The horror of the spectacle, and the tremendous phenomenon before him, took away the Prince’s speech.  Yet his silence lasted longer than even grief could occasion; and when he spoke, it was observed that his first words were, “Take care of the Lady Isabella.”

Manfred then touched and examined the fatal casque, and inquired whether any man knew from whence it could have come?  Nobody could give him the least information.  At length, however, a young peasant 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!” cried Manfred in a tempest of rage, “how darest thou utter such treason!”

At this moment there came news from the church that the helmet was missing from Alfonso’s statue.  Manfred rushed frantically on the young peasant, crying, “Sorcerer! ’tis thou hast done this!” Coming to himself, he gravely declared that the young man was a necromancer, and ordered that he should be kept prisoner under the helmet itself till the church should take cognisance of the affair.

Conrad’s mother, the Princess Hippolita, had been carried fainting to her apartments, accompanied by her daughter Matilda, who smothered her own grief in order to assist her afflicted parent, and by Isabella.  To his wife and daughter Manfred that day paid no attention; but as the ladies sat together sorrowing at night, a servant of Manfred’s arrived and told Isabella that his lord demanded to speak with her.

“I sent for you on a matter of great moment,” said he.  “Isabella, the line of Manfred calls for numerous supports; and since I cannot give you my son, I offer you myself.”

“Heavens!” cried Isabella.  “You, my lord! the husband of the virtuous and tender Hippolita!”

“Name not that woman to me!” said Manfred imperiously.  “I shall divorce her.  My fate depends on having sons.”

He seized the hand of Isabella, who shrieked and started from him.  At that instant the portrait of his grandfather, which hung in the apartment, uttered a deep sigh and descended from its panel.  Manfred in his distraction released Isabella, who had not seen the portrait’s movement, and who made towards the door.  The spectre marched sedately, but dejectedly, into a chamber on the right hand.  Manfred would have followed; but the door was clapped to with violence, nor could he with all his force re-open it.

As Isabella took flight, she recollected a subterraneous passage, which led from the vaults of the castle to the church of St. Nicholas.  She determined, if no other means of deliverance offered, to shut herself up forever 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.