isabella had driven +from her on his urging his passion with too little reserve, did not +doubt but the inquietude she had expressed had been occasioned by +her impatience to meet Theodore. Provoked by this conjecture, and +enraged at her father, he hastened secretly to the great church. +Gliding softly between the aisles, and guided by an imperfect gleam +of moonshine that shone faintly through the illuminated windows, he +stole towards the tomb of Alfonso, to which he was directed by +indistinct whispers of the persons he sought. The first sounds he +could distinguish were - + +"Does it, alas! depend on me? Manfred will never permit our +union." + +"No, this shall prevent it!" cried the tyrant, drawing his dagger, +and plunging it over her shoulder into the bosom of the person that +spoke. + +"Ah, me, I am slain!" cried Matilda, sinking. "Good heaven, +receive my soul!" + +"Savage, inhuman monster, what hast thou done!" cried Theodore, +rushing on him, and wrenching his dagger from him. + +"Stop, stop thy impious hand!" cried Matilda; "it is my father!" + +Manfred, waking as from a trance, beat his breast, twisted his +hands in his locks, and endeavoured to recover his dagger from +Theodore to despatch himself. Theodore, scarce less distracted, +and only mastering the transports of his grief to assist Matilda, +had now by his cries drawn some of the monks to his aid. While +part of them endeavoured, in concert with the afflicted Theodore, +to stop the blood of the dying Princess, the rest prevented Manfred +from laying violent hands on himself. + +Matilda, resigning herself patiently to her fate, acknowledged with +looks of grateful love the zeal of Theodore. Yet oft as her +faintness would permit her speech its way, she begged the +assistants to comfort her father. Jerome, by this time, had learnt +the fatal news, and reached the church. His looks seemed to +reproach Theodore, but turning to Manfred, he said, + +"Now, tyrant! behold the completion of woe fulfilled on thy impious +and devoted head! The blood of Alfonso cried to heaven for +vengeance; and heaven has permitted its altar to be polluted by +assassination, that thou mightest shed thy own blood at the foot of +that Prince's sepulchre!" + +"Cruel man!" cried Matilda, "to aggravate the woes of a parent; may +heaven bless my father, and forgive him as I do! My Lord, my +gracious Sire, dost thou forgive thy child? Indeed, I came not +hither to meet Theodore. I found him praying at this tomb, whither +my mother sent me to intercede for thee, for her--dearest father, +bless your child, and say you forgive her." + +"Forgive thee! Murderous monster!" cried Manfred, "can assassins +forgive? I took thee for Isabella; but heaven directed my bloody +hand to the heart of my child. Oh, Matilda!--I cannot utter it-- +canst thou forgive the blindness of my rage?" + +"I can, I do; and may heaven confirm it!" said Matilda; "but while +I have life to ask it--oh! my mother! what will she feel? Will you +comfort her, my Lord? Will you not put her away? Indeed she loves +you! Oh, I am faint! bear me to the castle. Can I live to have +her close my eyes?" + +Theodore and the monks besought her earnestly to suffer herself to +be borne into the convent; but her instances were so pressing to be +carried to the castle, that placing her on a litter, they conveyed +her thither as she requested. Theodore, supporting her head with +his arm, and hanging over her in an agony of despairing love, still +endeavoured to inspire her with hopes of life. Jerome, on the +other side, comforted her with discourses of heaven, and holding a +crucifix before her, which she bathed with innocent tears, prepared +her for her passage to immortality. Manfred, plunged in the +deepest affliction, followed the litter in despair. + +Ere they reached the castle, Hippolita, informed of the dreadful +catastrophe, had flown to meet her murdered child; but when she saw +the afflicted procession, the mightiness of her grief deprived her +of her senses, and she fell lifeless to the earth in a swoon. +Isabella and Frederic, who attended her, were overwhelmed in almost +equal sorrow. Matilda alone seemed insensible to her own +situation: every thought was lost in tenderness for her mother. + +Ordering the litter to stop, as soon as Hippolita was brought to +herself, she asked for her father. He approached, unable to speak. +Matilda, seizing his hand and her mother's, locked them in her own, +and then clasped them to her heart. Manfred could not support this +act of pathetic piety. He dashed himself on the ground, and cursed +the day he was born. Isabella, apprehensive that these struggles +of passion were more than Matilda could support, took upon herself +to order Manfred to be borne to his apartment, while she caused +Matilda to be conveyed to the nearest chamber. Hippolita, scarce +more alive than her daughter, was regardless of everything but her; +but when the tender Isabella's care would have likewise removed +her, while the surgeons examined Matilda's wound, she cried, + +"Remove me! never, never! I lived but in her, and will expire with +her." + +Matilda raised her eyes at her mother's voice, but closed them +again without speaking. Her sinking pulse and the damp coldness of +her hand soon dispelled all hopes of recovery. Theodore followed +the surgeons into the outer chamber, and heard them pronounce the +fatal sentence with a transport equal to frenzy. + +"Since she cannot live mine," cried he, "at least she shall be mine +in death! Father! Jerome! will you not join our hands?" cried he +to the Friar, who, with the Marquis, had accompanied the surgeons. + +"What means thy distracted rashness?" said Jerome. "Is this an +hour for marriage?" + +"It is, it is," cried Theodore. "Alas! there is no other!" + +"Young man, thou art too unadvised," said Frederic. "Dost thou +think we are to listen to thy fond transports in this hour of fate? +What pretensions hast thou to the Princess?" + +"Those of a Prince," said Theodore; "of the sovereign of Otranto. +This reverend man, my father, has informed me who I am." + +"Thou ravest," said the Marquis. "There is no Prince of Otranto +but myself, now Manfred, by murder, by sacrilegious murder, has +forfeited all pretensions." + +"My Lord," said Jerome, assuming an air of command, "he tells you +true. It was not my purpose the secret should have been divulged +so soon, but fate presses onward to its work. What his hot-headed +passion has revealed, my tongue confirms. Know, Prince, that when +Alfonso set sail for the Holy Land--" + +"Is this a season for explanations?" cried Theodore. "Father, come +and unite me to the Princess; she shall be mine! In every other +thing I will dutifully obey you. My life! my adored Matilda!" +continued Theodore, rushing back into the inner chamber, "will you +not be mine? Will you not bless your--" + +Isabella made signs to him to be silent, apprehending the Princess +was near her end. + +"What, is she dead?" cried Theodore; "is it possible!" + +The violence of his exclamations brought Matilda to herself. +Lifting up her eyes, she looked round for her mother. + +"Life of my soul, I am here!" cried Hippolita; "think not I will +quit thee!" + +"Oh! you are too good," said Matilda. "But weep not for me, my +mother! I am going where sorrow never dwells--Isabella, thou hast +loved me; wouldst thou not supply my fondness to this dear, dear +woman? Indeed I am faint!" + +"Oh! my child! my child!" said Hippolita in a flood of tears, "can +I not withhold thee a moment?" + +"It will not be," said Matilda; "commend me to heaven--Where is my +father? forgive him, dearest mother--forgive him my death; it was +an error. Oh! I had forgotten--dearest mother, I vowed never to +see Theodore more--perhaps that has drawn down this calamity--but +it was not intentional--can you pardon me?" + +"Oh! wound not my agonising soul!" said Hippolita; "thou never +couldst offend me--Alas! she faints! help! help!" + +"I would say something more," said Matilda, struggling, "but it +cannot be--Isabella--Theodore--for my sake--Oh!--" she expired. + +Isabella and her women tore Hippolita from the corse; but Theodore +threatened destruction to all who attempted to remove him from it. +He printed a thousand kisses on her clay-cold hands, and uttered +every expression that despairing love could dictate. + +Isabella, in the meantime, was accompanying the afflicted Hippolita +to her apartment; but, in the middle of the court, they were met by +Manfred, who, distracted with his own thoughts, and anxious once +more to behold his daughter, was advancing to the chamber where she +lay. As the moon was now at its height, he read in the +countenances of this unhappy company the event he dreaded. + +"What! is she dead?" cried he in wild confusion. A clap of thunder +at that instant shook the castle to its foundations; the earth +rocked, and the clank of more than mortal armour was heard behind. +Frederic and Jerome thought the last day was at hand. The latter, +forcing Theodore along with them, rushed into the court. The +moment Theodore appeared, the walls of the castle behind Manfred +were thrown down with a mighty force, and the form of Alfonso, +dilated to an immense magnitude, appeared in the centre of the +ruins. + +"Behold in Theodore the true heir of Alfonso!" said the vision: +And having pronounced those words, accompanied by a clap of +thunder, it ascended solemnly towards heaven, where the clouds +parting asunder, the form of St. Nicholas was seen, and receiving +Alfonso's shade, they were soon wrapt from mortal eyes in a blaze +of glory. + +The beholders fell prostrate on their faces, acknowledging the +divine will. The first that broke silence was Hippolita. + +"My Lord," said she to the desponding Manfred, "behold the vanity +of human greatness! Conrad is gone! Matilda is no more! In +Theodore we view the true Prince of Otranto. By what miracle he is +so I know not--suffice it to us, our doom is pronounced! shall we +not, can we but dedicate the few deplorable hours we have to live, +in deprecating the further wrath of heaven? heaven ejects us-- +whither can we fly, but to yon holy cells that yet offer us a +retreat." + +"Thou guiltless but unhappy woman! unhappy by my crimes!" replied +Manfred, "my heart at last is open to thy devout admonitions. Oh! +could--but it cannot be--ye are lost in wonder--let me at last do +justice on myself! To heap shame on my own head is all the +satisfaction I have left to offer to offended heaven. My story has +drawn down these judgments: Let my confession atone--but, ah! what +can atone for usurpation and a murdered child? a child murdered in +a consecrated place? List, sirs, and may this bloody record be a +warning to future tyrants!" + +"Alfonso, ye all know, died in the Holy Land--ye would interrupt +me; ye would say he came not fairly to his end--it is most true-- +why else this bitter cup which Manfred must drink to the dregs. +Ricardo, my grandfather, was his chamberlain--I would draw a veil +over my ancestor's crimes--but it is in vain! Alfonso died by +poison. A fictitious will declared Ricardo his heir. His crimes +pursued him--yet he lost no Conrad, no Matilda! I pay the price of +usurpation for all! A storm overtook him. Haunted by his guilt he +vowed to St. Nicholas to found a church and two convents, if he +lived to reach Otranto. The sacrifice was accepted: the saint +appeared to him in a dream, and promised that Ricardo's posterity +should reign in Otranto until the rightful owner should be grown +too large to inhabit the castle, and as long as issue male from +Ricardo's loins should remain to enjoy it--alas! alas! nor male nor +female, except myself, remains of all his wretched race! I have +done--the woes of these three days speak the rest. How this young +man can be Alfonso's heir I know not--yet I do not doubt it. His +are these dominions; I resign them--yet I knew not Alfonso had an +heir--I question not the will of heaven--poverty and prayer must +fill up the woeful space, until Manfred shall be summoned to +Ricardo." + +"What remains is my part to declare," said Jerome. "When Alfonso +set sail for the Holy Land he was driven by a storm to the coast of +Sicily. The other vessel, which bore Ricardo and his train, as +your Lordship must have heard, was separated from him." + +"It is most true," said Manfred; "and the title you give me is more +than an outcast can claim--well! be it so--proceed." + +Jerome blushed, and continued. "For three months Lord Alfonso was +wind-bound in Sicily. There he became enamoured of a fair virgin +named Victoria. He was too pious to tempt her to forbidden +pleasures. They were married. Yet deeming this amour incongruous +with the holy vow of arms by which he was bound, he determined to +conceal their nuptials until his return from the Crusade, when he +purposed to seek and acknowledge her for his lawful wife. He left +her pregnant. During his absence she was delivered of a daughter. +But scarce had she felt a mother's pangs ere she heard the fatal +rumour of her Lord's death, and the succession of Ricardo. What +could a friendless, helpless woman do? Would her testimony avail?- +-yet, my lord, I have an authentic writing--" + +"It needs not," said Manfred; "the horrors of these days, the +vision we have but now seen, all corroborate thy evidence beyond a +thousand parchments. Matilda's death and my expulsion--" + +"Be composed, my Lord," said Hippolita; "this holy man did not mean +to recall your griefs." Jerome proceeded. + +"I shall not dwell on what is needless. The daughter of which +Victoria was delivered, was at her maturity bestowed in marriage on +me. Victoria died; and the secret remained locked in my breast. +Theodore's narrative has told the rest." + +The Friar ceased. The disconsolate company retired to the +remaining part of the castle. In the morning Manfred signed his +abdication of the principality, with the approbation of Hippolita, +and each took on them the habit of religion in the neighbouring +convents. Frederic offered his daughter to the new Prince, which +Hippolita's tenderness for Isabella concurred to promote. But +Theodore's grief was too fresh to admit the thought of another +love; and it was not until after frequent discourses with Isabella +of his dear Matilda, that he was persuaded he could know no +happiness but in the society of one with whom he could for ever +indulge the melancholy that had taken possession of his soul. + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE CASTLE OF OTRANTO *** + +This file should be named cotrt10.txt or cotrt10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, cotrt11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, cotrt10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/cotrt10.zip b/old/cotrt10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f60ea52 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/cotrt10.zip diff --git a/old/cotrt10h.htm b/old/cotrt10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7c69c7a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/cotrt10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4644 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII"> +<title>The Castle of Otranto</title> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">The Castle of Otranto, by Horace Walpole</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Castle of Otranto, by Horace Walpole +(#1 in our series by Horace Walpole) + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Castle of Otranto + +Author: Horace Walpole + +Release Date: October, 1996 [EBook #696] +[This file was first posted on October 22, 1996] +[Most recently updated: September 8, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII +</pre> +<p> +<a name="startoftext"></a> +Transcribed from the 1901 Cassell and Company edition by David Price, +email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +THE CASTLE OF OTRANTO<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The following work was found in the library of an ancient Catholic family +in the north of England. It was printed at Naples, in the black +letter, in the year 1529. How much sooner it was written does +not appear. The principal incidents are such as were believed +in the darkest ages of Christianity; but the language and conduct have +nothing that savours of barbarism. The style is the purest Italian.<br> +<br> +If the story was written near the time when it is supposed to have happened, +it must have been between 1095, the era of the first Crusade, and 1243, +the date of the last, or not long afterwards. There is no other +circumstance in the work that can lead us to guess at the period in +which the scene is laid: the names of the actors are evidently fictitious, +and probably disguised on purpose: yet the Spanish names of the domestics +seem to indicate that this work was not composed until the establishment +of the Arragonian Kings in Naples had made Spanish appellations familiar +in that country. The beauty of the diction, and the zeal of the +author (moderated, however, by singular judgment) concur to make me +think that the date of the composition was little antecedent to that +of the impression. Letters were then in their most flourishing +state in Italy, and contributed to dispel the empire of superstition, +at that time so forcibly attacked by the reformers. It is not +unlikely that an artful priest might endeavour to turn their own arms +on the innovators, and might avail himself of his abilities as an author +to confirm the populace in their ancient errors and superstitions. +If this was his view, he has certainly acted with signal address. +Such a work as the following would enslave a hundred vulgar minds beyond +half the books of controversy that have been written from the days of +Luther to the present hour.<br> +<br> +This solution of the author’s motives is, however, offered as +a mere conjecture. Whatever his views were, or whatever effects +the execution of them might have, his work can only be laid before the +public at present as a matter of entertainment. Even as such, +some apology for it is necessary. Miracles, visions, necromancy, +dreams, and other preternatural events, are exploded now even from romances. +That was not the case when our author wrote; much less when the story +itself is supposed to have happened. Belief in every kind of prodigy +was so established in those dark ages, that an author would not be faithful +to the manners of the times, who should omit all mention of them. +He is not bound to believe them himself, but he must represent his actors +as believing them.<br> +<br> +If this air of the miraculous is excused, the reader will find nothing +else unworthy of his perusal. Allow the possibility of the facts, +and all the actors comport themselves as persons would do in their situation. +There is no bombast, no similes, flowers, digressions, or unnecessary +descriptions. Everything tends directly to the catastrophe. +Never is the reader’s attention relaxed. The rules of the +drama are almost observed throughout the conduct of the piece. +The characters are well drawn, and still better maintained. Terror, +the author’s principal engine, prevents the story from ever languishing; +and it is so often contrasted by pity, that the mind is kept up in a +constant vicissitude of interesting passions.<br> +<br> +Some persons may perhaps think the characters of the domestics too little +serious for the general cast of the story; but besides their opposition +to the principal personages, the art of the author is very observable +in his conduct of the subalterns. They discover many passages +essential to the story, which could not be well brought to light but +by their <i>naïveté</i> and simplicity. In particular, +the womanish terror and foibles of Bianca, in the last chapter, conduce +essentially towards advancing the catastrophe.<br> +<br> +It is natural for a translator to be prejudiced in favour of his adopted +work. More impartial readers may not be so much struck with the +beauties of this piece as I was. Yet I am not blind to my author’s +defects. I could wish he had grounded his plan on a more useful +moral than this: that “the sins of fathers are visited on their +children to the third and fourth generation.” I doubt whether, +in his time, any more than at present, ambition curbed its appetite +of dominion from the dread of so remote a punishment. And yet +this moral is weakened by that less direct insinuation, that even such +anathema may be diverted by devotion to St. Nicholas. Here the +interest of the Monk plainly gets the better of the judgment of the +author. However, with all its faults, I have no doubt but the +English reader will be pleased with a sight of this performance. +The piety that reigns throughout, the lessons of virtue that are inculcated, +and the rigid purity of the sentiments, exempt this work from the censure +to which romances are but too liable. Should it meet with the +success I hope for, I may be encouraged to reprint the original Italian, +though it will tend to depreciate my own labour. Our language +falls far short of the charms of the Italian, both for variety and harmony. +The latter is peculiarly excellent for simple narrative. It is +difficult in English to relate without falling too low or rising too +high; a fault obviously occasioned by the little care taken to speak +pure language in common conversation. Every Italian or Frenchman +of any rank piques himself on speaking his own tongue correctly and +with choice. I cannot flatter myself with having done justice +to my author in this respect: his style is as elegant as his conduct +of the passions is masterly. It is a pity that he did not apply +his talents to what they were evidently proper for - the theatre.<br> +<br> +I will detain the reader no longer, but to make one short remark. +Though the machinery is invention, and the names of the actors imaginary, +I cannot but believe that the groundwork of the story is founded on +truth. The scene is undoubtedly laid in some real castle. +The author seems frequently, without design, to describe particular +parts. “The chamber,” says he, “on the right +hand;” “the door on the left hand;” “the distance +from the chapel to Conrad’s apartment:” these and other +passages are strong presumptions that the author had some certain building +in his eye. Curious persons, who have leisure to employ in such +researches, may possibly discover in the Italian writers the foundation +on which our author has built. If a catastrophe, at all resembling +that which he describes, is believed to have given rise to this work, +it will contribute to interest the reader, and will make the “Castle +of Otranto” a still more moving story.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +SONNET TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LADY MARY COKE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The gentle maid, whose hapless tale<br> +These melancholy pages speak;<br> +Say, gracious lady, shall she fail<br> +To draw the tear adown thy cheek?<br> +<br> +No; never was thy pitying breast<br> +Insensible to human woes;<br> +Tender, tho’ firm, it melts distrest<br> +For weaknesses it never knows.<br> +<br> +Oh! guard the marvels I relate<br> +Of fell ambition scourg’d by fate,<br> +From reason’s peevish blame.<br> +Blest with thy smile, my dauntless sail<br> +I dare expand to Fancy’s gale,<br> +For sure thy smiles are Fame.<br> +<br> +H. W.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER I.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Manfred, Prince of Otranto, had one son and one daughter: the latter, +a most beautiful virgin, aged eighteen, was called Matilda. Conrad, +the son, was three years younger, a homely youth, sickly, and of no +promising disposition; yet he was the darling of his father, who never +showed any symptoms of affection to Matilda. Manfred had contracted +a marriage for his son with the Marquis of Vicenza’s daughter, +Isabella; and she had already been delivered by her guardians into the +hands of Manfred, that he might celebrate the wedding as soon as Conrad’s +infirm state of health would permit.<br> +<br> +Manfred’s impatience for this ceremonial was remarked by his family +and neighbours. The former, indeed, apprehending the severity +of their Prince’s disposition, did not dare to utter their surmises +on this precipitation. Hippolita, his wife, an amiable lady, did +sometimes venture to represent the danger of marrying their only son +so early, considering his great youth, and greater infirmities; but +she never received any other answer than reflections on her own sterility, +who had given him but one heir. His tenants and subjects were +less cautious in their discourses. They attributed this hasty +wedding to the Prince’s dread of seeing accomplished an ancient +prophecy, which was said to have pronounced that the castle and lordship +of Otranto “should pass from the present family, whenever the +real owner should be grown too large to inhabit it.” It +was difficult to make any sense of this prophecy; and still less easy +to conceive what it had to do with the marriage in question. Yet +these mysteries, or contradictions, did not make the populace adhere +the less to their opinion.<br> +<br> +Young Conrad’s birthday was fixed for his espousals. The +company was assembled in the chapel of the Castle, and everything ready +for beginning the divine office, when Conrad himself was missing. +Manfred, impatient of the least delay, and who had not observed his +son retire, despatched one of his attendants to summon the young Prince. +The servant, who had not stayed long enough to have crossed the court +to Conrad’s apartment, came running back breathless, in a frantic +manner, his eyes staring, and foaming at the month. He said nothing, +but pointed to the court.<br> +<br> +The company were struck with terror and amazement. The Princess +Hippolita, without knowing what was the matter, but anxious for her +son, swooned away. Manfred, less apprehensive than enraged at +the procrastination of the nuptials, and at the folly of his domestic, +asked imperiously what was the matter? The fellow made no answer, +but continued pointing towards the courtyard; and at last, after repeated +questions put to him, cried out, “Oh! the helmet! the helmet!”<br> +<br> +In the meantime, some of the company had run into the court, from whence +was heard a confused noise of shrieks, horror, and surprise. Manfred, +who began to be alarmed at not seeing his son, went himself to get information +of what occasioned this strange confusion. Matilda remained endeavouring +to assist her mother, and Isabella stayed for the same purpose, and +to avoid showing any impatience for the bridegroom, for whom, in truth, +she had conceived little affection.<br> +<br> +The first thing that struck Manfred’s eyes was a group of his +servants endeavouring to raise something that appeared to him a mountain +of sable plumes. He gazed without believing his sight.<br> +<br> +“What are ye doing?” cried Manfred, wrathfully; “where +is my son?”<br> +<br> +A volley of voices replied, “Oh! my Lord! the Prince! the Prince! +the helmet! the helmet!”<br> +<br> +Shocked with these lamentable sounds, and dreading he knew not what, +he advanced hastily, - but what a sight for a father’s eyes! - +he beheld his child dashed to pieces, and almost buried under an enormous +helmet, an hundred times more large than any casque ever made for human +being, and shaded with a proportionable quantity of black feathers.<br> +<br> +The horror of the spectacle, the ignorance of all around how this misfortune +had happened, and above all, the tremendous phenomenon before him, took +away the Prince’s speech. Yet his silence lasted longer +than even grief could occasion. He fixed his eyes on what he wished +in vain to believe a vision; and seemed less attentive to his loss, +than buried in meditation on the stupendous object that had occasioned +it. He touched, he examined the fatal casque; nor could even the +bleeding mangled remains of the young Prince divert the eyes of Manfred +from the portent before him.<br> +<br> +All who had known his partial fondness for young Conrad, were as much +surprised at their Prince’s insensibility, as thunderstruck themselves +at the miracle of the helmet. They conveyed the disfigured corpse +into the hall, without receiving the least direction from Manfred. +As little was he attentive to the ladies who remained in the chapel. +On the contrary, without mentioning the unhappy princesses, his wife +and daughter, the first sounds that dropped from Manfred’s lips +were, “Take care of the Lady Isabella.”<br> +<br> +The domestics, without observing the singularity of this direction, +were guided by their affection to their mistress, to consider it as +peculiarly addressed to her situation, and flew to her assistance. +They conveyed her to her chamber more dead than alive, and indifferent +to all the strange circumstances she heard, except the death of her +son.