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Chapter 6

  • > Might we but hear The folded flocks penn'd in their watled cotes, Or soun_f pastoral reed with oaten stops, Or whistle from the lodge, or village coc_ount the night watches to his feathery dames, 'Twould be some solace yet, some little cheering In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs.
  • >
  • > MILTON
  • In the morning, Emily was relieved from her fears for Annette, who came at a_arly hour.
  • 'Here were fine doings in the castle, last night, ma'amselle,' said she, a_oon as she entered the room,—'fine doings, indeed! Was you not frightened, ma'amselle, at not seeing me?'
  • 'I was alarmed both on your account and on my own,' replied Emily— 'Wha_etained you?'
  • 'Aye, I said so, I told him so; but it would not do. It was not my fault, indeed, ma'amselle, for I could not get out. That rogue Ludovico locked me u_gain.'
  • 'Locked you up!' said Emily, with displeasure, 'Why do you permit Ludovico t_ock you up?'
  • 'Holy Saints!' exclaimed Annette, 'how can I help it! If he will lock th_oor, ma'amselle, and take away the key, how am I to get out, unless I jum_hrough the window? But that I should not mind so much, if the casements her_ere not all so high; one can hardly scramble up to them on the inside, an_ne should break one's neck, I suppose, going down on the outside. But yo_now, I dare say, ma'am, what a hurly-burly the castle was in, last night; yo_ust have heard some of the uproar.'
  • 'What, were they disputing, then?' said Emily.
  • 'No, ma'amselle, nor fighting, but almost as good, for I believe there was no_ne of the Signors sober; and what is more, not one of those fine ladie_ober, either. I thought, when I saw them first, that all those fine silks an_ine veils,—why, ma'amselle, their veils were worked with silver! and fin_rimmings—boded no good—I guessed what they were!'
  • 'Good God!' exclaimed Emily, 'what will become of me!'
  • 'Aye, ma'am, Ludovico said much the same thing of me. Good God! said he, Annette, what is to become of you, if you are to go running about the castl_mong all these drunken Signors?'
  • 'O! says I, for that matter, I only want to go to my young lady's chamber, an_ have only to go, you know, along the vaulted passage and across the grea_all and up the marble stair-case and along the north gallery and through th_est wing of the castle and I am in the corridor in a minute.' 'Are you so?
  • says he, and what is to become of you, if you meet any of those nobl_avaliers in the way?' 'Well, says I, if you think there is danger, then, g_ith me, and guard me; I am never afraid when you are by.' 'What! says he, when I am scarcely recovered of one wound, shall I put myself in the way o_etting another? for if any of the cavaliers meet you, they will fal_-fighting with me directly. No, no, says he, I will cut the way shorter, tha_hrough the vaulted passage and up the marble stair- case, and along the nort_allery and through the west wing of the castle, for you shall stay here, Annette; you shall not go out of this room, to-night.' 'So, with that I says'—
  • 'Well, well,' said Emily, impatiently, and anxious to enquire on anothe_ubject,—'so he locked you up?'
  • 'Yes, he did indeed, ma'amselle, notwithstanding all I could say to th_ontrary; and Caterina and I and he staid there all night. And in a fe_inutes after I was not so vexed, for there came Signor Verezzi roaring alon_he passage, like a mad bull, and he mistook Ludovico's hall, for old Carlo's; so he tried to burst open the door, and called out for more wine, for that h_ad drunk all the flasks dry, and was dying of thirst. So we were all as stil_s night, that he might suppose there was nobody in the room; but the Signo_as as cunning as the best of us, and kept calling out at the door, "Com_orth, my antient hero!" said he, "here is no enemy at the gate, that you nee_ide yourself: come forth, my valorous Signor Steward!" Just then old Carl_pened his door, and he came with a flask in his hand; for, as soon as th_ignor saw him, he was as tame as could be, and followed him away as naturall_s a dog does a butcher with a piece of meat in his basket. All this I sa_hrough the key-hole. Well, Annette, said Ludovico, jeeringly, shall I let yo_ut now? O no, says I, I would not'—
  • 'I have some questions to ask you on another subject,' interrupted Emily, quite wearied by this story. 'Do you know whether there are any prisoners i_he castle, and whether they are confined at this end of the edifice?'
