“And on whom were thy dreams employed?” said the friar sternly. His son blushed. “Come, come,” resumed the friar, “inconsiderate youth, this must not be; eradicate this guilty passion from thy breast.” “Guilty passion!” cried Theodore: “can guilt dwell with innocent beauty and virtuous modesty?” “It is sinful,” replied the friar, “to cherish those whom Heaven has doomed to destruction. A tyrant’s race must be swept from the earth to the third and fourth generation.” “Will Heaven visit the innocent for the crimes of the guilty?” said Theodore. “The fair Matilda has virtues enough----” “To undo thee,” interrupted Jerome. “Hast thou so soon forgotten that twice the savage Manfred has pronounced thy sentence?” “Nor have I forgotten, sir,” said Theodore, “that the charity of his daughter delivered me from his power. I can forget injuries, but never benefits.” “The injuries thou hast received from Manfred’s race,” said the friar, “are beyond what thou canst conceive. Reply not, but view this holy image! Beneath this marble monument rest the ashes of the good Alfonso; a prince adorned with every virtue; the father of his people; the delight of mankind! Kneel, headstrong boy, and list, while a father unfolds a tale of horror, that will expel every sentiment from thy soul, but sensations of sacred vengeance. Alfonso! much injured prince! let thy unsatisfied shade sit awful on the troubled air, while these trembling lips----Ha! who comes there?” “The most wretched of women,” said Hippolita, entering the choir. “Good father, art thou at leisure? but why this kneeling youth? What means the horror imprinted on each countenance? Why at this venerable tomb?--alas! hast thou seen aught?” “We were pouring forth our orisons to Heaven,” replied the friar, with some confusion, “to put an end to the woes of this deplorable province. Join with us, lady: thy spotless soul may obtain an exemption from the judgments which the portents of these days but too speakingly denounce against thy house.” “I pray fervently to Heaven to divert them,” said the pious princess. “Thou knowest it has been the occupation of my life to wrest a blessing for my lord and my harmless children. One, alas! is taken from me; would Heaven but hear me for my poor Matilda! Father, intercede for her.” “Every heart will bless her!” cried Theodore with rapture. “Be dumb, rash youth,” said Jerome. “And thou, fond princess, contend not with the powers above. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away: bless His holy name, and submit to His decrees.” “I do most devoutly,” said Hippolita; “but will He not spare my only comfort? Must Matilda perish too?--Ah, father, I came--but dismiss thy son. No ear but thine must hear what I have to utter.” “May Heaven grant thy every wish, most excellent princess!” said Theodore, retiring. Jerome frowned.