Dimly lighted by the tapers burning at the altar, its massive round pillars, semicircular arches, small windows, and deeply-recessed doorway could only be imperfectly seen. Within the chancel, the arch of which was of great beauty, three black marble flags told where the traitorous[traitorous] nobles were laid. Here, also side by side, were recumbent statues of the founders of the fane, sculptured in alabaster.
Except the officiating priest and his assistants, there were only two female devotees in the chapel, both of whom were kneeling before the altar.
Philip took a place near them. For some minutes he was so absorbed in his devotions that he did not notice the person beside him, further than remarking that she was young; but as he raised his eyes, he caught sight of a face that at once riveted his attention. Never had he beheld features so exquisitely beautiful, or so sweet in expression. No nun could have a holier or purer look. A tender melancholy pervaded this angelic countenance, adding an inexpressible charm to it. The face was seen by the Prince in profile, but the attitude served to display the classic regularity of the lineaments, the noble brow, white as marble[marble], the delicately-chiselled nose, the short upper lip, and rounded chin. The complexion of the lovely devotee was of dazzling fairness, which lent additional effect to her resplendent black eyes, her finely-pencilled brows and dusky and luxuriant tresses. Her figure was slender, and its perfect symmetry was defined by her black taffetas dress. From her girdle hung a silver rosary. A small ruff encircled her swan-like throat, and a velvet hood fastened to a coverchief lay at the back of her head.
Totally unconscious of the effect produced by her charms, she pursued her devotions, and it was only towards the close of the service, that she became aware of the Prince’s propinquity, and of the ardent gaze he fixed upon her. The discovery gave her evident annoyance. Whispering to her attendant, she arose hastily, with the design of quitting the chapel. She could not avoid Osbert, who was leaning against a pillar directly in her way. Young Clinton had been as much struck by her beauty as the Prince, and with looks betokening the extent of his admiration, he bowed to her respectfully as she passed. Coldly returning the salute, and drawing the hood over her head, she went forth, followed by her attendant.
Philip did not move till the fair devotee had quitted the chapel. He then arose, and with undisturbed gravity of deportment left the building. As he issued into the street, which we have stated was dark and narrow, the two females could nowhere be discerned. Yet, feeling confident they must have proceeded towards the main street, he speeded in that direction. Osbert went with him, but was not sorry to find, on reaching the archway opening into English Street, that nothing was to be seen of them.
“Whither can she have gone?” cried Philip, in a tone of fierce disappointment; and then, without waiting for an answer, he added, “But perhaps you know her.”
Osbert replied in the negative.
“I did not believe the world contained such a paragon,” cried Philip. “But to lose her would be intolerable. Stay! the priest can tell us who she is. Let us go back and question him.”
“Such a step would excite the holy man’s suspicions, and infallibly seal his lips,” replied Osbert, “To-morrow I will obtain information for your Highness.”
“But I must be satisfied to-night,” cried Philip. “I cannot rest till I feel sure I shall behold her again.”