The Castle of Otranto
Think not thy ever obedient wife rebels against thy authority. I have no
will but that of my Lord and the Church. To that revered tribunal let us
appeal. It does not depend on us to burst the bonds that unite us. If
the Church shall approve the dissolution of our marriage, be it so—I have
but few years, and those of sorrow, to pass. Where can they be worn away
so well as at the foot of this altar, in prayers for thine and Matilda’s
safety?”
“But thou shalt not remain here until then,” said Manfred. “Repair with
me to the castle, and there I will advise on the proper measures for a
divorce;—but this meddling Friar comes not thither; my hospitable roof
shall never more harbour a traitor—and for thy Reverence’s offspring,”
continued he, “I banish him from my dominions. He, I ween, is no sacred
personage, nor under the protection of the Church. Whoever weds
Isabella, it shall not be Father Falconara’s started-up son.”
“They start up,” said the Friar, “who are suddenly beheld in the seat of
lawful Princes; but they wither away like the grass, and their place
knows them no more.”
Manfred, casting a look of scorn at the Friar, led Hippolita forth; but
at the door of the church whispered one of his attendants to remain
concealed about the convent, and bring him instant notice, if any one
from the castle should repair thither.
CHAPTER V.
Every reflection which Manfred made on the Friar’s behaviour, conspired
to persuade him that Jerome was privy to an amour between Isabella and
Theodore. But Jerome’s new presumption, so dissonant from his former
meekness, suggested still deeper apprehensions. The Prince even
suspected that the Friar depended on some secret support from Frederic,
whose arrival, coinciding with the novel appearance of Theodore, seemed
to bespeak a correspondence. Still more was he troubled with the
resemblance of Theodore to Alfonso’s portrait. The latter he knew had
unquestionably died without issue. Frederic had consented to bestow
Isabella on him. These contradictions agitated his mind with numberless
pangs.
He saw but two methods of extricating himself from his difficulties. The
one was to resign his dominions to the Marquis—pride, ambition, and his
reliance on ancient prophecies, which had pointed out a possibility of
his preserving them to his posterity, combated that thought. The other
was to press his marriage with Isabella. After long ruminating on these
anxious thoughts, as he marched silently with Hippolita to the castle, he
at last discoursed with that Princess on the subject of his disquiet, and
used every insinuating and plausible argument to extract her consent to,
even her promise of promoting the divorce. Hippolita needed little
persuasions to bend her to his pleasure. She endeavoured to win him over
to the measure of resigning his dominions; but finding her exhortations
fruitless, she assured him, that as far as her conscience would allow,
she would raise no opposition to a separation, though without better
founded scruples than what he yet alleged, she would not engage to be
active in demanding it.
This compliance, though inadequate, was sufficient to raise Manfred’s
hopes. He trusted that his power and wealth would easily advance his
suit at the court of Rome, whither he resolved to engage Frederic to take
a journey on purpose. 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. “Since his
Highness will have it so, proceed; but be brief.”
“Lord! your Highness thwarts one so!” replied Bianca; “I fear my hair—I
am sure I never in my life—well! as I was telling your Greatness, I was
going by his Highness’s order to my Lady Isabella’s chamber; she lies in
the watchet-coloured chamber, on the right hand, one pair of stairs: so
when I came to the great stairs—I was looking on his Highness’s present
here—”
“Grant me patience!” said Manfred, “will this wench never come to the
point? what imports it to the Marquis, that I gave thee a bauble for thy
faithful attendance on my daughter? we want to know what thou sawest.”
“I was going to tell your Highness,” said Bianca, “if you would permit
me. So as I was rubbing the ring—I am sure I had not gone up three
steps, but I heard the rattling of armour; for all the world such a
clatter as Diego says he heard when the Giant turned him about in the
gallery-chamber.”
“What Giant is this, my Lord?” said the Marquis; “is your castle haunted
by giants and goblins?”
“Lord! what, has not your Greatness heard the story of the Giant in the
gallery-chamber?” cried Bianca. “I marvel his Highness has not told you;
mayhap you do not know there is a prophecy—”
“This trifling is intolerable,” interrupted Manfred. “Let us dismiss
this silly wench, my Lord! we have more important affairs to discuss.”