“Do I dream?” cried Manfred, returning; “or are the devils themselves in league against me?  Speak, internal spectre!  Or, if thou art my grandsire, why dost thou too conspire against thy wretched descendant, who too dearly pays for—”  Ere he could finish the sentence, the vision sighed again, and made a sign to Manfred to follow him.

“Lead on!” cried Manfred; “I will follow thee to the gulf of perdition.”

The spectre marched sedately, but dejected, to the end of the gallery, and turned into a chamber on the right hand.  Manfred accompanied him at a little distance, full of anxiety and horror, but resolved.  As he would have entered the chamber, the door was clapped to with violence by an invisible hand.  The Prince, collecting courage from this delay, would have forcibly burst open the door with his foot, but found that it resisted his utmost efforts.

“Since Hell will not satisfy my curiosity,” said Manfred, “I will use the human means in my power for preserving my race; Isabella shall not escape me.”

The lady, whose resolution had given way to terror the moment she had quitted Manfred, continued her flight to the bottom of the principal staircase.  There she stopped, not knowing whither to direct her steps, nor how to escape from the impetuosity of the Prince.  The gates of the castle, she knew, were locked, and guards placed in the court.  Should she, as her heart prompted her, go and prepare Hippolita for the cruel destiny that awaited her, she did not doubt but Manfred would seek her there, and that his violence would i