 Volume 2 Chapter 7 The Mysteries of Udolfo This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading by Lucy Burgoyne. The Mysteries of Udolfo by Anne Radcliffe Volume 2 Chapter 7 A very tongues that syllable men's names on sands and shores and desert wildernesses, Milken. It is now necessary to mention some circumstances which could not be related amidst the events of Emily's departure from Venice, altogether with those which so rapidly succeeded to her arrival in the castle. On the morning of her journey, Count Morano had gone at the appointed hour to the mansion of Montoni to demand his bride. When he reached it, he was somewhat surprised by the silence and solitary air of the portico, where Montoni's lackeys usually loitered. But surprise was soon changed to astonishment and astonishment to the rage of disappointment when the door was opened by an old woman who told his servants that her master and his family had left Venice early in the morning for terra firma. Scarcely believing what his servants told, he left his gondola and rushed into the hall to inquire further. The old woman, who was the only person left in care of the mansion, persisted in her story, which the silent and deserted apartment soon convinced him was no fiction. He then seized her with a menacing air, as if he meant to wreck all his vengeance upon her, at the same time asking her twenty questions in a breath and all these with a gesticulation so furious that she was deprived of the power of answering them. Then suddenly, letting her go, he stamped about the hall like a madman cursing Montoni and his own folly. When the good woman was at liberty and had somewhat recovered from her fright, she told him all she knew of the affair, which was indeed very little, but enough to enable Morano to discover that Montoni was gone to his castle on the Apennine. Thither he followed as soon as his servants could complete the necessary preparation for the journey. Accompanied by a friend and attended by a number of his people, determined to obtain Emily or a full revenge on Montoni. When his mind had recovered from the first effervescent of rage and his thoughts became less obscure, his conscience hinted to him certain circumstances which, in some measure, explained the conduct of Montoni, but how the latter could have been led to suspect an intention which, he had believed, was known only to himself, he could not even guess. On this occasion, however, he had been partly betrayed by that sympathetic intelligence which may be said to exist between bad minds and which teaches one man to judge what another will do in the same circumstances. Thus it was with Montoni who had now received indisputable proof of a truth which he had sometimes suspected that Morano's circumstances, instead of being affluent as he had been bitten to believe, were greatly involved. Montoni had been interested in his suit by motives entirely selfish, those of avarice and pride, the last of which would have been gratified by an alliance with a Venetian nobleman. The former by Emily's estate in Gascony, which he had stipulated as the price of his favour, should be delivered up to him from the day of her marriage. In the meantime, he had been led to suspect the consequence of the Count's boundless extravagance, but it was not till the evening preceding the intended nuptials that he obtained certain information of his distressed circumstances. He did not hesitate then to infer that Morano designed to depraud him of Emily's estate and in this supposition he was confirmed and with apparent reason by the subsequent conduct of the Count who, after having appointed to meet him on that night for the purpose of signing the instrument, which was to secure to him his reward failed in his engagement. Such a circumstance indeed in a man of Morano's gay and thoughtless character and at a time when his mind was engaged by the bustle of preparation for his nuptials. Might have been attributed to a cause less decisive than design that Montoni did not hesitate an instant to intercept it his own way. And after vainly awaiting the Count's arrival for several hours he gave orders for his people to be in readiness to set off at a moment's notice. By hastening to Udolfo he intended to remove Emily from the reach of Morano as well as to break off the affair without submitting himself to useless altercation. And if the Count meant what he called honourable he would doubtless follow Emily and sign the writings in question. If this was done so little consideration had Montoni for her welfare that he would not have scrupled to sacrifice her to a man of real fortune. Since by that means he could enrich himself and he forebored to mention to her the motive of his sudden journey lest the hope it might revive should render her more intractable when submission would be required. With these considerations he had left Venice and with others totally different. Morano had soon after persuaded steps across the rugged Avernines. When his arrival was announced at the castle Montoni did not believe that he would have presumed to show himself unless he had meant to fulfil his engagement and he therefore readily admitted him but the enraged countenance and expressions of Morano as he entered the apartment instantly undeceived him and when Montoni had explained in part the motives of his abrupt departure from Venice the count still persisted in demanding Emily and reproaching Montoni without even naming the former stipulation. Montoni at length worried the dispute deferred the settling of it till the morrow retired with some hope suggested by Montoni's apparent indecision when however in the silence of his own apartment he began to consider the past conversation the character of Montoni and some former instances of his duplicity the hope which he had admitted vanished and he determined not to neglect the present possibility of obtaining Emily by other means. To his confidential valet he told his designer carrying away Emily and sent him back to Montoni's servants to find out one among them who might enable him to execute it the choice of this person he entrusted to the fellows own discernment and not imprudently for he discovered a man who Montoni had on some former occasion treated harshly and who was now ready to betray him this man conducted Cicero round the castle through a private passage to the staircase that led to Emily's chamber then showed him a short way out of the building and afterwards procured him the keys that would secure his retreat the man was well rewarded for his trouble how the count was rewarded for his treachery had already appeared meanwhile old Carlo had overheard two of Murano's servants who had been ordered to be in waiting with the carriage beyond the castle walls expressing their surprise at their master's sudden and secret departure for the valet had entrusted them with no more of Murano's designs than it was necessary for them to execute they however indulged themselves in surmises and in expressing them to each other and from these Carlo had drawn a just conclusion but before he ventured to disclose his apprehensions to Montoni he endeavoured to obtain further confirmation of them and for this purpose placed himself with one of his fellow servants at the door of Emily's apartment that opened upon the corridor he did not watch long in vain though the growling of the dog had once nearly betrayed him when he was convinced that Murano was in the room and had listened long enough to his conversation to understand his scheme he immediately alarmed Montoni and thus rescued Emily from the designs of the count Montoni on the following morning appeared as usual except that he wore his wounded arm in a sling he went out upon the rampards overlooked the men employed in repairing them gave orders for additional workmen and then came into the castle to give audience to several persons who were just arrived and who were shown into a private apartment where he communicated with them for near an hour Carlo was then summoned and ordered to conduct the strangers to a part of the castle which in former times had been occupied by the upper servants of the family and to provide them with every necessary refreshment when he had done this he was bitten to return to his master meanwhile the count remained in a cottage in the skirts of the woods below suffering under bodily and mental pain and meditating deep revenge against Montoni his servant whom he had dispatched for a surgeon to the nearest town which was however at a considerable distance did not return till the following day when his wounds being examined and dressed the practitioner refused to deliver any positive opinion concerning the degree of danger attending them but given his patient a composing draft and ordering him to be quiet remained at the cottage to watch the event Emily for the remainder of the late eventful night had been suffered to sleep, undisturbed and when her mind recovered from the confusion of slumber and she remembered that she was now released from the addresses of Count Murano her spirits were suddenly relieved from a part of the terrible anxiety that had long oppressed them that which remained arose chiefly from a recollection of Murano's assertions concerning the schemes of Montoni he had said that plans of the latter concerning Emily were insurchable yet that he knew them to be terrible at the time he uttered this she almost believed it to be designed for the purpose of prevailing with her to throw herself into his protection and she still thought that might be cheaply so accounted for but his assertions had left an impression on her mind which a consideration of the character and former conduct of Montoni did not contribute to her face she however checked her propensity to anticipate evil and determined to enjoy this respite from actual misfortune tried to dismiss thought took her instruments for drawing and placed herself at a window to select into a landscape some features of the scenery without as she was thus employed she saw walking on the rampart below the men who had so lately arrived at the castle the sight of strangers surprised her but still more of strangers such as these there were a singularity in their dress and a certain fierceness in their ear that fixed all her attention she withdrew from the casement while they passed but soon returned to observe them further their figures seemed so well suited to the boldness of the surrounding objects that as they stood surveying the castle she sketched them for banditty amid the mountain view of her picture when she had finished which she was surprised to observe the spirit of her group but she had copied from nature Carlo when he had placed refreshment before these men in the apartment assigned to them returned and called it to Montoni who was anxious to discover by what servant the keys at the castle had been delivered to Morano on the preceding night but this man though he was too faithful to his master quietly to see him injured would not betray a fellow servant even to justice he therefore pretended to be ignorant who it was that had conspired with Count Morano and related as before that he had only overheard some of the strangers describing the plot Montoni's suspicions naturally fell upon the porter whom