As these thoughts passed rapidly through her mind, she recollected
a subterraneous passage which led from the vaults of the castle to
the church of St. Nicholas. Could she reach the altar before she
was overtaken, she knew even Manfred's violence would not dare to
profane the sacredness of the place; and she determined, if no
other means of deliverance offered, to shut herself up for ever
among the holy virgins whose convent was contiguous to the
cathedral. In this resolution, she seized a lamp that burned at
the foot of the staircase, and hurried towards the secret passage.

The lower part of the castle was hollowed into several intricate
cloisters; and it was not easy for one under so much anxiety to
find the door that opened into the cavern. An awful silence
reigned throughout those subterraneous regions, except now and then
some blasts of wind that shook the doors she had passed, and which,
grating on the rusty hinges, were re-echoed through that long
labyrinth of darkness. Every murmur struck her with new terror;
yet more she dreaded to hear the wrathful voice of Manfred urging
his domestics to pursue her.

She trod as softly as impatience would give her leave, yet
frequently stopped and listened to hear if she was followed. In
one of those moments she thought she heard a sigh. She shuddered,
and recoiled a few paces. In a moment she thought she heard the
step of some person. Her blood curdled; she concluded it was
Manfred. Every suggestion that horror could inspire rushed into
her mind. She condemned her rash flight, which had thus exposed
her to his rage in a place where her cries were not likely to draw
anybody to her assistance. Yet the sound seemed not to come from