<br> +<br> +Matilda, who doted on her mother, smothered her own grief and amazement, +and thought of nothing but assisting and comforting her afflicted parent. +Isabella, who had been treated by Hippolita like a daughter, and who +returned that tenderness with equal duty and affection, was scarce less +assiduous about the Princess; at the same time endeavouring to partake +and lessen the weight of sorrow which she saw Matilda strove to suppress, +for whom she had conceived the warmest sympathy of friendship. +Yet her own situation could not help finding its place in her thoughts. +She felt no concern for the death of young Conrad, except commiseration; +and she was not sorry to be delivered from a marriage which had promised +her little felicity, either from her destined bridegroom, or from the +severe temper of Manfred, who, though he had distinguished her by great +indulgence, had imprinted her mind with terror, from his causeless rigour +to such amiable princesses as Hippolita and Matilda.<br> +<br> +While the ladies were conveying the wretched mother to her bed, Manfred +remained in the court, gazing on the ominous casque, and regardless +of the crowd which the strangeness of the event had now assembled around +him. The few words he articulated, tended solely to inquiries, +whether any man knew from whence it could have come? Nobody could +give him the least information. However, as it seemed to be the +sole object of his curiosity, it soon became so to the rest of the spectators, +whose conjectures were as absurd and improbable, as the catastrophe +itself was unprecedented. In the midst of their senseless guesses, +a young peasant, whom rumour had drawn thither from a neighbouring village, +observed that the miraculous helmet was exactly like that on the figure +in black marble of Alfonso the Good, one of their former princes, in +the church of St. Nicholas.<br> +<br> +“Villain! What sayest thou?” cried Manfred, starting +from his trance in a tempest of rage, and seizing the young man by the +collar; “how darest thou utter such treason? Thy life shall +pay for it.”<br> +<br> +The spectators, who as little comprehended the cause of the Prince’s +fury as all the rest they had seen, were at a loss to unravel this new +circumstance. The young peasant himself was still more astonished, +not conceiving how he had offended the Prince. Yet recollecting +himself, with a mixture of grace and humility, he disengaged himself +from Manfred’s grip, and then with an obeisance, which discovered +more jealousy of innocence than dismay, he asked, with respect, of what +he was guilty? Manfred, more enraged at the vigour, however decently +exerted, with which the young man had shaken off his hold, than appeased +by his submission, ordered his attendants to seize him, and, if he had +not been withheld by his friends whom he had invited to the nuptials, +would have poignarded the peasant in their arms.<br> +<br> +During this altercation, some of the vulgar spectators had run to the +great church, which stood near the castle, and came back open-mouthed, +declaring that the helmet was missing from Alfonso’s statue. +Manfred, at this news, grew perfectly frantic; and, as if he sought +a subject on which to vent the tempest within him, he rushed again on +the young peasant, crying -<br> +<br> +“Villain! Monster! Sorcerer! ’tis thou hast done this! ’tis +thou hast slain my son!”<br> +<br> +The mob, who wanted some object within the scope of their capacities, +on whom they might discharge their bewildered reasoning, caught the +words from the mouth of their lord, and re-echoed -<br> +<br> +“Ay, ay; ’tis he, ’tis he: he has stolen the helmet +from good Alfonso’s tomb, and dashed out the brains of our young +Prince with it,” never reflecting how enormous the disproportion +was between the marble helmet that had been in the church, and that +of steel before their eyes; nor how impossible it was for a youth seemingly +not twenty, to wield a piece of armour of so prodigious a weight<br> +<br> +The folly of these ejaculations brought Manfred to himself: yet whether +provoked at the peasant having observed the resemblance between the +two helmets, and thereby led to the farther discovery of the absence +of that in the church, or wishing to bury any such rumour under so impertinent +a supposition, he gravely pronounced that the young man was certainly +a necromancer, and that till the Church could take cognisance of the +affair, he would have the Magician, whom they had thus detected, kept +prisoner under the helmet itself, which he ordered his attendants to +raise, and place the young man under it; declaring he should be kept +there without food, with which his own infernal art might furnish him.<br> +<br> +It was in vain for the youth to represent against this preposterous +sentence: in vain did Manfred’s friends endeavour to divert him +from this savage and ill-grounded resolution. The generality were +charmed with their lord’s decision, which, to their apprehensions, +carried great appearance of justice, as the Magician was to be punished +by the very instrument with which he had offended: nor were they struck +with the least compunction at the probability of the youth being starved, +for they firmly believed that, by his diabolic skill, he could easily +supply himself with nutriment.<br> +<br> +Manfred thus saw his commands even cheerfully obeyed; and appointing +a guard with strict orders to prevent any food being conveyed to the +prisoner, he dismissed his friends and attendants, and retired to his +own chamber, after locking the gates of the castle, in which he suffered +none but his domestics to remain.<br> +<br> +In the meantime, the care and zeal of the young Ladies had brought the +Princess Hippolita to herself, who amidst the transports of her own +sorrow frequently demanded news of her lord, would have dismissed her +attendants to watch over him, and at last enjoined Matilda to leave +her, and visit and comfort her father. Matilda, who wanted no +affectionate duty to Manfred, though she trembled at his austerity, +obeyed the orders of Hippolita, whom she tenderly recommended to Isabella; +and inquiring of the domestics for her father, was informed that he +was retired to his chamber, and had commanded that nobody should have +admittance to him. Concluding that he was immersed in sorrow for +the death of her brother, and fearing to renew his tears by the sight +of his sole remaining child, she hesitated whether she should break +in upon his affliction; yet solicitude for him, backed by the commands +of her mother, encouraged her to venture disobeying the orders he had +given; a fault she had never been guilty of before.<br> +<br> +The gentle timidity of her nature made her pause for some minutes at +his door. She heard him traverse his chamber backwards, and forwards +with disordered steps; a mood which increased her apprehensions. +She was, however, just going to beg admittance, when Manfred suddenly +opened the door; and as it was now twilight, concurring with the disorder +of his mind, he did not distinguish the person, but asked angrily, who +it was? Matilda replied, trembling -<br> +<br> +“My dearest father, it is I, your daughter.”<br> +<br> +Manfred, stepping back hastily, cried, “Begone! I do not +want a daughter;” and flinging back abruptly, clapped the door +against the terrified Matilda.<br> +<br> +She was too well acquainted with her father’s impetuosity to venture +a second intrusion. When she had a little recovered the shock +of so bitter a reception, she wiped away her tears to prevent the additional +stab that the knowledge of it would give to Hippolita, who questioned +her in the most anxious terms on the health of Manfred, and how he bore +his loss. Matilda assured her he was well, and supported his misfortune +with manly fortitude.<br> +<br> +“But will he not let me see him?” said Hippolita mournfully; +“will he not permit me to blend my tears with his, and shed a +mother’s sorrows in the bosom of her Lord? Or do you deceive +me, Matilda? I know how Manfred doted on his son: is not the stroke +too heavy for him? has he not sunk under it? You do not answer +me - alas! I dread the worst! - Raise me, my maidens; I will, I will +see my Lord. Bear me to him instantly: he is dearer to me even +than my children.”<br> +<br> +Matilda made signs to Isabella to prevent Hippolita’s rising; +and both those lovely young women were using their gentle violence to +stop and calm the Princess, when a servant, on the part of Manfred, +arrived and told Isabella that his Lord demanded to speak with her.<br> +<br> +“With me!” cried Isabella.<br> +<br> +“Go,” said Hippolita, relieved by a message from her Lord: +“Manfred cannot support the sight of his own family. He +thinks you less disordered than we are, and dreads the shock of my grief. +Console him, dear Isabella, and tell him I will smother my own anguish +rather than add to his.”<br> +<br> +As it was now evening the servant who conducted Isabella bore a torch +before her. When they came to Manfred, who was walking impatiently +about the gallery, he started, and said hastily -<br> +<br> +“Take away that light, and begone.”<br> +<br> +Then shutting the door impetuously, he flung himself upon a bench against +the wall, and bade Isabella sit by him. She obeyed trembling.<br> +<br> +“I sent for you, Lady,” said he - and then stopped under +great appearance of confusion.<br> +<br> +“My Lord!”<br> +<br> +“Yes, I sent for you on a matter of great moment,” resumed +he. “Dry your tears, young Lady - you have lost your bridegroom. +Yes, cruel fate! and I have lost the hopes of my race! But Conrad +was not worthy of your beauty.”<br> +<br> +“How, my Lord!” said Isabella; “sure you do not suspect +me of not feeling the concern I ought: my duty and affection would have +always - ”<br> +<br> +“Think no more of him,” interrupted Manfred; “he was +a sickly, puny child, and Heaven has perhaps taken him away, that I +might not trust the honours of my house on so frail a foundation. +The line of Manfred calls for numerous supports. My foolish fondness +for that boy blinded the eyes of my prudence - but it is better as it +is. I hope, in a few years, to have reason to rejoice at the death +of Conrad.”<br> +<br> +Words cannot paint the astonishment of Isabella. At first she +apprehended that grief had disordered Manfred’s understanding. +Her next thought suggested that this strange discourse was designed +to ensnare her: she feared that Manfred had perceived her indifference +for his son: and in consequence of that idea she replied -<br> +<br> +“Good my Lord, do not doubt my tenderness: my heart would have +accompanied my hand. Conrad would have engrossed all my care; +and wherever fate shall dispose of me, I shall always cherish his memory, +and regard your Highness and the virtuous Hippolita as my parents.”<br> +<br> +“Curse on Hippolita!” cried Manfred. “Forget +her from this moment, as I do. In short, Lady, you have missed +a husband undeserving of your charms: they shall now be better disposed +of. Instead of a sickly boy, you shall have a husband in the prime +of his age, who will know how to value your beauties, and who may expect +a numerous offspring.”<br> +<br> +“Alas, my Lord!” said Isabella, “my mind is too sadly +engrossed by the recent catastrophe in your family to think of another +marriage. If ever my father returns, and it shall be his pleasure, +I shall obey, as I did when I consented to give my hand to your son: +but until his return, permit me to remain under your hospitable roof, +and employ the melancholy hours in assuaging yours, Hippolita’s, +and the fair Matilda’s affliction.”<br> +<br> +“I desired you once before,” said Manfred angrily, “not +to name that woman: from this hour she must be a stranger to you, as +she must be to me. In short, Isabella, since I cannot give you +my son, I offer you myself.”<br> +<br> +“Heavens!” cried Isabella, waking from her delusion, “what +do I hear? You! my Lord! You! My father-in-law! the +father of Conrad! the husband of the virtuous and tender Hippolita!”<br> +<br> +“I tell you,” said Manfred imperiously, “Hippolita +is no longer my wife; I divorce her from this hour. Too long has +she cursed me by her unfruitfulness. My fate depends on having +sons, and this night I trust will give a new date to my hopes.”<br> +<br> +At those words he seized the cold hand of Isabella, who was half dead +with fright and horror. She shrieked, and started from him, Manfred +rose to pursue her, when the moon, which was now up, and gleamed in +at the opposite casement, presented to his sight the plumes of the fatal +helmet, which rose to the height of the windows, waving backwards and +forwards in a tempestuous manner, and accompanied with a hollow and +rustling sound. Isabella, who gathered courage from her situation, +and who dreaded nothing so much as Manfred’s pursuit of his declaration, +cried -<br> +<br> +“Look, my Lord! see, Heaven itself declares against your impious +intentions!”<br> +<br> +“Heaven nor Hell shall impede my designs,” said Manfred, +advancing again to seize the Princess.<br> +<br> +At that instant the portrait of his grandfather, which hung over the +bench where they had been sitting, uttered a deep sigh, and heaved its +breast.<br> +<br> +Isabella, whose back was turned to the picture, saw not the motion, +nor knew whence the sound came, but started, and said -<br> +<br> +“Hark, my Lord! What sound was that?” and at the same +time made towards the door.<br> +<br> +Manfred, distracted between the flight of Isabella, who had now reached +the stairs, and yet unable to keep his eyes from the picture, which +began to move, had, however, advanced some steps after her, still looking +backwards on the portrait, when he saw it quit its panel, and descend +on the floor with a grave and melancholy air.<br> +<br> +“Do I dream?” cried Manfred, returning; “or are the +devils themselves in league against me? Speak, internal spectre! +Or, if thou art my grandsire, why dost thou too conspire against thy +wretched descendant, who too dearly pays for - ” Ere he +could finish the sentence, the vision sighed again, and made a sign +to Manfred to follow him.<br> +<br> +“Lead on!” cried Manfred; “I will follow thee to the +gulf of perdition.”<br> +<br> +The spectre marched sedately, but dejected, to the end of the gallery, +and turned into a chamber on the right hand. Manfred accompanied +him at a little distance, full of anxiety and horror, but resolved. +As he would have entered the chamber, the door was clapped to with violence +by an invisible hand. The Prince, collecting courage from this +delay, would have forcibly burst open the door with his foot, but found +that it resisted his utmost efforts.<br> +<br> +“Since Hell will not satisfy my curiosity,” said Manfred, +“I will use the human means in my power for preserving my race; +Isabella shall not escape me.”<br> +<br> +The lady, whose resolution had given way to terror the moment she had +quitted Manfred, continued her flight to the bottom of the principal +staircase. There she stopped, not knowing whither to direct her +steps, nor how to escape from the impetuosity of the Prince. The +gates of the castle, she knew, were locked, and guards placed in the +court. Should she, as her heart prompted her, go and prepare Hippolita +for the cruel destiny that awaited her, she did not doubt but Manfred +would seek her there, and that his violence would incite him to double +the injury he meditated, without leaving room for them to avoid the +impetuosity of his passions. Delay might give him time to reflect +on the horrid measures he had conceived, or produce some circumstance +in her favour, if she could - for that night, at least - avoid his odious +purpose. Yet where conceal herself? How avoid the pursuit +he would infallibly make throughout the castle?<br> +<br> +As these thoughts passed rapidly through her mind, she recollected a +subterraneous passage which led from the vaults of the castle to the +church of St. Nicholas. Could she reach the altar before she was +overtaken, she knew even Manfred’s violence would not dare to +profane the sacredness of the place; and she determined, if no other +means of deliverance offered, to shut herself up for ever among the +holy virgins whose convent was contiguous to the cathedral. In +this resolution, she seized a lamp that burned at the foot of the staircase, +and hurried towards the secret passage.<br> +<br> +The lower part of the castle was hollowed into several intricate cloisters; +and it was not easy for one under so much anxiety to find the door that +opened into the cavern. An awful silence reigned throughout those +subterraneous regions, except now and then some blasts of wind that +shook the doors she had passed, and which, grating on the rusty hinges, +were re-echoed through that long labyrinth of darkness. Every +murmur struck her with new terror; yet more she dreaded to hear the +wrathful voice of Manfred urging his domestics to pursue her.<br> +<br> +She trod as softly as impatience would give her leave, yet frequently +stopped and listened to hear if she was followed. In one of those +moments she thought she heard a sigh. She shuddered, and recoiled +a few paces. In a moment she thought she heard the step of some +person. Her blood curdled; she concluded it was Manfred. +Every suggestion that horror could inspire rushed into her mind. +She condemned her rash flight, which had thus exposed her to his rage +in a place where her cries were not likely to draw anybody to her assistance. +Yet the sound seemed not to come from behind. If Manfred knew +where she was, he must have followed her. She was still in one +of the cloisters, and the steps she had heard were too distinct to proceed +from the way she had come. Cheered with this reflection, and hoping +to find a friend in whoever was not the Prince, she was going to advance, +when a door that stood ajar, at some distance to the left, was opened +gently: but ere her lamp, which she held up, could discover who opened +it, the person retreated precipitately on seeing the light.<br> +<br> +Isabella, whom every incident was sufficient to dismay, hesitated whether +she should proceed. Her dread of Manfred soon outweighed every +other terror. The very circumstance of the person avoiding her +gave her a sort of courage. It could only be, she thought, some +domestic belonging to the castle. Her gentleness had never raised +her an enemy, and conscious innocence made her hope that, unless sent +by the Prince’s order to seek her, his servants would rather assist +than prevent her flight. Fortifying herself with these reflections, +and believing by what she could observe that she was near the mouth +of the subterraneous cavern, she approached the door that had been opened; +but a sudden gust of wind that met her at the door extinguished her +lamp, and left her in total darkness.<br> +<br> +Words cannot paint the horror of the Princess’s situation. +Alone in so dismal a place, her mind imprinted with all the terrible +events of the day, hopeless of escaping, expecting every moment the +arrival of Manfred, and far from tranquil on knowing she was within +reach of somebody, she knew not whom, who for some cause seemed concealed +thereabouts; all these thoughts crowded on her distracted mind, and +she was ready to sink under her apprehensions. She addressed herself +to every saint in heaven, and inwardly implored their assistance. +For a considerable time she remained in an agony of despair.<br> +<br> +At last, as softly as was possible, she felt for the door, and having +found it, entered trembling into the vault from whence she had heard +the sigh and steps. It gave her a kind of momentary joy to perceive +an imperfect ray of clouded moonshine gleam from the roof of the vault, +which seemed to be fallen in, and from whence hung a fragment of earth +or building, she could not distinguish which, that appeared to have +been crushed inwards. She advanced eagerly towards this chasm, +when she discerned a human form standing close against the wall.<br> +<br> +She shrieked, believing it the ghost of her betrothed Conrad. +The figure, advancing, said, in a submissive voice -<br> +<br> +“Be not alarmed, Lady; I will not injure you.”<br> +<br> +Isabella, a little encouraged by the words and tone of voice of the +stranger, and recollecting that this must be the person who had opened +the door, recovered her spirits enough to reply -<br> +<br> +“Sir, whoever you are, take pity on a wretched Princess, standing +on the brink of destruction. Assist me to escape from this fatal +castle, or in a few moments I may be made miserable for ever.”<br> +<br> +“Alas!” said the stranger, “what can I do to assist +you? I will die in your defence; but I am unacquainted with the +castle, and want - ”<br> +<br> +“Oh!” said Isabella, hastily interrupting him; “help +me but to find a trap-door that must be hereabout, and it is the greatest +service you can do me, for I have not a minute to lose.”<br> +<br> +Saying a these words, she felt about on the pavement, and directed the +stranger to search likewise, for a smooth piece of brass enclosed in +one of the stones.<br> +<br> +“That,” said she, “is the lock, which opens with a +spring, of which I know the secret. If we can find that, I may +escape - if not, alas! courteous stranger, I fear I shall have involved +you in my misfortunes: Manfred will suspect you for the accomplice of +my flight, and you will fall a victim to his resentment.”<br> +<br> +“I value not my life,” said the stranger, “and it +will be some comfort to lose it in trying to deliver you from his tyranny.”<br> +<br> +“Generous youth,” said Isabella, “how shall I ever +requite - ”<br> +<br> +As she uttered those words, a ray of moonshine, streaming through a +cranny of the ruin above, shone directly on the lock they sought.<br> +<br> +“Oh! transport!” said Isabella; “here is the trap-door!” +and, taking out the key, she touched the spring, which, starting aside, +discovered an iron ring. “Lift up the door,” said +the Princess.<br> +<br> +The stranger obeyed, and beneath appeared some stone steps descending +into a vault totally dark.<br> +<br> +“We must go down here,” said Isabella. “Follow +me; dark and dismal as it is, we cannot miss our way; it leads directly +to the church of St. Nicholas. But, perhaps,” added the +Princess modestly, “you have no reason to leave the castle, nor +have I farther occasion for your service; in a few minutes I shall be +safe from Manfred’s rage - only let me know to whom I am so much +obliged.”<br> +<br> +“I will never quit you,” said the stranger eagerly, “until +I have placed you in safety - nor think me, Princess, more generous +than I am; though you are my principal care - ”<br> +<br> +The stranger was interrupted by a sudden noise of voices that seemed +approaching, and they soon distinguished these words -<br> +<br> +“Talk not to me of necromancers; I tell you she must be in the +castle; I will find her in spite of enchantment.”<br> +<br> +“Oh, heavens!” cried Isabella; “it is the voice of +Manfred! Make haste, or we are ruined! and shut the trap-door +after you.”<br> +<br> +Saying this, she descended the steps precipitately; and as the stranger +hastened to follow her, he let the door slip out of his hands: it fell, +and the spring closed over it. He tried in vain to open it, not +having observed Isabella’s method of touching the spring; nor +had he many moments to make an essay. The noise of the falling +door had been heard by Manfred, who, directed by the sound, hastened +thither, attended by his servants with torches.<br> +<br> +“It must be Isabella,” cried Manfred, before he entered +the vault. “She is escaping by the subterraneous passage, +but she cannot have got far.”<br> +<br> +What was the astonishment of the Prince when, instead of Isabella, the +light of the torches discovered to him the young peasant whom he thought +confined under the fatal helmet!<br> +<br> +“Traitor!” said Manfred; “how camest thou here? +I thought thee in durance above in the court.”<br> +<br> +“I am no traitor,” replied the young man boldly, “nor +am I answerable for your thoughts.”<br> +<br> +“Presumptuous villain!” cried Manfred; “dost thou +provoke my wrath? Tell me, how hast thou escaped from above? +Thou hast corrupted thy guards, and their lives shall answer it.”<br> +<br> +“My poverty,” said the peasant calmly, “will disculpate +them: though the ministers of a tyrant’s wrath, to thee they are +faithful, and but too willing to execute the orders which you unjustly +imposed upon them.”<br> +<br> +“Art thou so hardy as to dare my vengeance?” said the Prince; +“but tortures shall force the truth from thee. Tell me; +I will know thy accomplices.”<br> +<br> +“There was my accomplice!” said the youth, smiling, and +pointing to the roof.<br> +<br> +Manfred ordered the torches to be held up, and perceived that one of +the cheeks of the enchanted casque had forced its way through the pavement +of the court, as his servants had let it fall over the peasant, and +had broken through into the vault, leaving a gap, through which the +peasant had pressed himself some minutes before he was found by Isabella.<br> +<br> +“Was that the way by which thou didst descend?” said Manfred.<br> +<br> +“It was,” said the youth.<br> +<br> +“But what noise was that,” said Manfred, “which I +heard as I entered the cloister?”<br> +<br> +“A door clapped,” said the peasant; “I heard it as +well as you.”<br> +<br> +“What door?” said Manfred hastily.<br> +<br> +“I am not acquainted with your castle,” said the peasant; +“this is the first time I ever entered it, and this vault the +only part of it within which I ever was.”<br> +<br> +“But I tell thee,” said Manfred (wishing to find out if +the youth had discovered the trap-door), “it was this way I heard +the noise. My servants heard it too.”<br> +<br> +“My Lord,” interrupted one of them officiously, “to +be sure it was the trap-door, and he was going to make his escape.”<br> +<br> +“Peace, blockhead!” said the Prince angrily; “if he +was going to escape, how should he come on this side? I will know +from his own mouth what noise it was I heard. Tell me truly; thy +life depends on thy veracity.”<br> +<br> +“My veracity is dearer to me than my life,” said the peasant; +“nor would I purchase the one by forfeiting the other.”<br> +<br> +“Indeed, young philosopher!” said Manfred contemptuously; +“tell me, then, what was the noise I heard?”<br> +<br> +“Ask me what I can answer,” said he, “and put me to +death instantly if I tell you a lie.”<br> +<br> +Manfred, growing impatient at the steady valour and indifference of +the youth, cried -<br> +<br> +“Well, then, thou man of truth, answer! Was it the fall +of the trap-door that I heard?”<br> +<br> +“It was,” said the youth.<br> +<br> +“It was!” said the Prince; “and how didst thou come +to know there was a trap-door here?”<br> +<br> +“I saw the plate of brass by a gleam of moonshine,” replied +he.<br> +<br> +“But what told thee it was a lock?” said Manfred. +“How didst thou discover the secret of opening it?”<br> +<br> +“Providence, that delivered me from the helmet, was able to direct +me to the spring of a lock,” said he.<br> +<br> +“Providence should have gone a little farther, and have placed +thee out of the reach of my resentment,” said Manfred. “When +Providence had taught thee to open the lock, it abandoned thee for a +fool, who did not know how to make use of its favours. Why didst +thou not pursue the path pointed out for thy escape? Why didst +thou shut the trap-door before thou hadst descended the steps?”<br> +<br> +“I might ask you, my Lord,” said the peasant, “how +I, totally unacquainted with your castle, was to know that those steps +led to any outlet? but I scorn to evade your questions. Wherever +those steps lead to, perhaps I should have explored the way - I could +not be in a worse situation than I was. But the truth is, I let +the trap-door fall: your immediate arrival followed. I had given +the alarm - what imported it to me whether I was seized a minute sooner +or a minute later?”<br> +<br> +“Thou art a resolute villain for thy years,” said Manfred; +“yet on reflection I suspect thou dost but trifle with me. +Thou hast not yet told me how thou didst open the lock.”<br> +<br> +“That I will show you, my Lord,” said the peasant; and, +taking up a fragment of stone that had fallen from above, he laid himself +on the trap-door, and began to beat on the piece of brass that covered +it, meaning to gain time for the escape of the Princess. This +presence of mind, joined to the frankness of the youth, staggered Manfred. +He even felt a disposition towards pardoning one who had been guilty +of no crime. Manfred was not one of those savage tyrants who wanton +in cruelty unprovoked. The circumstances of his fortune had given +an asperity to his temper, which was naturally humane; and his virtues +were always ready to operate, when his passions did not obscure his +reason.