he ordered now to attend Carlo hesitated and then with slow steps went to seek him Barnardine the porter denied the acquisition with a countenance so steady and undaunted that Montoni could scarcely believe him guilty though he knew not how to think him innocent at length the man was dismissed from his presence and though the real offender escaped detection Montoni then went to his wife's apartment with that Emily followed soon after but finding them in high dispute was instantly leaving the room when her aunt called her back and desired her to stay you shall be a witness said she of my opposition now sir repeat the command I have so often refused to obey Montoni turned with a stern countenance to Emily and bade her quit the apartment while his wife persisted in desiring that she would stay Emily was eager to escape from his scene of contention and anxious also to serve her aunt but she despaired of conciliating Montoni in whose eyes the rising tempest of his soul flashed terribly lead the room said he in a voice of thunder Emily obeyed and walking down to the rampart which the strangers had now left continued to meditate the unhappy marriage of her father's sister and on her own desolate situation occasioned by the ridiculous imprudence of her whom she had always wished to respect and love Madame Montoni's conduct had indeed rendered it impossible for Emily to do either but her gentle heart was touched by her distress and in the pity thus awakened she forgot the injurious treatment she had received from her as she sauntered on the rampart and it appeared at the hall door looked cautiously round and then advanced to meet her Dear Mamzal I have been looking for you all over the castle said she if you will step this way I will show you a picture a picture exclaimed Emily yes ma'am a picture of the late lady of this place old Carlo just now told me it was her and I thought you would be curious to see it as to my lady you know Mamzal one cannot talk about such things to her and so said Emily smilingly as you must talk with them to somebody why yes Mamzal you are in such a place as this if one must not talk if I was in a dungeon if they would let me talk it would be some comfort no I would talk if it was only to the walls but come Mamzal we lose time let me show you to the picture it is veil said Emily pausing Dear Mamzal said Annette fixing her eyes on Emily's face makes you look so pale are you ill no Annette I am well enough but I have no desire to see this picture returning to the hall what man not to see the lady of this castle said the girl the lady who disappeared too strangely well now I would have run to the furthest mountain we can see yonder to have got a sight such a picture and to speak my mind that strange story is all that makes me care about this whole castle though it makes me thrill all over as it were whenever I think of it yes Annette you love the wonderful but do you know that unless you guard against this inclination it will lead you into all the misery of superstition Annette might have smiled in her turn at this sage observation of Emily who could tremble with ideal terrors as much as herself and listen almost as eagerly to the recital of a mysterious story Annette urged her request are you sure it is a picture said Emily have you seen it is it veiled ma'am zell yes no yes I am sure it is a picture I have seen it and it is not veiled the tone and look of surprise with which this was uttered recalled Emily's prudence who concealed her emotion under a smile and veiled Annette lead her to the picture it was in an obscure chamber adjoining that part of the castle allotted to the servants several other portraits hung on the walls covered like this with dust and cobweb that is it ma'am zell said Annette in a low voice and pointing Emily advanced and surveyed the picture it represented a lady in the flower of youth and beauty her features were handsome and noble of strong expression that had little of the captivating sweetness that Emily had looked for and still less of the pensive mildness she loved it was a countenance which spoke the language of passion rather than that of sentiment a haughty impatience of misfortune not the placid melancholy of a spirit injured in the distant past since this lady disappeared Annette said am I 20 years ma'am zell or there about as they told me I know it is a long while ago Emily continued to gaze upon the portrait I think resumed Annette the signal would do well to hang it in a better place than this old chamber now in my mind he ought to place the picture of a lady who gave him all these riches in the handsomest room in the castle but he may have good reasons for what he does and some people do say that he has lost his riches as well as his gratitude but hush ma'am not a word added Annette laying her finger on her lips Emily was too much absorbed in thought to hear what she said it is a handsome lady I am sure continued Annette the signal need not be ashamed to put her in the great apartment where the veil picture hangs Emily turned round but for that matter she would be as little seen there as here for the door is always locked I find let us leave this chamber said Emily again Annette be guarded in your conversation and never tell that you know anything of that picture holy mother exclaimed Annette it is no secret why all the servants have seen it already Emily started how is this said she have seen it when how dear ma'am Zell was surprising in that we had all a little more curiousness than you had I thought you told me the door was kept locked said Emily if that was the case ma'am Zell replied Annette looking about her how could we get here oh you mean this picture said Emily with returning calmness well Annette we will go Emily as she passed to her own apartment saw Montoni go down to the hall and she turned into her aunt's dressing room whom she found weeping and alone grief and resentment struggling on her countenance pride had hitherto restrained complaint judging of Emily's disposition from her own consciousness of what her treatment of her deserved she had believed that her grief would be cause of triumph to her niece rather than of sympathy that she would despise not pity her but she knew not the tenderness and benevolence of Emily's heart that had always taught her to forget her own injuries in the misfortunes of her enemy the sufferings of others whoever they might be call forth her ready compassion which dissipated at once every obscuring clown to goodness that passion or prejudice might have raised in her mind made of Montoni's sufferings at length rose above her pride and when Emily had before entered the room she would have told them all that her husband prevented her now that she was no longer restrained by his presence she poured forth all her complaints to her niece oh Emily she explained I am the most wretched of women I am indeed cruelly treated who, with my prospects of happiness could have foreseen such a wretched fate as this who could have thought as the signal I should ever have to bewail my lot but there is no judging what is for the best there is no knowing what is for our good the most flattering prospects often change the best judgments may be deceived who could have foreseen when I married the signal that I should ever repent my generosity Emily thought she might have foreseen it but this was not a thought or triumph she placed herself in a chair near her aunt took her hand and with one of those looks of soft compassion which might characterise the countenance of a guardian angel spoke to her in the tenderest accents but these did not soothe Madame Montoni whom impatience to talk to a person she wanted to complain not to be consoled and it was by exclamations a complaint only that Emily learned the particular circumstances of her affliction ungrateful man said Madame Montoni he has deceived me in every respect and now he has taken me from my country and friends to shut me up and here he thinks he can compel me to do whatever he designs but he shall find himself mistaken he shall find that no threats can alter but who would have believed who would have supposed that a man of his family and a parent wealth had absolutely no fortune no scarcely a sequin of his own I did all for the best I thought he was a man of consequence of great property or I am sure I would never have married him ungrateful artful man she paused to take breath Dear Madame be composed said Emily this ignore may not be so rich as you had reason to expect but surely he cannot be very poor since this carthal and the mansion of Venice may I ask what are the circumstances that particularly affect you what are the circumstances exclaimed Madame Montoni with resentment why is it not sufficient that he had long ago ruined his own fortune by play and that he has since lost what I brought him and that now he would compel me to sign away my settlement it was well I had the chief of my property settled on myself that he may lose this also or throw it away in wild schemes which nobody can understand but himself and is not all this sufficient it is indeed said Emily that you must recollect Dear Madame that I knew nothing of all this well and is it not sufficient rejoined her aunt that he is also absolutely ruined that he is sunk deeply in debt and that neither this castle or the mansion at Venice is his own if all his debts honourable and dishonourable were paid I am shocked by what you tell me Madame said Emily and is it not enough interrupted Madame Montoni that he has treated me with neglect because I refused to relinquish my settlements and instead of being frightened by his menaces resolutely defied him and up braided him with his shameful conduct but I bore all meekly you know niece I never uttered a word of complaint till now no that such a disposition as mine should be so imposed upon that I whose only faults are too much kindness too much generosity should be chained for life to such a vile, deceitful cruel monster want of breath compelled Madame Montoni to stop if anything could have made Emily smile in these moments it would have been this speech of her aunt delivered in a voice very little below a scream and with a vehemence of consolation and of countenance that turned the whole into belesque Emily saw that her misfortunes did not admit a real consolation and condemning the commonplace terms of superficial comfort she was silent while Madame Montoni jealous of her own consequence mistook this for the silence of indifference or of contempt of duty and feeling oh, I suspected what all this boasted sensibility would prove to be rejoins she I thought it would not teach you to feel either duty or affection for your relations who have treated you like their own daughter pardon me Madame said Emily mildly it is not natural to me to boast and if it was a quality perhaps more to be feared than desired well, well niece I will not dispute with you but as I said Montoni threatens me with violence if I any longer refuse to sign away my settlements and this was the subject of our contest when you came into the room before now I am determined no power on earth neither will I bear all this tamely he shall hear his true character from me I will tell him all he deserves in spite of his threats and cruel treatment Emily sees