had heard relating to the Princess; but fearing to exasperate the tyrant more against her, he desisted. The only boon he deigned to ask was, that he might be permitted to have a confessor, and make his peace with heaven. Manfred, who hoped by the confessor’s means to come at the youth’s history, readily granted his request; and being convinced that Father Jerome was now in his interest, he ordered him to be called and shrive the prisoner. The holy man, who had little foreseen the catastrophe that his imprudence occasioned, fell on his knees to the Prince, and adjured him in the most solemn manner not to shed innocent blood. He accused himself in the bitterest terms for his indiscretion, endeavoured to disculpate the youth, and left no method untried to soften the tyrant’s rage. Manfred, more incensed than appeased by Jerome’s intercession, whose retraction now made him suspect he had been imposed upon by both, commanded the Friar to do his duty, telling him he would not allow the prisoner many minutes for confession. 

“Nor do I ask many, my Lord,” said the unhappy young man. “My sins, thank heaven, have not been numerous; nor exceed what might be expected at my years. Dry your tears, good Father, and let us despatch. This is a bad world; nor have I had cause to leave it with regret.” 

“Oh wretched youth!” said Jerome; “how canst thou bear the sight of me with patience? I am thy murderer! it is I have brought this dismal hour upon thee!” 

"I forgive thee from my soul,” said the youth, “as I hope heaven will pardon me. Hear my confession, Father; and give me thy blessing.” 

“How can I prepare thee for thy passage as I ought?” said Jerome. “Thou canst not be saved without pardoning thy foes—and canst thou forgive that impious man there?” 

“I can,” said Theodore; “I do.” 

“And does not this touch thee, cruel Prince?” said the Friar. 

“I sent for thee to confess him,” said Manfred, sternly; “not to plead for him. Thou didst first incense me against him—his blood be upon thy head!” 

“It will! it will!” said the good man, in an agony of sorrow. “Thou and I must never hope to go where this blessed youth is going!” 

“Despatch!” said Manfred; “I am no more to be moved by the whining of priests than by the shrieks of women.” 

“What!” said the youth; “is it possible that my fate could have 

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