"Now to rescue her!" Di Luna motioned to his men, who had lain concealed in the shadows. "She is coming," he whispered, watching the convent door, while a weird chant floated out. The nuns were singing. While di Luna watched, Leonora came from the convent with her beloved friend, Inez, who was weeping. "Why weep, Inez?" Leonora asked, gently. "In another hour shall we not be forever parted?" "Have no regrets for me, dear sister. There is no longer any happiness for me in this life, since Manrico is dead. Come, weep no more. Let us go to the altar." "No," di Luna cried, rushing upon her, while the nuns from the convent screamed: "Sacrilege! Help!" They struggled, and the Count's men rushed up to help him. The Count had overcome Leonora and was about to flee with her, when Manrico leaped into the midst of the fight. His men set upon the Count's men, while Manrico himself lifted Leonora and ran off with her. His men vanquished the Count's. Leonora believed herself in Heaven upon finding herself in Manrico's arms, and as he carried her away he cried to di Luna that he would be revenged upon him. Then he fled to Castellar. ACT III At last this tragedy began to see daylight, inasmuch as the third act began in broad day with the banner of the Count floating from his tent, pitched before the ramparts of Castellar, which could be seen in the distance. Soldiers were moving about, brightening their armour, and a band of strong crossbow-men crossed the ravine behind the camp. "Those are the troops to reinforce us," some of the soldiers sang out. "We shall vanquish Castellar then, without delay," others cried; and then comes a famous soldiers' chorus. The Count di Luna came from his tent and looked off toward the grim stronghold of Castellar. "Thy day is over," he said, vindictively, thinking of Manrico, who, with Leonora, in the castle, was defending the domain. His thoughts were interrupted by a commotion in the camp. "What is the trouble there?" he asked Ferrando, who came from the hill. "A wandering gipsy has been found near the camp, and the men believe her to be a spy from Castellar. They have arrested her, and are bringing her to you, Count," he announced as Azucena appeared with some men. "Let me go!" she screamed, struggling to get away from her captors. "Bring her here," di Luna said, and they released her before him. "Where is your home?" "Not here," she replied sullenly. "Well, where?" "The gipsy has no home; she wanders. I come from Biscay, if you must know." Biscay! Di Luna started at the word. Ferrando looked at him quickly. "Say, old hag, how long hast thou been among the Biscay mountains? Dost thou remember that many years ago--fifteen--a young child was stolen from a noble, by one of thy people?" "What is that you say?" she screamed in fright. "I say the child was my brother."