the pause of Madame Montoni's voice to speak Dear Madame said she but will not deserve to irritate this ignore unnecessarily will it not provoke you Dread I do not care replied Madame Montoni it does not signify I will not submit to such usage you would have me give up my settlements to I suppose no Madame I do not exactly mean that what is it you do mean then he spoke of reproaching this ignore said Emily with hesitation and not deserve reproaches said her aunt certainly he does but will it be prudent in you Madame to make them prudent explained Madame Montoni is this a time to talk of prudence when one is threatened with all sorts of violence it is to avoid that violence that prudence is necessary said Emily of prudence continued Madame Montoni pretending to her of prudence towards a man who does not scruple to break all the common ties of humanity in his conduct to me and is it for me to consider prudence in my behaviour towards him I am not so mean it is for your own sake not for the signals Madame said Emily modestly that you should consult prudence your reproaches however just cannot punish him but they may provoke him to further violence against you what would you have me submit then to whatever he commands would you have me kneel down at his feet and thank him for his cruelty would you have me give up my settlements how much you mistake me Madame said Emily I am unequal to advise you on a point so important as the last but you will pardon me for saying that if you consult your own piece you will try to conciliate signal Montoni rather than to irritate him by reproaches conciliate indeed I tell you niece it is utterly impossible I disdain to attempt it End of Chapter 20 Part A Emily was shocked to observe the perverted understanding and obstinate temper of Madame Montoni but not less grieve for her sufferings she looked round for some alleviating circumstance to offer her your situation is perhaps not so desperate dear Madame said Emily as you may imagine the signal may represent his affairs to be worse than they are for the purpose of pleading a stronger necessity for his possession of your settlement besides so long as you keep this you may look forward to it as a resource at least that will afford you a competence should the signal's future conduct compel you to sue for separation Madame Montoni impatiently interrupted her unfeeling cruel girl and so you would persuade me that I have no reason to complain that the signal is in very flourishing circumstances that my future prospects promise nothing but comfort and that my griefs are as fanciful and romantic as your own is it the way to console me to endeavour to persuade me out of my senses and my feelings because you happen to have lost yourself I thought I was opening my heart to a person who could sympathise in my distress but I find that your people of sensibility can feel for nobody but themselves you may retire to your chamber Emily without replying immediately left the room with a mingled emotion of pity and contempt and hastened to her own where she yielded to the mournful reflections which a knowledge of her aunt's situation had occasioned the conversation of the Italian with Ballancourt in France again occurred to her his hints respecting the broken fortunes of Montoni were now completely justified those also concerning his character appeared not less so though the particular circumstances connected with his fame to which the stranger had eluded yet remained to be explained notwithstanding that her own observations and the words of Count Morano had convinced her that Montoni's situation was not what it formally appeared to be the intelligence she had just received from her aunt on this point struck her with all the force of astonishment which was not weakened when she considered the present style of Montoni's living the number of servants he maintained and the new expenses he was incurring by repairing and fortifying his castle her anxiety for her aunt and for herself increased with reflection several assertions of Morano which on the preceding night she had believed were prompted either by interest or by resentment now returned to her mind with the strength of truth she could not doubt that Montoni had formally agreed to give her to the Count for a pecuniary reward his character and his distress circumstances justified the belief these also seemed to confirm Morano's assertion that he now designed to dispose of her more advantageously for himself to a richer suitor amidst the reproaches which Morano had thrown out against Montoni he had said he would not quit the castle he dared to call his nor willingly leave another murder on his conscience which might have no other origin than the passion of the moment but Emily was now inclined to account for them more seriously and she shuddered to think that she was in the hands of a man to whom it was even possible they could apply at length considering that reflection could neither release her from her melancholy situation or enable her to bear it with greater fortitude she tried to divert her anxiety from her little library a volume of her favourite Ariosto but his wild imagery and rich invention could not long enchant her attention his spells did not reach her heart and over her sleeping fancy they played without awakening it she now put aside the book and took her loot for it was seldom that her sufferings refused to yield to the magic when they did so she was oppressed by sorrow that came from excess of tenderness and regret and there were times when music had increased such sorrow to a degree that was scarcely and durable when if it had not suddenly ceased she might have lost her reason such was the time when she mourned for her father and heard the midnight strains that floated by her window near the convent in Languedoc on the night that followed his death she continued to play till Annette brought dinner into her chamber at which Emily was surprised and inquired whose order she obeyed my ladies Mamzel replied Annette the signal ordered her dinner to be carried to her own apartment and so she has sent you yours there have been sad doings between them worse than ever I think Emily not appearing to notice what she said sat down to the little table that was spread for her but Annette was not to be silenced thus easily while she waited she told of the arrival of the men whom Emily had observed on the ramparts and expressed much surprise at their strange appearance as well as at the manner in which they had been attended by Montoni's order did they dine with the signal then said Emily no Mamzel they dined long ago in an apartment at the north end of the castle but I know not when they are to go for the signal told old Carlo to see them provided with everything necessary they had been walking all about the castle and asking questions of the workmen on the ramparts I never saw such strange looking men in my life I am frightened whenever I see them Emily inquired if she had heard of Count Morano and whether he was likely to recover but Annette only knew that he was lodged in a cottage in the wood below and that everybody said he must die Emily's countenance discovered her emotion Dear Mamzel said Annette to see how young ladies will disguise themselves when they are in love I thought you hated the Count or I am sure I would not have told you and I am sure you have caused enough to hate him I hope I hate nobody replied Emily trying to smile but certainly I do not love Count Morano I should be shocked to hear of any person dying by violent means Yes Mamzel but it is his own fault Emily looked displeased and Annette mistaking the cause of her displeasure immediately began to excuse the Count in her way To be sure it was very ungentual behaviour said she to break into a ladies room and then when he found forcing was not agreeable to her to refuse to go and then when the gentleman of the castle comes to desire him to walk about his business to turn round and draw his sword and swear he will run him through the body To be sure it was very ungentual behaviour but then he was disguised in love and so did not know what he was about Enough of this said Emily who now smiled without an effort and Annette returned to a mention of the disagreement between Montoni and her lady It is nothing new said she We saw and heard enough of this at Venice though I never told you of it Mamzel Well Annette it was very prudent of you not to mention it then Be as prudent now the subject is an unpleasant one Ah dear Mamzel I consider it you can be about some folks who care so little about you I cannot bear to see you so deceived and I must tell you but it is all for your own good and not despite my lady though to speak truth I have little reason to love her but you are not speaking thus of my art I hope Annette said Emily gravely Yes Mamzel So, and if you knew as much as I do you would not look so angry I have often and often heard this ignore and heard talking over your marriage with the Count and she always advised him never to give up to your foolish whims as she was pleased to call him but to be resolute and compel you to be obedient whether you would or know and I am sure my heart has ached a thousand times and I have thought when she was so unhappy herself she might have felt a little for other people and I thank you for your pity Annette said Emily interrupting her but my aunt was unhappy then and that disturbed her temper perhaps or I think I am sure you may take away Annette I have done Dear Mamzel and take a little bit more disturbed her temper truly why? her temper is always disturbed I think and at the lose too I have heard my lady talk of you and Montseux Valancourt to Madame Merval and Madame Basin often and often in a very ill-natured way as I thought telling them what a deal of trouble she had to keep you in order and what a fatigue and distress to her and that she believed you would run away with Montseux Valancourt if she was not to watch you closely and that you connived at his coming about the house at night and good God exclaimed Emily blushing deeply it is surely impossible my aunt could thus have represented me indeed Mam I say nothing more than the truth and not all of that myself she might have found something better to discourse her about than the faults of her own niece even if you had been in fault Mamzel but I did not believe a word of what she said but my lady does not care what she says against anybody for that matter however that may be an interrupted Emily recovering her composure it does not become you to speak of the faults of my aunt to me I know you have meant well but say no more I have quite dined and yet blushed looked down and then begun slowly to clear the table is this then the reward of my ingeniousness said Emily when she was alone the treatment I am to receive from a relation an aunt who ought to have been the guardian not the slanderer of my reputation who as a woman ought to have respected the delicacy of female honour and as a relation should have protected mine but to utter false words on so nicer subject to repay the openness and I may say with honest pride the propriety of my conduct with slanders required a depravity of heart such as I could scarcely have believed existence such as I weep in a relation oh what a