receive her, but, gentle Knight, may I ask if you have full
powers?"

The Knight nodded.

"'Tis well," said Manfred; "then hear what I have to offer. Ye
see, gentlemen, before you, the most unhappy of men!" (he began to
weep); "afford me your compassion; I am entitled to it, indeed I
am. Know, I have lost my only hope, my joy, the support of my
house--Conrad died yester morning."

The Knights discovered signs of surprise.

"Yes, Sirs, fate has disposed of my son. Isabella is at liberty."

"Do you then restore her?" cried the chief Knight, breaking
silence.

"Afford me your patience," said Manfred. "I rejoice to find, by
this testimony of your goodwill, that this matter may be adjusted
without blood. It is no interest of mine dictates what little I
have farther to say. Ye behold in me a man disgusted with the
world: the loss of my son has weaned me from earthly cares. Power
and greatness have no longer any charms in my eyes. I wished to
transmit the sceptre I had received from my ancestors with honour
to my son--but that is over! Life itself is so indifferent to me,
that I accepted your defiance with joy. A good Knight cannot go to
the grave with more satisfaction than when falling in his vocation:
whatever is the will of heaven, I submit; for alas! Sirs, I am a
man of many sorrows. Manfred is no object of envy, but no doubt