  • 'I was not in the way, ma'amselle,' replied Annette, 'when the first part_ame in from the mountains, and the last party is not come back yet, so _on't know, whether there are any prisoners; but it is expected back to-night, or to-morrow, and I shall know then, perhaps.'
  • Emily enquired if she had ever heard the servants talk of prisoners.
  • 'Ah ma'amselle!' said Annette archly, 'now I dare say you are thinking o_onsieur Valancourt, and that he may have come among the armies, which, the_ay, are come from our country, to fight against this state, and that he ha_et with some of OUR people, and is taken captive. O Lord! how glad I shoul_e, if it was so!'
  • 'Would you, indeed, be glad?' said Emily, in a tone of mournful reproach.
  • 'To be sure I should, ma'am,' replied Annette, 'and would not you be glad too, to see Signor Valancourt? I don't know any chevalier I like better, I have _ery great regard for the Signor, truly.'
  • 'Your regard for him cannot be doubted,' said Emily, 'since you wish to se_im a prisoner.'
  • 'Why no, ma'amselle, not a prisoner either; but one must be glad to see him, you know. And it was only the other night I dreamt—I dreamt I saw him driv_nto the castle-yard all in a coach and six, and dressed out, with a lace_oat and a sword, like a lord as he is.'
  • Emily could not forbear smiling at Annette's ideas of Valancourt, and repeate_er enquiry, whether she had heard the servants talk of prisoners.
  • 'No, ma'amselle,' replied she, 'never; and lately they have done nothing bu_alk of the apparition, that has been walking about of a night on th_amparts, and that frightened the sentinels into fits. It came among them lik_ flash of fire, they say, and they all fell down in a row, till they came t_hemselves again; and then it was gone, and nothing to be seen but the ol_astle walls; so they helped one another up again as fast as they could. Yo_ould not believe, ma'amselle, though I shewed you the very cannon, where i_sed to appear.'
  • 'And are you, indeed, so simple, Annette,' said Emily, smiling at this curiou_xaggeration of the circumstances she had witnessed, 'as to credit thes_tories?'
  • 'Credit them, ma'amselle! why all the world could not persuade me out of them.
  • Roberto and Sebastian and half a dozen more of them went into fits! To b_ure, there was no occasion for that; I said, myself, there was no need o_hat, for, says I, when the enemy comes, what a pretty figure they will cut, if they are to fall down in fits, all of a row! The enemy won't be so civil, perhaps, as to walk off, like the ghost, and leave them to help one anothe_p, but will fall to, cutting and slashing, till he makes them all rise u_ead men. No, no, says I, there is reason in all things: though I might hav_allen down in a fit that was no rule for them, being, because it is n_usiness of mine to look gruff, and fight battles.'
  • Emily endeavoured to correct the superstitious weakness of Annette, though sh_ould not entirely subdue her own; to which the latter only replied, 'Nay, ma'amselle, you will believe nothing; you are almost as bad as the Signo_imself, who was in a great passion when they told of what had happened, an_wore that the first man, who repeated such nonsense, should be thrown int_he dungeon under the east turret. This was a hard punishment too, for onl_alking nonsense, as he called it, but I dare say he had other reasons fo_alling it so, than you have, ma'am.'
  • Emily looked displeased, and made no reply. As she mused upon the recollecte_ppearance, which had lately so much alarmed her, and considered th_ircumstances of the figure having stationed itself opposite to her casement, she was for a moment inclined to believe it was Valancourt, whom she had seen.
  • Yet, if it was he, why did he not speak to her, when he had the opportunity o_oing so—and, if he was a prisoner in the castle, and he could be here in n_ther character, how could he obtain the means of walking abroad on th_ampart? Thus she was utterly unable to decide, whether the musician and th_orm she had observed, were the same, or, if they were, whether this wa_alancourt. She, however, desired that Annette would endeavour to lear_hether any prisoners were in the castle, and also their names.
  • 'O dear, ma'amselle!' said Annette, 'I forget to tell you what you bade me as_bout, the ladies, as they call themselves, who are lately come to Udolpho.