contrast does her character present to that of my beloved father while envy in low cunning form the chief traits of hers his was distinguished by benevolence and philosophic wisdom but now let me only remember if possible that she is unfortunate Emily threw her veil over her and went down to walk upon the ramparts the only wall indeed which was open to her though she often wished that she might be permitted to ramble among the woods below and still more that she might sometimes explore the sub-line scenes of the surrounding country but as Montaignee would not suffer her to pass the gates at the castle she tried to be contented with the romantic views she beheld from the walls the peasants who had been employed on the fortifications had left their work and the ramparts were silent and solitary their lonely appearance together with the gloom of a low-ring sky assisted the musings of her mind and threw over it a kind of melancholy tranquility such as she often loved to indulge she turned to observe a fine effect of the sun as his rays gleaming from behind a heavy cloud lighted up the west towers of the castle while the rest of the edifice was in deep shade except that through a lofty Gothic arch adjoining the town which led to another terrace the beams started in full splendour and showed the three strangers she had observed in the morning perceiving them she started the cemetery fear came over her as she looked up the long rampart and saw no other persons while she hesitated they approached the gate at the end of the terrace whether they were advancing she knew was always locked and she could not depart by the opposite extremity without meeting them but before she passed them she hostily drew a thin veil which did indeed but ill conceal her beauty they looked earnestly at her and spoke to each other in bad Italian of which she caught only a few words but the fierceness of their countenances now that she was near enough to discriminate them struck her yet more than the while singularity of their air and dress had formally done it was the countenance of the figure of him who walked between the other two that chiefly seized her attention which expressed a sullen haughtiness and a kind of dark watchful villainy that gave a thrill of horror to her heart all this was so legibly written on his features as to be seen by a single glance who she passed the group swiftly and her timid eyes scarcely rested on them a moment when she reached the terrace she stopped and perceived the stranger standing in the shadow of one of the turrets gazing after her and seemingly by their action in earnest conversation she immediately left the rampart and retired to her apartment in the evening Montoni sat late carousing with his guests in the cedar chamber his recent triumph without Morano or perhaps some other circumstance contributed to elevate his spirits to an unusual height he filled the goblet often and gave a loose to merriment and talk the gaity of Cavani on the contrary was somewhat clouded by anxiety he kept a watchful eye upon Varese whom with their utmost difficulty he had hitherto restrained from the exasperating Montoni further against Morano by a mention of his late taunting words one of the company exultingly recurred to the event of the preceding evening Varese's eyes sparkled the mention of Morano led to that of Emily of whom they were all profuse in the praise except Montoni who sat silent and then interrupted the subject and the servants had withdrawn Montoni and his friends entered into close conversation which was sometimes checked by the irresolvable temper of Varese but in which Montoni displayed his conscious superiority by that decisive look and manner which always accompanied the vigor of his thought and to which most of his companions submitted as to a power that they had no right to question though of each other's self-importance they were jealousy-scrupulous admits this conversation one of them imprudently introduced again the name of Morano and Varese now more heated by wine disregarded the expressive looks of Cavani and gave some dark hints of what had passed on the preceding night these however Montoni did not appear to understand that he continued silent in his chair without discovering any emotion while the colour of Varese increasing with the apparent insensibility of Montoni he at length told the suggestion of Morano that this castle did not lawfully belong to him and that he would not willingly leave another murder on his conscience am I to be insulted at my own table and by my own friends said Montoni with a countenance pale in anger why are the words of that madman repeated to me Varese who had expected to hear Montoni in dignation pulled forth against Morano and answered by thanks to himself looked with astonishment at Cavani who enjoyed his confusion can you be weak enough to credit the assertions of a madman rejoined Montoni or what is the same thing a man possessed by the spirit of vengeance that he has succeeded too well you believe what he said ignore said Varese we believe only what we know how interrupted Montoni sternly produced your proof we believe only what we know Varese and we know nothing of what Morano asserts Montoni seemed to recover himself I am hasty my friends said he with respect to my honour no man should question it with impunity you did not mean to question it these foolish words are not worth your remembrance all my resentment Varese here is to your first exploit to your first exploit re-echoed the whole company noble ignore replied Varese glad to find he had escaped Montoni's resentment with my good will you shall build your ramparts of gold past the goblet cried Montoni we will drink to Signora Sanabair said Cavani by your leave we will first drink to the lady of the castle Bertolini Montoni was silent to the lady of the castle said his guests he bowed his head it much surprises me Signora said Bertolini that you have so long neglected this castle it is a noble edifice it suits our purpose replied Montoni and is a noble edifice you know not it was a lucky mischance be it what it may Signora replied Bertolini smiling I would that one so lucky had befallen me Montoni look gravely at him if you will attend to what I say he resumed you shall hear the story the countenances of Bertolini and Varese express something more than curiosity Cavani who seemed to feel none probably heard the relation before it is now near 20 years said Montoni since the castle came into my possession I inherited by the female line the lady, my predecessor was only distantly related to me I am the last of her family she was beautiful and rich I wooed her but her heart was fixed upon another and she rejected me it is probable that she was herself rejected of the person whoever he might be on whom she bestowed her favour for a deep and settled melancholy took possession of her and I have reason to believe she put a period to her own life I was not at the castle at the time but as there are some singular and mysterious circumstances attending that event I shall repeat them repeat them said a voice Montoni was silent the guests looked at each other to know who spoke but they perceived that each was making the same enquiry Montoni at length recovered himself we are overheard said he we will finish this subject another time past the goblet the Cavaniers look round the wide chamber here is no person but ourselves and the sound I thought I heard seemed within the room pray, signal go on Montoni paused a moment and then proceeded in a lowered voice while the Cavaniers drew nearer to attend Montoni looked around and said there is no person beside ourselves and the sound I thought I heard the Cavaniers drew nearer to attend Yaya to know signals that the Lady Laurentini had for some months shown symptoms of a dejected mind of a disturbed imagination her mood was very unequal sometimes she was sunk in calm melancholy and others as I have been told she betrayed all the symptoms of frantic madness it was one night in the month of October after she had recovered from one of those bits of excess and had sunk again into her usual melancholy that she retired alone to her chamber and forbade all interruption it was the chamber at the end of the corridor signals where we had the affray last night from that hour she was seen no more how seen no more said Bertolini was not her body found in the chamber where her remains never found cried the rest of the company all together never replied Montoni what reasons were there to suppose she destroyed herself then said Bertolini ah, what reasons said Veressi how happened it that her remains were never found although she killed herself Montoni looked indignantly at Veressi he began to apologise your pardon said he I did not consider that the lady was your relative when I spoke of her so lightly Montoni accepted the apology that the signal will oblige us with the reasons which urged him to believe that the lady committed suicide those I will explain at present let me relate a most extraordinary circumstance this conversation goes no further she ignores listen then to what I am going to say listen said a voice they were all again silent and the countenance of Montoni changed this is no illusion of the fancy said Cavani at length breaking the profound silence no said Bertolini I heard it myself now yet here is no person in the room but ourselves this is very extraordinary said Montoni suddenly rising this is not to be born here is some deception some trick I will know what it means all the company rose from their chairs in confusion it is very odd said Bertolini here is really no stranger in the room it is a trick, signal you will do well to punish the author of it severely a trick what else can it be said Cavani affecting a laugh the servants were now summoned and the chamber was searched but no person was found the surprise and the consternation of the company increased Montoni was discomposed we will leave this room the subject of our conversation also it is too solemn his guests were equally ready to quit the apartment but the subject had roused their curiosity and they entreated Montoni to withdraw to another chamber and finish it no entreaties could however prevail with him not withstanding his efforts to appear at ease he was visibly and greatly disordered why, signal you are not superstitious cried Vareci during Lee you who have so often laughed at the credulity of others I am not superstitious replied Montoni regarding him with stern displeasure though I know how to despise the commonplace sentences which are frequently uttered against superstition I will inquire further into his affair he then left the room and his guests separating for the night retired to their respective apartments End of volume 2 Chapter 7 this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recorded by Denise March 2007 The Mysteries of Udolfo by Anne Radcliffe Volume 2 Chapter 8 he wears the rose of youth upon his cheek Shakespeare we now return to Valencor who, it may be remembered, remained at Thoulouse sometime after the departure of Emily restless and miserable with the woman tomorrow that approached he designed to carry him from thence yet tomorrow and tomorrow came and still saw him lingering in the scene of his former happiness he could