“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 forever.”
“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