  • Why that Signora Livona, that the Signor brought to see my late lady a_enice, is his mistress now, and was little better then, I dare say. An_udovico says (but pray be secret, ma'am) that his excellenza introduced he_nly to impose upon the world, that had begun to make free with her character.
  • So when people saw my lady notice her, they thought what they had heard mus_e scandal. The other two are the mistresses of Signor Verezzi and Signo_ertolini; and Signor Montoni invited them all to the castle; and so, yesterday, he gave a great entertainment; and there they were, all drinkin_uscany wine and all sorts, and laughing and singing, till they made th_astle ring again. But I thought they were dismal sounds, so soon after m_oor lady's death too; and they brought to my mind what she would hav_hought, if she had heard them—but she cannot hear them now, poor soul! sai_.'
  • Emily turned away to conceal her emotion, and then desired Annette to go, an_ake enquiry, concerning the prisoners, that might be in the castle, bu_onjured her to do it with caution, and on no account to mention her name, o_hat of Monsieur Valancourt.
  • 'Now I think of it, ma'amselle,' said Annette, 'I do believe there ar_risoners, for I overheard one of the Signor's men, yesterday, in the servant_all, talking something about ransoms, and saying what a fine thing it was fo_is excellenza to catch up men, and they were as good booty as any other, because of the ransoms. And the other man was grumbling, and saying it wa_ine enough for the Signor, but none so fine for his soldiers, because, sai_e, we don't go shares there.'
  • This information heightened Emily's impatience to know more, and Annett_mmediately departed on her enquiry.
  • The late resolution of Emily to resign her estates to Montoni, now gave way t_ew considerations; the possibility, that Valancourt was near her, revived he_ortitude, and she determined to brave the threatened vengeance, at least, till she could be assured whether he was really in the castle. She was in thi_emper of mind, when she received a message from Montoni, requiring he_ttendance in the cedar parlour, which she obeyed with trembling, and, on he_ay thither, endeavoured to animate her fortitude with the idea of Valancourt.
  • Montoni was alone. 'I sent for you,' said he, 'to give you another opportunit_f retracting your late mistaken assertions concerning the Languedoc estates.
  • I will condescend to advise, where I may command.—If you are really deluded b_n opinion, that you have any right to these estates, at least, do not persis_n the error—an error, which you may perceive, too late, has been fatal t_ou. Dare my resentment no further, but sign the papers.'
  • 'If I have no right in these estates, sir,' said Emily, 'of what service ca_t be to you, that I should sign any papers, concerning them? If the lands ar_ours by law, you certainly may possess them, without my interference, or m_onsent.'
  • 'I will have no more argument,' said Montoni, with a look that made he_remble. 'What had I but trouble to expect, when I condescended to reason wit_ baby! But I will be trifled with no longer: let the recollection of you_unt's sufferings, in consequence of her folly and obstinacy, teach you _esson.—Sign the papers.'
  • Emily's resolution was for a moment awed:—she shrunk at the recollections h_evived, and from the vengeance he threatened; but then, the image o_alancourt, who so long had loved her, and who was now, perhaps, so near her, came to her heart, and, together with the strong feelings of indignation, wit_hich she had always, from her infancy, regarded an act of injustice, inspire_er with a noble, though imprudent, courage.
  • 'Sign the papers,' said Montoni, more impatiently than before.
  • 'Never, sir,' replied Emily; 'that request would have proved to me th_njustice of your claim, had I even been ignorant of my right.'
  • Montoni turned pale with anger, while his quivering lip and lurking eye mad_er almost repent the boldness of her speech.
  • 'Then all my vengeance falls upon you,' he exclaimed, with an horrible oath.
  • 'and think not it shall be delayed. Neither the estates in Languedoc, o_ascony, shall be yours; you have dared to question my right,—now dare t_uestion my power. I have a punishment which you think not of; it is terrible!
  • This night—this very night'—
  • 'This night!' repeated another voice.
  • Montoni paused, and turned half round, but, seeming to recollect himself, h_roceeded in a lower tone.
  • 'You have lately seen one terrible example of obstinacy and folly; yet this, it appears, has not been sufficient to deter you.—I could tell you of others—_ould make you tremble at the bare recital.'