not immediately tear himself from the spot where he had been accustomed to converse with Emily or from the objects they had viewed together which appeared to him memorials of her affection as well as a kind of surety for its faithfulness and, next to the pain the pain of bidding her adieu, was that of leaving the scenes which so powerfully awakened her image. Sometimes he had bribed a servant, who had been left in the care of Madame Mortoney Chateau, to permit him to visit the gardens, and there he would wander, for hours together, wrapped in a melancholy, not unpleasing. The terrace, and the pavilion at the end of it, where he had taken leave of Emily, along the eve of her departure from Thoulouse, were his most favourite haunts. There, as he walked, allying from the window of the building, he would endeavour to recollect all she had said on that night, to catch the tones of her voice, as they faintly vibrated in his memory, and to remember the exact expression of her countenance, which sometimes came suddenly to his fancy. Like a vision, that beautiful countenance, which awakened, as by instantaneous magic, all the tenderness of his heart, and seemed to tell with irresistible eloquence, that he had lost her for ever. At these moments his hurried steps would have discovered to a spectator the despair of his heart. The character of Mortoney, such as he had received from hints, and such as his fears represented it, would rise to his view, together with all the dangers it seemed to threaten to Emily and to his love. He blamed himself, that he had not urged these more forcibly to her, while it might have been in his power to detain her, and that he had suffered an absurd and criminal delicacy, as he turned it, to conquer so soon the reasonable arguments he had opposed to this journey. Any evil, that might have attended their marriage, seemed so inferior to those which now threatened their love, or even to the sufferings that absence occasioned. And he wondered how he could have ceased to urge his suit, till he had convinced her of its propriety, and he would certainly now have followed her to Italy, if he could have been spared from his regiment for so long a journey. His regiment, indeed, soon reminded him that he had other duties to attend than those of love. A short time after his arrival at his brother's house, he was summoned to join his brother officers, and he accompanied a battalion to Paris, where a scene of novelty and gaiety opened upon him, such as till then he had only a faint idea of. But gaiety discussed it, and company fatigued his sick mind, and he became an object of unceasing rail-ree to his companions, from whom, whenever he could steal an opportunity, he escaped to think of Emily. The scenes around him, however, and the company with whom he was obliged to mingle, engaged his attention, though they failed to amuse his fancy, and thus gradually weakened the habit of yielding to lamentation, till it appeared lesser duty to his love to indulge it. Among his brother officers were many, who added to the ordinary character of a French soldier's gaiety some of those fascinating qualities which too frequently throw a veil over folly, and sometimes even soften the features of vice into smiles. To these men the reserved and thoughtful manners of Valencourt were a kind of tacit censure on their own, for which they rallied him when present, and plotted against him when absent. They gloried in the thought of reducing him to their own level, and considering it to be a spirited frolic determined to accomplish it. Valencourt was a stranger to the gradual process of scheme and intrigue, against which he could not be on his guard. He had not been accustomed to receive ridicule, and he could ill-endure its sting. He resented it, and this only drew upon him a louder laugh. To escape from such scenes he fled into solitude, and there the image of Emily met him, and revived the pangs of love and despair. He then sought to renew those tasteful studies which had been the delight of his early years, but his mind had lost the tranquillity which is necessary for their enjoyment. To forget himself and the grief and anxiety which the idea of her recalled, he would quit his solitude and again mingle in the crowd, glad of temporary relief, and rejoicing to snatch amusement for the moment. This passed weeks after weeks, time gradually softening his sorrow, and habit strengthening his desire of amusement, till the scenes around him seemed to awaken into a new character, and Valencourt to have fallen among them from the clouds. His figure and address made him a welcome visitor wherever he had been introduced, and he soon frequented the most gay and fashionable circles of Paris. Among these was the assembly of the Countess Lacleur, a woman of eminent beauty and captivating manners. She had passed the spring of youth, but her wit prolonged the triumph of its reign, and they mutually assisted the fame of each other. For those who were charmed by her loveliness spoke with enthusiasm of her talents, and others who admired her playful imagination declared that her personal graces were unrivaled. But her imagination was merely playful, and her wit, if such it could be called, was brilliant rather than just. It dazzled, and its fallacy escaped the detection of the moment, for the accents in which she pronounced it, and the smile that accompanied them, were a spell upon the judgment of the auditors. Her pouties au pair were the most tasteful of any in Paris, and were frequented by many of the second class of literati. She was fond of music, was herself a scientific performer, and had frequently concerts at her house. Valencourt, who passionately loved music, and who sometimes assisted these concerts, admired her execution, but remembered with a sigh the eloquent simplicity of Emily's songs, and the natural expression of her manner, which waited not to be approved by the judgment, but found their way at once to the heart. Madame La Conteste had often deep play at her house, which she affected to restrain, but secretly encouraged, and it was well known among her friends that the splendour of her establishment was chiefly supplied from the profits of her tables. But her pouties au pair were the most charming imaginable. Here were all the delicacies of the four quarters of the world, all the wit and the lighter efforts of genius, all the graces of conversation, the smiles of beauty and the charm of music, and Valencourt passed his pleasantest as well as most dangerous hours in these parties. His brother, who remained with his family in Gascony, had contented himself with giving him letters of introduction to such of his relations residing at Paris, as the latter was not already known to. All these were persons of some distinction, and as neither the person-mind or manners of Valencourt the younger threatened to disgrace their alliance, they received him with as much kindness as their nature, hardened by uninterrupted prosperity, would admit of. But their attentions did not extend to acts of real friendship, for they were too much occupied by their own pursuits to feel any interest in his, and thus he was set down in the midst of Paris, in the pride of youth, with an open, unsuspicious temper and ardent affections without one friend to warn him of the dangers to which he was exposed. Emily, who had she been present, would have saved him from these evils by awakening his heart and engaging him in worthy pursuits, now only increased his danger. It was to lose the grief which the remembrance of her occasioned, that he first sought amusement, and for this end he pursued it, till habit made it an object of abstract interest. There was also a Marchioness chanfour, a young widow, at whose assemblies he passed much of his time. She was handsome, still more artful, gay, and fond of intrigue. The society which she drew around her was less elegant and more vivacious than that of the Countess Leclerc, but as she had addressed enough to throw a veil, though but a slight one, over the worst part of her character, she was still visited by many persons of what is called distinction. Falloncourt was introduced to her parties by two of his fellow officers, whose late ridicule he had now forgiven so far that he could sometimes join in the laugh which a mention of his former manners would renew. The gaiety of the most splendid court in Europe, the magnificence of the palace's entertainments and ecupages that surrounded him, all conspired to dazzle his imagination and reanimate his spirits, and the example and maxims of his military associates to delude his mind. Emily's image, indeed, still lived there, but it was no longer the friend, the monitor, that saved him from himself, and to which he retired to weep the sweet yet melancholy tears of tenderness. When he had recourse to it, it assumed a countenance of mild reproach that wrung his soul, and called forth tears of unmixed misery, his only escape from which was to forget the object of it, and he endeavoured, therefore, to think of Emily as seldom as he could. Thus dangerously circumstances was Falloncourt, at the time when Emily was suffering at Venice, from the persecuting addresses of Count Morano, and the unjust authority of Montagny, at which period we leave him. CHAPTER IX The image of a wicked heinous fault lives in his eye, that close aspect of his does show the mood of a much troubled breast. King John, leaving the gay scenes of Paris, we return to those of the gloomy Apennine, where Emily's thoughts were still faithful to Falloncourt. Looking to him as to her only hope, she recollected with jealous exactness every assurance and every proof she had witnessed of his affaction, read again and again the letters she had received from him, weighed with intense anxiety the force of every word that spoke of his attachment, and dried her tears as she trusted in his truth. Montoni, meanwhile, had made strict inquiry concerning the strange circumstance of his alarm without obtaining information, and was at length obliged to account for it by the reasonable supposition that it was a mischievous trick played off by one of his domestics. His disagreements with Madame Montoni on the subject of her settlements were now more frequent than ever. He even confined her entirely to her own apartment, and did not scruple to threaten her with much greater severity, should she persevere in a refusal. Reason, had she consulted it, would now have perplexed her in the choice of conduct to be adopted. It would have pointed out the danger of irritating by further opposition a man such as Montoni had proved himself to be, and whose power she had so entirely committed herself, and it would also have told her of what extreme importance to her future comfort it was to reserve for herself those possessions which would enable her to live independently of Montoni, should she ever escape from his immediate control. But she was directed by a more decisive guide than reason, the spirit of revenge, which urged her to oppose violence to violence, and obstinacy to obstinacy. Holy confined to the solitude of her apartment, she was now reduced to solicit the society she had lately rejected, for Emily was the only person except in that with whom she was permitted to converse. Generously