Anon on the eaves of the house-tops you'll see her, In form of a vampire; 'tis then you must flee her; A crow of ill-omen she often is roaming, Or else as an owl that flits by in the gloaming. While they were talking of this tragedy for the hundredth time, it approached the hour of midnight. The servants, through fear, drew closer together, and the soldiers formed a rank across the plaza at the back. Each recalled some frightful happening in relation to witches; how one man who had given a witch a blow, had died, shrieking and in awful agony. He had been haunted. It was at the midnight hour that he had died! As they spoke of this, the castle bell tolled the midnight hour. The men, wrought up with fright, yelled sharply, and the face of the moon was hidden for a moment. _Scene II_ When the cloud which had hidden the moon's rays cleared away, a beautiful garden belonging to the palace was revealed. The place was very silent, the soldiers and servants, excepting those on guard, having gone within. The Lady Leonora, whom the Count di Luna loved, was one of the suite of the Princess of Arragon, and when all in the palace were sleeping it was her custom to steal into the lovely gardens with her friend, Inez. Of late, when she came there, she had hoped, secretly, to find a mysterious young troubadour, who sang almost nightly beneath her windows. She loved this troubadour and not the Count. The first time she had met the handsome youth was at a tournament. There he had come, dressed in a suit of black, and all unknown; wearing a sweeping sable plume in his helmet; and when the jousting took place, he had vanquished all the nobles. It was Leonora, herself, who had placed the wreath of the victor upon his brow. From that very moment they had loved. He had worn no device upon his shield by which he could be known, but she had loved him for a gallant knight. He belonged to the retinue of a neighbouring prince, who was an enemy of the Princess of Arragon, and he risked his life each time he came to sing in the gardens to Leonora. "Ah, I fear some harm will come of this love of yours!" Inez said to her friend and mistress. "The Princess awaits thee, dear Countess, and we must go within. I hope your trust will never be betrayed by this unknown knight and singer." The women mounted the gleaming marble staircase, and then Leonora paused for a moment looking down into the garden again. She had no sooner gone than a man peered out from the shadow of the trees. It was the Count di Luna, jealously watching for the knight who sang beneath the lady's window. Also, he hoped to see Leonora, herself, but all was still, and after watching the balcony a moment, he started toward the marble steps. At that instant a beautiful voice stole through the moonlight. [Music: Manrico. Naught upon earth is left me, Fate of all joy hath bereft me.] It was Manrico the troubadour!