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.