THE CASTLE OF OTRANTO

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 court-yard; 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
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