“I! my lord! no, my lord—yes, my lord—poor lady! she is wonderfully alarmed about her father’s wounds! but I tell her he will do well; don’t your highness think so?”
“I do not ask you,” replied Manfred, “what she thinks about her father; but you are in her secrets. Come, be a good girl, and tell me; is there any young man—ha!—you understand me.”
“Lord bless me! understand your highness, no, not I: I told her a few vulnerary herbs and repose——”
“I am not talking,” replied the prince, impatiently, “about her father; I know he will do well.”
“Bless me, I rejoice to hear your highness say so; for though I thought it not right to let my young lady despond, methought his greatness had a wan look, and a something—I remember when young Ferdinand was wounded by the Venetian——”
“Thou answerest from the point,” interrupted Manfred; “but here, take this jewel, perhaps that may fix thy attention; nay, no reverences: my favour shall not stop here:—come, tell me truly, how stands Isabella’s heart.”
“Well, your highness has such a way!” said Bianca, “to be sure; but can your highness keep a secret? if it should ever come out of your lips——”
“It shall not, it shall not,” cried Manfred.
“Nay, but swear, your highness. By my halidame, if it should ever be known that I said it—why, truth is truth, I do not think my Lady Isabella ever much affectioned my young lord, your son—yet he was a sweet youth, as one should see. I am sure, if I had been a princess—but bless me! I must attend my Lady Matilda; she will marvel what is become of me.”
“Stay!” cried Manfred, “thou hast not satisfied my question. Hast thou ever carried any message, any letter?”