you in my misfortunes. Manfred will suspect you for the accomplice of my flight, and you will fall a victim to his resentment.”
“I value not my life,” said the stranger; “and it will be some comfort to lose it, in trying to deliver you from his tyranny.”
“Generous youth!” said Isabella, “how shall I ever requite——”
As she uttered these words, a ray of moonshine, streaming through a cranny of the ruin above, shone directly on the lock they sought.—“Oh! transport!” said Isabella, “here is the trap-door”; and, taking out the key, she touched the spring, which, starting aside, discovered an iron ring. “Lift up the door,” said the princess. The stranger obeyed; and beneath appeared some stone steps descending into a vault totally dark. “We must go down here,” said Isabella: “follow me; dark and dismal as it is, we cannot miss our way; it leads directly to the church of St. Nicholas—but, perhaps,” added the princess, modestly, “you have no reason to leave the castle, nor have I farther occasion for your service; in a few minutes I shall be safe from Manfred’s rage—only let me know to whom I am so much obliged.”
“I will never quit you,” said the stranger eagerly, “until I have placed you in safety—nor think me, princess, more generous than I am; though you are my principal care——”
The stranger was interrupted by a sudden noise of voices that seemed approaching, and they soon distinguished these words: “Talk not to me of necromancers; I tell you she must be in the castle; I will find her in spite of enchantment.”
“Oh, heavens!” cried Isabella, “it is the voice of Manfred; make haste, or we are ruined! and shut the trap-door after you.” Saying this, she descended the steps precipitately; and as the stranger hastened to follow her, he let the door slip out of his hands: it fell, and the spring closed over it. He tried in vain to open it, not having observed Isabella’s method of touching the spring; nor had he many moments to make an essay. The noise of the falling door had been heard by Manfred, who, directed by the sound, hastened thither, attended by his servants with torches.
“It must be Isabella,” cried Manfred, before he entered the vault: “she is escaping by the subterraneous passage, but she cannot have got far.” What was the astonishment of the prince, when, instead of Isabella, the light of the torches discovered to him the young peasant, whom he thought confined under the fatal helmet. “Traitor!” said Manfred, “how camest thou here? I thought thee in durance above in the court.”
“I am no traitor,” replied the young man boldly, “nor am I answerable for your thoughts.”
“Presumptuous villain!” cried Manfred, “dost thou provoke my wrath? Tell me; how hast thou escaped from above? Thou hast corrupted thy guards, and their lives shall answer it.”
“My poverty,” said the peasant calmly, “will disculpate them: though the ministers of a tyrant’s wrath, to thee they are faithful, and but too willing to execute the orders which you unjustly imposed upon them.”
“Art thou so hardy as to dare my vengeance?” said the prince; “but tortures shall force the truth from thee. Tell me; I will know thy accomplices.”
“There was my accomplice!” said the youth, smiling and pointing to the roof.
Manfred ordered the torches to be held up, and perceived that one of the cheeks of the enchanted casque had forced its way through the pavement of the court, as his servants had let it fall over the peasant, and had broken through into the vault, leaving a gap through which the peasant had pressed himself some minutes before he was found by Isabella. “Was that the way by which thou didst descend?” said Manfred.
“It was,” said the youth.