abide here; fly to the sanctuary."
"To sanctuary," said Theodore; "no, Princess; sanctuaries are for
helpless damsels, or for criminals. Theodore's soul is free from
guilt, nor will wear the appearance of it. Give me a sword, Lady, and
thy father shall learn that Theodore scorns an ignominious flight."
"Rash youth!" said Matilda; "thou wouldst not dare to lift thy
presumptuous arm against the Prince of Otranto?"
"Not against thy father; indeed, I dare not," said Theodore. "Excuse
me, Lady; I had forgotten. But could I gaze on thee, and remember
thou art
sprung from the
tyrant Manfred! But he is thy father, and
from this moment my injuries are buried in oblivion."
A deep and hollow groan, which seemed to come from above, startled the
Princess and Theodore.
"Good heaven! we are overheard!" said the Princess. They listened;
but perceiving no further noise, they both concluded it the effect of
pent-up vapours. And the Princess,
preceding Theodore
softly, carried
him to her father's
armoury, where, equipping him with a complete
suit, he was conducted by Matilda to the postern-gate.
"Avoid the town," said the Princess, "and all the
western side of the
castle. 'Tis there the search must be making by Manfred and the
strangers; but hie thee to the opposite quarter. Yonder behind that
forest to the east is a chain of rocks, hollowed into a
labyrinth of
caverns that reach to the sea coast. There thou mayst lie concealed,
till thou canst make signs to some
vessel to put on shore, and take
thee off. Go! heaven be thy guide! - and sometimes in thy prayers
remember - Matilda!"
Theodore flung himself at her feet, and seizing her lily hand, which
with struggles she suffered him to kiss, he vowed on the earliest
opportunity to get himself
knighted, and
fervently entreated her
permission to swear himself
eternally her
knight. Ere the Princess
could reply, a clap of
thunder was suddenly heard that shook the
battlements. Theodore,
regardless of the
tempest, would have urged
his suit: but the Princess, dismayed,
retreated
hastily into the
castle, and commanded the youth to be gone with an air that would not
be disobeyed. He sighed, and
retired, but with eyes fixed on the
gate, until Matilda, closing it, put an end to an
interview, in which
the hearts of both had drunk so deeply of a
passion, which both now
tasted for the first time.
Theodore went pensively to the
convent, to
acquaint his father with
his
deliverance. There he
learned the
absence of Jerome, and the
pursuit that was making after the Lady Isabella, with some particulars
of whose story he now first became
acquainted. The
generous gallantry
of his nature prompted him to wish to
assist her; but the Monks could
lend him no lights to guess at the route she had taken. He was not
tempted to
wander far in search of her, for the idea of Matilda had
imprinted itself so
strongly on his heart, that he could not bear to
absent himself at much distance from her abode. The
tenderness Jerome
had expressed for him concurred to
confirm this
reluctance; and he
even persuaded himself that
filialaffection was the chief cause of
his hovering between the castle and monastery.
Until Jerome should return at night, Theodore at length determined to
repair to the forest that Matilda had
pointed out to him. Arriving
there, he sought the gloomiest shades, as best suited to the pleasing
melancholy that reigned in his mind. In this mood he roved insensibly
to the caves which had
formerly served as a
retreat to hermits, and
were now reported round the country to be
haunted by evil spirits. He
recollected to have heard this
tradition; and being of a brave and
adventurous
disposition, he
willingly indulged his
curiosity in
exploring the secret recesses of this
labyrinth. He had not
penetrated far before he thought he heard the steps of some person who
seemed to
retreat before him.
Theodore, though
firmly grounded in all our holy faith enjoins to be
believed, had no
apprehension that good men were
abandoned" target="_blank" title="a.被抛弃的;无约束的">
abandoned without
cause to the
malice of the powers of darkness. He thought the place
more likely to be infested by robbers than by those
infernal agents
who are reported to
molest and
bewilder travellers. He had long
burned with
impatience to
approve his
valour. Drawing his sabre, he
marched sedately onwards, still directing his steps as the imperfect
rustling sound before him led the way. The
armour he wore was a like
indication to the person who avoided him. Theodore, now convinced
that he was not
mistaken, redoubled his pace, and
evidently gained on
the person that fled, whose haste increasing, Theodore came up just as
a woman fell
breathless before him. He hasted to raise her, but her
terror was so great that he apprehended she would faint in his arms.
