“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.