  • He was interrupted by a groan, which seemed to rise from underneath th_hamber they were in; and, as he threw a glance round it, impatience and rag_lashed from his eyes, yet something like a shade of fear passed over hi_ountenance. Emily sat down in a chair, near the door, for the variou_motions she had suffered, now almost overcame her; but Montoni pause_carcely an instant, and, commanding his features, resumed his discourse in _ower, yet sterner voice.
  • 'I say, I could give you other instances of my power and of my character, which it seems you do not understand, or you would not defy me.—I could tel_ou, that, when once my resolution is taken— but I am talking to a baby. Le_e, however, repeat, that terrible as are the examples I could recite, th_ecital could not now benefit you; for, though your repentance would put a_mmediate end to opposition, it would not now appease my indignation.—I wil_ave vengeance as well as justice.'
  • Another groan filled the pause which Montoni made.
  • 'Leave the room instantly!' said he, seeming not to notice this strang_ccurrence. Without power to implore his pity, she rose to go, but found tha_he could not support herself; awe and terror overcame her, and she sunk agai_nto the chair.
  • 'Quit my presence!' cried Montoni. 'This affectation of fear ill becomes th_eroine who has just dared to brave my indignation.'
  • 'Did you hear nothing, Signor?' said Emily, trembling, and still unable t_eave the room.
  • 'I heard my own voice,' rejoined Montoni, sternly.
  • 'And nothing else?' said Emily, speaking with difficulty.—'There again! Do yo_ear nothing now?'
  • 'Obey my order,' repeated Montoni. 'And for these fool's tricks—I will soo_iscover by whom they are practised.'
  • Emily again rose, and exerted herself to the utmost to leave the room, whil_ontoni followed her; but, instead of calling aloud to his servants to searc_he chamber, as he had formerly done on a similar occurrence, passed to th_amparts.
  • As, in her way to the corridor, she rested for a moment at an open casement, Emily saw a party of Montoni's troops winding down a distant mountain, who_he noticed no further, than as they brought to her mind the wretche_risoners they were, perhaps, bringing to the castle. At length, havin_eached her apartment, she threw herself upon the couch, overcome with the ne_orrors of her situation. Her thoughts lost in tumult and perplexity, sh_ould neither repent of, or approve, her late conduct; she could onl_emember, that she was in the power of a man, who had no principle o_ction—but his will; and the astonishment and terrors of superstition, whic_ad, for a moment, so strongly assailed her, now yielded to those of reason.
  • She was, at length, roused from the reverie, which engaged her, by a confusio_f distant voices, and a clattering of hoofs, that seemed to come, on th_ind, from the courts. A sudden hope, that some good was approaching, seize_er mind, till she remembered the troops she had observed from the casement, and concluded this to be the party, which Annette had said were expected a_dolpho.
  • Soon after, she heard voices faintly from the halls, and the noise of horses'
  • feet sunk away in the wind; silence ensued. Emily listened anxiously fo_nnette's step in the corridor, but a pause of total stillness continued, til_gain the castle seemed to be all tumult and confusion. She heard the echoe_f many footsteps, passing to and fro in the halls and avenues below, and the_usy tongues were loud on the rampart. Having hurried to her casement, sh_erceived Montoni, with some of his officers, leaning on the walls, an_ointing from them; while several soldiers were employed at the further end o_he rampart about some cannon; and she continued to observe them, careless o_he passing time.
  • Annette at length appeared, but brought no intelligence of Valancourt, 'For, ma'amselle,' said she, 'all the people pretend to know nothing about an_risoners. But here is a fine piece of business! The rest of the party ar_ust arrived, ma'am; they came scampering in, as if they would have broke_heir necks; one scarcely knew whether the man, or his horse would get withi_he gates first. And they have brought word—and such news! they have brough_ord, that a party of the enemy, as they call them, are coming towards th_astle; so we shall have all the officers of justice, I suppose, besieging it!
  • all those terrible-looking fellows one used to see at Venice.'
  • 'Thank God!' exclaimed Emily, fervently, 'there is yet a hope left for me, then!'
  • 'What mean you, ma'amselle? Do you wish to fall into the hands of those sad- looking men! Why I used to shudder as I passed them, and should have guesse_hat they were, if Ludovico had not told me.'
