Some of Manfred’s domestics, running up, informed Theodore that the knight was an enemy of Manfred; and Theodore, touched with compunction, helped to staunch his wounds.  When the knight recovered his speech, he asked faintly for Isabella.

Theodore flew to her, told her of his mistake, and brought her to the knight, who seemed to be dying.

“Isabella,” said the knight, struggling for utterance, “thou—­seest—­thy father!”

“Oh, amazement! horror!” cried Isabella.  “My father!”

“Yes, I am Frederic, thy father—­I came to deliver thee—­it may not be—­”

He could say no more, and he was carried back to the castle, whither Isabella accompanied him, Theodore vowing to protect her from Manfred.

IV.—­The Prophecy Fulfilled

It was found by the surgeons that none of Frederic’s wounds were mortal, and when he was recovering he informed Hippolita of his story.  While a prisoner with the infidels he had dreamed that his daughter was in danger of dreadful misfortunes, and that if he repaired to a wood near Joppa he would learn more.  On being ransomed he instantly set out for the wood, where he found in a cave a hermit on the point of death, who with his last words bade him dig under the seventh tree on the left of the cave.  When Frederic and his attendants dug according to the direction, they found an enormous sabre—­the very weapon that was now in the court of the castle—­with these lines written on the blade.

    Where’er a casque that suits this sword is found,
    With perils is thy daughter compass’d round;
    Alfonso’s blood alone can save the maid,
    And quiet a long restless Prince’s shade.

Hearing on his return that Isabella was at Otranto in the hands of Manfred, Frederic had travelled thither, and on arriving had beheld the miraculous casque that fulfilled the lines on the sword-blade.

Manfred, on entering the castle after the search, beheld Theodore in his armour.  He started in an agony of terror and amazement.

“Ha!” he cried, “thou dreadful spectre, what art thou?”

“My dearest lord,” said Hippolita, clasping him in her arms, “what is it you see?”

“What, is not that Alfonso?  Dost thou not see him?”

“This, my lord,” said Hippolita, “is Theodore.”

“Theodore!” said Manfred, striking his forehead.  “But how comes he here?”

“I believe,” answered Hippolita, “he went in search of Isabella.”

“Isabella!” cried Manfred, relapsing into jealous rage.  “Has this youth been brought into my castle to insult me?”

“My lord,” said Theodore, “is it insolence to surrender myself thus to your highness’s pleasure?  Behold my bosom,” he continued, laying his sword at Manfred’s feet.  “Strike, my lord, if you suspect that a disloyal thought is lodged there.”

Even Manfred was touched by these words.  “Rise,” said he, “thy life is not my present purpose.”