Hippolytus said:
"While you're arming yourself I'll go to the palace gate to see what's happening."
"Hurry," said the others.
When they were all outside, the viscount followed Hippolytus.
"My lord," said Hippolytus, "you go to the main gate and I'll go to the one in the garden. Whoever discovers what is really happening—what all this noise is about—will go and tell the other one."
The viscount said he thought that was a good idea. When Hippolytus was at the gate to the garden, thinking he would find it locked, he stood, listening, and he heard a mournful voice crying. It sounded like a woman's voice, and he said to himself:
"I would much rather hear Tirant than this woman's voice, whoever she is."
He stood, looking to see if he could scale the wall. When he saw that it was impossible, he went back to the gate with an easy heart, thinking it must be a woman.
"Let her wail, whoever she is—lady or maiden," said Hippolytus, "for this has nothing to do with my lord Tirant."
He left and went to the plaza where he found the viscount and others who wanted to know what had caused the disturbance. But by now the cries had subsided a great deal, and the disturbance had been quelled. Then Hippolytus explained to the viscount how he had been at the garden gate and had not been able to go in, and that he had heard what seemed to be a woman's voice moaning, and he did not know who it was, but that he thought the woman was the cause of all the outcry.