"I fear no man's displeasure," said the peasant, "when a woman in distress puts herself under my protection."
Matilda was passing through a latticed gallery at the upper end of the hall, when her attention was drawn to the prisoner. The gallantry of his last reply interested her in his favour. His person was noble, handsome, and commanding; but his countenance soon engrossed her whole care.
"Heavens!" she said to herself softly, "is he not the exact resemblance of Alfonso's picture?"
"Take him to the court-yard, and sever his head from his body!" was the sentence of Manfred.
Matilda fainted. Father Jerome, horrified at the catastrophe his imprudence had occasioned, begged for the prisoner's life. But the undaunted youth received the sentence with courage and resignation. In the court-yard he unbuttoned his collar, and knelt down to his prayers. As he stooped, his shirt slipped down below his shoulder and disclosed the mark of a bloody arrow.
"Gracious heavens!" cried Jerome, "it is my child! my Theodore!"
"What may this mean? how can it be thy son?" said Manfred.
"Spare him, good Prince! He is my lawful son, born to me when I was Count of Falconara; Sicily can boast of few houses more ancient--is it possible my lord can refuse a father the life of his long-lost child?"
"Return to thy convent," answered Manfred after a pause; "conduct the Princess hither; obey me in what else thou knowest; and I promise thee the life of thy son."
"Rather let me die a thousand deaths!" cried Theodore.