“O blundering fools!” cried Manfred; “and in the meantime she has made her escape, because you were afraid of goblins! Why, thou knave! she left me in the gallery; I came from thence myself.”
“For all that, she may be there still for aught I know,” said Jaquez; “but the devil shall have me before I seek her there again: poor Diego! I do not believe he will ever recover it.”
“Recover what?” said Manfred; “am I never to learn what it is has terrified these rascals? But I lose my time; follow me, slave; I will see if she is in the gallery.”
“For Heaven’s sake, my dear good lord,” cried Jaquez, “do not go to the gallery! Satan himself, I believe, is in the chamber next to the gallery.”
Manfred, who hitherto had treated the terror of his servants as an idle panic, was struck at this new circumstance. He recollected the apparition of the portrait, and the sudden closing of the door at the end of the gallery—his voice faltered, and he asked with disorder, “What is in the great chamber?”
“My lord,” said Jaquez, “when Diego and I came into the gallery, he went first, for he said he had more courage than I;—so, when we came into the gallery, we found nobody. We looked under every bench and stool; and still we found nobody.”
“Were all the pictures in their places?” said Manfred.
“Yes, my lord,” answered Jaquez; “but we did not think of looking behind them.”
“Well, well,” said Manfred, “proceed.”
“When we came to the door of the great chamber,” continued Jaquez, “we found it shut.”