anxious for her peace, Emily therefore tried to persuade, when she could not convince, and sought by every gentle means to endures her to forbear that asparity of her reply which so greatly irritated of Montoni. The pride of her aunt did sometimes soften to the soothing voice of Emily, and there were even moments when she regarded her affectionate attentions with goodwill. The scenes of terrible contention to which Emily was frequently compelled to be witnessed exhausted her spirits more than any circumstance that had occurred since her departure from Thelouse. The gentleness and goodness of her parents, together with the scenes of her early happiness often stole on her mind like the visions of a higher world, while the characters and circumstances now passing beneath her eye excited both terror and surprise. She could scarcely have imagined that passions so fierce and so various as those which Montoni exhibited could have been concentrated in one individual, yet what more surprised her was that on great occasions he could bend these passions wild as they were to the cause of his interest, and generally could disguise in his countenance their operation on his mind, but she had seen him too often when he had thought it unnecessary to conceal his nature to be deceived on such occasions. Her present life appeared like the dream of a distempered imagination, or like one of those frightful fictions in which the wild genius of poets sometimes delighted. Reflection brought only regret and anticipation terror. How often did she wish to steal the lark's wing and mount the swiftest gale that Languedoc and Repoes might once more be hers? Of Count Morano's health she made frequent inquiry, but Annette heard only vague reports of his danger and that his surgeon had said he would never leave the cottage alive. Well Emily could not but be shocked to think that she, however innocently, might be the means of his death, and Annette, who did not fail to observe her emotion, interpreted it in her own way. But a circumstance soon occurred which entirely withdrew Annette's attention from the subject and awakened the surprise and curiosity so natural to her. Coming one day to Emily's apartment, with a countenance full of importance, What can all this mean, Memzau? said she. Would I was safe in Languedoc again? They should never catch me going on my travels any more. I must think it a fine thing truly to come abroad and see foreign parts. I little thought I was coming to be catched up in an old castle among such dreary mountains with the chance of being murdered, or what is as good having my throat cut. What can all this mean indeed, Annette? said Emily in astonishment. I, Memzau, you may look surprised, but you won't believe it. Perhaps till they have murdered you, too. You would not believe about the ghost I told you of, though I showed you the very place where it used to appear. You will believe nothing, Memzau. Not till you speak more reasonably, Annette, for heaven's sake, explain your meaning. You spoke of murder. I, Memzau, they are coming to murder us all. But what signifies explaining? You will not believe. Emily again desired her to relate what she had seen or heard. Oh, I have seen enough, Mem, and heard too much, as Ludovico can prove. Poor soul! They will murder him, too. I little thought when he sung those sweet verses under my lattice at Venice. Emily looked impatient and displeased. Well, Memzau, as I was saying, these preparations about the castle and the strange looking people that are calling here every day and the senior's cruel usage of my lady and his odd goings on, all these, as I told Ludovico, can vote no good, and he bid me hold my tongue. So, says I, the senior strangely altered Ludovico in this gloomy castle to what he was in France. They are all so gay. Nobody so gallant to my lady then, and he could smile, too, upon a poor servant sometimes, and jeer her too, good-naturely enough. I remember once, when he said to me, as I was going out of my lady's dressing room, and it says he, never mind what the senior said interrupted Emily, but tell me, at once, the circumstance which has thus alarmed you. I, Memzau, rejoined in it. That is just what Ludovico said. Says he, never mind what the senior says to you. So I told him what I thought about the senior. He is so strangely altered, said I. For now he was so haughty, and so commanding, and so sharp with my lady. And if he meets one, he'll scarcely look at one, unless it be to frown. So much the better, says Ludovico, so much the better. And to tell you the truth, Memzau, I thought this was a very ill-natured speech of Ludovico, but I went on. And then, says I, he's always knitting his brows, and if one speaks to him, he does not hear. And then he sits up, counselling, so of a night, with the other seniors. There they are, till long past midnight, discursing together. I, but says Ludovico, you don't know what they are counselling about. No, said I, but I can guess. It is about my young lady. Upon that Ludovico burst out a laughing, quite loud. So he put me in a huff. For I did not like that either I or you, Memzau, should be laughed at, and I turned away quick, but he stopped me. Don't be affronted in that city, but I cannot help laughing. And with that he laughed again. What says he? Do you think the seniors sit up night after night, only to counsel after thy young lady? No, no, there is something more in the wind than that. When these repairs about the castle, and these preparations about the ramparts, they are not making about young ladies. Why, surely, says I, the senior or my master is not going to make war. Make war, says Ludovico, what upon the mountains and the woods? For here is no living soul to make war upon that I see. What are these preparations for, then, said I? Why, surely, nobody is coming to take away my master's castle. Then there are so many ill-looking fellows coming to the castle every day, says Ludovico, without answering my question, and the senior sees them all, and talks with them all, and they all stay in the neighborhood. By holy St. Marko. Some of them are the most cutthroat-looking dogs I ever set my eyes upon. I asked Ludovico again if he thought they were coming to take away my master's castle, and he said no. He did not think they were, but he did not know for certain. Then yesterday, said he, but you must not tell this, menzel. Yesterday a party of these men came, and left all their horses in the castle of Stables, where it seems they are to stay, for the senior ordered them all to be entertained with the best proventer in the manger. But the men are most of them in the neighboring cottages. So menzel, I came to tell you all this, for I never heard anything so strange in my life. But what can all these ill-looking men be about, if it is not to murder us? And the senior knows this, and why should he be so civil to them? And why should he fortify the castle, and counsel so much with the other seniors, and be so thoughtful? Is this all you have to tell, Annette? Said Emily, have you heard nothing else that alarms you? Nothing else, menzel, said Annette. Why, is not this enough? Quite enough for my patience, Annette, but not quite enough to convince me we are all to be murdered, though I acknowledge here is sufficient food for curiosity. She forbore to speak her apprehensions, because she would not encourage Annette's wild terrors, but the present circumstances of the castle both surprised and alarmed her. Annette, having told her tale, left the chamber on the wing for new wonders. In the evening Emily had passed some melancholy hours with Madame Montoni, and was retiring to rest when she was alarmed by a strange and loud knocking at her chamber door, and then a heavy weight fell against it, that almost burst it open. She called to know who was there, and, receiving no answer, repeated the call, but a chilling silence followed. It occurred to her, for at this moment she could not reason on the probability of circumstances, that some one of the strangers, lately arrived at the castle, had discovered her apartment, and was come with such intent as it looks rendered too possible to rob perhaps to murder her. The moment she admitted this possibility, terror supplied the place of conviction, and a kind of instinctive remembrance of her remote situation from the family heightened it to a degree, that almost overcame her senses. She looked at the door which led to the staircase, expecting to see it open, and, listening in fearful silence, for a return of the noise till she began to think it had proceeded from the door, and a wish of escaping, through the opposite one, rushed upon her mind. She went to the gallery door, and then, fearing to open it, lest some person might be silently lurking for her without, she stopped, but with her eyes fixed in expectation upon the opposite door of the staircase. As lest she stood, she heard a faint breathing near her, and became convinced that some person was on the other side of the door, which was already locked. She saw it for other fascinating, but there was none. While she yet listened, the breathing was distinctly heard, and her terror was not soothed when, looking round her wide and lonely chamber, she again considered her remote situation. As she stood hesitating whether to call for assistance, a continuance of the stillness surprised her, and her spirits would have revived, as she not continued to hear the faint breathing that convinced her, the person, whoever it was, had not quit at the door. At length, worn out with anxiety, she determined to call loudly for assistance from her casement, and was advancing to it, when whether the terror of her mind gave her ideal sounds, or that real ones did come, she thought footsteps were ascending the private staircase, and expecting to see its door unclosed, she forgot all other cause of alarm, and retreated towards the corridor. Here she endeavored to make her escape, but unopening the door was very near falling over a person who lay on the floor without. She screamed, and would have passed, but her trembling frame refused to support her, and the moment in which she leaned against the wall of the gallery, allowed her leisure to observe the figure before her, and to recognize the features of Annette. Fear instantly yielded to surprise. She spoke in vain to the poor girl, who remained senseless on the floor, and then losing all consciousness of her own weakness hurried to her assistance. When Annette recovered, she was helped by Emily into the chamber, but was still unable to speak, and looked round her as if her eyes followed some person in the room. Emily tried to soothe her disturbed spirits, and forbear at present to ask her any questions, but the faculty of speech was never long withheld from Annette, and she explained in broken sentences, and in her tedious way the occasion of her disorder. She affirmed, and with a solemnity of conviction, that almost staggered the incredulity of Emily, that she had seen an apparition as she was passing to her bedroom through the corridor. I had heard strange stories of that chamber before Annette, but as it was so near yours, Lemzal, I would not tell them to you, because they would frighten you. The servants had told me, often and often, that it was