  • 'We cannot be in worse hands than at present,' replied Emily, unguardedly;
  • 'but what reason have you to suppose these are officers of justice?'
  • 'Why OUR people, ma'am, are all in such a fright, and a fuss; and I don't kno_ny thing but the fear of justice, that could make them so. I used to thin_othing on earth could fluster them, unless, indeed, it was a ghost, or so; but now, some of them are for hiding down in the vaults under the castle; bu_ou must not tell the Signor this, ma'amselle, and I overheard two of the_alking—Holy Mother! what makes you look so sad, ma'amselle? You don't hea_hat I say!'
  • 'Yes, I do, Annette; pray proceed.'
  • 'Well, ma'amselle, all the castle is in such hurly-burly. Some of the men ar_oading the cannon, and some are examining the great gates, and the walls al_ound, and are hammering and patching up, just as if all those repairs ha_ever been made, that were so long about. But what is to become of me and you, ma'amselle, and Ludovico? O! when I hear the sound of the cannon, I shall di_ith fright. If I could but catch the great gate open for one minute, I woul_e even with it for shutting me within these walls so long!—it should neve_ee me again.'
  • Emily caught the latter words of Annette. 'O! if you could find it open, bu_or one moment!' she exclaimed, 'my peace might yet be saved!' The heavy groa_he uttered, and the wildness of her look, terrified Annette, still more tha_er words; who entreated Emily to explain the meaning of them, to whom i_uddenly occurred, that Ludovico might be of some service, if there should b_ possibility of escape, and who repeated the substance of what had passe_etween Montoni and herself, but conjured her to mention this to no perso_xcept to Ludovico. 'It may, perhaps, be in his power,' she added, 'to effec_ur escape. Go to him, Annette, tell him what I have to apprehend, and what _ave already suffered; but entreat him to be secret, and to lose no time i_ttempting to release us. If he is willing to undertake this he shall be ampl_ewarded. I cannot speak with him myself, for we might be observed, and the_ffectual care would be taken to prevent our flight. But be quick, Annette, and, above all, be discreet—I will await your return in this apartment.'
  • The girl, whose honest heart had been much affected by the recital, was now a_ager to obey, as Emily was to employ her, and she immediately quitted th_oom.
  • Emily's surprise increased, as she reflected upon Annette's intelligence.
  • 'Alas!' said she, 'what can the officers of justice do against an arme_astle? these cannot be such.' Upon further consideration, however, sh_oncluded, that, Montoni's bands having plundered the country round, th_nhabitants had taken arms, and were coming with the officers of police and _arty of soldiers, to force their way into the castle. 'But they know not,'
  • thought she, 'its strength, or the armed numbers within it. Alas! except fro_light, I have nothing to hope!'
  • Montoni, though not precisely what Emily apprehended him to be—a captain o_anditti—had employed his troops in enterprises not less daring, or les_trocious, than such a character would have undertaken. They had not onl_illaged, whenever opportunity offered, the helpless traveller, but ha_ttacked, and plundered the villas of several persons, which, being situate_mong the solitary recesses of the mountains, were totally unprepared fo_esistance. In these expeditions the commanders of the party did not appear, and the men, partly disguised, had sometimes been mistaken for common robbers, and, at others, for bands of the foreign enemy, who, at that period, invade_he country. But, though they had already pillaged several mansions, an_rought home considerable treasures, they had ventured to approach only on_astle, in the attack of which they were assisted by other troops of their ow_rder; from this, however, they were vigorously repulsed, and pursued by som_f the foreign enemy, who were in league with the besieged. Montoni's troop_led precipitately towards Udolpho, but were so closely tracked over th_ountains, that, when they reached one of the heights in the neighbourhood o_he castle, and looked back upon the road, they perceived the enemy windin_mong the cliffs below, and at not more than a league distant. Upon thi_iscovery, they hastened forward with increased speed, to prepare Montoni fo_he enemy; and it was their arrival, which had thrown the castle into suc_onfusion and tumult.
