“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.