haunted, and that was the reason why it was shut up, nay, for that matter, why the whole string of these rooms here are shut up. I quaked whenever I went by, and I must say, I did sometimes think I heard odd noises within it. But as I said, as I was passing along the corridor, and not thinking a word about the matter, or even of the strange voice that the seniors heard the other night, all of a sudden comes a great light, and looking behind me, there was a tall figure. I saw it as plainly, Memzal, as I see you at this moment, a tall figure gliding along. Oh, I cannot describe how, into the room, that is always shut up, and nobody has the key of it but the senior, and the door shut directly. Then it doubtless was the senior, said Emily. Oh, no, Memzal, it could not be him, for I left him busy acquirling in my lady's dressing-room. You bring me strange tales in that, said Emily. It was but this morning that you would have terrified me with the apprehension of murder, and now you would persuade me you have seen a ghost. These wonderful stories come too quickly. Name, Memzal. I will say no more, only if I had not been frightened I should not have fainted dead away, so I ran as fast as I could to get to your door. But what was the worst of all? I could not call out. Then I thought something must be strangely the matter with me, and directly I dropped down. Was it the chamber where the black veil hangs, said Emily? Oh, no, Memzal. It was one nearer to this. What shall I do to get to my room? I would not go out into the corridor again for the whole world. Emily, whose spirits had been severely shocked, and who, therefore, did not like the thought of passing the night alone, told her she might sleep where she was. Oh, no, Memzal, replied Annette. I would not sleep in the room now for a thousand sequins. Worried and disappointed, Emily first ridiculed, though she shared her fears, and then tried to soothe them. But neither attempt succeeded, and the girl persisted in believing and affirming that what she had seen was nothing human. It was not till some time after Emily had recovered her composure that she recollected the steps she had heard on the staircase. A remembrance, however, which made her insist that Annette should pass the night with her. And with much difficulty she at length prevailed, assisted by that part of the girl's fear which concerned the corridor. End of Volume 2, Chapter 9, Part 1 of 2. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to find out how you can volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Volume 2, Chapter 9, Part 2 of 2. Early on the following morning, as Emily crossed the hall to the ramparts, she heard a noisy bustle in the courtyard, and the clatter of horses' hoofs. Such unusual sounds excited her curiosity, and instead of going to the ramparts she went to an upper casement, from which she saw, in the court below, a large party of horsemen dressed in singular but uniform habit, and completely, though variously armed. They wore a kind of short jacket composed of black and scarlet, and several of them had a cloak of plain black, which covering the person entirely hung down to the stirrups. As one of these cloaks glanced aside, she saw beneath daggers, apparently of different sizes, tucked into the horseman's belt. She further observed that these were carried in the same manner by many of the horsemen without cloaks, most of whom bore also pikes or javelins. On their heads were the small Italian caps, some of which were distinguished by black feathers. Whether these caps gave fierce air to the countenance, or that these countenances they surmounted had naturally such an appearance, Emily thought she had never, till then, in an semblance of faces so savage and terrific. While she gazed she almost fancied herself surrounded by banditie, and a vague thought glanced a-thort, her fancy, that Montoni was the captain of the group before her, and that this castle was to be the place of rendezvous. The strange and horrible supposition was but momentary, though her reason could supply none more probable, and though she discovered, among the band, the strangers she had formally noticed was so much alarm, who were now distinguished by the black plume. While she continued gazing, Cavini, Veretzi, and Bertolini came forth from the hall, habited like the rest, except that they wore hats, with a mixed plume of black and scarlet, and that their arms differed from those of the rest of the party. As they mounted their horses, Emily was struck with the exulting joy expressed in the visage of Veretzi, while Cavini was gay, yet with a shade of thought on his countenance. And as he managed his horse with dexterity, his graceful and commanding figure, which exhibited the majesty of a hero, had never appeared to more advantage. Emily, as she observed him, thought he somewhat resembled Valencor in the spirit and dignity of his person, but she looked in vain for the noble, benevolent countenance, the soul's intelligence which overspread the features of the latter. As she was hoping, she scarcely knew why that Montoni would accompany the party, he appeared at the hall door, but on a cutrid. Having carefully observed the horsemen, conversed awhile with the Cavaliers, and bidden them farewell, the band wheeled round the court, and led by Veretzi, issued forth under the portcullis. Emily followed to the portal, and gazing after them for some time, Emily then retired from the casement. And now, certain of being un-lested, went to walk on the ramparts, from whence she soon after saw the party winding among the mountains to the west, appearing and disappearing between the woods till distance confused their figures, consolidated their numbers, and only a dingy mass appeared moving along the heights. Emily observed that no workmen were on the ramparts, and that the repairs of the fortifications seemed to be completed. While she sauntered thoughtfully on, she heard distant footsteps, and raising her eyes saw several men lurking under the castle walls, who were evidently not workmen, but looked as if they would have accorded well with the party, which was gone. Wondering where Annette had hid herself so long, who might have explained some of the late circumstances, and then considering that Madame Montoni was probably risen, she went to her dressing-room, where she mentioned what had occurred, but Madame Montoni either would not, or could not, give any explanation of the event. The seniors reserved to his wife on this subject was probably nothing more than usual, yet to Emily it gave an air of mystery to the whole affair that seemed to hint there was danger, if not villainy, in his schemes. Annette presently came, and as usual was full of alarm, to her ladies' eager inquiries of what she had heard among the servants. She replied, Ah Madame, nobody knows what is all about, but old Carlo, he knows well enough, I dare say, but he is as close as his master. Some say the senior is going out to frighten the enemy, as they call it, but where is the enemy? Then others say, he is going to take away somebody's castle, but I am sure he is room enough in his own without taking other peoples, and I am sure I should like it a great deal better if there were more people to fill it. Ah, you will soon have your wish, I fear, replied Madame Montoni. No Madame, but such ill-looking fellows are not worth having. I mean such gallant, smart, merry fellows as Ludovico, who is always telling droll stories to make one laugh. It was, but yesterday he told me such a humorsome tale. I can't help laughing at it now. Says he, well we can dispense with the stories, said her lady. Ah, continue to net. He sees a great way further than other people. Now he sees into all the senior's meaning, without knowing a word about the matter. How is that? said Madame Montoni. Why he says, but he made me promise not to tell, and I would not disoblige him for the world. What is it he made you promise not to tell? said her lady sternly. I insist upon knowing immediately. What is it he made you promise? Oh, Madame cried to net. I would not tell for the universe. I insist upon your telling this instant, said Madame Montoni. Oh, dear Madame, I would not tell for a hundred sequins. You would not have me forswear myself, Madame, exclaimed Madame. I will not wait another moment, said Madame Montoni, and that was silent. The senior shall be informed of this directly, rejoined her mistress. He will make you discover all. It is Ludovico who has discovered Sedanette. But for mercy's sake, Madame, don't tell the senior, and you shall know all directly. Madame Montoni said that she would not. Well then, Madame, Ludovico says that the senior, my master, is, that is, she only thinks so, and anybody, you know, Madame, is free to think that the senior, my master, is, is, is what, said her lady impatiently, that the senior, my master, is going to be a great robber, that is, he is going to rob on his own account to be, but I am sure I don't understand what he means, to be a captain of robbers. Art thou in thy senses, Annette, said Madame Montoni? Or is this a trick to deceive me? Tell me, this instant, what Ludovico did say to thee? No evocations, this instant. Name, Madame, cried Annette, if this is all I am to get for having told the secret. Her mistress thus continued to insist, and Annette to protest, till Montoni himself appeared, who bade the latter leave the room, and she withdrew trembling for the fate of her story. Montoni also was retiring, but her aunt desired she would stay, and Montoni had so often made her a witness of their contention, that he no longer had scruples on that account. I insist upon knowing this instant, senior, what all this means, said his wife. What are all these armed men, whom they tell me I have gone out about? Montoni answered her only with a look of scorn, and Emily whispered something to her. It does not signify, said her aunt. I will know, and I will know, too, what the castle has been fortified for. Come, come, said Montoni. Other business brought me here. I must be trifled with no longer. I have immediate occasion for what I demand. Those estates must be given up without fear of their contention. Or I may find a way they shall never be given up, interrupted Madame Montoni. They never shall enable you to carry on your wild schemes. But what are these? I will know. Do you expect the castle to be attacked? Do you expect enemies? Am I to be shot up here to be killed in a siege? Sign the writing, said Montoni, and you shall know more. What enemy can be coming, continued his wife. Have you entered into the service of the state? Am I to be blocked up here to die? That may possibly happen, said Montoni, unless you yield to my demand. For come what may, you shall not quit the castle till then. Madame Montoni burst into loud lamentation, which she has suddenly checked considering that her husband's assertions might be only artifices employed to extort her consent. She hinted this suspicion, and in the next moment told him also that his designs were not so honourable as to serve the state, and that she believed that he had only commenced as a captain of Mediti to join the enemies of Venice in plundering and laying waste the surrounding country. Montoni looked at her for a moment with