<br> +<br> +While the Prince was in this suspense, a confused noise of voices echoed +through the distant vaults. As the sound approached, he distinguished +the clamours of some of his domestics, whom he had dispersed through +the castle in search of Isabella, calling out -<br> +<br> +“Where is my Lord? where is the Prince?”<br> +<br> +“Here I am,” said Manfred, as they came nearer; “have +you found the Princess?”<br> +<br> +The first that arrived, replied, “Oh, my Lord! I am glad +we have found you.”<br> +<br> +“Found me!” said Manfred; “have you found the Princess?”<br> +<br> +“We thought we had, my Lord,” said the fellow, looking terrified, +“but - ”<br> +<br> +“But, what?” cried the Prince; “has she escaped?”<br> +<br> +“Jaquez and I, my Lord - ”<br> +<br> +“Yes, I and Diego,” interrupted the second, who came up +in still greater consternation.<br> +<br> +“Speak one of you at a time,” said Manfred; “I ask +you, where is the Princess?”<br> +<br> +“We do not know,” said they both together; “but we +are frightened out of our wits.”<br> +<br> +“So I think, blockheads,” said Manfred; “what is it +has scared you thus?”<br> +<br> +“Oh! my Lord,” said Jaquez, “Diego has seen such a +sight! your Highness would not believe our eyes.”<br> +<br> +“What new absurdity is this?” cried Manfred; “give +me a direct answer, or, by Heaven - ”<br> +<br> +“Why, my Lord, if it please your Highness to hear me,” said +the poor fellow, “Diego and I - ”<br> +<br> +“Yes, I and Jaquez - ” cried his comrade.<br> +<br> +“Did not I forbid you to speak both at a time?” said the +Prince: “you, Jaquez, answer; for the other fool seems more distracted +than thou art; what is the matter?”<br> +<br> +“My gracious Lord,” said Jaquez, “if it please your +Highness to hear me; Diego and I, according to your Highness’s +orders, went to search for the young Lady; but being comprehensive that +we might meet the ghost of my young Lord, your Highness’s son, +God rest his soul, as he has not received Christian burial - ”<br> +<br> +“Sot!” cried Manfred in a rage; “is it only a ghost, +then, that thou hast seen?”<br> +<br> +“Oh! worse! worse! my Lord,” cried Diego: “I had rather +have seen ten whole ghosts.”<br> +<br> +“Grant me patience!” said Manfred; “these blockheads +distract me. Out of my sight, Diego! and thou, Jaquez, tell me +in one word, art thou sober? art thou raving? thou wast wont to have +some sense: has the other sot frightened himself and thee too? +Speak; what is it he fancies he has seen?”<br> +<br> +“Why, my Lord,” replied Jaquez, trembling, “I was +going to tell your Highness, that since the calamitous misfortune of +my young Lord, God rest his precious soul! not one of us your Highness’s +faithful servants - indeed we are, my Lord, though poor men - I say, +not one of us has dared to set a foot about the castle, but two together: +so Diego and I, thinking that my young Lady might be in the great gallery, +went up there to look for her, and tell her your Highness wanted something +to impart to her.”<br> +<br> +“O blundering fools!” cried Manfred; “and in the meantime, +she has made her escape, because you were afraid of goblins! - Why, +thou knave! she left me in the gallery; I came from thence myself.”<br> +<br> +“For all that, she may be there still for aught I know,” +said Jaquez; “but the devil shall have me before I seek her there +again - poor Diego! I do not believe he will ever recover it.”<br> +<br> +“Recover what?” said Manfred; “am I never to learn +what it is has terrified these rascals? - but I lose my time; follow +me, slave; I will see if she is in the gallery.”<br> +<br> +“For Heaven’s sake, my dear, good Lord,” cried Jaquez, +“do not go to the gallery. Satan himself I believe is in +the chamber next to the gallery.”<br> +<br> +Manfred, who hitherto had treated the terror of his servants as an idle +panic, was struck at this new circumstance. He recollected the +apparition of the portrait, and the sudden closing of the door at the +end of the gallery. His voice faltered, and he asked with disorder +-<br> +<br> +“What is in the great chamber?”<br> +<br> +“My Lord,” said Jaquez, “when Diego and I came into +the gallery, he went first, for he said he had more courage than I. +So when we came into the gallery we found nobody. We looked under +every bench and stool; and still we found nobody.”<br> +<br> +“Were all the pictures in their places?” said Manfred.<br> +<br> +“Yes, my Lord,” answered Jaquez; “but we did not think +of looking behind them.”<br> +<br> +“Well, well!” said Manfred; “proceed.”<br> +<br> +“When we came to the door of the great chamber,” continued +Jaquez, “we found it shut.”<br> +<br> +“And could not you open it?” said Manfred.<br> +<br> +“Oh! yes, my Lord; would to Heaven we had not!” replied +he - “nay, it was not I neither; it was Diego: he was grown foolhardy, +and would go on, though I advised him not - if ever I open a door that +is shut again - ”<br> +<br> +“Trifle not,” said Manfred, shuddering, “but tell +me what you saw in the great chamber on opening the door.”<br> +<br> +“I! my Lord!” said Jaquez; “I was behind Diego; but +I heard the noise.”<br> +<br> +“Jaquez,” said Manfred, in a solemn tone of voice; “tell +me, I adjure thee by the souls of my ancestors, what was it thou sawest? +what was it thou heardest?”<br> +<br> +“It was Diego saw it, my Lord, it was not I,” replied Jaquez; +“I only heard the noise. Diego had no sooner opened the +door, than he cried out, and ran back. I ran back too, and said, +‘Is it the ghost?’ ‘The ghost! no, no,’ +said Diego, and his hair stood on end - ‘it is a giant, I believe; +he is all clad in armour, for I saw his foot and part of his leg, and +they are as large as the helmet below in the court.’ As +he said these words, my Lord, we heard a violent motion and the rattling +of armour, as if the giant was rising, for Diego has told me since that +he believes the giant was lying down, for the foot and leg were stretched +at length on the floor. Before we could get to the end of the +gallery, we heard the door of the great chamber clap behind us, but +we did not dare turn back to see if the giant was following us - yet, +now I think on it, we must have heard him if he had pursued us - but +for Heaven’s sake, good my Lord, send for the chaplain, and have +the castle exorcised, for, for certain, it is enchanted.”<br> +<br> +“Ay, pray do, my Lord,” cried all the servants at once, +“or we must leave your Highness’s service.”<br> +<br> +“Peace, dotards!” said Manfred, “and follow me; I +will know what all this means.”<br> +<br> +“We! my Lord!” cried they with one voice; “we would +not go up to the gallery for your Highness’s revenue.” +The young peasant, who had stood silent, now spoke.<br> +<br> +“Will your Highness,” said he, “permit me to try this +adventure? My life is of consequence to nobody; I fear no bad +angel, and have offended no good one.”<br> +<br> +“Your behaviour is above your seeming,” said Manfred, viewing +him with surprise and admiration - “hereafter I will reward your +bravery - but now,” continued he with a sigh, “I am so circumstanced, +that I dare trust no eyes but my own. However, I give you leave +to accompany me.”<br> +<br> +Manfred, when he first followed Isabella from the gallery, had gone +directly to the apartment of his wife, concluding the Princess had retired +thither. Hippolita, who knew his step, rose with anxious fondness +to meet her Lord, whom she had not seen since the death of their son. +She would have flown in a transport mixed of joy and grief to his bosom, +but he pushed her rudely off, and said -<br> +<br> +“Where is Isabella?”<br> +<br> +“Isabella! my Lord!” said the astonished Hippolita.<br> +<br> +“Yes, Isabella,” cried Manfred imperiously; “I want +Isabella.”<br> +<br> +“My Lord,” replied Matilda, who perceived how much his behaviour +had shocked her mother, “she has not been with us since your Highness +summoned her to your apartment.”<br> +<br> +“Tell me where she is,” said the Prince; “I do not +want to know where she has been.”<br> +<br> +“My good Lord,” says Hippolita, “your daughter tells +you the truth: Isabella left us by your command, and has not returned +since; - but, my good Lord, compose yourself: retire to your rest: this +dismal day has disordered you. Isabella shall wait your orders +in the morning.”<br> +<br> +“What, then, you know where she is!” cried Manfred. +“Tell me directly, for I will not lose an instant - and you, woman,” +speaking to his wife, “order your chaplain to attend me forthwith.”<br> +<br> +“Isabella,” said Hippolita calmly, “is retired, I +suppose, to her chamber: she is not accustomed to watch at this late +hour. Gracious my Lord,” continued she, “let me know +what has disturbed you. Has Isabella offended you?”<br> +<br> +“Trouble me not with questions,” said Manfred, “but +tell me where she is.”<br> +<br> +“Matilda shall call her,” said the Princess. “Sit +down, my Lord, and resume your wonted fortitude.”<br> +<br> +“What, art thou jealous of Isabella?” replied he, “that +you wish to be present at our interview!”<br> +<br> +“Good heavens! my Lord,” said Hippolita, “what is +it your Highness means?”<br> +<br> +“Thou wilt know ere many minutes are passed,” said the cruel +Prince. “Send your chaplain to me, and wait my pleasure +here.”<br> +<br> +At these words he flung out of the room in search of Isabella, leaving +the amazed ladies thunderstruck with his words and frantic deportment, +and lost in vain conjectures on what he was meditating.<br> +<br> +Manfred was now returning from the vault, attended by the peasant and +a few of his servants whom he had obliged to accompany him. He +ascended the staircase without stopping till he arrived at the gallery, +at the door of which he met Hippolita and her chaplain. When Diego +had been dismissed by Manfred, he had gone directly to the Princess’s +apartment with the alarm of what he had seen. That excellent Lady, +who no more than Manfred doubted of the reality of the vision, yet affected +to treat it as a delirium of the servant. Willing, however, to +save her Lord from any additional shock, and prepared by a series of +griefs not to tremble at any accession to it, she determined to make +herself the first sacrifice, if fate had marked the present hour for +their destruction. Dismissing the reluctant Matilda to her rest, +who in vain sued for leave to accompany her mother, and attended only +by her chaplain, Hippolita had visited the gallery and great chamber; +and now with more serenity of soul than she had felt for many hours, +she met her Lord, and assured him that the vision of the gigantic leg +and foot was all a fable; and no doubt an impression made by fear, and +the dark and dismal hour of the night, on the minds of his servants. +She and the chaplain had examined the chamber, and found everything +in the usual order.<br> +<br> +Manfred, though persuaded, like his wife, that the vision had been no +work of fancy, recovered a little from the tempest of mind into which +so many strange events had thrown him. Ashamed, too, of his inhuman +treatment of a Princess who returned every injury with new marks of +tenderness and duty, he felt returning love forcing itself into his +eyes; but not less ashamed of feeling remorse towards one against whom +he was inwardly meditating a yet more bitter outrage, he curbed the +yearnings of his heart, and did not dare to lean even towards pity. +The next transition of his soul was to exquisite villainy.<br> +<br> +Presuming on the unshaken submission of Hippolita, he flattered himself +that she would not only acquiesce with patience to a divorce, but would +obey, if it was his pleasure, in endeavouring to persuade Isabella to +give him her hand - but ere he could indulge his horrid hope, he reflected +that Isabella was not to be found. Coming to himself, he gave +orders that every avenue to the castle should be strictly guarded, and +charged his domestics on pain of their lives to suffer nobody to pass +out. The young peasant, to whom he spoke favourably, he ordered +to remain in a small chamber on the stairs, in which there was a pallet-bed, +and the key of which he took away himself, telling the youth he would +talk with him in the morning. Then dismissing his attendants, +and bestowing a sullen kind of half-nod on Hippolita, he retired to +his own chamber.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER II.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Matilda, who by Hippolita’s order had retired to her apartment, +was ill-disposed to take any rest. The shocking fate of her brother +had deeply affected her. She was surprised at not seeing Isabella; +but the strange words which had fallen from her father, and his obscure +menace to the Princess his wife, accompanied by the most furious behaviour, +had filled her gentle mind with terror and alarm. She waited anxiously +for the return of Bianca, a young damsel that attended her, whom she +had sent to learn what was become of Isabella. Bianca soon appeared, +and informed her mistress of what she had gathered from the servants, +that Isabella was nowhere to be found. She related the adventure +of the young peasant who had been discovered in the vault, though with +many simple additions from the incoherent accounts of the domestics; +and she dwelt principally on the gigantic leg and foot which had been +seen in the gallery-chamber. This last circumstance had terrified +Bianca so much, that she was rejoiced when Matilda told her that she +would not go to rest, but would watch till the Princess should rise.<br> +<br> +The young Princess wearied herself in conjectures on the flight of Isabella, +and on the threats of Manfred to her mother. “But what business +could he have so urgent with the chaplain?” said Matilda, “Does +he intend to have my brother’s body interred privately in the +chapel?”<br> +<br> +“Oh, Madam!” said Bianca, “now I guess. As you +are become his heiress, he is impatient to have you married: he has +always been raving for more sons; I warrant he is now impatient for +grandsons. As sure as I live, Madam, I shall see you a bride at +last. - Good madam, you won’t cast off your faithful Bianca: you +won’t put Donna Rosara over me now you are a great Princess.”<br> +<br> +“My poor Bianca,” said Matilda, “how fast your thoughts +amble! I a great princess! What hast thou seen in Manfred’s +behaviour since my brother’s death that bespeaks any increase +of tenderness to me? No, Bianca; his heart was ever a stranger +to me - but he is my father, and I must not complain. Nay, if +Heaven shuts my father’s heart against me, it overpays my little +merit in the tenderness of my mother - O that dear mother! yes, Bianca, +’tis there I feel the rugged temper of Manfred. I can support +his harshness to me with patience; but it wounds my soul when I am witness +to his causeless severity towards her.”<br> +<br> +“Oh! Madam,” said Bianca, “all men use their wives +so, when they are weary of them.”<br> +<br> +“And yet you congratulated me but now,” said Matilda, “when +you fancied my father intended to dispose of me!”<br> +<br> +“I would have you a great Lady,” replied Bianca, “come +what will. I do not wish to see you moped in a convent, as you +would be if you had your will, and if my Lady, your mother, who knows +that a bad husband is better than no husband at all, did not hinder +you. - Bless me! what noise is that! St. Nicholas forgive me! +I was but in jest.”<br> +<br> +“It is the wind,” said Matilda, “whistling through +the battlements in the tower above: you have heard it a thousand times.”<br> +<br> +“Nay,” said Bianca, “there was no harm neither in +what I said: it is no sin to talk of matrimony - and so, Madam, as I +was saying, if my Lord Manfred should offer you a handsome young Prince +for a bridegroom, you would drop him a curtsey, and tell him you would +rather take the veil?”<br> +<br> +“Thank Heaven! I am in no such danger,” said Matilda: +“you know how many proposals for me he has rejected - ”<br> +<br> +“And you thank him, like a dutiful daughter, do you, Madam? +But come, Madam; suppose, to-morrow morning, he was to send for you +to the great council chamber, and there you should find at his elbow +a lovely young Prince, with large black eyes, a smooth white forehead, +and manly curling locks like jet; in short, Madam, a young hero resembling +the picture of the good Alfonso in the gallery, which you sit and gaze +at for hours together - ”<br> +<br> +“Do not speak lightly of that picture,” interrupted Matilda +sighing; “I know the adoration with which I look at that picture +is uncommon - but I am not in love with a coloured panel. The +character of that virtuous Prince, the veneration with which my mother +has inspired me for his memory, the orisons which, I know not why, she +has enjoined me to pour forth at his tomb, all have concurred to persuade +me that somehow or other my destiny is linked with something relating +to him.”<br> +<br> +“Lord, Madam! how should that be?” said Bianca; “I +have always heard that your family was in no way related to his: and +I am sure I cannot conceive why my Lady, the Princess, sends you in +a cold morning or a damp evening to pray at his tomb: he is no saint +by the almanack. If you must pray, why does she not bid you address +yourself to our great St. Nicholas? I am sure he is the saint +I pray to for a husband.”<br> +<br> +“Perhaps my mind would be less affected,” said Matilda, +“if my mother would explain her reasons to me: but it is the mystery +she observes, that inspires me with this - I know not what to call it. +As she never acts from caprice, I am sure there is some fatal secret +at bottom - nay, I know there is: in her agony of grief for my brother’s +death she dropped some words that intimated as much.”<br> +<br> +“Oh! dear Madam,” cried Bianca, “what were they?”<br> +<br> +“No,” said Matilda, “if a parent lets fall a word, +and wishes it recalled, it is not for a child to utter it.”<br> +<br> +“What! was she sorry for what she had said?” asked Bianca; +“I am sure, Madam, you may trust me - ”<br> +<br> +“With my own little secrets when I have any, I may,” said +Matilda; “but never with my mother’s: a child ought to have +no ears or eyes but as a parent directs.”<br> +<br> +“Well! to be sure, Madam, you were born to be a saint,” +said Bianca, “and there is no resisting one’s vocation: +you will end in a convent at last. But there is my Lady Isabella +would not be so reserved to me: she will let me talk to her of young +men: and when a handsome cavalier has come to the castle, she has owned +to me that she wished your brother Conrad resembled him.”<br> +<br> +“Bianca,” said the Princess, “I do not allow you to +mention my friend disrespectfully. Isabella is of a cheerful disposition, +but her soul is pure as virtue itself. She knows your idle babbling +humour, and perhaps has now and then encouraged it, to divert melancholy, +and enliven the solitude in which my father keeps us - ”<br> +<br> +“Blessed Mary!” said Bianca, starting, “there it is +again! Dear Madam, do you hear nothing? this castle is certainly +haunted!”<br> +<br> +“Peace!” said Matilda, “and listen! I did think +I heard a voice - but it must be fancy: your terrors, I suppose, have +infected me.”<br> +<br> +“Indeed! indeed! Madam,” said Bianca, half-weeping +with agony, “I am sure I heard a voice.”<br> +<br> +“Does anybody lie in the chamber beneath?” said the Princess.<br> +<br> +“Nobody has dared to lie there,” answered Bianca, “since +the great astrologer, that was your brother’s tutor, drowned himself. +For certain, Madam, his ghost and the young Prince’s are now met +in the chamber below - for Heaven’s sake let us fly to your mother’s +apartment!”<br> +<br> +“I charge you not to stir,” said Matilda. “If +they are spirits in pain, we may ease their sufferings by questioning +them. They can mean no hurt to us, for we have not injured them +- and if they should, shall we be more safe in one chamber than in another? +Reach me my beads; we will say a prayer, and then speak to them.”<br> +<br> +“Oh! dear Lady, I would not speak to a ghost for the world!” +cried Bianca. As she said those words they heard the casement +of the little chamber below Matilda’s open. They listened +attentively, and in a few minutes thought they heard a person sing, +but could not distinguish the words.<br> +<br> +“This can be no evil spirit,” said the Princess, in a low +voice; “it is undoubtedly one of the family - open the window, +and we shall know the voice.”<br> +<br> +“I dare not, indeed, Madam,” said Bianca.<br> +<br> +“Thou art a very fool,” said Matilda, opening the window +gently herself. The noise the Princess made was, however, heard +by the person beneath, who stopped; and they concluded had heard the +casement open.<br> +<br> +“Is anybody below?” said the Princess; “if there is, +speak.”<br> +<br> +“Yes,” said an unknown voice.<br> +<br> +“Who is it?” said Matilda.<br> +<br> +“A stranger,” replied the voice.<br> +<br> +“What stranger?” said she; “and how didst thou come +there at this unusual hour, when all the gates of the castle are locked?”<br> +<br> +“I am not here willingly,” answered the voice. “But +pardon me, Lady, if I have disturbed your rest; I knew not that I was +overheard. Sleep had forsaken me; I left a restless couch, and +came to waste the irksome hours with gazing on the fair approach of +morning, impatient to be dismissed from this castle.”<br> +<br> +“Thy words and accents,” said Matilda, “are of melancholy +cast; if thou art unhappy, I pity thee. If poverty afflicts thee, +let me know it; I will mention thee to the Princess, whose beneficent +soul ever melts for the distressed, and she will relieve thee.”<br> +<br> +“I am indeed unhappy,” said the stranger; “and I know +not what wealth is. But I do not complain of the lot which Heaven +has cast for me; I am young and healthy, and am not ashamed of owing +my support to myself - yet think me not proud, or that I disdain your +generous offers. I will remember you in my orisons, and will pray +for blessings on your gracious self and your noble mistress - if I sigh, +Lady, it is for others, not for myself.”<br> +<br> +“Now I have it, Madam,” said Bianca, whispering the Princess; +“this is certainly the young peasant; and, by my conscience, he +is in love - Well! this is a charming adventure! - do, Madam, let us +sift him. He does not know you, but takes you for one of my Lady +Hippolita’s women.”<br> +<br> +“Art thou not ashamed, Bianca!” said the Princess. + “What right have we to pry into the secrets of this young man’s +heart? He seems virtuous and frank, and tells us he is unhappy. +Are those circumstances that authorise us to make a property of him? +How are we entitled to his confidence?”<br> +<br> +“Lord, Madam! how little you know of love!” replied Bianca; +“why, lovers have no pleasure equal to talking of their mistress.”<br> +<br> +“And would you have <i>me</i> become a peasant’s confidante?” +said the Princess.<br> +<br> +“Well, then, let me talk to him,” said Bianca; “though +I have the honour of being your Highness’s maid of honour, I was +not always so great. Besides, if love levels ranks, it raises +them too; I have a respect for any young man in love.”<br> +<br> +“Peace, simpleton!” said the Princess. “Though +he said he was unhappy, it does not follow that he must be in love. +Think of all that has happened to-day, and tell me if there are no misfortunes +but what love causes. - Stranger,” resumed the Princess, “if +thy misfortunes have not been occasioned by thy own fault, and are within +the compass of the Princess Hippolita’s power to redress, I will +take upon me to answer that she will be thy protectress. When +thou art dismissed from this castle, repair to holy father Jerome, at +the convent adjoining to the church of St. Nicholas, and make thy story +known to him, as far as thou thinkest meet. He will not fail to +inform the Princess, who is the mother of all that want her assistance. +Farewell; it is not seemly for me to hold farther converse with a man +at this unwonted hour.”<br> +<br> +“May the saints guard thee, gracious Lady!” replied the +peasant; “but oh! if a poor and worthless stranger might presume +to beg a minute’s audience farther; am I so happy? the casement +is not shut; might I venture to ask - ”<br> +<br> +“Speak quickly,” said Matilda; “the morning dawns +apace: should the labourers come into the fields and perceive us - What +wouldst thou ask?”<br> +<br> +“I know not how, I know not if I dare,” said the Young stranger, +faltering; “yet the humanity with which you have spoken to me +emboldens - Lady! dare I trust you?”<br> +<br> +“Heavens!” said Matilda, “what dost thou mean? +With what wouldst thou trust me? Speak boldly, if thy secret is +fit to be entrusted to a virtuous breast.”<br> +<br> +“I would ask,” said the peasant, recollecting himself, “whether +what I have heard from the domestics is true, that the Princess is missing +from the castle?”<br> +<br> +“What imports it to thee to know?” replied Matilda. +“Thy first words bespoke a prudent and becoming gravity. +Dost thou come hither to pry into the secrets of Manfred? Adieu. +I have been mistaken in thee.” Saying these words she shut +the casement hastily, without giving the young man time to reply.<br> +<br> +“I had acted more wisely,” said the Princess to Bianca, +with some sharpness, “if I had let thee converse with this peasant; +his inquisitiveness seems of a piece with thy own.”<br> +<br> +“It is not fit for me to argue with your Highness,” replied +Bianca; “but perhaps the questions I should have put to him would +have been more to the purpose than those you have been pleased to ask +him.”<br> +<br> +“Oh! no doubt,” said Matilda; “you are a very discreet +personage! May I know what <i>you</i> would have asked him?”<br> +<br> +“A bystander often sees more of the game than those that play,” +answered Bianca. “Does your Highness think, Madam, that +this question about my Lady Isabella was the result of mere curiosity? +No, no, Madam, there is more in it than you great folks are aware of. +Lopez told me that all the servants believe this young fellow contrived +my Lady Isabella’s escape; now, pray, Madam, observe you and I +both know that my Lady Isabella never much fancied the Prince your brother. +Well! he is killed just in a critical minute - I accuse nobody. +A helmet falls from the moon - so, my Lord, your father says; but Lopez +and all the servants say that this young spark is a magician, and stole +it from Alfonso’s tomb - ”<br> +<br> +“Have done with this rhapsody of impertinence,” said Matilda.<br> +<br> +“Nay, Madam, as you please,” cried Bianca; “yet it +is very particular though, that my Lady Isabella should be missing the +very same day, and that this young sorcerer should be found at the mouth +of the trap-door. I accuse nobody; but if my young Lord came honestly +by his death - ”<br> +<br> +“Dare not on thy duty,” said Matilda, “to breathe +a suspicion on the purity of my dear Isabella’s fame.”<br> +<br> +“Purity, or not purity,” said Bianca, “gone she is +- a stranger is found that nobody knows; you question him yourself; +he tells you he is in love, or unhappy, it is the same thing - nay, +he owned he was unhappy about others; and is anybody unhappy about another, +unless they are in love with them? and at the very next word, he asks +innocently, pour soul! if my Lady Isabella is missing.”<br> +<br> +“To be sure,” said Matilda, “thy observations are +not totally without foundation - Isabella’s flight amazes me. +The curiosity of the stranger is very particular; yet Isabella never +concealed a thought from me.”<br> +<br> +“So she told you,” said Bianca, “to fish out your +secrets; but who knows, Madam, but this stranger may be some Prince +in disguise? Do, Madam, let me open the window, and ask him a +few questions.”<br> +<br> +“No,” replied Matilda, “I will ask him myself, if +he knows aught of Isabella; he is not worthy I should converse farther +with him.” She was going to open the casement, when they +heard the bell ring at the postern-gate of the castle, which is on the +right hand of the tower, where Matilda lay. This prevented the +Princess from renewing the conversation with the stranger.<br> +<br> +After continuing silent for some time, “I am persuaded,” +said she to Bianca, “that whatever be the cause of Isabella’s +flight it had no unworthy motive. If this stranger was accessory +to it, she must be satisfied with his fidelity and worth. I observed, +did not you, Bianca? that his words were tinctured with an uncommon +infusion of piety. It was no ruffian’s speech; his phrases +were becoming a man of gentle birth.”<br> +<br> +“I told you, Madam,” said Bianca, “that I was sure +he was some Prince in disguise.”<br> +<br> +“Yet,” said Matilda, “if he was privy to her escape, +how will you account for his not accompanying her in her flight? why +expose himself unnecessarily and rashly to my father’s resentment?”