As the knight entered, the plumes on the enchanted helmet in the court-yard were tempestuously agitated, and nodded thrice.  The knight gazed on the casque, dismounted, and kneeling down, seemed to pray inwardly for some minutes.

Manfred, during the feast that followed, discoursed to his guests of his claim to Otranto through the will of Alfonso bequeathing his estates to Don Ricardo, Manfred’s grandfather, in consideration of faithful services; and he subtly suggested his plan of uniting the houses by divorcing Hippolita and marrying Isabella.  But the knight and his companions would not reveal their countenances, and, although they occasionally made gestures of dissent, they hardly ever spoke.

Manfred’s discourse was interrupted by the news that Isabella had fled from the convent.  The knight was not less disturbed at this than Manfred himself, and, rushing to the door, summoned his attendants to search for her.  Manfred also gave orders that she should be found, hoping to secure her for himself and prevent her from falling into the hands of the strangers.

When the company had quitted the castle, Matilda bethought herself of Theodore, who had been placed hastily in confinement.  His guards had been by accident included in the general order that had been given by Manfred for the pursuit of Isabella.  Matilda stole to his prison, and unbolted the door.

“Fly!” she said; “the doors of thy prison are open; and may the angels of heaven direct thy course!”

“Thou art surely one of these angels!” said the enraptured Theodore.  “But dost thou not neglect thine own safety in setting me free?”

“Nay,” she answered, “I am Manfred’s daughter, but no dangers await me.”

“Is it possible? can Manfred’s blood feel holy pity?”

“Hasten; I tremble to see thee abide here.”  Matilda took him to the armoury, and equipped him with a complete suit.

“Yonder behind that forest,” she said, “is a chain of rocks, hollowed into caverns that reach the sea-coast.  Lie concealed there until thou canst make signs to some vessel to take thee off.”

Theodore flung himself at her feet, kissed her hand, vowed to get himself knighted, and entreated her permission to swear himself her knight.  But Matilda bade him hasten away, and thus made end of an interview in which both had tasted for the first time the passion of love.

When Theodore had reached the caves and was roving amongst them, he heard steps retreating before him and an imperfect rustling sound.  He gave pursuit, and caught a breathless woman who besought him not to deliver her up to Manfred.

“No, Lady Isabella,” cried he, “I have once already delivered thee from his tyranny—­”

“Art thou the generous unknown whom I met in the vault?” she interrupted.  “Surely thou art my guardian angel.”

A cry was heard, “Isabella! what ho!  Isabella!” The Knight of the Sword approached, and Theodore bade him advance at his peril.  Each took the other for an emissary of Manfred; they rushed upon each other, and after a furious combat the knight was wounded and disarmed.