It was a fearful hour: The death song! The bell for the dead, the lonely troubadour's voice, and prayer for the dead, sounding through the night.
As Leonora listened, her anguish became too great to bear, and she resolved to save his life or die. Then di Luna came, accompanied by his men; he was giving hurried orders:
"The moment the day dawns, bring out the man, and here, on this spot, cut off his head," he commanded. The attendants entered the prison tower, and di Luna, believing himself to be alone, began to sing passionately of Leonora. He thought her dead in the ruins of Castellar, which his soldiers had demolished. While cursing his fate, Leonora came near to him and threw herself at his feet.
"Thou art not dead!" he cried.
"Nay—but I shall die unless you give me Manrico's life," she murmured pleadingly.
"He dies at dawn," di Luna answered.
"Spare him and I will wed thee," she swore. At that di Luna regarded her in amazement.
"You speak the truth?" he demanded, scarcely daring to believe his senses.
"Unbar those gates; let me into his dungeon and take him word that he is free, and I swear to be thy wife," she repeated.
"Hola! You there!" He called to his men. "Show this woman to Manrico's dungeon," he commanded, trembling with joy. Unseen by him, she took a deadly poison from her ring. She would free Manrico with her promise, and before di Luna could reach her she resolved to die. The men stood ready, and she went into the prison with them.