<br> +<br> +“As for that, Madam,” replied she, “if he could get +from under the helmet, he will find ways of eluding your father’s +anger. I do not doubt but he has some talisman or other about +him.”<br> +<br> +“You resolve everything into magic,” said Matilda; “but +a man who has any intercourse with infernal spirits, does not dare to +make use of those tremendous and holy words which he uttered. +Didst thou not observe with what fervour he vowed to remember <i>me</i> +to heaven in his prayers? Yes; Isabella was undoubtedly convinced +of his piety.”<br> +<br> +“Commend me to the piety of a young fellow and a damsel that consult +to elope!” said Bianca. “No, no, Madam, my Lady Isabella +is of another guess mould than you take her for. She used indeed +to sigh and lift up her eyes in your company, because she knows you +are a saint; but when your back was turned - ”<br> +<br> +“You wrong her,” said Matilda; “Isabella is no hypocrite; +she has a due sense of devotion, but never affected a call she has not. +On the contrary, she always combated my inclination for the cloister; +and though I own the mystery she has made to me of her flight confounds +me; though it seems inconsistent with the friendship between us; I cannot +forget the disinterested warmth with which she always opposed my taking +the veil. She wished to see me married, though my dower would +have been a loss to her and my brother’s children. For her +sake I will believe well of this young peasant.”<br> +<br> +“Then you do think there is some liking between them,” said +Bianca. While she was speaking, a servant came hastily into the +chamber and told the Princess that the Lady Isabella was found.<br> +<br> +“Where?” said Matilda.<br> +<br> +“She has taken sanctuary in St. Nicholas’s church,” +replied the servant; “Father Jerome has brought the news himself; +he is below with his Highness.”<br> +<br> +“Where is my mother?” said Matilda.<br> +<br> +“She is in her own chamber, Madam, and has asked for you.”<br> +<br> +Manfred had risen at the first dawn of light, and gone to Hippolita’s +apartment, to inquire if she knew aught of Isabella. While he +was questioning her, word was brought that Jerome demanded to speak +with him. Manfred, little suspecting the cause of the Friar’s +arrival, and knowing he was employed by Hippolita in her charities, +ordered him to be admitted, intending to leave them together, while +he pursued his search after Isabella.<br> +<br> +“Is your business with me or the Princess?” said Manfred.<br> +<br> +“With both,” replied the holy man. “The Lady +Isabella - ”<br> +<br> +“What of her?” interrupted Manfred, eagerly.<br> +<br> +“Is at St. Nicholas’s altar,” replied Jerome.<br> +<br> +“That is no business of Hippolita,” said Manfred with confusion; +“let us retire to my chamber, Father, and inform me how she came +thither.”<br> +<br> +“No, my Lord,” replied the good man, with an air of firmness +and authority, that daunted even the resolute Manfred, who could not +help revering the saint-like virtues of Jerome; “my commission +is to both, and with your Highness’s good-liking, in the presence +of both I shall deliver it; but first, my Lord, I must interrogate the +Princess, whether she is acquainted with the cause of the Lady Isabella’s +retirement from your castle.”<br> +<br> +“No, on my soul,” said Hippolita; “does Isabella charge +me with being privy to it?”<br> +<br> +“Father,” interrupted Manfred, “I pay due reverence +to your holy profession; but I am sovereign here, and will allow no +meddling priest to interfere in the affairs of my domestic. If +you have aught to say attend me to my chamber; I do not use to let my +wife be acquainted with the secret affairs of my state; they are not +within a woman’s province.”<br> +<br> +“My Lord,” said the holy man, “I am no intruder into +the secrets of families. My office is to promote peace, to heal +divisions, to preach repentance, and teach mankind to curb their headstrong +passions. I forgive your Highness’s uncharitable apostrophe; +I know my duty, and am the minister of a mightier prince than Manfred. +Hearken to him who speaks through my organs.”<br> +<br> +Manfred trembled with rage and shame. Hippolita’s countenance +declared her astonishment and impatience to know where this would end. +Her silence more strongly spoke her observance of Manfred.<br> +<br> +“The Lady Isabella,” resumed Jerome, “commends herself +to both your Highnesses; she thanks both for the kindness with which +she has been treated in your castle: she deplores the loss of your son, +and her own misfortune in not becoming the daughter of such wise and +noble Princes, whom she shall always respect as Parents; she prays for +uninterrupted union and felicity between you” [Manfred’s +colour changed]: “but as it is no longer possible for her to be +allied to you, she entreats your consent to remain in sanctuary, till +she can learn news of her father, or, by the certainty of his death, +be at liberty, with the approbation of her guardians, to dispose of +herself in suitable marriage.”<br> +<br> +“I shall give no such consent,” said the Prince, “but +insist on her return to the castle without delay: I am answerable for +her person to her guardians, and will not brook her being in any hands +but my own.”<br> +<br> +“Your Highness will recollect whether that can any longer be proper,” +replied the Friar.<br> +<br> +“I want no monitor,” said Manfred, colouring; “Isabella’s +conduct leaves room for strange suspicions - and that young villain, +who was at least the accomplice of her flight, if not the cause of it +- ”<br> +<br> +“The cause!” interrupted Jerome; “was a <i>young</i> +man the cause?”<br> +<br> +“This is not to be borne!” cried Manfred. “Am +I to be bearded in my own palace by an insolent Monk? Thou art +privy, I guess, to their amours.”<br> +<br> +“I would pray to heaven to clear up your uncharitable surmises,” +said Jerome, “if your Highness were not satisfied in your conscience +how unjustly you accuse me. I do pray to heaven to pardon that +uncharitableness: and I implore your Highness to leave the Princess +at peace in that holy place, where she is not liable to be disturbed +by such vain and worldly fantasies as discourses of love from any man.”<br> +<br> +“Cant not to me,” said Manfred, “but return and bring +the Princess to her duty.”<br> +<br> +“It is my duty to prevent her return hither,” said Jerome. +“She is where orphans and virgins are safest from the snares and +wiles of this world; and nothing but a parent’s authority shall +take her thence.”<br> +<br> +“I am her parent,” cried Manfred, “and demand her.”<br> +<br> +“She wished to have you for her parent,” said the Friar; +“but Heaven that forbad that connection has for ever dissolved +all ties betwixt you: and I announce to your Highness - ”<br> +<br> +“Stop! audacious man,” said Manfred, “and dread my +displeasure.”<br> +<br> +“Holy farther,” said Hippolita, “it is your office +to be no respecter of persons: you must speak as your duty prescribes: +but it is my duty to hear nothing that it pleases not my Lord I should +hear. Attend the Prince to his chamber. I will retire to +my oratory, and pray to the blessed Virgin to inspire you with her holy +counsels, and to restore the heart of my gracious Lord to its wonted +peace and gentleness.”<br> +<br> +“Excellent woman!” said the Friar. “My Lord, +I attend your pleasure.”<br> +<br> +Manfred, accompanied by the Friar, passed to his own apartment, where +shutting the door, “I perceive, Father,” said he, “that +Isabella has acquainted you with my purpose. Now hear my resolve, +and obey. Reasons of state, most urgent reasons, my own and the +safety of my people, demand that I should have a son. It is in +vain to expect an heir from Hippolita. I have made choice of Isabella. +You must bring her back; and you must do more. I know the influence +you have with Hippolita: her conscience is in your hands. She +is, I allow, a faultless woman: her soul is set on heaven, and scorns +the little grandeur of this world: you can withdraw her from it entirely. +Persuade her to consent to the dissolution of our marriage, and to retire +into a monastery - she shall endow one if she will; and she shall have +the means of being as liberal to your order as she or you can wish. +Thus you will divert the calamities that are hanging over our heads, +and have the merit of saying the principality of Otranto from destruction. +You are a prudent man, and though the warmth of my temper betrayed me +into some unbecoming expressions, I honour your virtue, and wish to +be indebted to you for the repose of my life and the preservation of +my family.”<br> +<br> +“The will of heaven be done!” said the Friar. “I +am but its worthless instrument. It makes use of my tongue to +tell thee, Prince, of thy unwarrantable designs. The injuries +of the virtuous Hippolita have mounted to the throne of pity. +By me thou art reprimanded for thy adulterous intention of repudiating +her: by me thou art warned not to pursue the incestuous design on thy +contracted daughter. Heaven that delivered her from thy fury, +when the judgments so recently fallen on thy house ought to have inspired +thee with other thoughts, will continue to watch over her. Even +I, a poor and despised Friar, am able to protect her from thy violence +- I, sinner as I am, and uncharitably reviled by your Highness as an +accomplice of I know not what amours, scorn the allurements with which +it has pleased thee to tempt mine honesty. I love my order; I +honour devout souls; I respect the piety of thy Princess - but I will +not betray the confidence she reposes in me, nor serve even the cause +of religion by foul and sinful compliances - but forsooth! the welfare +of the state depends on your Highness having a son! Heaven mocks +the short-sighted views of man. But yester-morn, whose house was +so great, so flourishing as Manfred’s? - where is young Conrad +now? - My Lord, I respect your tears - but I mean not to check them +- let them flow, Prince! They will weigh more with heaven toward +the welfare of thy subjects, than a marriage, which, founded on lust +or policy, could never prosper. The sceptre, which passed from +the race of Alfonso to thine, cannot be preserved by a match which the +church will never allow. If it is the will of the Most High that +Manfred’s name must perish, resign yourself, my Lord, to its decrees; +and thus deserve a crown that can never pass away. Come, my Lord; +I like this sorrow - let us return to the Princess: she is not apprised +of your cruel intentions; nor did I mean more than to alarm you. +You saw with what gentle patience, with what efforts of love, she heard, +she rejected hearing, the extent of your guilt. I know she longs +to fold you in her arms, and assure you of her unalterable affection.”<br> +<br> +“Father,” said the Prince, “you mistake my compunction: +true, I honour Hippolita’s virtues; I think her a Saint; and wish +it were for my soul’s health to tie faster the knot that has united +us - but alas! Father, you know not the bitterest of my pangs! it is +some time that I have had scruples on the legality of our union: Hippolita +is related to me in the fourth degree - it is true, we had a dispensation: +but I have been informed that she had also been contracted to another. +This it is that sits heavy at my heart: to this state of unlawful wedlock +I impute the visitation that has fallen on me in the death of Conrad! +- ease my conscience of this burden: dissolve our marriage, and accomplish +the work of godliness - which your divine exhortations have commenced +in my soul.”<br> +<br> +How cutting was the anguish which the good man felt, when he perceived +this turn in the wily Prince! He trembled for Hippolita, whose +ruin he saw was determined; and he feared if Manfred had no hope of +recovering Isabella, that his impatience for a son would direct him +to some other object, who might not be equally proof against the temptation +of Manfred’s rank. For some time the holy man remained absorbed +in thought. At length, conceiving some hopes from delay, he thought +the wisest conduct would be to prevent the Prince from despairing of +recovering Isabella. Her the Friar knew he could dispose, from +her affection to Hippolita, and from the aversion she had expressed +to him for Manfred’s addresses, to second his views, till the +censures of the church could be fulminated against a divorce. +With this intention, as if struck with the Prince’s scruples, +he at length said:<br> +<br> +“My Lord, I have been pondering on what your Highness has said; +and if in truth it is delicacy of conscience that is the real motive +of your repugnance to your virtuous Lady, far be it from me to endeavour +to harden your heart. The church is an indulgent mother: unfold +your griefs to her: she alone can administer comfort to your soul, either +by satisfying your conscience, or upon examination of your scruples, +by setting you at liberty, and indulging you in the lawful means of +continuing your lineage. In the latter case, if the Lady Isabella +can be brought to consent - ”<br> +<br> +Manfred, who concluded that he had either over-reached the good man, +or that his first warmth had been but a tribute paid to appearance, +was overjoyed at this sudden turn, and repeated the most magnificent +promises, if he should succeed by the Friar’s mediation. +The well-meaning priest suffered him to deceive himself, fully determined +to traverse his views, instead of seconding them.<br> +<br> +“Since we now understand one another,” resumed the Prince, +“I expect, Father, that you satisfy me in one point. Who +is the youth that I found in the vault? He must have been privy +to Isabella’s flight: tell me truly, is he her lover? or is he +an agent for another’s passion? I have often suspected Isabella’s +indifference to my son: a thousand circumstances crowd on my mind that +confirm that suspicion. She herself was so conscious of it, that +while I discoursed her in the gallery, she outran my suspicious, and +endeavoured to justify herself from coolness to Conrad.”<br> +<br> +The Friar, who knew nothing of the youth, but what he had learnt occasionally +from the Princess, ignorant what was become of him, and not sufficiently +reflecting on the impetuosity of Manfred’s temper, conceived that +it might not be amiss to sow the seeds of jealousy in his mind: they +might be turned to some use hereafter, either by prejudicing the Prince +against Isabella, if he persisted in that union or by diverting his +attention to a wrong scent, and employing his thoughts on a visionary +intrigue, prevent his engaging in any new pursuit. With this unhappy +policy, he answered in a manner to confirm Manfred in the belief of +some connection between Isabella and the youth. The Prince, whose +passions wanted little fuel to throw them into a blaze, fell into a +rage at the idea of what the Friar suggested.<br> +<br> + “I will fathom to the bottom of this intrigue,” cried +he; and quitting Jerome abruptly, with a command to remain there till +his return, he hastened to the great hall of the castle, and ordered +the peasant to be brought before him.<br> +<br> +“Thou hardened young impostor!” said the Prince, as soon +as he saw the youth; “what becomes of thy boasted veracity now? +it was Providence, was it, and the light of the moon, that discovered +the lock of the trap-door to thee? Tell me, audacious boy, who +thou art, and how long thou hast been acquainted with the Princess - +and take care to answer with less equivocation than thou didst last +night, or tortures shall wring the truth from thee.”<br> +<br> +The young man, perceiving that his share in the flight of the Princess +was discovered, and concluding that anything he should say could no +longer be of any service or detriment to her, replied -<br> +<br> +“I am no impostor, my Lord, nor have I deserved opprobrious language. +I answered to every question your Highness put to me last night with +the same veracity that I shall speak now: and that will not be from +fear of your tortures, but because my soul abhors a falsehood. +Please to repeat your questions, my Lord; I am ready to give you all +the satisfaction in my power.”<br> +<br> +“You know my questions,” replied the Prince, “and +only want time to prepare an evasion. Speak directly; who art +thou? and how long hast thou been known to the Princess?”<br> +<br> +“I am a labourer at the next village,” said the peasant; +“my name is Theodore. The Princess found me in the vault +last night: before that hour I never was in her presence.”<br> +<br> +“I may believe as much or as little as I please of this,” +said Manfred; “but I will hear thy own story before I examine +into the truth of it. Tell me, what reason did the Princess give +thee for making her escape? thy life depends on thy answer.”<br> +<br> +“She told me,” replied Theodore, “that she was on +the brink of destruction, and that if she could not escape from the +castle, she was in danger in a few moments of being made miserable for +ever.”<br> +<br> +“And on this slight foundation, on a silly girl’s report,” +said Manfred, “thou didst hazard my displeasure?”<br> +<br> +“I fear no man’s displeasure,” said Theodore, “when +a woman in distress puts herself under my protection.”<br> +<br> +During this examination, Matilda was going to the apartment of Hippolita. +At the upper end of the hall, where Manfred sat, was a boarded gallery +with latticed windows, through which Matilda and Bianca were to pass. +Hearing her father’s voice, and seeing the servants assembled +round him, she stopped to learn the occasion. The prisoner soon +drew her attention: the steady and composed manner in which he answered, +and the gallantry of his last reply, which were the first words she +heard distinctly, interested her in his flavour. His person was +noble, handsome, and commanding, even in that situation: but his countenance +soon engrossed her whole care.<br> +<br> +“Heavens! Bianca,” said the Princess softly, “do +I dream? or is not that youth the exact resemblance of Alfonso’s +picture in the gallery?”<br> +<br> +She could say no more, for her father’s voice grew louder at every +word.<br> +<br> +“This bravado,” said he, “surpasses all thy former +insolence. Thou shalt experience the wrath with which thou darest +to trifle. Seize him,” continued Manfred, “and ‘bind +him - the first news the Princess hears of her champion shall be, that +he has lost his head for her sake.”<br> +<br> +“The injustice of which thou art guilty towards me,” said +Theodore, “convinces me that I have done a good deed in delivering +the Princess from thy tyranny. May she be happy, whatever becomes +of me!”<br> +<br> +“This is a lover!” cried Manfred in a rage: “a peasant +within sight of death is not animated by such sentiments. Tell +me, tell me, rash boy, who thou art, or the rack shall force thy secret +from thee.”<br> +<br> +“Thou hast threatened me with death already,” said the youth, +“for the truth I have told thee: if that is all the encouragement +I am to expect for sincerity, I am not tempted to indulge thy vain curiosity +farther.”<br> +<br> +“Then thou wilt not speak?” said Manfred.<br> +<br> +“I will not,” replied he.<br> +<br> +“Bear him away into the courtyard,” said Manfred; “I +will see his head this instant severed from his body.”<br> +<br> +Matilda fainted at hearing those words. Bianca shrieked, and cried +-<br> +<br> +“Help! help! the Princess is dead!” Manfred started +at this ejaculation, and demanded what was the matter! The young +peasant, who heard it too, was struck with horror, and asked eagerly +the same question; but Manfred ordered him to be hurried into the court, +and kept there for execution, till he had informed himself of the cause +of Bianca’s shrieks. When he learned the meaning, he treated +it as a womanish panic, and ordering Matilda to be carried to her apartment, +he rushed into the court, and calling for one of his guards, bade Theodore +kneel down, and prepare to receive the fatal blow.<br> +<br> +The undaunted youth received the bitter sentence with a resignation +that touched every heart but Manfred’s. He wished earnestly +to know the meaning of the words he had heard relating to the Princess; +but fearing to exasperate the tyrant more against her, he desisted. +The only boon he deigned to ask was, that he might be permitted to have +a confessor, and make his peace with heaven. Manfred, who hoped +by the confessor’s means to come at the youth’s history, +readily granted his request; and being convinced that Father Jerome +was now in his interest, he ordered him to be called and shrive the +prisoner. The holy man, who had little foreseen the catastrophe +that his imprudence occasioned, fell on his knees to the Prince, and +adjured him in the most solemn manner not to shed innocent blood. +He accused himself in the bitterest terms for his indiscretion, endeavoured +to disculpate the youth, and left no method untried to soften the tyrant’s +rage. Manfred, more incensed than appeased by Jerome’s intercession, +whose retraction now made him suspect he had been imposed upon by both, +commanded the Friar to do his duty, telling him he would not allow the +prisoner many minutes for confession.<br> +<br> +“Nor do I ask many, my Lord,” said the unhappy young man. +“My sins, thank heaven, have not been numerous; nor exceed what +might be expected at my years. Dry your tears, good Father, and +let us despatch. This is a bad world; nor have I had cause to +leave it with regret.”<br> +<br> +“Oh wretched youth!” said Jerome; “how canst thou +bear the sight of me with patience? I am thy murderer! it is I +have brought this dismal hour upon thee!”<br> +<br> +“I forgive thee from my soul,” said the youth, “as +I hope heaven will pardon me. Hear my confession, Father; and +give me thy blessing.”<br> +<br> +“How can I prepare thee for thy passage as I ought?” said +Jerome. “Thou canst not be saved without pardoning thy foes +- and canst thou forgive that impious man there?”<br> +<br> +“I can,” said Theodore; “I do.”<br> +<br> +“And does not this touch thee, cruel Prince?” said the Friar.<br> +<br> +“I sent for thee to confess him,” said Manfred, sternly; +“not to plead for him. Thou didst first incense me against +him - his blood be upon thy head!”<br> +<br> +“It will! it will!” said the good main, in an agony of sorrow. +“Thou and I must never hope to go where this blessed youth is +going!”<br> +<br> +“Despatch!” said Manfred; “I am no more to be moved +by the whining of priests than by the shrieks of women.”<br> +<br> +“What!” said the youth; “is it possible that my fate +could have occasioned what I heard! Is the Princess then again +in thy power?”<br> +<br> +“Thou dost but remember me of my wrath,” said Manfred. +“Prepare thee, for this moment is thy last.”<br> +<br> +The youth, who felt his indignation rise, and who was touched with the +sorrow which he saw he had infused into all the spectators, as well +as into the Friar, suppressed his emotions, and putting off his doublet, +and unbuttoning, his collar, knelt down to his prayers. As he +stooped, his shirt slipped down below his shoulder, and discovered the +mark of a bloody arrow.<br> +<br> +“Gracious heaven!” cried the holy man, starting; “what +do I see? It is my child! my Theodore!”<br> +<br> +The passions that ensued must be conceived; they cannot be painted. +The tears of the assistants were suspended by wonder, rather than stopped +by joy. They seemed to inquire in the eyes of their Lord what +they ought to feel. Surprise, doubt, tenderness, respect, succeeded +each other in the countenance of the youth. He received with modest +submission the effusion of the old man’s tears and embraces. +Yet afraid of giving a loose to hope, and suspecting from what had passed +the inflexibility of Manfred’s temper, he cast a glance towards +the Prince, as if to say, canst thou be unmoved at such a scene as this?<br> +<br> +Manfred’s heart was capable of being touched. He forgot +his anger in his astonishment; yet his pride forbad his owning himself +affected. He even doubted whether this discovery was not a contrivance +of the Friar to save the youth.<br> +<br> +“What may this mean?” said he. “How can he be +thy son? Is it consistent with thy profession or reputed sanctity +to avow a peasant’s offspring for the fruit of thy irregular amours!”<br> +<br> +“Oh, God!” said the holy man, “dost thou question +his being mine? Could I feel the anguish I do if I were not his +father? Spare him! good Prince! spare him! and revile me as thou +pleasest.”<br> +<br> +“Spare him! spare him!” cried the attendants; “for +this good man’s sake!”<br> +<br> +“Peace!” said Manfred, sternly. “I must know +more ere I am disposed to pardon. A Saint’s bastard may +be no saint himself.”<br> +<br> +“Injurious Lord!” said Theodore, “add not insult to +cruelty. If I am this venerable man’s son, though no Prince, +as thou art, know the blood that flows in my veins - ”<br> +<br> +“Yes,” said the Friar, interrupting him, “his blood +is noble; nor is he that abject thing, my Lord, you speak him. +He is my lawful son, and Sicily can boast of few houses more ancient +than that of Falconara. But alas! my Lord, what is blood! what +is nobility! We are all reptiles, miserable, sinful creatures. +It is piety alone that can distinguish us from the dust whence we sprung, +and whither we must return.”<br> +<br> +“Truce to your sermon,” said Manfred; “you forget +you are no longer Friar Jerome, but the Count of Falconara. Let +me know your history; you will have time to moralise hereafter, if you +should not happen to obtain the grace of that sturdy criminal there.”<br> +<br> +“Mother of God!” said the Friar, “is it possible my +Lord can refuse a father the life of his only, his long-lost, child! +Trample me, my Lord, scorn, afflict me, accept my life for his, but +spare my son!”<br> +<br> +“Thou canst feel, then,” said Manfred, “what it is +to lose an only son! A little hour ago thou didst preach up resignation +to me: <i>my</i> house, if fate so pleased, must perish - but the Count +of Falconara - ”<br> +<br> +“Alas! my Lord,” said Jerome, “I confess I have offended; +but aggravate not an old man’s sufferings! I boast not of +my family, nor think of such vanities - it is nature, that pleads for +this boy; it is the memory of the dear woman that bore him. Is +she, Theodore, is she dead?”<br> +<br> +“Her soul has long been with the blessed,” said Theodore.<br> +<br> +“Oh! how?” cried Jerome, “tell me - no - she is happy! +Thou art all my care now! - Most dread Lord! will you - will you grant +me my poor boy’s life?”<br> +<br> +“Return to thy convent,” answered Manfred; “conduct +the Princess hither; obey me in what else thou knowest; and I promise +thee the life of thy son.”<br> +<br> +“Oh! my Lord,” said Jerome, “is my honesty the price +I must pay for this dear youth’s safety?”<br> +<br> +“For me!” cried Theodore. “Let me die a thousand +deaths, rather than stain thy conscience. What is it the tyrant +would exact of thee? Is the Princess still safe from his power? +Protect her, thou venerable old man; and let all the weight of his wrath +fall on me.”<br> +<br> +Jerome endeavoured to check the impetuosity of the youth; and ere Manfred +could reply, the trampling of horses was heard, and a brazen trumpet, +which hung without the gate of the castle, was suddenly sounded. +At the same instant the sable plumes on the enchanted helmet, which +still remained at the other end of the court, were tempestuously agitated, +and nodded thrice, as if bowed by some invisible wearer.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER III.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Manfred’s heart misgave him when he beheld the plumage on the +miraculous casque shaken in concert with the sounding of the brazen +trumpet.<br> +<br> +“Father!” said he to Jerome, whom he now ceased to treat +as Count of Falconara, “what mean these portents? If I have +offended - ” the plumes were shaken with greater violence than +before.<br> +<br> +“Unhappy Prince that I am,” cried Manfred. “Holy +Father! will you not assist me with your prayers?”<br> +<br> +“My Lord,” replied Jerome, “heaven is no doubt displeased +with your mockery of its servants. Submit yourself to the church; +and cease to persecute her ministers. Dismiss this innocent youth; +and learn to respect the holy character I wear. Heaven will not +be trifled with: you see - ” the trumpet sounded again.<br> +<br> +“I acknowledge I have been too hasty,” said Manfred. +“Father, do you go to the wicket, and demand who is at the gate.”<br> +<br> +“Do you grant me the life of Theodore?” replied the Friar.<br> +<br> +“I do,” said Manfred; “but inquire who is without!”<br> +<br> +Jerome, falling on the neck of his son, discharged a flood of tears, +that spoke the fulness of his soul.<br> +<br> +“You promised to go to the gate,” said Manfred.<br> +<br> +“I thought,” replied the Friar, “your Highness would +excuse my thanking you first in this tribute of my heart.”<br> +<br> +“Go, dearest Sir,” said Theodore; “obey the Prince. +I do not deserve that you should delay his satisfaction for me.”