He used every gentle word to
dispel her alarms, and
assured her that
far from injuring, he would defend her at the peril of his life. The
Lady recovering her spirits from his
courteousdemeanour, and gazing
on her
protector, said -
"Sure, I have heard that voice before!"
"Not to my knowledge," replied Theodore; "unless, as I conjecture,
thou art the Lady Isabella."
"Merciful heaven!" cried she. "Thou art not sent in quest of me, art
thou?" And
saying those words, she threw herself at his feet, and
besought him not to deliver her up to Manfred.
"To Manfred!" cried Theodore - "no, Lady; I have once already
delivered thee from his
tyranny, and it shall fare hard with me now,
but I will place thee out of the reach of his daring."
"Is it possible," said she, "that thou shouldst be the
generousunknown whom I met last night in the vault of the castle? Sure thou
art not a
mortal, but my
guardian angel. On my knees, let me thank -
"
"Hold! gentle Princess," said Theodore, "nor demean thyself before a
poor and friendless young man. If heaven has selected me for thy
deliverer, it will accomplish its work, and
strengthen my arm in thy
cause. But come, Lady, we are too near the mouth of the
cavern; let
us seek its inmost recesses. I can have no tranquillity till I have
placed thee beyond the reach of danger."
"Alas! what mean you, sir?" said she. "Though all your actions are
noble, though your sentiments speak the
purity of your soul, is it
fitting that I should accompany you alone into these perplexed
retreats? Should we be found together, what would a censorious world
think of my conduct?"
"I respect your
virtuous delicacy," said Theodore; "nor do you harbour
a
suspicion that wounds my honour. I meant to conduct you into the
most private
cavity of these rocks, and then at the
hazard of my life
to guard their entrance against every living thing. Besides, Lady,"
continued he,
drawing a deep sigh, "beauteous and all perfect as your
form is, and though my wishes are not
guiltless of aspiring, know, my
soul is dedicated to another; and although - " A sudden noise
prevented Theodore from
proceeding. They soon
distinguished these
sounds -
"Isabella! what, ho! Isabella!" The trembling Princess relapsed into
her former agony of fear. Theodore endeavoured to
encourage her, but
in vain. He
assured her he would die rather than suffer her to return
under Manfred's power; and begging her to remain concealed, he went
forth to prevent the person in search of her from approaching.
At the mouth of the
cavern he found an armed Knight, discoursing with
a
peasant, who
assured him he had seen a lady enter the passes of the
rock. The Knight was preparing to seek her, when Theodore, placing
himself in his way, with his sword drawn,
sternly forbad him at his
peril to advance.
"And who art thou, who darest to cross my way?" said the Knight,
haughtily.
"One who does not dare more than he will perform," said Theodore.
"I seek the Lady Isabella," said the Knight, "and understand she has
taken
refuge among these rocks. Impede me not, or thou wilt repent
having provoked my
resentment."
"Thy purpose is as
odious as thy
resentment is contemptible," said
Theodore. "Return
whence thou camest, or we shall soon know whose
resentment is most terrible."
The stranger, who was the
principal Knight that had arrived from the
Marquis of Vicenza, had galloped from Manfred as he was busied in
getting information of the Princess, and giving various orders to
prevent her falling into the power of the three Knights. Their chief
had suspected Manfred of being privy to the Princess's absconding, and
this
insult from a man, who he concluded was stationed by that Prince
to
secrete her,
confirming his
suspicions, he made no reply, but
discharging a blow with his sabre at Theodore, would soon have removed
all
obstruction, if Theodore, who took him for one of Manfred's
captains, and who had no sooner given the
provocation than prepared to
support it, had not received the stroke on his
shield. The
valour