'Young Conrad's birthday was fixed for the marriage; the company were assembled in the chapel of the castle, everything ready,—but the bridegroom was missing! The prince, in alarm, went in search of his son. The first object that struck Manfred's eyes was a group of his servants endeavouring to raise something that appeared to him a mountain of sable plumes. "What are ye doing?" he cried, wrathfully; "where is my son?" A volley of voices replied, "Oh! my lord! the prince! the helmet! the helmet!" Shocked with these lamentable sounds, and dreading he knew not what, he advanced hastily,—but what a sight for a father's eyes! He beheld his child dashed to pieces, and almost buried under an enormous helmet, a hundred times larger than any casque ever made for human being, and shaded with a proportionable quantity of black feathers.
'The consternation produced by this murderous apparition did not diminish. Isabella was, however, relieved at her escape from an ill-assorted union. Manfred continued to gaze at the terrible casque. No one could explain its presence. In the midst of their senseless guesses, a young peasant, whom rumour had drawn thither from a neighbouring village, observed that the miraculous helmet was like that on the figure in black marble, in the church of St. Nicholas, of Alonzo the Good (the original Prince of Otranto, who died without leaving an ascertained heir, and whose steward, Manfred's grandfather, had illegally contrived to obtain possession of the castle, estates, and title). "Villain! what sayest thou?" cried Manfred, starting from his trance in a tempest of rage, and seizing the young man by the collar. "How darest thou utter such treason? Thy life shall pay for it!" The peasant was secured, and confined, as a necromancer, under the gigantic helmet, there to be starved to death. Manfred retired to his chamber to meditate in solitude over the blow which had descended on his house. His gentle daughter, Matilda, heard his disordered footsteps. She was just going to beg admittance, when Manfred suddenly opened the door; and as it was now twilight, concurring with the disorder of his mind, he did not distinguish the person, but asked angrily who it was. Matilda replied, trembling, "My dearest father, it is I, your daughter." Manfred, stepping back hastily, cried, "Begone, I do not want a daughter;" and flinging back abruptly, clapped the door against the terrified Matilda. His dejected daughter returned to her mother, the pious Hippolita, who was being comforted by Isabella. A servant, on the part of Manfred, informed the latter that Manfred demanded to speak with her. "With me!" cried Isabella. "Go," said Hippolita, "console him, and tell him that I will smother my own anguish rather than add to his."
'As it was now evening, the servant, who conducted Isabella, bore a torch before her. When they came to Manfred, who was walking impatiently about the gallery, he started, and said hastily, "Take away that light, and begone." Then, shutting the door impetuously, he flung himself upon a bench against the wall, and bade Isabella sit by him. She obeyed trembling. The iniquitous Manfred then proposed, that as his son was dead, Isabella should espouse him instead, and he would divorce the virtuous Hippolita. Manfred, on her refusal, resorted to violence, when the plumes of the fatal helmet suddenly waved to and fro tempestuously in the moonlight. Manfred, disregarding the portent, cried—"Heaven nor hell shall impede my designs," and advanced to seize the princess. At that instant the portrait of his grandfather, which hung over the bench where they had been sitting, uttered a deep sigh, and heaved its breast. Manfred was distracted between his pursuit of Isabella and the aspect of the picture, which quitted its panel and stepped on the floor with a grave and melancholy air. The vision sighed and made a sign to Manfred to follow him. "Lead on!" cried Manfred; "I will follow thee to the gulph of perdition." The spectre marched sedately, but dejected, to the end of the gallery. Manfred followed, full of anxiety and horror, but resolved. The spectre retired. Isabella had fled to a subterranean passage leading from the Castle to the Sanctuary of St. Nicholas. In this vault she encountered the young peasant who had provoked the animosity of Manfred. He lifted up a secret trap-door, and Isabella made her escape; but Manfred and his followers prevented the flight of the daring stranger. The prince, who expected to secure Isabella, was considerably startled to discover this youth in her stead. The weight of the helmet had broken the pavement above, and he had thus alighted in time to assist Isabella, whose disappearance he denied. A noise of voices startled Manfred, who was alarmed by fresh indications of hostile evidences. Jacques and Diego, two of his retainers, detailed the fresh cause of alarm. It was thus: they had heard a noise—they opened a door and ran back, their hair standing on end with terror.