<br> +<br> +Jerome, inquiring who was without, was answered, “A Herald.”<br> +<br> +“From whom?” said he.<br> +<br> +“From the Knight of the Gigantic Sabre,” said the Herald; +“and I must speak with the usurper of Otranto.”<br> +<br> +Jerome returned to the Prince, and did not fail to repeat the message +in the very words it had been uttered. The first sounds struck +Manfred with terror; but when he heard himself styled usurper, his rage +rekindled, and all his courage revived.<br> +<br> +“Usurper! - insolent villain!” cried he; “who dares +to question my title? Retire, Father; this is no business for +Monks: I will meet this presumptuous man myself. Go to your convent +and prepare the Princess’s return. Your son shall be a hostage +for your fidelity: his life depends on your obedience.”<br> +<br> +“Good heaven! my Lord,” cried Jerome, “your Highness +did but this instant freely pardon my child - have you so soon forgot +the interposition of heaven?”<br> +<br> +“Heaven,” replied Manfred, “does not send Heralds +to question the title of a lawful Prince. I doubt whether it even +notifies its will through Friars - but that is your affair, not mine. +At present you know my pleasure; and it is not a saucy Herald that shall +save your son, if you do not return with the Princess.”<br> +<br> +It was in vain for the holy man to reply. Manfred commanded him +to be conducted to the postern-gate, and shut out from the castle. +And he ordered some of his attendants to carry Theodore to the top of +the black tower, and guard him strictly; scarce permitting the father +and son to exchange a hasty embrace at parting. He then withdrew +to the hall, and seating himself in princely state, ordered the Herald +to be admitted to his presence.<br> +<br> +“Well! thou insolent!” said the Prince, “what wouldst +thou with me?”<br> +<br> +“I come,” replied he, “to thee, Manfred, usurper of +the principality of Otranto, from the renowned and invincible Knight, +the Knight of the Gigantic Sabre: in the name of his Lord, Frederic, +Marquis of Vicenza, he demands the Lady Isabella, daughter of that Prince, +whom thou hast basely and traitorously got into thy power, by bribing +her false guardians during his absence; and he requires thee to resign +the principality of Otranto, which thou hast usurped from the said Lord +Frederic, the nearest of blood to the last rightful Lord, Alfonso the +Good. If thou dost not instantly comply with these just demands, +he defies thee to single combat to the last extremity.” +And so saying the Herald cast down his warder.<br> +<br> +“And where is this braggart who sends thee?” said Manfred.<br> +<br> +“At the distance of a league,” said the Herald: “he +comes to make good his Lord’s claim against thee, as he is a true +knight, and thou an usurper and ravisher.”<br> +<br> +Injurious as this challenge was, Manfred reflected that it was not his +interest to provoke the Marquis. He knew how well founded the +claim of Frederic was; nor was this the first time he had heard of it. +Frederic’s ancestors had assumed the style of Princes of Otranto, +from the death of Alfonso the Good without issue; but Manfred, his father, +and grandfather, had been too powerful for the house of Vicenza to dispossess +them. Frederic, a martial and amorous young Prince, had married +a beautiful young lady, of whom he was enamoured, and who had died in +childbed of Isabella. Her death affected him so much that he had +taken the cross and gone to the Holy Land, where he was wounded in an +engagement against the infidels, made prisoner, and reported to be dead. +When the news reached Manfred’s ears, he bribed the guardians +of the Lady Isabella to deliver her up to him as a bride for his son +Conrad, by which alliance he had proposed to unite the claims of the +two houses. This motive, on Conrad’s death, had co-operated +to make him so suddenly resolve on espousing her himself; and the same +reflection determined him now to endeavour at obtaining the consent +of Frederic to this marriage. A like policy inspired him with +the thought of inviting Frederic’s champion into the castle, lest +he should be informed of Isabella’s flight, which he strictly +enjoined his domestics not to disclose to any of the Knight’s +retinue.<br> +<br> +“Herald,” said Manfred, as soon as he had digested these +reflections, “return to thy master, and tell him, ere we liquidate +our differences by the sword, Manfred would hold some converse with +him. Bid him welcome to my castle, where by my faith, as I am +a true Knight, he shall have courteous reception, and full security +for himself and followers. If we cannot adjust our quarrel by +amicable means, I swear he shall depart in safety, and shall have full +satisfaction according to the laws of arms: So help me God and His holy +Trinity!”<br> +<br> +The Herald made three obeisances and retired.<br> +<br> +During this interview Jerome’s mind was agitated by a thousand +contrary passions. He trembled for the life of his son, and his +first thought was to persuade Isabella to return to the castle. +Yet he was scarce less alarmed at the thought of her union with Manfred. +He dreaded Hippolita’s unbounded submission to the will of her +Lord; and though he did not doubt but he could alarm her piety not to +consent to a divorce, if he could get access to her; yet should Manfred +discover that the obstruction came from him, it might be equally fatal +to Theodore. He was impatient to know whence came the Herald, +who with so little management had questioned the title of Manfred: yet +he did not dare absent himself from the convent, lest Isabella should +leave it, and her flight be imputed to him. He returned disconsolately +to the monastery, uncertain on what conduct to resolve. A Monk, +who met him in the porch and observed his melancholy air, said -<br> +<br> +“Alas! brother, is it then true that we have lost our excellent +Princess Hippolita?”<br> +<br> +The holy man started, and cried, “What meanest thou, brother? +I come this instant from the castle, and left her in perfect health.”<br> +<br> +“Martelli,” replied the other Friar, “passed by the +convent but a quarter of an hour ago on his way from the castle, and +reported that her Highness was dead. All our brethren are gone +to the chapel to pray for her happy transit to a better life, and willed +me to wait thy arrival. They know thy holy attachment to that +good Lady, and are anxious for the affliction it will cause in thee +- indeed we have all reason to weep; she was a mother to our house. +But this life is but a pilgrimage; we must not murmur - we shall all +follow her! May our end be like hers!”<br> +<br> + “Good brother, thou dreamest,” said Jerome. +“I tell thee I come from the castle, and left the Princess well. +Where is the Lady Isabella?”<br> +<br> +“Poor Gentlewoman!” replied the Friar; “I told her +the sad news, and offered her spiritual comfort. I reminded her +of the transitory condition of mortality, and advised her to take the +veil: I quoted the example of the holy Princess Sanchia of Arragon.”<br> +<br> +“Thy zeal was laudable,” said Jerome, impatiently; “but +at present it was unnecessary: Hippolita is well - at least I trust +in the Lord she is; I heard nothing to the contrary - yet, methinks, +the Prince’s earnestness - Well, brother, but where is the Lady +Isabella?”<br> +<br> +“I know not,” said the Friar; “she wept much, and +said she would retire to her chamber.”<br> +<br> +Jerome left his comrade abruptly, and hastened to the Princess, but +she was not in her chamber. He inquired of the domestics of the +convent, but could learn no news of her. He searched in vain throughout +the monastery and the church, and despatched messengers round the neighbourhood, +to get intelligence if she had been seen; but to no purpose. Nothing +could equal the good man’s perplexity. He judged that Isabella, +suspecting Manfred of having precipitated his wife’s death, had +taken the alarm, and withdrawn herself to some more secret place of +concealment. This new flight would probably carry the Prince’s +fury to the height. The report of Hippolita’s death, though +it seemed almost incredible, increased his consternation; and though +Isabella’s escape bespoke her aversion of Manfred for a husband, +Jerome could feel no comfort from it, while it endangered the life of +his son. He determined to return to the castle, and made several +of his brethren accompany him to attest his innocence to Manfred, and, +if necessary, join their intercession with his for Theodore.<br> +<br> +The Prince, in the meantime, had passed into the court, and ordered +the gates of the castle to be flung open for the reception of the stranger +Knight and his train. In a few minutes the cavalcade arrived. +First came two harbingers with wands. Next a herald, followed +by two pages and two trumpets. Then a hundred foot-guards. +These were attended by as many horse. After them fifty footmen, +clothed in scarlet and black, the colours of the Knight. Then +a led horse. Two heralds on each side of a gentleman on horseback +bearing a banner with the arms of Vicenza and Otranto quarterly - a +circumstance that much offended Manfred - but he stifled his resentment. +Two more pages. The Knight’s confessor telling his beads. +Fifty more footmen clad as before. Two Knights habited in complete +armour, their beavers down, comrades to the principal Knight. +The squires of the two Knights, carrying their shields and devices. +The Knight’s own squire. A hundred gentlemen bearing an +enormous sword, and seeming to faint under the weight of it. The +Knight himself on a chestnut steed, in complete armour, his lance in +the rest, his face entirely concealed by his vizor, which was surmounted +by a large plume of scarlet and black feathers. Fifty foot-guards +with drums and trumpets closed the procession, which wheeled off to +the right and left to make room for the principal Knight.<br> +<br> +As soon as he approached the gate he stopped; and the herald advancing, +read again the words of the challenge. Manfred’s eyes were +fixed on the gigantic sword, and he scarce seemed to attend to the cartel: +but his attention was soon diverted by a tempest of wind that rose behind +him. He turned and beheld the Plumes of the enchanted helmet agitated +in the same extraordinary manner as before. It required intrepidity +like Manfred’s not to sink under a concurrence of circumstances +that seemed to announce his fate. Yet scorning in the presence +of strangers to betray the courage he had always manifested, he said +boldly -<br> +<br> +“Sir Knight, whoever thou art, I bid thee welcome. If thou +art of mortal mould, thy valour shall meet its equal: and if thou art +a true Knight, thou wilt scorn to employ sorcery to carry thy point. +Be these omens from heaven or hell, Manfred trusts to the righteousness +of his cause and to the aid of St. Nicholas, who has ever protected +his house. Alight, Sir Knight, and repose thyself. To-morrow +thou shalt have a fair field, and heaven befriend the juster side!”<br> +<br> +The Knight made no reply, but dismounting, was conducted by Manfred +to the great hall of the castle. As they traversed the court, +the Knight stopped to gaze on the miraculous casque; and kneeling down, +seemed to pray inwardly for some minutes. Rising, he made a sign +to the Prince to lead on. As soon as they entered the hall, Manfred +proposed to the stranger to disarm, but the Knight shook his head in +token of refusal.<br> +<br> +“Sir Knight,” said Manfred, “this is not courteous, +but by my good faith I will not cross thee, nor shalt thou have cause +to complain of the Prince of Otranto. No treachery is designed +on my part; I hope none is intended on thine; here take my gage” +(giving him his ring): “your friends and you shall enjoy the laws +of hospitality. Rest here until refreshments are brought. +I will but give orders for the accommodation of your train, and return +to you.” The three Knights bowed as accepting his courtesy. +Manfred directed the stranger’s retinue to be conducted to an +adjacent hospital, founded by the Princess Hippolita for the reception +of pilgrims. As they made the circuit of the court to return towards +the gate, the gigantic sword burst from the supporters, and falling +to the ground opposite to the helmet, remained immovable. Manfred, +almost hardened to preternatural appearances, surmounted the shock of +this new prodigy; and returning to the hall, where by this time the +feast was ready, he invited his silent guests to take their places. +Manfred, however ill his heart was at ease, endeavoured to inspire the +company with mirth. He put several questions to them, but was +answered only by signs. They raised their vizors but sufficiently +to feed themselves, and that sparingly.<br> +<br> +“Sirs” said the Prince, “ye are the first guests I +ever treated within these walls who scorned to hold any intercourse +with me: nor has it oft been customary, I ween, for princes to hazard +their state and dignity against strangers and mutes. You say you +come in the name of Frederic of Vicenza; I have ever heard that he was +a gallant and courteous Knight; nor would he, I am bold to say, think +it beneath him to mix in social converse with a Prince that is his equal, +and not unknown by deeds in arms. Still ye are silent - well! +be it as it may - by the laws of hospitality and chivalry ye are masters +under this roof: ye shall do your pleasure. But come, give me +a goblet of wine; ye will not refuse to pledge me to the healths of +your fair mistresses.”<br> +<br> +The principal Knight sighed and crossed himself, and was rising from +the board.<br> +<br> +“Sir Knight,” said Manfred, “what I said was but in +sport. I shall constrain you in nothing: use your good liking. +Since mirth is not your mood, let us be sad. Business may hit +your fancies better. Let us withdraw, and hear if what I have +to unfold may be better relished than the vain efforts I have made for +your pastime.”<br> +<br> +Manfred then conducting the three Knights into an inner chamber, shut +the door, and inviting them to be seated, began thus, addressing himself +to the chief personage:-<br> +<br> +“You come, Sir Knight, as I understand, in the name of the Marquis +of Vicenza, to re-demand the Lady Isabella, his daughter, who has been +contracted in the face of Holy Church to my son, by the consent of her +legal guardians; and to require me to resign my dominions to your Lord, +who gives himself for the nearest of blood to Prince Alfonso, whose +soul God rest! I shall speak to the latter article of your demands +first. You must know, your Lord knows, that I enjoy the principality +of Otranto from my father, Don Manuel, as he received it from his father, +Don Ricardo. Alfonso, their predecessor, dying childless in the +Holy Land, bequeathed his estates to my grandfather, Don Ricardo, in +consideration of his faithful services.” The stranger shook +his head.<br> +<br> +“Sir Knight,” said Manfred, warmly, “Ricardo was a +valiant and upright man; he was a pious man; witness his munificent +foundation of the adjoining church and two converts. He was peculiarly +patronised by St. Nicholas - my grandfather was incapable - I say, Sir, +Don Ricardo was incapable - excuse me, your interruption has disordered +me. I venerate the memory of my grandfather. Well, Sirs, +he held this estate; he held it by his good sword and by the favour +of St. Nicholas - so did my father; and so, Sirs, will I, come what +come will. But Frederic, your Lord, is nearest in blood. +I have consented to put my title to the issue of the sword. Does +that imply a vicious title? I might have asked, where is Frederic +your Lord? Report speaks him dead in captivity. You say, +your actions say, he lives - I question it not - I might, Sirs, I might +- but I do not. Other Princes would bid Frederic take his inheritance +by force, if he can: they would not stake their dignity on a single +combat: they would not submit it to the decision of unknown mutes! - +pardon me, gentlemen, I am too warm: but suppose yourselves in my situation: +as ye are stout Knights, would it not move your choler to have your +own and the honour of your ancestors called in question?”<br> +<br> +“But to the point. Ye require me to deliver up the Lady +Isabella. Sirs, I must ask if ye are authorised to receive her?”<br> +<br> +The Knight nodded.<br> +<br> +“Receive her,” continued Manfred; “well, you are authorised +to receive her, but, gentle Knight, may I ask if you have full powers?”<br> +<br> +The Knight nodded.<br> +<br> +“’Tis well,” said Manfred; “then hear what I +have to offer. Ye see, gentlemen, before you, the most unhappy +of men!” (he began to weep); “afford me your compassion; +I am entitled to it, indeed I am. Know, I have lost my only hope, +my joy, the support of my house - Conrad died yester morning.”<br> +<br> +The Knights discovered signs of surprise.<br> +<br> +“Yes, Sirs, fate has disposed of my son. Isabella is at +liberty.”<br> +<br> +“Do you then restore her?” cried the chief Knight, breaking +silence.<br> +<br> +“Afford me your patience,” said Manfred. “I +rejoice to find, by this testimony of your goodwill, that this matter +may be adjusted without blood. It is no interest of mine dictates +what little I have farther to say. Ye behold in me a man disgusted +with the world: the loss of my son has weaned me from earthly cares. +Power and greatness have no longer any charms in my eyes. I wished +to transmit the sceptre I had received from my ancestors with honour +to my son - but that is over! Life itself is so indifferent to +me, that I accepted your defiance with joy. A good Knight cannot +go to the grave with more satisfaction than when falling in his vocation: +whatever is the will of heaven, I submit; for alas! Sirs, I am a man +of many sorrows. Manfred is no object of envy, but no doubt you +are acquainted with my story.”<br> +<br> +The Knight made signs of ignorance, and seemed curious to have Manfred +proceed.<br> +<br> +“Is it possible, Sirs,” continued the Prince, “that +my story should be a secret to you? Have you heard nothing relating +to me and the Princess Hippolita?”<br> +<br> +They shook their heads.<br> +<br> +“No! Thus, then, Sirs, it is. You think me ambitious: +ambition, alas! is composed of more rugged materials. If I were +ambitious, I should not for so many years have been a prey to all the +hell of conscientious scruples. But I weary your patience: I will +be brief. Know, then, that I have long been troubled in mind on +my union with the Princess Hippolita. Oh! Sirs, if ye were acquainted +with that excellent woman! if ye knew that I adore her like a mistress, +and cherish her as a friend - but man was not born for perfect happiness! +She shares my scruples, and with her consent I have brought this matter +before the church, for we are related within the forbidden degrees. +I expect every hour the definitive sentence that must separate us for +ever - I am sure you feel for me - I see you do - pardon these tears!”<br> +<br> +The Knights gazed on each other, wondering where this would end.<br> +<br> +Manfred continued -<br> +<br> +“The death of my son betiding while my soul was under this anxiety, +I thought of nothing but resigning my dominions, and retiring for ever +from the sight of mankind. My only difficulty was to fix on a +successor, who would be tender of my people, and to dispose of the Lady +Isabella, who is dear to me as my own blood. I was willing to +restore the line of Alfonso, even in his most distant kindred. +And though, pardon me, I am satisfied it was his will that Ricardo’s +lineage should take place of his own relations; yet where was I to search +for those relations? I knew of none but Frederic, your Lord; he +was a captive to the infidels, or dead; and were he living, and at home, +would he quit the flourishing State of Vicenza for the inconsiderable +principality of Otranto? If he would not, could I bear the thought +of seeing a hard, unfeeling, Viceroy set over my poor faithful people? +for, Sirs, I love my people, and thank heaven am beloved by them. +But ye will ask whither tends this long discourse? Briefly, then, +thus, Sirs. Heaven in your arrival seems to point out a remedy +for these difficulties and my misfortunes. The Lady Isabella is +at liberty; I shall soon be so. I would submit to anything for +the good of my people. Were it not the best, the only way to extinguish +the feuds between our families, if I was to take the Lady Isabella to +wife? You start. But though Hippolita’s virtues will +ever be dear to me, a Prince must not consider himself; he is born for +his people.” A servant at that instant entering the chamber +apprised Manfred that Jerome and several of his brethren demanded immediate +access to him.<br> +<br> +The Prince, provoked at this interruption, and fearing that the Friar +would discover to the strangers that Isabella had taken sanctuary, was +going to forbid Jerome’s entrance. But recollecting that +he was certainly arrived to notify the Princess’s return, Manfred +began to excuse himself to the Knights for leaving them for a few moments, +but was prevented by the arrival of the Friars. Manfred angrily +reprimanded them for their intrusion, and would have forced them back +from the chamber; but Jerome was too much agitated to be repulsed. +He declared aloud the flight of Isabella, with protestations of his +own innocence.<br> +<br> +Manfred, distracted at the news, and not less at its coming to the knowledge +of the strangers, uttered nothing but incoherent sentences, now upbraiding +the Friar, now apologising to the Knights, earnest to know what was +become of Isabella, yet equally afraid of their knowing; impatient to +pursue her, yet dreading to have them join in the pursuit. He +offered to despatch messengers in quest of her, but the chief Knight, +no longer keeping silence, reproached Manfred in bitter terms for his +dark and ambiguous dealing, and demanded the cause of Isabella’s +first absence from the castle. Manfred, casting a stern look at +Jerome, implying a command of silence, pretended that on Conrad’s +death he had placed her in sanctuary until he could determine how to +dispose of her. Jerome, who trembled for his son’s life, +did not dare contradict this falsehood, but one of his brethren, not +under the same anxiety, declared frankly that she had fled to their +church in the preceding night. The Prince in vain endeavoured +to stop this discovery, which overwhelmed him with shame and confusion. +The principal stranger, amazed at the contradictions he heard, and more +than half persuaded that Manfred had secreted the Princess, notwithstanding +the concern he expressed at her flight, rushing to the door, said -<br> +<br> +“Thou traitor Prince! Isabella shall be found.”<br> +<br> +Manfred endeavoured to hold him, but the other Knights assisting their +comrade, he broke from the Prince, and hastened into the court, demanding +his attendants. Manfred, finding it vain to divert him from the +pursuit, offered to accompany him and summoning his attendants, and +taking Jerome and some of the Friars to guide them, they issued from +the castle; Manfred privately giving orders to have the Knight’s +company secured, while to the knight he affected to despatch a messenger +to require their assistance.<br> +<br> +The company had no sooner quitted the castle than Matilda, who felt +herself deeply interested for the young peasant, since she had seen +him condemned to death in the hall, and whose thoughts had been taken +up with concerting measures to save him, was informed by some of the +female attendants that Manfred had despatched all his men various ways +in pursuit of Isabella. He had in his hurry given this order in +general terms, not meaning to extend it to the guard he had set upon +Theodore, but forgetting it. The domestics, officious to obey +so peremptory a Prince, and urged by their own curiosity and love of +novelty to join in any precipitate chase, had to a man left the castle. +Matilda disengaged herself from her women, stole up to the black tower, +and unbolting the door, presented herself to the astonished Theodore.<br> +<br> +“Young man,” said she, “though filial duty and womanly +modesty condemn the step I am taking, yet holy charity, surmounting +all other ties, justifies this act. Fly; the doors of thy prison +are open: my father and his domestics are absent; but they may soon +return. Be gone in safety; and may the angels of heaven direct +thy course!”<br> +<br> +“Thou art surely one of those angels!” said the enraptured +Theodore: “none but a blessed saint could speak, could act - could +look - like thee. May I not know the name of my divine protectress? +Methought thou namedst thy father. Is it possible? Can Manfred’s +blood feel holy pity! Lovely Lady, thou answerest not. But +how art thou here thyself? Why dost thou neglect thy own safety, +and waste a thought on a wretch like Theodore? Let us fly together: +the life thou bestowest shall be dedicated to thy defence.”<br> +<br> +“Alas! thou mistakest,” said Matilda, signing: “I +am Manfred’s daughter, but no dangers await me.”<br> +<br> +“Amazement!” said Theodore; “but last night I blessed +myself for yielding thee the service thy gracious compassion so charitably +returns me now.”<br> +<br> +“Still thou art in an error,” said the Princess; “but +this is no time for explanation. Fly, virtuous youth, while it +is in my power to save thee: should my father return, thou and I both +should indeed have cause to tremble.”<br> +<br> +“How!” said Theodore; “thinkest thou, charming maid, +that I will accept of life at the hazard of aught calamitous to thee? +Better I endured a thousand deaths.”<br> +<br> +“I run no risk,” said Matilda, “but by thy delay. +Depart; it cannot be known that I have assisted thy flight.”<br> +<br> +“Swear by the saints above,” said Theodore, “that +thou canst not be suspected; else here I vow to await whatever can befall +me.”<br> +<br> +“Oh! thou art too generous,” said Matilda; “but rest +assured that no suspicion can alight on me.”<br> +<br> +“Give me thy beauteous hand in token that thou dost not deceive +me,” said Theodore; “and let me bathe it with the warm tears +of gratitude.”<br> +<br> +“Forbear!” said the Princess; “this must not be.”<br> +<br> +“Alas!” said Theodore, “I have never known but calamity +until this hour - perhaps shall never know other fortune again: suffer +the chaste raptures of holy gratitude: ’tis my soul would print +its effusions on thy hand.”<br> +<br> +“Forbear, and be gone,” said Matilda. “How would +Isabella approve of seeing thee at my feet?”<br> +<br> +“Who is Isabella?” said the young man with surprise.<br> +<br> +“Ah, me! I fear,” said the Princess, “I am serving +a deceitful one. Hast thou forgot thy curiosity this morning?”<br> +<br> +“Thy looks, thy actions, all thy beauteous self seem an emanation +of divinity,” said Theodore; “but thy words are dark and +mysterious. Speak, Lady; speak to thy servant’s comprehension.”<br> +<br> +“Thou understandest but too well!” said Matilda; “but +once more I command thee to be gone: thy blood, which I may preserve, +will be on my head, if I waste the time in vain discourse.”<br> +<br> +“I go, Lady,” said Theodore, “because it is thy will, +and because I would not bring the grey hairs of my father with sorrow +to the grave. Say but, adored Lady, that I have thy gentle pity.”<br> +<br> +“Stay,” said Matilda; “I will conduct thee to the +subterraneous vault by which Isabella escaped; it will lead thee to +the church of St. Nicholas, where thou mayst take sanctuary.”<br> +<br> +“What!” said Theodore, “was it another, and not thy +lovely self that I assisted to find the subterraneous passage?”<br> +<br> +“It was,” said Matilda; “but ask no more; I tremble +to see thee still abide here; fly to the sanctuary.”<br> +<br> +“To sanctuary,” said Theodore; “no, Princess; sanctuaries +are for helpless damsels, or for criminals. Theodore’s soul +is free from guilt, nor will wear the appearance of it. Give me +a sword, Lady, and thy father shall learn that Theodore scorns an ignominious +flight.”<br> +<br> +“Rash youth!” said Matilda; “thou wouldst not dare +to lift thy presumptuous arm against the Prince of Otranto?”<br> +<br> +“Not against thy father; indeed, I dare not,” said Theodore. +“Excuse me, Lady; I had forgotten. But could I gaze on thee, +and remember thou art sprung from the tyrant Manfred! But he is +thy father, and from this moment my injuries are buried in oblivion.”<br> +<br> +A deep and hollow groan, which seemed to come from above, startled the +Princess and Theodore.<br> +<br> +“Good heaven! we are overheard!” said the Princess. +They listened; but perceiving no further noise, they both concluded +it the effect of pent-up vapours. And the Princess, preceding +Theodore softly, carried him to her father’s armoury, where, equipping +him with a complete suit, he was conducted by Matilda to the postern-gate.