  • As Emily awaited anxiously some information from below, she now saw from he_asements a body of troops pour over the neighbouring heights; and, thoug_nnette had been gone a very short time, and had a difficult and dangerou_usiness to accomplish, her impatience for intelligence became painful: sh_istened; opened her door; and often went out upon the corridor to meet her.
  • At length, she heard a footstep approach her chamber; and, on opening th_oor, saw, not Annette, but old Carlo! New fears rushed upon her mind. He sai_e came from the Signor, who had ordered him to inform her, that she must b_eady to depart from Udolpho immediately, for that the castle was about to b_esieged; and that mules were preparing to convey her, with her guides, to _lace of safety.
  • 'Of safety!' exclaimed Emily, thoughtlessly; 'has, then, the Signor so muc_onsideration for me?'
  • Carlo looked upon the ground, and made no reply. A thousand opposite emotion_gitated Emily, successively, as she listened to old Carlo; those of joy, grief, distrust and apprehension, appeared, and vanished from her mind, wit_he quickness of lightning. One moment, it seemed impossible, that Monton_ould take this measure merely for her preservation; and so very strange wa_is sending her from the castle at all, that she could attribute it only t_he design of carrying into execution the new scheme of vengeance, with whic_e had menaced her. In the next instant, it appeared so desirable to quit th_astle, under any circumstances, that she could not but rejoice in th_rospect, believing that change must be for the better, till she remembere_he probability of Valancourt being detained in it, when sorrow and regre_surped her mind, and she wished, much more fervently than she had yet done, that it might not be his voice which she had heard.
  • Carlo having reminded her, that she had no time to lose, for that the enem_ere within sight of the castle, Emily entreated him to inform her whither sh_as to go; and, after some hesitation, he said he had received no orders t_ell; but, on her repeating the question, replied, that he believed she was t_e carried into Tuscany.'
  • 'To Tuscany!' exclaimed Emily—'and why thither?'
  • Carlo answered, that he knew nothing further, than that she was to be lodge_n a cottage on the borders of Tuscany, at the feet of the Apennines—'Not _ay's journey distant,' said he.
  • Emily now dismissed him; and, with trembling hands, prepared the smal_ackage, that she meant to take with her; while she was employed about whic_nnette returned.
  • 'O ma'amselle!' said she, 'nothing can be done! Ludovico says the new porte_s more watchful even than Barnardine was, and we might as well thro_urselves in the way of a dragon, as in his. Ludovico is almost as broken- hearted as you are, ma'am, on my account, he says, and I am sure I shall neve_ive to hear the cannon fire twice!'
  • She now began to weep, but revived upon hearing of what had just occurred, an_ntreated Emily to take her with her.
  • 'That I will do most willingly,' replied Emily, 'if Signor Montoni permit_t;' to which Annette made no reply, but ran out of the room, and immediatel_ought Montoni, who was on the terrace, surrounded by his officers, where sh_egan her petition. He sharply bade her go into the castle, and absolutel_efused her request. Annette, however, not only pleaded for herself, but fo_udovico; and Montoni had ordered some of his men to take her from hi_resence, before she would retire.
  • In an agony of disappointment, she returned to Emily, who foreboded littl_ood towards herself, from this refusal to Annette, and who, soon after, received a summons to repair to the great court, where the mules, with he_uides, were in waiting. Emily here tried in vain to sooth the weepin_nnette, who persisted in saying, that she should never see her dear youn_ady again; a fear, which her mistress secretly thought too well justified, but which she endeavoured to restrain, while, with apparent composure, sh_ade this affectionate servant farewell. Annette, however, followed to th_ourts, which were now thronged with people, busy in preparation for th_nemy; and, having seen her mount her mule and depart, with her attendants, through the portal, turned into the castle and wept again.
  • Emily, meanwhile, as she looked back upon the gloomy courts of the castle, n_onger silent as when she had first entered them, but resounding with th_oise of preparation for their defence, as well as crowded with soldiers an_orkmen, hurrying to and fro; and, when she passed once more under the hug_ortcullis, which had formerly struck her with terror and dismay, and, lookin_ound, saw no walls to confine her steps—felt, in spite of anticipation, th_udden joy of a prisoner, who unexpectedly finds himself at liberty. Thi_motion would not suffer her now to look impartially on the dangers tha_waited her without; on mountains infested by hostile parties, who seize_very opportunity for plunder; and on a journey commended under the guidanc_f men, whose countenances certainly did not speak favourably of thei_ispositions. In the present moments, she could only rejoice, that she wa_iberated from those walls, which she had entered with such disma_orebodings; and, remembering the superstitious presentiment, which had the_eized her, she could now smile at the impression it had made upon her mind.
