“Yet,” said Matilda, “if he was privy to her escape, how will you account for his not accompanying her in her flight? why expose himself unnecessarily and rashly to my father’s resentment?” “As for that, Madam,” replied she, “if he could get from under the helmet, he will find ways of eluding your father’s anger. I do not doubt but he has some talisman or other about him.” “You resolve everything into magic,” said Matilda; “but a man who has any intercourse with infernal spirits, does not dare to make use of those tremendous and holy words which he uttered. Didst thou not observe with what fervour he vowed to remember _me_ to heaven in his prayers? Yes; Isabella was undoubtedly convinced of his piety.” “Commend me to the piety of a young fellow and a damsel that consult to elope!” said Bianca. “No, no, Madam, my Lady Isabella is of another guess mould than you take her for. She used indeed to sigh and lift up her eyes in your company, because she knows you are a saint; but when your back was turned—” “You wrong her,” said Matilda; “Isabella is no hypocrite; she has a due sense of devotion, but never affected a call she has not. On the contrary, she always combated my inclination for the cloister; and though I own the mystery she has made to me of her flight confounds me; though it seems inconsistent with the friendship between us; I cannot forget the disinterested warmth with which she always opposed my taking the veil. She wished to see me married, though my dower would have been a loss to her and my brother’s children. For her sake I will believe well of this young peasant.” “Then you do think there is some liking between them,” said Bianca. While she was speaking, a servant came hastily into the chamber and told the Princess that the Lady Isabella was found. “Where?” said Matilda. “She has taken sanctuary in St. Nicholas’s church,” replied the servant; “Father Jerome has brought the news himself; he is below with his Highness.” “Where is my mother?” said Matilda. “She is in her own chamber, Madam, and has asked for you.” Manfred had risen at the first dawn of light, and gone to Hippolita’s apartment, to inquire if she knew aught of Isabella. While he was questioning her, word was brought that Jerome demanded to speak with him. Manfred, little suspecting the cause of the Friar’s arrival, and knowing he was employed by Hippolita in her charities, ordered him to be admitted, intending to leave them together, while he pursued his search after Isabella. “Is your business with me or the Princess?” said Manfred. “With both,” replied the holy man. “The Lady Isabella—” “What of her?” interrupted Manfred, eagerly. “Is at St. Nicholas’s altar,” replied Jerome. “That is no business of Hippolita,” said Manfred with confusion; “let us retire to my chamber, Father, and inform me how she came thither.”