<br> +<br> +“Avoid the town,” said the Princess, “and all the +western side of the castle. ’Tis there the search must be +making by Manfred and the strangers; but hie thee to the opposite quarter. +Yonder behind that forest to the east is a chain of rocks, hollowed +into a labyrinth of caverns that reach to the sea coast. There +thou mayst lie concealed, till thou canst make signs to some vessel +to put on shore, and take thee off. Go! heaven be thy guide! - +and sometimes in thy prayers remember - Matilda!”<br> +<br> +Theodore flung himself at her feet, and seizing her lily hand, which +with struggles she suffered him to kiss, he vowed on the earliest opportunity +to get himself knighted, and fervently entreated her permission to swear +himself eternally her knight. Ere the Princess could reply, a +clap of thunder was suddenly heard that shook the battlements. +Theodore, regardless of the tempest, would have urged his suit: but +the Princess, dismayed, retreated hastily into the castle, and commanded +the youth to be gone with an air that would not be disobeyed. +He sighed, and retired, but with eyes fixed on the gate, until Matilda, +closing it, put an end to an interview, in which the hearts of both +had drunk so deeply of a passion, which both now tasted for the first +time.<br> +<br> +Theodore went pensively to the convent, to acquaint his father with +his deliverance. There he learned the absence of Jerome, and the +pursuit that was making after the Lady Isabella, with some particulars +of whose story he now first became acquainted. The generous gallantry +of his nature prompted him to wish to assist her; but the Monks could +lend him no lights to guess at the route she had taken. He was +not tempted to wander far in search of her, for the idea of Matilda +had imprinted itself so strongly on his heart, that he could not bear +to absent himself at much distance from her abode. The tenderness +Jerome had expressed for him concurred to confirm this reluctance; and +he even persuaded himself that filial affection was the chief cause +of his hovering between the castle and monastery.<br> +<br> +Until Jerome should return at night, Theodore at length determined to +repair to the forest that Matilda had pointed out to him. Arriving +there, he sought the gloomiest shades, as best suited to the pleasing +melancholy that reigned in his mind. In this mood he roved insensibly +to the caves which had formerly served as a retreat to hermits, and +were now reported round the country to be haunted by evil spirits. +He recollected to have heard this tradition; and being of a brave and +adventurous disposition, he willingly indulged his curiosity in exploring +the secret recesses of this labyrinth. He had not penetrated far +before he thought he heard the steps of some person who seemed to retreat +before him.<br> +<br> +Theodore, though firmly grounded in all our holy faith enjoins to be +believed, had no apprehension that good men were abandoned without cause +to the malice of the powers of darkness. He thought the place +more likely to be infested by robbers than by those infernal agents +who are reported to molest and bewilder travellers. He had long +burned with impatience to approve his valour. Drawing his sabre, +he marched sedately onwards, still directing his steps as the imperfect +rustling sound before him led the way. The armour he wore was +a like indication to the person who avoided him. Theodore, now +convinced that he was not mistaken, redoubled his pace, and evidently +gained on the person that fled, whose haste increasing, Theodore came +up just as a woman fell breathless before him. He hasted to raise +her, but her terror was so great that he apprehended she would faint +in his arms. He used every gentle word to dispel her alarms, and +assured her that far from injuring, he would defend her at the peril +of his life. The Lady recovering her spirits from his courteous +demeanour, and gazing on her protector, said -<br> +<br> +“Sure, I have heard that voice before!”<br> +<br> +“Not to my knowledge,” replied Theodore; “unless, +as I conjecture, thou art the Lady Isabella.”<br> +<br> +“Merciful heaven!” cried she. “Thou art not +sent in quest of me, art thou?” And saying those words, +she threw herself at his feet, and besought him not to deliver her up +to Manfred.<br> +<br> +“To Manfred!” cried Theodore - “no, Lady; I have once +already delivered thee from his tyranny, and it shall fare hard with +me now, but I will place thee out of the reach of his daring.”<br> +<br> +“Is it possible,” said she, “that thou shouldst be +the generous unknown whom I met last night in the vault of the castle? +Sure thou art not a mortal, but my guardian angel. On my knees, +let me thank - ”<br> +<br> +“Hold! gentle Princess,” said Theodore, “nor demean +thyself before a poor and friendless young man. If heaven has +selected me for thy deliverer, it will accomplish its work, and strengthen +my arm in thy cause. But come, Lady, we are too near the mouth +of the cavern; let us seek its inmost recesses. I can have no +tranquillity till I have placed thee beyond the reach of danger.”<br> +<br> +“Alas! what mean you, sir?” said she. “Though +all your actions are noble, though your sentiments speak the purity +of your soul, is it fitting that I should accompany you alone into these +perplexed retreats? Should we be found together, what would a +censorious world think of my conduct?”<br> +<br> +“I respect your virtuous delicacy,” said Theodore; “nor +do you harbour a suspicion that wounds my honour. I meant to conduct +you into the most private cavity of these rocks, and then at the hazard +of my life to guard their entrance against every living thing. +Besides, Lady,” continued he, drawing a deep sigh, “beauteous +and all perfect as your form is, and though my wishes are not guiltless +of aspiring, know, my soul is dedicated to another; and although - ” +A sudden noise prevented Theodore from proceeding. They soon distinguished +these sounds -<br> +<br> +“Isabella! what, ho! Isabella!” The trembling Princess +relapsed into her former agony of fear. Theodore endeavoured to +encourage her, but in vain. He assured her he would die rather +than suffer her to return under Manfred’s power; and begging her +to remain concealed, he went forth to prevent the person in search of +her from approaching.<br> +<br> +At the mouth of the cavern he found an armed Knight, discoursing with +a peasant, who assured him he had seen a lady enter the passes of the +rock. The Knight was preparing to seek her, when Theodore, placing +himself in his way, with his sword drawn, sternly forbad him at his +peril to advance.<br> +<br> +“And who art thou, who darest to cross my way?” said the +Knight, haughtily.<br> +<br> +“One who does not dare more than he will perform,” said +Theodore.<br> +<br> +“I seek the Lady Isabella,” said the Knight, “and +understand she has taken refuge among these rocks. Impede me not, +or thou wilt repent having provoked my resentment.”<br> +<br> +“Thy purpose is as odious as thy resentment is contemptible,” +said Theodore. “Return whence thou camest, or we shall soon +know whose resentment is most terrible.”<br> +<br> +The stranger, who was the principal Knight that had arrived from the +Marquis of Vicenza, had galloped from Manfred as he was busied in getting +information of the Princess, and giving various orders to prevent her +falling into the power of the three Knights. Their chief had suspected +Manfred of being privy to the Princess’s absconding, and this +insult from a man, who he concluded was stationed by that Prince to +secrete her, confirming his suspicions, he made no reply, but discharging +a blow with his sabre at Theodore, would soon have removed all obstruction, +if Theodore, who took him for one of Manfred’s captains, and who +had no sooner given the provocation than prepared to support it, had +not received the stroke on his shield. The valour that had so +long been smothered in his breast broke forth at once; he rushed impetuously +on the Knight, whose pride and wrath were not less powerful incentives +to hardy deeds. The combat was furious, but not long. Theodore +wounded the Knight in three several places, and at last disarmed him +as he fainted by the loss of blood.<br> +<br> +The peasant, who had fled on the first onset, had given the alarm to +some of Manfred’s domestics, who, by his orders, were dispersed +through the forest in pursuit of Isabella. They came up as the +Knight fell, whom they soon discovered to be the noble stranger. +Theodore, notwithstanding his hatred to Manfred, could not behold the +victory he had gained without emotions of pity and generosity. +But he was more touched when he learned the quality of his adversary, +and was informed that he was no retainer, but an enemy, of Manfred. +He assisted the servants of the latter in disarming the Knight, and +in endeavouring to stanch the blood that flowed from his wounds. +The Knight recovering his speech, said, in a faint and faltering voice +-<br> +<br> +“Generous foe, we have both been in an error. I took thee +for an instrument of the tyrant; I perceive thou hast made the like +mistake. It is too late for excuses. I faint. If Isabella +is at hand - call her - I have important secrets to - ”<br> +<br> +“He is dying!” said one of the attendants; “has nobody +a crucifix about them? Andrea, do thou pray over him.”<br> +<br> +“Fetch some water,” said Theodore, “and pour it down +his throat, while I hasten to the Princess.”<br> +<br> +Saying this, he flew to Isabella, and in few words told her modestly +that he had been so unfortunate by mistake as to wound a gentleman from +her father’s court, who wished, ere he died, to impart something +of consequence to her.<br> +<br> +The Princess, who had been transported at hearing the voice of Theodore, +as he called to her to come forth, was astonished at what she heard. +Suffering herself to be conducted by Theodore, the new proof of whose +valour recalled her dispersed spirits, she came where the bleeding Knight +lay speechless on the ground. But her fears returned when she +beheld the domestics of Manfred. She would again have fled if +Theodore had not made her observe that they were unarmed, and had not +threatened them with instant death if they should dare to seize the +Princess.<br> +<br> +The stranger, opening his eyes, and beholding a woman, said, “Art +thou - pray tell me truly - art thou Isabella of Vicenza?”<br> +<br> +“I am,” said she: “good heaven restore thee!”<br> +<br> + “Then thou - then thou” - said the Knight, struggling +for utterance - “seest - thy father. Give me one - ”<br> +<br> +“Oh! amazement! horror! what do I hear! what do I see!” +cried Isabella. “My father! You my father! How +came you here, Sir? For heaven’s sake, speak! Oh! +run for help, or he will expire!”<br> +<br> +“’Tis most true,” said the wounded Knight, exerting +all his force; “I am Frederic thy father. Yes, I came to +deliver thee. It will not be. Give me a parting kiss, and +take - ”<br> +<br> +“Sir,” said Theodore, “do not exhaust yourself; suffer +us to convey you to the castle.”<br> +<br> +“To the castle!” said Isabella. “Is there no +help nearer than the castle? Would you expose my father to the +tyrant? If he goes thither, I dare not accompany him; and yet, +can I leave him!”<br> +<br> +“My child,” said Frederic, “it matters not for me +whither I am carried. A few minutes will place me beyond danger; +but while I have eyes to dote on thee, forsake me not, dear Isabella! +This brave Knight - I know not who he is - will protect thy innocence. +Sir, you will not abandon my child, will you?”<br> +<br> +Theodore, shedding tears over his victim, and vowing to guard the Princess +at the expense of his life, persuaded Frederic to suffer himself to +be conducted to the castle. They placed him on a horse belonging +to one of the domestics, after binding up his wounds as well as they +were able. Theodore marched by his side; and the afflicted Isabella, +who could not bear to quit him, followed mournfully behind.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER IV.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The sorrowful troop no sooner arrived at the castle, than they were +met by Hippolita and Matilda, whom Isabella had sent one of the domestics +before to advertise of their approach. The ladies causing Frederic +to be conveyed into the nearest chamber, retired, while the surgeons +examined his wounds. Matilda blushed at seeing Theodore and Isabella +together; but endeavoured to conceal it by embracing the latter, and +condoling with her on her father’s mischance. The surgeons +soon came to acquaint Hippolita that none of the Marquis’s wounds +were dangerous; and that he was desirous of seeing his daughter and +the Princesses.<br> +<br> +Theodore, under pretence of expressing his joy at being freed from his +apprehensions of the combat being fatal to Frederic, could not resist +the impulse of following Matilda. Her eyes were so often cast +down on meeting his, that Isabella, who regarded Theodore as attentively +as he gazed on Matilda, soon divined who the object was that he had +told her in the cave engaged his affections. While this mute scene +passed, Hippolita demanded of Frederic the cause of his having taken +that mysterious course for reclaiming his daughter; and threw in various +apologies to excuse her Lord for the match contracted between their +children.<br> +<br> +Frederic, however incensed against Manfred, was not insensible to the +courtesy and benevolence of Hippolita: but he was still more struck +with the lovely form of Matilda. Wishing to detain them by his +bedside, he informed Hippolita of his story. He told her that, +while prisoner to the infidels, he had dreamed that his daughter, of +whom he had learned no news since his captivity, was detained in a castle, +where she was in danger of the most dreadful misfortunes: and that if +he obtained his liberty, and repaired to a wood near Joppa, he would +learn more. Alarmed at this dream, and incapable of obeying the +direction given by it, his chains became more grievous than ever. +But while his thoughts were occupied on the means of obtaining his liberty, +he received the agreeable news that the confederate Princes who were +warring in Palestine had paid his ransom. He instantly set out +for the wood that had been marked in his dream.<br> +<br> +For three days he and his attendants had wandered in the forest without +seeing a human form: but on the evening of the third they came to a +cell, in which they found a venerable hermit in the agonies of death. +Applying rich cordials, they brought the fainting man to his speech.<br> +<br> +“My sons,” said he, “I am bounden to your charity +- but it is in vain - I am going to my eternal rest - yet I die with +the satisfaction of performing the will of heaven. When first +I repaired to this solitude, after seeing my country become a prey to +unbelievers - it is alas! above fifty years since I was witness to that +dreadful scene! St. Nicholas appeared to me, and revealed a secret, +which he bade me never disclose to mortal man, but on my death-bed. +This is that tremendous hour, and ye are no doubt the chosen warriors +to whom I was ordered to reveal my trust. As soon as ye have done +the last offices to this wretched corse, dig under the seventh tree +on the left hand of this poor cave, and your pains will - Oh! good heaven +receive my soul!” With those words the devout man breathed +his last.<br> +<br> +“By break of day,” continued Frederic, “when we had +committed the holy relics to earth, we dug according to direction. +But what was our astonishment when about the depth of six feet we discovered +an enormous sabre - the very weapon yonder in the court. On the +blade, which was then partly out of the scabbard, though since closed +by our efforts in removing it, were written the following lines - no; +excuse me, Madam,” added the Marquis, turning to Hippolita; “if +I forbear to repeat them: I respect your sex and rank, and would not +be guilty of offending your ear with sounds injurious to aught that +is dear to you.”<br> +<br> +He paused. Hippolita trembled. She did not doubt but Frederic +was destined by heaven to accomplish the fate that seemed to threaten +her house. Looking with anxious fondness at Matilda, a silent +tear stole down her cheek: but recollecting herself, she said -<br> +<br> +“Proceed, my Lord; heaven does nothing in vain; mortals must receive +its divine behests with lowliness and submission. It is our part +to deprecate its wrath, or bow to its decrees. Repeat the sentence, +my Lord; we listen resigned.”<br> +<br> +Frederic was grieved that he had proceeded so far. The dignity +and patient firmness of Hippolita penetrated him with respect, and the +tender silent affection with which the Princess and her daughter regarded +each other, melted him almost to tears. Yet apprehensive that +his forbearance to obey would be more alarming, he repeated in a faltering +and low voice the following lines:<br> +<br> +<br> +“Where’er a casque that suits this sword is found,<br> +With perils is thy daughter compass’d round;<br> +<i>Alfonso’s</i> blood alone can save the maid,<br> +And quiet a long restless Prince’s shade.”<br> +<br> +<br> +“What is there in these lines,” said Theodore impatiently, +“that affects these Princesses? Why were they to be shocked +by a mysterious delicacy, that has so little foundation?”<br> +<br> +“Your words are rude, young man,” said the Marquis; “and +though fortune has favoured you once - ”<br> +<br> +“My honoured Lord,” said Isabella, who resented Theodore’s +warmth, which she perceived was dictated by his sentiments for Matilda, +“discompose not yourself for the glosing of a peasant’s +son: he forgets the reverence he owes you; but he is not accustomed +- ”<br> +<br> +Hippolita, concerned at the heat that had arisen, checked Theodore for +his boldness, but with an air acknowledging his zeal; and changing the +conversation, demanded of Frederic where he had left her Lord? +As the Marquis was going to reply, they heard a noise without, and rising +to inquire the cause, Manfred, Jerome, and part of the troop, who had +met an imperfect rumour of what had happened, entered the chamber. +Manfred advanced hastily towards Frederic’s bed to condole with +him on his misfortune, and to learn the circumstances of the combat, +when starting in an agony of terror and amazement, he cried -<br> +<br> +“Ha! what art thou? thou dreadful spectre! is my hour come?”<br> +<br> +“My dearest, gracious Lord,” cried Hippolita, clasping him +in her arms, “what is it you see! Why do you fix your eye-balls +thus?”<br> +<br> +“What!” cried Manfred breathless; “dost thou see nothing, +Hippolita? Is this ghastly phantom sent to me alone - to rue, +who did not - ”<br> +<br> +“For mercy’s sweetest self, my Lord,” said Hippolita, +“resume your soul, command your reason. There is none here, +but us, your friends.”<br> +<br> +“What, is not that Alfonso?” cried Manfred. “Dost +thou not see him? can it be my brain’s delirium?”<br> +<br> +“This! my Lord,” said Hippolita; “this is Theodore, +the youth who has been so unfortunate.”<br> +<br> +“Theodore!” said Manfred mournfully, and striking his forehead; +“Theodore or a phantom, he has unhinged the soul of Manfred. +But how comes he here? and how comes he in armour?”<br> +<br> +“I believe he went in search of Isabella,” said Hippolita.<br> +<br> +“Of Isabella!” said Manfred, relapsing into rage; “yes, +yes, that is not doubtful -. But how did he escape from durance +in which I left him? Was it Isabella, or this hypocritical old +Friar, that procured his enlargement?”<br> +<br> +“And would a parent be criminal, my Lord,” said Theodore, +“if he meditated the deliverance of his child?”<br> +<br> +Jerome, amazed to hear himself in a manner accused by his son, and without +foundation, knew not what to think. He could not comprehend how +Theodore had escaped, how he came to be armed, and to encounter Frederic. +Still he would not venture to ask any questions that might tend to inflame +Manfred’s wrath against his son. Jerome’s silence +convinced Manfred that he had contrived Theodore’s release.<br> +<br> +“And is it thus, thou ungrateful old man,” said the Prince, +addressing himself to the Friar, “that thou repayest mine and +Hippolita’s bounties? And not content with traversing my +heart’s nearest wishes, thou armest thy bastard, and bringest +him into my own castle to insult me!”<br> +<br> +“My Lord,” said Theodore, “you wrong my father: neither +he nor I are capable of harbouring a thought against your peace. +Is it insolence thus to surrender myself to your Highness’s pleasure?” +added he, laying his sword respectfully at Manfred’s feet. +“Behold my bosom; strike, my Lord, if you suspect that a disloyal +thought is lodged there. There is not a sentiment engraven on +my heart that does not venerate you and yours.”<br> +<br> +The grace and fervour with which Theodore uttered these words interested +every person present in his favour. Even Manfred was touched - +yet still possessed with his resemblance to Alfonso, his admiration +was dashed with secret horror.<br> +<br> +“Rise,” said he; “thy life is not my present purpose. +But tell me thy history, and how thou camest connected with this old +traitor here.”<br> +<br> +“My Lord,” said Jerome eagerly.<br> +<br> +“Peace! impostor!” said Manfred; “I will not have +him prompted.”<br> +<br> +“My Lord,” said Theodore, “I want no assistance; my +story is very brief. I was carried at five years of age to Algiers +with my mother, who had been taken by corsairs from the coast of Sicily. +She died of grief in less than a twelvemonth;” the tears gushed +from Jerome’s eyes, on whose countenance a thousand anxious passions +stood expressed. “Before she died,” continued Theodore, +“she bound a writing about my arm under my garments, which told +me I was the son of the Count Falconara.”<br> +<br> +“It is most true,” said Jerome; “I am that wretched +father.”<br> +<br> +“Again I enjoin thee silence,” said Manfred: “proceed.”<br> +<br> +“I remained in slavery,” said Theodore, “until within +these two years, when attending on my master in his cruises, I was delivered +by a Christian vessel, which overpowered the pirate; and discovering +myself to the captain, he generously put me on shore in Sicily; but +alas! instead of finding a father, I learned that his estate, which +was situated on the coast, had, during his absence, been laid waste +by the Rover who had carried my mother and me into captivity: that his +castle had been burnt to the ground, and that my father on his return +had sold what remained, and was retired into religion in the kingdom +of Naples, but where no man could inform me. Destitute and friendless, +hopeless almost of attaining the transport of a parent’s embrace, +I took the first opportunity of setting sail for Naples, from whence, +within these six days, I wandered into this province, still supporting +myself by the labour of my hands; nor until yester-morn did I believe +that heaven had reserved any lot for me but peace of mind and contented +poverty. This, my Lord, is Theodore’s story. I am +blessed beyond my hope in finding a father; I am unfortunate beyond +my desert in having incurred your Highness’s displeasure.”<br> +<br> +He ceased. A murmur of approbation gently arose from the audience.<br> +<br> +“This is not all,” said Frederic; “I am bound in honour +to add what he suppresses. Though he is modest, I must be generous; +he is one of the bravest youths on Christian ground. He is warm +too; and from the short knowledge I have of him, I will pledge myself +for his veracity: if what he reports of himself were not true, he would +not utter it - and for me, youth, I honour a frankness which becomes +thy birth; but now, and thou didst offend me: yet the noble blood which +flows in thy veins, may well be allowed to boil out, when it has so +recently traced itself to its source. Come, my Lord,” (turning +to Manfred), “if I can pardon him, surely you may; it is not the +youth’s fault, if you took him for a spectre.”<br> +<br> +This bitter taunt galled the soul of Manfred.<br> +<br> +“If beings from another world,” replied he haughtily, “have +power to impress my mind with awe, it is more than living man can do; +nor could a stripling’s arm.”<br> +<br> +“My Lord,” interrupted Hippolita, “your guest has +occasion for repose: shall we not leave him to his rest?” +Saying this, and taking Manfred by the hand, she took leave of Frederic, +and led the company forth.<br> +<br> +The Prince, not sorry to quit a conversation which recalled to mind +the discovery he had made of his most secret sensations, suffered himself +to be conducted to his own apartment, after permitting Theodore, though +under engagement to return to the castle on the morrow (a condition +the young man gladly accepted), to retire with his father to the convent. +Matilda and Isabella were too much occupied with their own reflections, +and too little content with each other, to wish for farther converse +that night. They separated each to her chamber, with more expressions +of ceremony and fewer of affection thou had passed between them since +their childhood.<br> +<br> +If they parted with small cordiality, they did but meet with greater +impatience, as soon as the sun was risen. Their minds were in +a situation that excluded sleep, and each recollected a thousand questions +which she wished she had put to the other overnight. Matilda reflected +that Isabella had been twice delivered by Theodore in very critical +situations, which she could not believe accidental. His eyes, +it was true, had been fixed on her in Frederic’s chamber; but +that might have been to disguise his passion for Isabella from the fathers +of both. It were better to clear this up. She wished to +know the truth, lest she should wrong her friend by entertaining a passion +for Isabella’s lover. Thus jealousy prompted, and at the +same time borrowed an excuse from friendship to justify its curiosity.<br> +<br> +Isabella, not less restless, had better foundation for her suspicions. +Both Theodore’s tongue and eyes had told her his heart was engaged; +it was true - yet, perhaps, Matilda might not correspond to his passion; +she had ever appeared insensible to love: all her thoughts were set +on heaven.<br> +<br> +“Why did I dissuade her?” said Isabella to herself; “I +am punished for my generosity; but when did they meet? where? +It cannot be; I have deceived myself; perhaps last night was the first +time they ever beheld each other; it must be some other object that +has prepossessed his affections - if it is, I am not so unhappy as I +thought; if it is not my friend Matilda - how! Can I stoop to +wish for the affection of a man, who rudely and unnecessarily acquainted +me with his indifference? and that at the very moment in which common +courtesy demanded at least expressions of civility. I will go +to my dear Matilda, who will confirm me in this becoming pride. +Man is false - I will advise with her on taking the veil: she will rejoice +to find me in this disposition; and I will acquaint her that I no longer +oppose her inclination for the cloister.”<br> +<br> +In this frame of mind, and determined to open her heart entirely to +Matilda, she went to that Princess’s chamber, whom she found already +dressed, and leaning pensively on her arm. This attitude, so correspondent +to what she felt herself, revived Isabella’s suspicions, and destroyed +the confidence she had purposed to place in her friend. They blushed +at meeting, and were too much novices to disguise their sensations with +address. After some unmeaning questions and replies, Matilda demanded +of Isabella the cause of her flight? The latter, who had almost +forgotten Manfred’s passion, so entirely was she occupied by her +own, concluding that Matilda referred to her last escape from the convent, +which had occasioned the events of the preceding evening, replied -<br> +<br> +“Martelli brought word to the convent that your mother was dead.”<br> +<br> +“Oh!” said Matilda, interrupting her, “Bianca has +explained that mistake to me: on seeing me faint, she cried out, ‘The +Princess is dead!’ and Martelli, who had come for the usual dole +to the castle - ”<br> +<br> +“And what made you faint?” said Isabella, indifferent to +the rest. Matilda blushed and stammered -<br> +<br> +“My father - he was sitting in judgment on a criminal - ”<br> +<br> +“What criminal?” said Isabella eagerly.<br> +<br> +“A young man,” said Matilda; “I believe - ”<br> +<br> +“I think it was that young man that - ”<br> +<br> +“What, Theodore?” said Isabella.<br> +<br> +“Yes,” answered she; “I never saw him before; I do +not know how he had offended my father, but as he has been of service +to you, I am glad my Lord has pardoned him.”