  • As she gazed, with these emotions, upon the turrets of the castle, rising hig_ver the woods, among which she wound, the stranger, whom she believed to b_onfined there, returned to her remembrance, and anxiety and apprehension, lest he should be Valancourt, again passed like a cloud upon her joy. Sh_ecollected every circumstance, concerning this unknown person, since th_ight, when she had first heard him play the song of her nativ_rovince;—circumstances, which she had so often recollected, and compare_efore, without extracting from them any thing like conviction, and whic_till only prompted her to believe, that Valancourt was a prisoner at Udolpho.
  • It was possible, however, that the men, who were her conductors, might affor_er information, on this subject; but, fearing to question them immediately, lest they should be unwilling to discover any circumstance to her in th_resence of each other, she watched for an opportunity of speaking with the_eparately.
  • Soon after, a trumpet echoed faintly from a distance; the guides stopped, an_ooked toward the quarter whence it came, but the thick woods, whic_urrounded them, excluding all view of the country beyond, one of the men rod_n to the point of an eminence, that afforded a more extensive prospect, t_bserve how near the enemy, whose trumpet he guessed this to be, wer_dvanced; the other, meanwhile, remained with Emily, and to him she put som_uestions, concerning the stranger at Udolpho. Ugo, for this was his name, said, that there were several prisoners in the castle, but he neithe_ecollected their persons, or the precise time of their arrival, and coul_herefore give her no information. There was a surliness in his manner, as h_poke, that made it probable he would not have satisfied her enquiries, eve_f he could have done so.
  • Having asked him what prisoners had been taken, about the time, as nearly a_he could remember, when she had first heard the music, 'All that week,' sai_go, 'I was out with a party, upon the mountains, and knew nothing of what wa_oing at the castle. We had enough upon our hands, we had warm work of it.'
  • Bertrand, the other man, being now returned, Emily enquired no further, and, when he had related to his companion what he had seen, they travelled on i_eep silence; while Emily often caught, between the opening woods, partia_limpses of the castle above—the west towers, whose battlements were no_rowded with archers, and the ramparts below, where soldiers were see_urrying along, or busy upon the walls, preparing the cannon.
  • Having emerged from the woods, they wound along the valley in an opposit_irection to that, from whence the enemy were approaching. Emily now had _ull view of Udolpho, with its gray walls, towers and terraces, high over- topping the precipices and the dark woods, and glittering partially with th_rms of the condottieri, as the sun's rays, streaming through an autumna_loud, glanced upon a part of the edifice, whose remaining features stood i_arkened majesty. She continued to gaze, through her tears, upon walls that, perhaps, confined Valancourt, and which now, as the cloud floated away, wer_ighted up with sudden splendour, and then, as suddenly were shrouded i_loom; while the passing gleam fell on the wood-tops below, and heightened th_irst tints of autumn, that had begun to steal upon the foliage. The windin_ountains, at length, shut Udolpho from her view, and she turned, wit_ournful reluctance, to other objects. The melancholy sighing of the win_mong the pines, that waved high over the steeps, and the distant thunder of _orrent assisted her musings, and conspired with the wild scenery around, t_iffuse over her mind emotions solemn, yet not unpleasing, but which were soo_nterrupted by the distant roar of cannon, echoing among the mountains. Th_ounds rolled along the wind, and were repeated in faint and fainte_everberation, till they sunk in sullen murmurs. This was a signal, that th_nemy had reached the castle, and fear for Valancourt again tormented Emily.
  • She turned her anxious eyes towards that part of the country, where th_difice stood, but the intervening heights concealed it from her view; still, however, she saw the tall head of a mountain, which immediately fronted he_ate chamber, and on this she fixed her gaze, as if it could have told her o_ll that was passing in the scene it overlooked. The guides twice reminde_er, that she was losing time and that they had far to go, before she coul_urn from this interesting object, and, even when she again moved onward, sh_ften sent a look back, till only its blue point, brightening in a gleam o_unshine, appeared peeping over other mountains.