a steady and stern countenance, while Emily trembled, and his wife for once thought she had said too much. You shall be removed this night, city, to the East Terrap. There perhaps you may understand the danger of offending a man who has an unlimited power over you. Emily now fell at his feet, and with tears of terror supplicated for her aunt, who sat trembling with fear and indignation, now ready to pour forth execrations, and now to join the intercessions of Emily. Montoni, however, soon interrupted these entreaties with an horrible oath, and as he burst from Emily leaving his cloak in her hand, she fell to the floor with a force that occasioned her a severe blow on the forehead. But he quitted the room without attempting to raise her, whose attention was called from herself by a deep groan from Madame Montoni, who continued otherwise unmoved in her chair, and had not fainted. Emily, hastening to her assistance, saw her eyes rolling and her features convulsed. Having spoken to her without receiving an answer, she brought water and supported her head, while she held it to her lips, but the increasing convulsion soon compelled Emily to call for assistance. On her way through the hall in search of Annette, she met Montoni, whom she told what had happened, and conjured to return and comfort her aunt, but he turned silently away with a look of indifference and went out upon the ramparts. At length she found Old Carlo and Annette, and they hastened to the dressing room, where Madame Montoni had fallen on the floor and was lying in strong convulsions. Having lifted her into the adjoining room, and later on in the bed, the force of her disorder still made all their strength necessary to hold her, while Annette trembled and sobbed, and Old Carlo looked silently and piteously on, as his feeble hands grasped those of his mistress, till, turning his eyes upon Emily, he exclaimed, Good God, Signora, what is the matter? Emily looked calmly at him, and saw his inquiring eyes fixed on her, and Annette, looking up, screamed loudly, for Emily's face was stained with blood, which continued to fall slowly from her forehead, but her attention had been so entirely occupied by the scene before her that she had felt no pain from the wound. She now held in a handkerchief to her face, and, notwithstanding her faintness, continued to watch Madame Montoni, the violence of whose convulsions was abating, till at length they ceased and left her in a kind of stupor. My aunt must remain quiet, said Emily. Go, Good Carlo, if we should want your assistance I will send for you. In the meantime, if you have an opportunity, speak kindly of your mistress to your master. Alas, said Carlo, I have seen too much. I have little influence with the Signore. But do, dear lady, take some care of yourself. That is an ugly wound, and you look sadly. Thank you, my friend, for your consideration, said Emily, smiling kindly. The wound is trifling. It came by a fall. Carlo shook his head and left the room, and Emily, with Annette, continued to watch by her aunt. Did my lady tell the Signore what Ludovico said, memswell? asked Annette in a whisper. But Emily quieted her fears on the subject. I thought what this quarreling would come to, continued Annette. I suppose the Signore has been beating my lady. No, no, Annette, you are totally mistaken. Nothing extraordinary has happened. Why, extraordinary things happen here so often, memswell, that there is nothing in them. Here is another legion of those ill-looking fellows come to the castle this morning. Hush, Annette, you will disturb my aunt. We will talk of that by and by. They continued watching silently, till Madame Montoni uttered a low sigh when Emily took her hand, and spoke soothingly to her. The former gazed with unconscious eyes, and it was long before she knew her niece. Her first words then inquired for Montoni, to which Emily replied by an entreaty that she would compose her spirits, and consent to be kept quiet, adding that if she wished any message to be conveyed to him, she would herself deliver it. No, said her aunt faintly, no, I have nothing new to tell him. Does he persist in saying I shall be removed from my chamber? Emily replied that he had not spoken on the subject, since Madame Montoni heard from him. And then she tried to divert her attention to some other topic, but her aunt seemed to be inattentive to what was said, and lost in secret thoughts. Emily, having brought her summer freshman, now left her to the care of Annette, and went in search of Montoni, whom she found on a remote part of the rampart, conversing among a group of the men described by Annette. They stood round him with fierce yet subjugated looks, while he, speaking earnestly and pointing to the walls, did not perceive Emily, who remained at some distance, waiting till he should be at leisure, and observing involuntarily the appearance of one man, more savage than his fellows, who stood resting on his bike, and looking over the shoulders of a comrade at Montoni to whom he listened with uncommon earnestness. This man was apparently of low condition, yet his looks appeared not to acknowledge the superiority of Montoni as did those of his companions, and sometimes they even assumed an air of authority, which the decisive manner of the senior could not repress. Some few words of Montoni then passed in the wind, and as the men were separating, she heard him say, this evening, then begin the watch at sunset. At sunset, senora, replied one or two of them, and walked away, while Emily approached Montoni, who appeared desirous of avoiding her. But though she observed this, she had courage to proceed. She endeavored to intercede once more for her aunt, representing to him her sufferings, and urged the danger of exposing her to a cold apartment in her present state. She suffers by her own folly, said Montoni, and is not to be pitied. She knows how she may avoid these sufferings in future. If she is removed to the turret, it will be her own fault. Let her be obedient and sign the writings you heard of, and I will think no more of it. When Emily ventured still to plead, he sternly silenced and rebuked her for interfering in his domestic affairs, but at length dismissed her with this concession that he would not remove Madame Montoni on the ensuing night, but allow her till the next two to consider whether she would resign her settlements, or be imprisoned in the east turret of the castle. Where she shall find, he added, a punishment she may not expect. Emily then hastened to inform her aunt of this short respite, and of the alternative that awaited her, to which the latter made no reply, but appeared thoughtful. While Emily, in consideration of her extreme langer, wished to soothe her mind by leading it to less interesting topics, and though these efforts were unsuccessful, and Madame Montoni became peevish, her resolution on the contended point seemed somewhat to relax, and Emily recommended, as her only means of safety, that she should submit to Montoni's demand. You know not what you advise, said her aunt. Do you understand that these estates will descend to you at my death if I persist in a refusal? I was ignorant of that circumstance, Madame, replied Emily, but the knowledge of it cannot withhold me from advising you to adopt the conduct, which not only your peace but I fear your safety requires, and I entreat that you will not suffer a consideration comparatively so trifling to make you hesitate a moment in resigning them. Are you sincere, niece? Is it possible that you can doubt it, Madame? Her aunt appeared to be affected. You are not unworthy of these estates, niece, said she. I would wish to keep them for your sake. You show a virtue I did not expect. How have I deserved this reproof, Madame? said Emily sorenfully. Proof, replied Madame Montoni, I meant to praise your virtue. Alas, here is no exertion of virtue, rejoined Emily, for here is no temptation to be overcome. Yet Montseur Valencourt, said her aunt, oh, Madame, interrupted Emily, anticipating what she would have said, do not let me glance on that subject, do not let my mind be strained with a wish so shockingly self-interested. She immediately changed the topic and continued with Madame Montoni, till she withdrew to her apartment for the night. At that hour the castle was perfectly still, and every inhabitant of it, except herself, seemed ever tired to rest. As she passed along the wide and lonely galleries, dusky and silent, she felt forlorn and apprehensive of, she scarcely knew what. But when entering the corridor, she recollected the incident of the preceding night, a dread seized her, lest a subject of alarm similar to that which had befallen Annette should occur to her, in which, whether real or ideal, would, she felt, have an almost equal effect upon her weakened spirits. The chamber, to which Annette had eluded, she did not exactly know, but understood it to be one of those she must pass on the way to her own. And sending a fearful look forward to the gloom, she stepped lightly and cautiously along till, coming to a door from which issued a low sound, she hesitated and paused. And during the delay of that moment, her fears so much increased, that she had no power to move from the spot. Knowing that she heard a human voice within, she was somewhat revived, but in the next moment the door was opened, and a person, whom she conceived to be a Montoni, appeared, who instantly started back and closed it, though not before she had seen, by the light that burned in the chamber, another person, sitting in a melancholy attitude by the fire. Her terror vanished, but her astonishment only began, which was now roused by the mysterious secrecy of Montoni's manner, and by the discovery of a person, whom he thus visited at midnight, in an apartment, which had long been shut up, and of which such extraordinary reports were circulating. While she thus continued hesitating, strongly prompted to watch Montoni's motions, yet fearing to irritate him by appearing to notice them, the door was again open cautiously and as instantly closed as before. She then stepped softly to her chamber, which was the next one to this, but having put down her lamp returned to an obscure coroner of the corridor to observe the proceedings of this half-seen person and to ascertain whether it was indeed Montoni. Having waited in silent expectation for a few minutes, with her eyes fixed on the door, it was again opened, and the same person appeared, whom she now knew to be Montoni. She looked cautiously round without perceiving her, then, stepping forward, closed the door and left the corridor. Soon after, Emily heard the door fastened on the inside, and she withdrew to her chamber, wondering at what she had witnessed. It was now twelve o'clock. As she closed her casement, she heard footsteps on the terrace below, and saw imperfectly, through the gloom, several persons advancing, who passed under the casement. She then heard the clink of arms, and in the next moment, the watchward, when recollecting the command she had overheard from Montoni, and the hour of the night she understood that these men were, for the first time, relieving guard in the castle. Having listened till all again was still, she retired to sleep. Volume 2 Chapter 9 Part 2 of 2