<br> +<br> +“Served me!” replied Isabella; “do you term it serving +me, to wound my father, and almost occasion his death? Though +it is but since yesterday that I am blessed with knowing a parent, I +hope Matilda does not think I am such a stranger to filial tenderness +as not to resent the boldness of that audacious youth, and that it is +impossible for me ever to feel any affection for one who dared to lift +his arm against the author of my being. No, Matilda, my heart +abhors him; and if you still retain the friendship for me that you have +vowed from your infancy, you will detest a man who has been on the point +of making me miserable for ever.”<br> +<br> +Matilda held down her head and replied: “I hope my dearest Isabella +does not doubt her Matilda’s friendship: I never beheld that youth +until yesterday; he is almost a stranger to me: but as the surgeons +have pronounced your father out of danger, you ought not to harbour +uncharitable resentment against one, who I am persuaded did not know +the Marquis was related to you.”<br> +<br> +“You plead his cause very pathetically,” said Isabella, +“considering he is so much a stranger to you! I am mistaken, +or he returns your charity.”<br> +<br> +“What mean you?” said Matilda.<br> +<br> +“Nothing,” said Isabella, repenting that she had given Matilda +a hint of Theodore’s inclination for her. Then changing +the discourse, she asked Matilda what occasioned Manfred to take Theodore +for a spectre?<br> +<br> +“Bless me,” said Matilda, “did not you observe his +extreme resemblance to the portrait of Alfonso in the gallery? +I took notice of it to Bianca even before I saw him in armour; but with +the helmet on, he is the very image of that picture.”<br> +<br> +“I do not much observe pictures,” said Isabella: “much +less have I examined this young man so attentively as you seem to have +done. Ah? Matilda, your heart is in danger, but let me warn +you as a friend, he has owned to me that he is in love; it cannot be +with you, for yesterday was the first time you ever met - was it not?”<br> +<br> +“Certainly,” replied Matilda; “but why does my dearest +Isabella conclude from anything I have said, that” - she paused +- then continuing: “he saw you first, and I am far from having +the vanity to think that my little portion of charms could engage a +heart devoted to you; may you be happy, Isabella, whatever is the fate +of Matilda!”<br> +<br> +“My lovely friend,” said Isabella, whose heart was too honest +to resist a kind expression, “it is you that Theodore admires; +I saw it; I am persuaded of it; nor shall a thought of my own happiness +suffer me to interfere with yours.”<br> +<br> +This frankness drew tears from the gentle Matilda; and jealousy that +for a moment had raised a coolness between these amiable maidens soon +gave way to the natural sincerity and candour of their souls. +Each confessed to the other the impression that Theodore had made on +her; and this confidence was followed by a struggle of generosity, each +insisting on yielding her claim to her friend. At length the dignity +of Isabella’s virtue reminding her of the preference which Theodore +had almost declared for her rival, made her determine to conquer her +passion, and cede the beloved object to her friend.<br> +<br> +During this contest of amity, Hippolita entered her daughter’s +chamber.<br> +<br> +“Madam,” said she to Isabella, “you have so much tenderness +for Matilda, and interest yourself so kindly in whatever affects our +wretched house, that I can have no secrets with my child which are not +proper for you to hear.”<br> +<br> +The princesses were all attention and anxiety.<br> +<br> +“Know then, Madam,” continued Hippolita, “and you +my dearest Matilda, that being convinced by all the events of these +two last ominous days, that heaven purposes the sceptre of Otranto should +pass from Manfred’s hands into those of the Marquis Frederic, +I have been perhaps inspired with the thought of averting our total +destruction by the union of our rival houses. With this view I +have been proposing to Manfred, my lord, to tender this dear, dear child +to Frederic, your father.”<br> +<br> +“Me to Lord Frederic!” cried Matilda; “good heavens! +my gracious mother - and have you named it to my father?”<br> +<br> +“I have,” said Hippolita; “he listened benignly to +my proposal, and is gone to break it to the Marquis.”<br> +<br> +“Ah! wretched princess!” cried Isabella; “what hast +thou done! what ruin has thy inadvertent goodness been preparing for +thyself, for me, and for Matilda!”<br> +<br> +“Ruin from me to you and to my child!” said Hippolita “what +can this mean?”<br> +<br> +“Alas!” said Isabella, “the purity of your own heart +prevents your seeing the depravity of others. Manfred, your lord, +that impious man - ”<br> +<br> +“Hold,” said Hippolita; “you must not in my presence, +young lady, mention Manfred with disrespect: he is my lord and husband, +and - ”<br> +<br> +“Will not long be so,” said Isabella, “if his wicked +purposes can be carried into execution.”<br> +<br> +“This language amazes me,” said Hippolita. “Your +feeling, Isabella, is warm; but until this hour I never knew it betray +you into intemperance. What deed of Manfred authorises you to +treat him as a murderer, an assassin?”<br> +<br> +“Thou virtuous, and too credulous Princess!” replied Isabella; +“it is not thy life he aims at - it is to separate himself from +thee! to divorce thee! to - ”<br> +<br> +“To divorce me!” “To divorce my mother!” +cried Hippolita and Matilda at once.<br> +<br> +“Yes,” said Isabella; “and to complete his crime, +he meditates - I cannot speak it!”<br> +<br> +“What can surpass what thou hast already uttered?” said +Matilda.<br> +<br> +Hippolita was silent. Grief choked her speech; and the recollection +of Manfred’s late ambiguous discourses confirmed what she heard.<br> +<br> +“Excellent, dear lady! madam! mother!” cried Isabella, flinging +herself at Hippolita’s feet in a transport of passion; “trust +me, believe me, I will die a thousand deaths sooner than consent to +injure you, than yield to so odious - oh! - ”<br> +<br> +“This is too much!” cried Hippolita: “What crimes +does one crime suggest! Rise, dear Isabella; I do not doubt your +virtue. Oh! Matilda, this stroke is too heavy for thee! weep not, +my child; and not a murmur, I charge thee. Remember, he is thy +father still!”<br> +<br> +“But you are my mother too,” said Matilda fervently; “and +you are virtuous, you are guiltless! - Oh! must not I, must not I complain?”<br> +<br> +“You must not,” said Hippolita - “come, all will yet +be well. Manfred, in the agony for the loss of thy brother, knew +not what he said; perhaps Isabella misunderstood him; his heart is good +- and, my child, thou knowest not all! There is a destiny hangs +over us; the hand of Providence is stretched out; oh! could I but save +thee from the wreck! Yes,” continued she in a firmer tone, +“perhaps the sacrifice of myself may atone for all; I will go +and offer myself to this divorce - it boots not what becomes of me. +I will withdraw into the neighbouring monastery, and waste the remainder +of life in prayers and tears for my child and - the Prince!”<br> +<br> +“Thou art as much too good for this world,” said Isabella, +“as Manfred is execrable; but think not, lady, that thy weakness +shall determine for me. I swear, hear me all ye angels - ”<br> +<br> +“Stop, I adjure thee,” cried Hippolita: “remember +thou dost not depend on thyself; thou hast a father.”<br> +<br> +“My father is too pious, too noble,” interrupted Isabella, +“to command an impious deed. But should he command it; can +a father enjoin a cursed act? I was contracted to the son, can +I wed the father? No, madam, no; force should not drag me to Manfred’s +hated bed. I loathe him, I abhor him: divine and human laws forbid +- and my friend, my dearest Matilda! would I wound her tender soul by +injuring her adored mother? my own mother - I never have known another” +-<br> +<br> +“Oh! she is the mother of both!” cried Matilda: “can +we, can we, Isabella, adore her too much?”<br> +<br> +“My lovely children,” said the touched Hippolita, “your +tenderness overpowers me - but I must not give way to it. It is +not ours to make election for ourselves: heaven, our fathers, and our +husbands must decide for us. Have patience until you hear what +Manfred and Frederic have determined. If the Marquis accepts Matilda’s +hand, I know she will readily obey. Heaven may interpose and prevent +the rest. What means my child?” continued she, seeing Matilda +fall at her feet with a flood of speechless tears - “But no; answer +me not, my daughter: I must not hear a word against the pleasure of +thy father.”<br> +<br> +“Oh! doubt not my obedience, my dreadful obedience to him and +to you!” said Matilda. “But can I, most respected +of women, can I experience all this tenderness, this world of goodness, +and conceal a thought from the best of mothers?”<br> +<br> +“What art thou going to utter?” said Isabella trembling. +“Recollect thyself, Matilda.”<br> +<br> +“No, Isabella,” said the Princess, “I should not deserve +this incomparable parent, if the inmost recesses of my soul harboured +a thought without her permission - nay, I have offended her; I have +suffered a passion to enter my heart without her avowal - but here I +disclaim it; here I vow to heaven and her - ”<br> +<br> +“My child! my child;” said Hippolita, “what words +are these! what new calamities has fate in store for us! Thou, +a passion? Thou, in this hour of destruction - ”<br> +<br> +“Oh! I see all my guilt!” said Matilda. “I abhor +myself, if I cost my mother a pang. She is the dearest thing I +have on earth - Oh! I will never, never behold him more!”<br> +<br> +“Isabella,” said Hippolita, “thou art conscious to +this unhappy secret, whatever it is. Speak!”<br> +<br> +“What!” cried Matilda, “have I so forfeited my mother’s +love, that she will not permit me even to speak my own guilt? oh! wretched, +wretched Matilda!”<br> +<br> +“Thou art too cruel,” said Isabella to Hippolita: “canst +thou behold this anguish of a virtuous mind, and not commiserate it?”<br> +<br> +“Not pity my child!” said Hippolita, catching Matilda in +her arms - “Oh! I know she is good, she is all virtue, all tenderness, +and duty. I do forgive thee, my excellent, my only hope!”<br> +<br> +The princesses then revealed to Hippolita their mutual inclination for +Theodore, and the purpose of Isabella to resign him to Matilda. +Hippolita blamed their imprudence, and showed them the improbability +that either father would consent to bestow his heiress on so poor a +man, though nobly born. Some comfort it gave her to find their +passion of so recent a date, and that Theodore had had but little cause +to suspect it in either. She strictly enjoined them to avoid all +correspondence with him. This Matilda fervently promised: but +Isabella, who flattered herself that she meant no more than to promote +his union with her friend, could not determine to avoid him; and made +no reply.<br> +<br> +“I will go to the convent,” said Hippolita, “and order +new masses to be said for a deliverance from these calamities.”<br> +<br> +“Oh! my mother,” said Matilda, “you mean to quit us: +you mean to take sanctuary, and to give my father an opportunity of +pursuing his fatal intention. Alas! on my knees I supplicate you +to forbear; will you leave me a prey to Frederic? I will follow +you to the convent.”<br> +<br> +“Be at peace, my child,” said Hippolita: “I will return +instantly. I will never abandon thee, until I know it is the will +of heaven, and for thy benefit.”<br> +<br> +“Do not deceive me,” said Matilda. “I will not +marry Frederic until thou commandest it. Alas! what will become +of me?”<br> +<br> +“Why that exclamation?” said Hippolita. “I have +promised thee to return - ”<br> +<br> +“Ah! my mother,” replied Matilda, “stay and save me +from myself. A frown from thee can do more than all my father’s +severity. I have given away my heart, and you alone can make me +recall it.”<br> +<br> +“No more,” said Hippolita; “thou must not relapse, +Matilda.”<br> +<br> +“I can quit Theodore,” said she, “but must I wed another? +let me attend thee to the altar, and shut myself from the world for +ever.”<br> +<br> +“Thy fate depends on thy father,” said Hippolita; “I +have ill-bestowed my tenderness, if it has taught thee to revere aught +beyond him. Adieu! my child: I go to pray for thee.”<br> +<br> +Hippolita’s real purpose was to demand of Jerome, whether in conscience +she might not consent to the divorce. She had oft urged Manfred +to resign the principality, which the delicacy of her conscience rendered +an hourly burthen to her. These scruples concurred to make the +separation from her husband appear less dreadful to her than it would +have seemed in any other situation.<br> +<br> +Jerome, at quitting the castle overnight, had questioned Theodore severely +why he had accused him to Manfred of being privy to his escape. +Theodore owned it had been with design to prevent Manfred’s suspicion +from alighting on Matilda; and added, the holiness of Jerome’s +life and character secured him from the tyrant’s wrath. +Jerome was heartily grieved to discover his son’s inclination +for that princess; and leaving him to his rest, promised in the morning +to acquaint him with important reasons for conquering his passion.<br> +<br> +Theodore, like Isabella, was too recently acquainted with parental authority +to submit to its decisions against the impulse of his heart. He +had little curiosity to learn the Friar’s reasons, and less disposition +to obey them. The lovely Matilda had made stronger impressions +on him than filial affection. All night he pleased himself with +visions of love; and it was not till late after the morning-office, +that he recollected the Friar’s commands to attend him at Alfonso’s +tomb.<br> +<br> +“Young man,” said Jerome, when he saw him, “this tardiness +does not please me. Have a father’s commands already so +little weight?”<br> +<br> +Theodore made awkward excuses, and attributed his delay to having overslept +himself.<br> +<br> +“And on whom were thy dreams employed?” said the Friar sternly. +His son blushed. “Come, come,” resumed the Friar, +“inconsiderate youth, this must not be; eradicate this guilty +passion from thy breast - ”<br> +<br> +“Guilty passion!” cried Theodore: “Can guilt dwell +with innocent beauty and virtuous modesty?”<br> +<br> +“It is sinful,” replied the Friar, “to cherish those +whom heaven has doomed to destruction. A tyrant’s race must +be swept from the earth to the third and fourth generation.”<br> +<br> +“Will heaven visit the innocent for the crimes of the guilty?” +said Theodore. “The fair Matilda has virtues enough - ”<br> +<br> +“To undo thee:” interrupted Jerome. “Hast thou +so soon forgotten that twice the savage Manfred has pronounced thy sentence?”<br> +<br> +“Nor have I forgotten, sir,” said Theodore, “that +the charity of his daughter delivered me from his power. I can +forget injuries, but never benefits.”<br> +<br> +“The injuries thou hast received from Manfred’s race,” +said the Friar, “are beyond what thou canst conceive. Reply +not, but view this holy image! Beneath this marble monument rest +the ashes of the good Alfonso; a prince adorned with every virtue: the +father of his people! the delight of mankind! Kneel, headstrong +boy, and list, while a father unfolds a tale of horror that will expel +every sentiment from thy soul, but sensations of sacred vengeance - +Alfonso! much injured prince! let thy unsatisfied shade sit awful on +the troubled air, while these trembling lips - Ha! who comes there? +- ”<br> +<br> +“The most wretched of women!” said Hippolita, entering the +choir. “Good Father, art thou at leisure? - but why this +kneeling youth? what means the horror imprinted on each countenance? +why at this venerable tomb - alas! hast thou seen aught?”<br> +<br> +“We were pouring forth our orisons to heaven,” replied the +Friar, with some confusion, “to put an end to the woes of this +deplorable province. Join with us, Lady! thy spotless soul may +obtain an exemption from the judgments which the portents of these days +but too speakingly denounce against thy house.”<br> +<br> +“I pray fervently to heaven to divert them,” said the pious +Princess. “Thou knowest it has been the occupation of my +life to wrest a blessing for my Lord and my harmless children. - One +alas! is taken from me! would heaven but hear me for my poor Matilda! +Father! intercede for her!”<br> +<br> +“Every heart will bless her,” cried Theodore with rapture.<br> +<br> +“Be dumb, rash youth!” said Jerome. “And thou, +fond Princess, contend not with the Powers above! the Lord giveth, and +the Lord taketh away: bless His holy name, and submit to his decrees.”<br> +<br> +“I do most devoutly,” said Hippolita; “but will He +not spare my only comfort? must Matilda perish too? - ah! Father, +I came - but dismiss thy son. No ear but thine must hear what +I have to utter.”<br> +<br> +“May heaven grant thy every wish, most excellent Princess!” +said Theodore retiring. Jerome frowned.<br> +<br> +Hippolita then acquainted the Friar with the proposal she had suggested +to Manfred, his approbation of it, and the tender of Matilda that he +was gone to make to Frederic. Jerome could not conceal his dislike +of the notion, which he covered under pretence of the improbability +that Frederic, the nearest of blood to Alfonso, and who was come to +claim his succession, would yield to an alliance with the usurper of +his right. But nothing could equal the perplexity of the Friar, +when Hippolita confessed her readiness not to oppose the separation, +and demanded his opinion on the legality of her acquiescence. +The Friar caught eagerly at her request of his advice, and without explaining +his aversion to the proposed marriage of Manfred and Isabella, he painted +to Hippolita in the most alarming colours the sinfulness of her consent, +denounced judgments against her if she complied, and enjoined her in +the severest terms to treat any such proposition with every mark of +indignation and refusal.<br> +<br> +Manfred, in the meantime, had broken his purpose to Frederic, and proposed +the double marriage. That weak Prince, who had been struck with +the charms of Matilda, listened but too eagerly to the offer. +He forgot his enmity to Manfred, whom he saw but little hope of dispossessing +by force; and flattering himself that no issue might succeed from the +union of his daughter with the tyrant, he looked upon his own succession +to the principality as facilitated by wedding Matilda. He made +faint opposition to the proposal; affecting, for form only, not to acquiesce +unless Hippolita should consent to the divorce. Manfred took that +upon himself.<br> +<br> +Transported with his success, and impatient to see himself in a situation +to expect sons, he hastened to his wife’s apartment, determined +to extort her compliance. He learned with indignation that she +was absent at the convent. His guilt suggested to him that she +had probably been informed by Isabella of his purpose. He doubted +whether her retirement to the convent did not import an intention of +remaining there, until she could raise obstacles to their divorce; and +the suspicions he had already entertained of Jerome, made him apprehend +that the Friar would not only traverse his views, but might have inspired +Hippolita with the resolution of talking sanctuary. Impatient +to unravel this clue, and to defeat its success, Manfred hastened to +the convent, and arrived there as the Friar was earnestly exhorting +the Princess never to yield to the divorce.<br> +<br> +“Madam,” said Manfred, “what business drew you hither? +why did you not await my return from the Marquis?”<br> +<br> +“I came to implore a blessing on your councils,” replied +Hippolita.<br> +<br> +“My councils do not need a Friar’s intervention,” +said Manfred; “and of all men living is that hoary traitor the +only one whom you delight to confer with?”<br> +<br> +“Profane Prince!” said Jerome; “is it at the altar +that thou choosest to insult the servants of the altar? - but, Manfred, +thy impious schemes are known. Heaven and this virtuous lady know +them - nay, frown not, Prince. The Church despises thy menaces. +Her thunders will be heard above thy wrath. Dare to proceed in +thy cursed purpose of a divorce, until her sentence be known, and here +I lance her anathema at thy head.”<br> +<br> +“Audacious rebel!” said Manfred, endeavouring to conceal +the awe with which the Friar’s words inspired him. “Dost +thou presume to threaten thy lawful Prince?”<br> +<br> +“Thou art no lawful Prince,” said Jerome; “thou art +no Prince - go, discuss thy claim with Frederic; and when that is done +- ”<br> +<br> +“It is done,” replied Manfred; “Frederic accepts Matilda’s +hand, and is content to waive his claim, unless I have no male issue” +- as he spoke those words three drops of blood fell from the nose of +Alfonso’s statue. Manfred turned pale, and the Princess +sank on her knees.<br> +<br> +“Behold!” said the Friar; “mark this miraculous indication +that the blood of Alfonso will never mix with that of Manfred!”<br> +<br> +“My gracious Lord,” said Hippolita, “let us submit +ourselves to heaven. Think not thy ever obedient wife rebels against +thy authority. I have no will but that of my Lord and the Church. +To that revered tribunal let us appeal. It does not depend on +us to burst the bonds that unite us. If the Church shall approve +the dissolution of our marriage, be it so - I have but few years, and +those of sorrow, to pass. Where can they be worn away so well +as at the foot of this altar, in prayers for thine and Matilda’s +safety?”<br> +<br> +“But thou shalt not remain here until then,” said Manfred. +“Repair with me to the castle, and there I will advise on the +proper measures for a divorce; - but this meddling Friar comes not thither; +my hospitable roof shall never more harbour a traitor - and for thy +Reverence’s offspring,” continued he, “I banish him +from my dominions. He, I ween, is no sacred personage, nor under +the protection of the Church. Whoever weds Isabella, it shall +not be Father Falconara’s started-up son.”<br> +<br> +“They start up,” said the Friar, “who are suddenly +beheld in the seat of lawful Princes; but they wither away like the +grass, and their place knows them no more.”<br> +<br> +Manfred, casting a look of scorn at the Friar, led Hippolita forth; +but at the door of the church whispered one of his attendants to remain +concealed about the convent, and bring him instant notice, if any one +from the castle should repair thither.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER V.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Every reflection which Manfred made on the Friar’s behaviour, +conspired to persuade him that Jerome was privy to an amour between +Isabella and Theodore. But Jerome’s new presumption, so +dissonant from his former meekness, suggested still deeper apprehensions. +The Prince even suspected that the Friar depended on some secret support +from Frederic, whose arrival, coinciding with the novel appearance of +Theodore, seemed to bespeak a correspondence. Still more was he +troubled with the resemblance of Theodore to Alfonso’s portrait. +The latter he knew had unquestionably died without issue. Frederic +had consented to bestow Isabella on him. These contradictions +agitated his mind with numberless pangs.<br> +<br> +He saw but two methods of extricating himself from his difficulties. +The one was to resign his dominions to the Marquis - pride, ambition, +and his reliance on ancient prophecies, which had pointed out a possibility +of his preserving them to his posterity, combated that thought. +The other was to press his marriage with Isabella. After long +ruminating on these anxious thoughts, as he marched silently with Hippolita +to the castle, he at last discoursed with that Princess on the subject +of his disquiet, and used every insinuating and plausible argument to +extract her consent to, even her promise of promoting the divorce. +Hippolita needed little persuasions to bend her to his pleasure. +She endeavoured to win him over to the measure of resigning his dominions; +but finding her exhortations fruitless, she assured him, that as far +as her conscience would allow, she would raise no opposition to a separation, +though without better founded scruples than what he yet alleged, she +would not engage to be active in demanding it.<br> +<br> +This compliance, though inadequate, was sufficient to raise Manfred’s +hopes. He trusted that his power and wealth would easily advance +his suit at the court of Rome, whither he resolved to engage Frederic +to take a journey on purpose. That Prince had discovered so much +passion for Matilda, that Manfred hoped to obtain all he wished by holding +out or withdrawing his daughter’s charms, according as the Marquis +should appear more or less disposed to co-operate in his views. +Even the absence of Frederic would be a material point gained, until +he could take further measures for his security.<br> +<br> +Dismissing Hippolita to her apartment, he repaired to that of the Marquis; +but crossing the great hall through which he was to pass he met Bianca. +The damsel he knew was in the confidence of both the young ladies. +It immediately occurred to him to sift her on the subject of Isabella +and Theodore. Calling her aside into the recess of the oriel window +of the hall, and soothing her with many fair words and promises, he +demanded of her whether she knew aught of the state of Isabella’s +affections.<br> +<br> +“I! my Lord! no my Lord - yes my Lord - poor Lady! she is wonderfully +alarmed about her father’s wounds; but I tell her he will do well; +don’t your Highness think so?”<br> +<br> +“I do not ask you,” replied Manfred, “what she thinks +about her father; but you are in her secrets. Come, be a good +girl and tell me; is there any young man - ha! - you understand me.”<br> +<br> +“Lord bless me! understand your Highness? no, not I. I told +her a few vulnerary herbs and repose - ”<br> +<br> +“I am not talking,” replied the Prince, impatiently, “about +her father; I know he will do well.”<br> +<br> +“Bless me, I rejoice to hear your Highness say so; for though +I thought it not right to let my young Lady despond, methought his greatness +had a wan look, and a something - I remember when young Ferdinand was +wounded by the Venetian - ”<br> +<br> + “Thou answerest from the point,” interrupted Manfred; +“but here, take this jewel, perhaps that may fix thy attention +- nay, no reverences; my favour shall not stop here - come, tell me +truly; how stands Isabella’s heart?”<br> +<br> +“Well! your Highness has such a way!” said Bianca, “to +be sure - but can your Highness keep a secret? if it should ever come +out of your lips - ”<br> +<br> +“It shall not, it shall not,” cried Manfred.<br> +<br> +“Nay, but swear, your Highness.”<br> +<br> +“By my halidame, if it should ever be known that I said it - ”<br> +<br> +“Why, truth is truth, I do not think my Lady Isabella ever much +affectioned my young Lord your son; yet he was a sweet youth as one +should see; I am sure, if I had been a Princess - but bless me! +I must attend my Lady Matilda; she will marvel what is become of me.”<br> +<br> +“Stay,” cried Manfred; “thou hast not satisfied my +question. Hast thou ever carried any message, any letter?”<br> +<br> +“I! good gracious!” cried Bianca; “I carry a letter? +I would not to be a Queen. I hope your Highness thinks, though +I am poor, I am honest. Did your Highness never hear what Count +Marsigli offered me, when he came a wooing to my Lady Matilda?”<br> +<br> +“I have not leisure,” said Manfred, “to listen to +thy tale. I do not question thy honesty. But it is thy duty +to conceal nothing from me. How long has Isabella been acquainted +with Theodore?”<br> +<br> +“Nay, there is nothing can escape your Highness!” said Bianca; +“not that I know any thing of the matter. Theodore, to be +sure, is a proper young man, and, as my Lady Matilda says, the very +image of good Alfonso. Has not your Highness remarked it?”<br> +<br> +“Yes, yes, - No - thou torturest me,” said Manfred. +“Where did they meet? when?”<br> +<br> +“Who! my Lady Matilda?” said Bianca.<br> +<br> +“No, no, not Matilda: Isabella; when did Isabella first become +acquainted with this Theodore!”<br> +<br> +“Virgin Mary!” said Bianca, “how should I know?”<br> +<br> +“Thou dost know,” said Manfred; “and I must know; +I will - ”<br> +<br> +“Lord! your Highness is not jealous of young Theodore!” +said Bianca.<br> +<br> +“Jealous! no, no. Why should I be jealous? perhaps I mean +to unite them - If I were sure Isabella would have no repugnance.”<br> +<br> +“Repugnance! no, I’ll warrant her,” said Bianca; “he +is as comely a youth as ever trod on Christian ground. We are +all in love with him; there is not a soul in the castle but would be +rejoiced to have him for our Prince - I mean, when it shall please heaven +to call your Highness to itself.”<br> +<br> +“Indeed!” said Manfred, “has it gone so far! oh! this +cursed Friar! - but I must not lose time - go, Bianca, attend Isabella; +but I charge thee, not a word of what has passed. Find out how +she is affected towards Theodore; bring me good news, and that ring +has a companion. Wait at the foot of the winding staircase: I +am going to visit the Marquis, and will talk further with thee at my +return.”<br> +<br> +Manfred, after some general conversation, desired Frederic to dismiss +the two Knights, his companions, having to talk with him on urgent affairs.<br> +<br> +As soon as they were alone, he began in artful guise to sound the Marquis +on the subject of Matilda; and finding him disposed to his wish, he +let drop hints on the difficulties that would attend the celebration +of their marriage, unless - At that instant Bianca burst into the room +with a wildness in her look and gestures that spoke the utmost terror.<br> +<br> +“Oh! my Lord, my Lord!” cried she; “we are all undone! +it is come again! it is come again!”<br> +<br> +“What is come again?” cried Manfred amazed.<br> +<br> +“Oh! the hand! the Giant! the hand! - support me! I am terrified +out of my senses,” cried Bianca. “I will not sleep +in the castle to-night. Where shall I go? my things may come after +me to-morrow - would I had been content to wed Francesco! this comes +of ambition!”<br> +<br> +“What has terrified thee thus, young woman?” said the Marquis. +“Thou art safe here; be not alarmed.”<br> +<br> +“Oh! your Greatness is wonderfully good,” said Bianca, “but +I dare not - no, pray let me go - I had rather leave everything behind +me, than stay another hour under this roof.”<br> +<br> +“Go to, thou hast lost thy senses,” said Manfred. +“Interrupt us not; we were communing on important matters - My +Lord, this wench is subject to fits - Come with me, Bianca.”<br> +<br> +“Oh! the Saints! No,” said Bianca, “for certain +it comes to warn your Highness; why should it appear to me else? +I say my prayers morning and evening - oh! if your Highness had believed +Diego! ’Tis the same hand that he saw the foot to in the +gallery-chamber - Father Jerome has often told us the prophecy would +be out one of these days - ‘Bianca,’ said he, ‘mark +my words - ’”<br> +<br> +“Thou ravest,” said Manfred, in a rage; “be gone, +and keep these fooleries to frighten thy companions.”<br> +<br> +“What! my Lord,” cried Bianca, “do you think I have +seen nothing? go to the foot of the great stairs yourself - as I live +I saw it.”<br> +<br> +“Saw what? tell us, fair maid, what thou hast seen,” said +Frederic.<br> +<br> +“Can your Highness listen,” said Manfred, “to the +delirium of a silly wench, who has heard stories of apparitions until +she believes them?”<br> +<br> +“This is more than fancy,” said the Marquis; “her +terror is too natural and too strongly impressed to be the work of imagination. +Tell us, fair maiden, what it is has moved thee thus?”<br> +<br> +“Yes, my Lord, thank your Greatness,” said Bianca; “I +believe I look very pale; I shall be better when I have recovered myself +- I was going to my Lady Isabella’s chamber, by his Highness’s +order - ”<br> +<br> +“We do not want the circumstances,” interrupted Manfred. +“Since his Highness will have it so, proceed; but be brief.”<br> +<br> +“Lord! your Highness thwarts one so!” replied Bianca; “I +fear my hair - I am sure I never in my life - well! as I was telling +your Greatness, I was going by his Highness’s order to my Lady +Isabella’s chamber; she lies in the watchet-coloured chamber, +on the right hand, one pair of stairs: so when I came to the great stairs +- I was looking on his Highness’s present here - ”<br> +<br> +“Grant me patience!” said Manfred, “will this wench +never come to the point? what imports it to the Marquis, that I gave +thee a bauble for thy faithful attendance on my daughter? we want to +know what thou sawest.”<br> +<br> +“I was going to tell your Highness,” said Bianca, “if +you would permit me. So as I was rubbing the ring - I am sure +I had not gone up three steps, but I heard the rattling of armour; for +all the world such a clatter as Diego says he heard when the Giant turned +him about in the gallery-chamber.”<br> +<br> +“What Giant is this, my Lord?” said the Marquis; “is +your castle haunted by giants and goblins?”<br> +<br> +“Lord! what, has not your Greatness heard the story of the Giant +in the gallery-chamber?” cried Bianca. “I marvel his +Highness has not told you; mayhap you do not know there is a prophecy +- ”<br> +<br> +“This trifling is intolerable,” interrupted Manfred. +“Let us dismiss this silly wench, my Lord! we have more important +affairs to discuss.”<br> +<br> +“By your favour,” said Frederic, “these are no trifles. +The enormous sabre I was directed to in the wood, yon casque, its fellow +- are these visions of this poor maiden’s brain?”<br> +<br> +“So Jaquez thinks, may it please your Greatness,” said Bianca. +“He says this moon will not be out without our seeing some strange +revolution. For my part, I should not be surprised if it was to +happen to-morrow; for, as I was saying, when I heard the clattering +of armour, I was all in a cold sweat. I looked up, and, if your +Greatness will believe me, I saw upon the uppermost banister of the +great stairs a hand in armour as big as big. I thought I should +have swooned. I never stopped until I came hither - would I were +well out of this castle. My Lady Matilda told me but yester-morning +that her Highness Hippolita knows something.”<br> +<br> +“Thou art an insolent!” cried Manfred. “Lord +Marquis, it much misgives me that this scene is concerted to affront +me. Are my own domestics suborned to spread tales injurious to +my honour? Pursue your claim by manly daring; or let us bury our +feuds, as was proposed, by the intermarriage of our children. +But trust me, it ill becomes a Prince of your bearing to practise on +mercenary wenches.”<br> +<br> +“I scorn your imputation,” said Frederic. “Until +this hour I never set eyes on this damsel: I have given her no jewel. +My Lord, my Lord, your conscience, your guilt accuses you, and would +throw the suspicion on me; but keep your daughter, and think no more +of Isabella. The judgments already fallen on your house forbid +me matching into it.”<br> +<br> +Manfred, alarmed at the resolute tone in which Frederic delivered these +words, endeavoured to pacify him. Dismissing Bianca, he made such +submissions to the Marquis, and threw in such artful encomiums on Matilda, +that Frederic was once more staggered. However, as his passion +was of so recent a date, it could not at once surmount the scruples +he had conceived. He had gathered enough from Bianca’s discourse +to persuade him that heaven declared itself against Manfred. The +proposed marriages too removed his claim to a distance; and the principality +of Otranto was a stronger temptation than the contingent reversion of +it with Matilda. Still he would not absolutely recede from his +engagements; but purposing to gain time, he demanded of Manfred if it +was true in fact that Hippolita consented to the divorce. The +Prince, transported to find no other obstacle, and depending on his +influence over his wife, assured the Marquis it was so, and that he +might satisfy himself of the truth from her own mouth.<br> +<br> +As they were thus discoursing, word was brought that the banquet was +prepared. Manfred conducted Frederic to the great hall, where +they were received by Hippolita and the young Princesses. Manfred +placed the Marquis next to Matilda, and seated himself between his wife +and Isabella. Hippolita comported herself with an easy gravity; +but the young ladies were silent and melancholy. Manfred, who +was determined to pursue his point with the Marquis in the remainder +of the evening, pushed on the feast until it waxed late; affecting unrestrained +gaiety, and plying Frederic with repeated goblets of wine. The +latter, more upon his guard than Manfred wished, declined his frequent +challenges, on pretence of his late loss of blood; while the Prince, +to raise his own disordered spirits, and to counterfeit unconcern, indulged +himself in plentiful draughts, though not to the intoxication of his +senses.<br> +<br> +The evening being far advanced, the banquet concluded. Manfred +would have withdrawn with Frederic; but the latter pleading weakness +and want of repose, retired to his chamber, gallantly telling the Prince +that his daughter should amuse his Highness until himself could attend +him. Manfred accepted the party, and to the no small grief of +Isabella, accompanied her to her apartment. Matilda waited on +her mother to enjoy the freshness of the evening on the ramparts of +the castle.<br> +<br> +Soon as the company were dispersed their several ways, Frederic, quitting +his chamber, inquired if Hippolita was alone, and was told by one of +her attendants, who had not noticed her going forth, that at that hour +she generally withdrew to her oratory, where he probably would find +her. The Marquis, during the repast, had beheld Matilda with increase +of passion. He now wished to find Hippolita in the disposition +her Lord had promised. The portents that had alarmed him were +forgotten in his desires. Stealing softly and unobserved to the +apartment of Hippolita, he entered it with a resolution to encourage +her acquiescence to the divorce, having perceived that Manfred was resolved +to make the possession of Isabella an unalterable condition, before +he would grant Matilda to his wishes.<br> +<br> +The Marquis was not surprised at the silence that reigned in the Princess’s +apartment. Concluding her, as he had been advertised, in her oratory, +he passed on. The door was ajar; the evening gloomy and overcast. +Pushing open the door gently, he saw a person kneeling before the altar. +As he approached nearer, it seemed not a woman, but one in a long woollen +weed, whose back was towards him. The person seemed absorbed in +prayer. The Marquis was about to return, when the figure, rising, +stood some moments fixed in meditation, without regarding him. +The Marquis, expecting the holy person to come forth, and meaning to +excuse his uncivil interruption, said,<br> +<br> +“Reverend Father, I sought the Lady Hippolita.”<br> +<br> +“Hippolita!” replied a hollow voice; “camest thou +to this castle to seek Hippolita?” and then the figure, turning +slowly round, discovered to Frederic the fleshless jaws and empty sockets +of a skeleton, wrapt in a hermit’s cowl.<br> +<br> +“Angels of grace protect me!” cried Frederic, recoiling.<br> +<br> +“Deserve their protection!” said the Spectre. Frederic, +falling on his knees, adjured the phantom to take pity on him.<br> +<br> +“Dost thou not remember me?” said the apparition. +“Remember the wood of Joppa!”<br> +<br> +“Art thou that holy hermit?” cried Frederic, trembling. +“Can I do aught for thy eternal peace?”<br> +<br> +“Wast thou delivered from bondage,” said the spectre, “to +pursue carnal delights? Hast thou forgotten the buried sabre, +and the behest of Heaven engraven on it?”<br> +<br> +“I have not, I have not,” said Frederic; “but say, +blest spirit, what is thy errand to me? What remains to be done?”<br> +<br> +“To forget Matilda!” said the apparition; and vanished.<br> +<br> +Frederic’s blood froze in his veins. For some minutes he +remained motionless. Then falling prostrate on his face before +the altar, he besought the intercession of every saint for pardon. +A flood of tears succeeded to this transport; and the image of the beauteous +Matilda rushing in spite of him on his thoughts, he lay on the ground +in a conflict of penitence and passion. Ere he could recover from +this agony of his spirits, the Princess Hippolita with a taper in her +hand entered the oratory alone. Seeing a man without motion on +the floor, she gave a shriek, concluding him dead. Her fright +brought Frederic to himself. Rising suddenly, his face bedewed +with tears, he would have rushed from her presence; but Hippolita stopping +him, conjured him in the most plaintive accents to explain the cause +of his disorder, and by what strange chance she had found him there +in that posture.<br> +<br> +“Ah, virtuous Princess!” said the Marquis, penetrated with +grief, and stopped.<br> +<br> +“For the love of Heaven, my Lord,” said Hippolita, “disclose +the cause of this transport! What mean these doleful sounds, this +alarming exclamation on my name? What woes has heaven still in +store for the wretched Hippolita? Yet silent! By every pitying +angel, I adjure thee, noble Prince,” continued she, falling at +his feet, “to disclose the purport of what lies at thy heart. +I see thou feelest for me; thou feelest the sharp pangs that thou inflictest +- speak, for pity! Does aught thou knowest concern my child?”<br> +<br> +“I cannot speak,” cried Frederic, bursting from her. +“Oh, Matilda!”<br> +<br> +Quitting the Princess thus abruptly, he hastened to his own apartment. +At the door of it he was accosted by Manfred, who flushed by wine and +love had come to seek him, and to propose to waste some hours of the +night in music and revelling. Frederic, offended at an invitation +so dissonant from the mood of his soul, pushed him rudely aside, and +entering his chamber, flung the door intemperately against Manfred, +and bolted it inwards. The haughty Prince, enraged at this unaccountable +behaviour, withdrew in a frame of mind capable of the most fatal excesses. +As he crossed the court, he was met by the domestic whom he had planted +at the convent as a spy on Jerome and Theodore. This man, almost +breathless with the haste he had made, informed his Lord that Theodore, +and some lady from the castle were, at that instant, in private conference +at the tomb of Alfonso in St. Nicholas’s church. He had +dogged Theodore thither, but the gloominess of the night had prevented +his discovering who the woman was.<br> +<br> +Manfred, whose spirits were inflamed, and whom Isabella had driven from +her on his urging his passion with too little reserve, did not doubt +but the inquietude she had expressed had been occasioned by her impatience +to meet Theodore. Provoked by this conjecture, and enraged at +her father, he hastened secretly to the great church. Gliding +softly between the aisles, and guided by an imperfect gleam of moonshine +that shone faintly through the illuminated windows, he stole towards +the tomb of Alfonso, to which he was directed by indistinct whispers +of the persons he sought. The first sounds he could distinguish +were -<br> +<br> +“Does it, alas! depend on me? Manfred will never permit +our union.”<br> +<br> +“No, this shall prevent it!” cried the tyrant, drawing his +dagger, and plunging it over her shoulder into the bosom of the person +that spoke.<br> +<br> +“Ah, me, I am slain!” cried Matilda, sinking. “Good +heaven, receive my soul!”<br> +<br> +“Savage, inhuman monster, what hast thou done!” cried Theodore, +rushing on him, and wrenching his dagger from him.<br> +<br> +“Stop, stop thy impious hand!” cried Matilda; “it +is my father!”<br> +<br> +Manfred, waking as from a trance, beat his breast, twisted his hands +in his locks, and endeavoured to recover his dagger from Theodore to +despatch himself. Theodore, scarce less distracted, and only mastering +the transports of his grief to assist Matilda, had now by his cries +drawn some of the monks to his aid. While part of them endeavoured, +in concert with the afflicted Theodore, to stop the blood of the dying +Princess, the rest prevented Manfred from laying violent hands on himself.<br> +<br> +Matilda, resigning herself patiently to her fate, acknowledged with +looks of grateful love the zeal of Theodore. Yet oft as her faintness +would permit her speech its way, she begged the assistants to comfort +her father. Jerome, by this time, had learnt the fatal news, and +reached the church. His looks seemed to reproach Theodore, but +turning to Manfred, he said,<br> +<br> +“Now, tyrant! behold the completion of woe fulfilled on thy impious +and devoted head! The blood of Alfonso cried to heaven for vengeance; +and heaven has permitted its altar to be polluted by assassination, +that thou mightest shed thy own blood at the foot of that Prince’s +sepulchre!”<br> +<br> +“Cruel man!” cried Matilda, “to aggravate the woes +of a parent; may heaven bless my father, and forgive him as I do! +My Lord, my gracious Sire, dost thou forgive thy child? Indeed, +I came not hither to meet Theodore. I found him praying at this +tomb, whither my mother sent me to intercede for thee, for her - dearest +father, bless your child, and say you forgive her.”<br> +<br> +“Forgive thee! Murderous monster!” cried Manfred, +“can assassins forgive? I took thee for Isabella; but heaven +directed my bloody hand to the heart of my child. Oh, Matilda! +- I cannot utter it - canst thou forgive the blindness of my rage?”<br> +<br> +“I can, I do; and may heaven confirm it!” said Matilda; +“but while I have life to ask it - oh! my mother! what will she +feel? Will you comfort her, my Lord? Will you not put her +away? Indeed she loves you! Oh, I am faint! bear me to the +castle. Can I live to have her close my eyes?”<br> +<br> +Theodore and the monks besought her earnestly to suffer herself to be +borne into the convent; but her instances were so pressing to be carried +to the castle, that placing her on a litter, they conveyed her thither +as she requested. Theodore, supporting her head with his arm, +and hanging over her in an agony of despairing love, still endeavoured +to inspire her with hopes of life. Jerome, on the other side, +comforted her with discourses of heaven, and holding a crucifix before +her, which she bathed with innocent tears, prepared her for her passage +to immortality. Manfred, plunged in the deepest affliction, followed +the litter in despair.<br> +<br> +Ere they reached the castle, Hippolita, informed of the dreadful catastrophe, +had flown to meet her murdered child; but when she saw the afflicted +procession, the mightiness of her grief deprived her of her senses, +and she fell lifeless to the earth in a swoon. Isabella and Frederic, +who attended her, were overwhelmed in almost equal sorrow. Matilda +alone seemed insensible to her own situation: every thought was lost +in tenderness for her mother.<br> +<br> +Ordering the litter to stop, as soon as Hippolita was brought to herself, +she asked for her father. He approached, unable to speak. +Matilda, seizing his hand and her mother’s, locked them in her +own, and then clasped them to her heart. Manfred could not support +this act of pathetic piety. He dashed himself on the ground, and +cursed the day he was born. Isabella, apprehensive that these +struggles of passion were more than Matilda could support, took upon +herself to order Manfred to be borne to his apartment, while she caused +Matilda to be conveyed to the nearest chamber. Hippolita, scarce +more alive than her daughter, was regardless of everything but her; +but when the tender Isabella’s care would have likewise removed +her, while the surgeons examined Matilda’s wound, she cried,<br> +<br> +“Remove me! never, never! I lived but in her, and will expire +with her.”<br> +<br> +Matilda raised her eyes at her mother’s voice, but closed them +again without speaking. Her sinking pulse and the damp coldness +of her hand soon dispelled all hopes of recovery. Theodore followed +the surgeons into the outer chamber, and heard them pronounce the fatal +sentence with a transport equal to frenzy.<br> +<br> +“Since she cannot live mine,” cried he, “at least +she shall be mine in death! Father! Jerome! will you not +join our hands?” cried he to the Friar, who, with the Marquis, +had accompanied the surgeons.<br> +<br> +“What means thy distracted rashness?” said Jerome. +“Is this an hour for marriage?”<br> +<br> +“It is, it is,” cried Theodore. “Alas! there +is no other!”<br> +<br> +“Young man, thou art too unadvised,” said Frederic. +“Dost thou think we are to listen to thy fond transports in this +hour of fate? What pretensions hast thou to the Princess?”<br> +<br> +“Those of a Prince,” said Theodore; “of the sovereign +of Otranto. This reverend man, my father, has informed me who +I am.”<br> +<br> +“Thou ravest,” said the Marquis. “There is no +Prince of Otranto but myself, now Manfred, by murder, by sacrilegious +murder, has forfeited all pretensions.”<br> +<br> +“My Lord,” said Jerome, assuming an air of command, “he +tells you true. It was not my purpose the secret should have been +divulged so soon, but fate presses onward to its work. What his +hot-headed passion has revealed, my tongue confirms. Know, Prince, +that when Alfonso set sail for the Holy Land - ”<br> +<br> +“Is this a season for explanations?” cried Theodore. +“Father, come and unite me to the Princess; she shall be mine! +In every other thing I will dutifully obey you. My life! my adored +Matilda!” continued Theodore, rushing back into the inner chamber, +“will you not be mine? Will you not bless your - ”<br> +<br> +Isabella made signs to him to be silent, apprehending the Princess was +near her end.<br> +<br> +“What, is she dead?” cried Theodore; “is it possible!”<br> +<br> +The violence of his exclamations brought Matilda to herself. Lifting +up her eyes, she looked round for her mother.<br> +<br> +“Life of my soul, I am here!” cried Hippolita; “think +not I will quit thee!”<br> +<br> +“Oh! you are too good,” said Matilda. “But weep +not for me, my mother! I am going where sorrow never dwells - +Isabella, thou hast loved me; wouldst thou not supply my fondness to +this dear, dear woman? Indeed I am faint!”<br> +<br> +“Oh! my child! my child!” said Hippolita in a flood of tears, +“can I not withhold thee a moment?”<br> +<br> +“It will not be,” said Matilda; “commend me to heaven +- Where is my father? forgive him, dearest mother - forgive him my death; +it was an error. Oh! I had forgotten - dearest mother, I +vowed never to see Theodore more - perhaps that has drawn down this +calamity - but it was not intentional - can you pardon me?”<br> +<br> +“Oh! wound not my agonising soul!” said Hippolita; “thou +never couldst offend me - Alas! she faints! help! help!”<br> +<br> +“I would say something more,” said Matilda, struggling, +“but it cannot be - Isabella - Theodore - for my sake - Oh! - +” she expired.<br> +<br> +Isabella and her women tore Hippolita from the corse; but Theodore threatened +destruction to all who attempted to remove him from it. He printed +a thousand kisses on her clay-cold hands, and uttered every expression +that despairing love could dictate.<br> +<br> +Isabella, in the meantime, was accompanying the afflicted Hippolita +to her apartment; but, in the middle of the court, they were met by +Manfred, who, distracted with his own thoughts, and anxious once more +to behold his daughter, was advancing to the chamber where she lay. +As the moon was now at its height, he read in the countenances of this +unhappy company the event he dreaded.<br> +<br> +“What! is she dead?” cried he in wild confusion. A +clap of thunder at that instant shook the castle to its foundations; +the earth rocked, and the clank of more than mortal armour was heard +behind. Frederic and Jerome thought the last day was at hand. +The latter, forcing Theodore along with them, rushed into the court. +The moment Theodore appeared, the walls of the castle behind Manfred +were thrown down with a mighty force, and the form of Alfonso, dilated +to an immense magnitude, appeared in the centre of the ruins.<br> +<br> +“Behold in Theodore the true heir of Alfonso!” said the +vision: And having pronounced those words, accompanied by a clap of +thunder, it ascended solemnly towards heaven, where the clouds parting +asunder, the form of St. Nicholas was seen, and receiving Alfonso’s +shade, they were soon wrapt from mortal eyes in a blaze of glory.<br> +<br> +The beholders fell prostrate on their faces, acknowledging the divine +will. The first that broke silence was Hippolita.<br> +<br> +“My Lord,” said she to the desponding Manfred, “behold +the vanity of human greatness! Conrad is gone! Matilda is +no more! In Theodore we view the true Prince of Otranto. +By what miracle he is so I know not - suffice it to us, our doom is +pronounced! shall we not, can we but dedicate the few deplorable hours +we have to live, in deprecating the further wrath of heaven? heaven +ejects us - whither can we fly, but to yon holy cells that yet offer +us a retreat.”<br> +<br> +“Thou guiltless but unhappy woman! unhappy by my crimes!” +replied Manfred, “my heart at last is open to thy devout admonitions. +Oh! could - but it cannot be - ye are lost in wonder - let me at last +do justice on myself! To heap shame on my own head is all the +satisfaction I have left to offer to offended heaven. My story +has drawn down these judgments: Let my confession atone - but, ah! what +can atone for usurpation and a murdered child? a child murdered in a +consecrated place? List, sirs, and may this bloody record be a +warning to future tyrants!”<br> +<br> +“Alfonso, ye all know, died in the Holy Land - ye would interrupt +me; ye would say he came not fairly to his end - it is most true - why +else this bitter cup which Manfred must drink to the dregs. Ricardo, +my grandfather, was his chamberlain - I would draw a veil over my ancestor’s +crimes - but it is in vain! Alfonso died by poison. A fictitious +will declared Ricardo his heir. His crimes pursued him - yet he +lost no Conrad, no Matilda! I pay the price of usurpation for +all! A storm overtook him. Haunted by his guilt he vowed +to St. Nicholas to found a church and two convents, if he lived to reach +Otranto. The sacrifice was accepted: the saint appeared to him +in a dream, and promised that Ricardo’s posterity should reign +in Otranto until the rightful owner should be grown too large to inhabit +the castle, and as long as issue male from Ricardo’s loins should +remain to enjoy it - alas! alas! nor male nor female, except myself, +remains of all his wretched race! I have done - the woes of these +three days speak the rest. How this young man can be Alfonso’s +heir I know not - yet I do not doubt it. His are these dominions; +I resign them - yet I knew not Alfonso had an heir - I question not +the will of heaven - poverty and prayer must fill up the woeful space, +until Manfred shall be summoned to Ricardo.”<br> +<br> +“What remains is my part to declare,” said Jerome. +“When Alfonso set sail for the Holy Land he was driven by a storm +to the coast of Sicily. The other vessel, which bore Ricardo and +his train, as your Lordship must have heard, was separated from him.”<br> +<br> +“It is most true,” said Manfred; “and the title you +give me is more than an outcast can claim - well! be it so - proceed.”<br> +<br> +Jerome blushed, and continued. “For three months Lord Alfonso +was wind-bound in Sicily. There he became enamoured of a fair +virgin named Victoria. He was too pious to tempt her to forbidden +pleasures. They were married. Yet deeming this amour incongruous +with the holy vow of arms by which he was bound, he determined to conceal +their nuptials until his return from the Crusade, when he purposed to +seek and acknowledge her for his lawful wife. He left her pregnant. +During his absence she was delivered of a daughter. But scarce +had she felt a mother’s pangs ere she heard the fatal rumour of +her Lord’s death, and the succession of Ricardo. What could +a friendless, helpless woman do? Would her testimony avail? - +yet, my lord, I have an authentic writing - ”<br> +<br> +“It needs not,” said Manfred; “the horrors of these +days, the vision we have but now seen, all corroborate thy evidence +beyond a thousand parchments. Matilda’s death and my expulsion +- ”<br> +<br> +“Be composed, my Lord,” said Hippolita; “this holy +man did not mean to recall your griefs.” Jerome proceeded.<br> +<br> +“I shall not dwell on what is needless. The daughter of +which Victoria was delivered, was at her maturity bestowed in marriage +on me. Victoria died; and the secret remained locked in my breast. +Theodore’s narrative has told the rest.”<br> +<br> +The Friar ceased. The disconsolate company retired to the remaining +part of the castle. In the morning Manfred signed his abdication +of the principality, with the approbation of Hippolita, and each took +on them the habit of religion in the neighbouring convents. Frederic +offered his daughter to the new Prince, which Hippolita’s tenderness +for Isabella concurred to promote. But Theodore’s grief +was too fresh to admit the thought of another love; and it was not until +after frequent discourses with Isabella of his dear Matilda, that he +was persuaded he could know no happiness but in the society of one with +whom he could for ever indulge the melancholy that had taken possession +of his soul.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE CASTLE OF OTRANTO ***<br> +<pre> + +******This file should be named cotrt10h.htm or cotrt10h.zip****** +Corrected EDITIONS of our EBooks get a new NUMBER, cotrt11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, cotrt10ah.htm + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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