  • The sound of the cannon affected Ugo, as the blast of the trumpet does th_ar-horse; it called forth all the fire of his nature; he was impatient to b_n the midst of the fight, and uttered frequent execrations against Monton_or having sent him to a distance. The feelings of his comrade seemed to b_ery opposite, and adapted rather to the cruelties, than to the dangers o_ar.
  • Emily asked frequent questions, concerning the place of her destination, bu_ould only learn, that she was going to a cottage in Tuscany; and, wheneve_he mentioned the subject, she fancied she perceived, in the countenances o_hese men, an expression of malice and cunning, that alarmed her.
  • It was afternoon, when they had left the castle. During several hours, the_ravelled through regions of profound solitude, where no bleat of sheep, o_ark of watch-dog, broke on silence, and they were now too far off to hea_ven the faint thunder of the cannon. Towards evening, they wound dow_recipices, black with forests of cypress, pine and cedar, into a glen s_avage and secluded, that, if Solitude ever had local habitation, this migh_ave been 'her place of dearest residence.' To Emily it appeared a spo_xactly suited for the retreat of banditti, and, in her imagination, sh_lready saw them lurking under the brow of some projecting rock, whence thei_hadows, lengthened by the setting sun, stretched across the road, and warne_he traveller of his danger. She shuddered at the idea, and, looking at he_onductors, to observe whether they were armed, thought she saw in them th_anditti she dreaded!
  • It was in this glen, that they proposed to alight, 'For,' said Ugo, 'nigh_ill come on presently, and then the wolves will make it dangerous to stop.'
  • This was a new subject of alarm to Emily, but inferior to what she suffere_rom the thought of being left in these wilds, at midnight, with two such me_s her present conductors. Dark and dreadful hints of what might be Montoni'_urpose in sending her hither, came to her mind. She endeavoured to dissuad_he men from stopping, and enquired, with anxiety, how far they had yet to go.
  • 'Many leagues yet,' replied Bertrand. 'As for you, Signora, you may do as yo_lease about eating, but for us, we will make a hearty supper, while we can.
  • We shall have need of it, I warrant, before we finish our journey. The sun'_oing down apace; let us alight under that rock, yonder.'
  • His comrade assented, and, turning the mules out of the road, they advance_owards a cliff, overhung with cedars, Emily following in trembling silence.
  • They lifted her from her mule, and, having seated themselves on the grass, a_he foot of the rocks, drew some homely fare from a wallet, of which Emil_ried to eat a little, the better to disguise her apprehensions.
  • The sun was now sunk behind the high mountains in the west, upon which _urple haze began to spread, and the gloom of twilight to draw over th_urrounding objects. To the low and sullen murmur of the breeze, passing amon_he woods, she no longer listened with any degree of pleasure, for i_onspired with the wildness of the scene and the evening hour, to depress he_pirits.
  • Suspense had so much increased her anxiety, as to the prisoner at Udolpho, that, finding it impracticable to speak alone with Bertrand, on that subject, she renewed her questions in the presence of Ugo; but he either was, o_retended to be entirely ignorant, concerning the stranger. When he ha_ismissed the question, he talked with Ugo on some subject, which led to th_ention of Signor Orsino and of the affair that had banished him from Venice; respecting which Emily had ventured to ask a few questions. Ugo appeared to b_ell acquainted with the circumstances of that tragical event, and relate_ome minute particulars, that both shocked and surprised her; for it appeare_ery extraordinary how such particulars could be known to any, but to persons, present when the assassination was committed.
  • 'He was of rank,' said Bertrand, 'or the State would not have troubled itsel_o enquire after his assassins. The Signor has been lucky hitherto; this i_ot the first affair of the kind he has had upon his hands; and to be sure, when a gentleman has no other way of getting redress—why he must take this.'
  • 'Aye,' said Ugo, 'and why is not this as good as another? This is the way t_ave justice done at once, without more ado. If you go to law, you must sta_ill the judges please, and may lose your cause, at last, Why the best way, then, is to make sure of your right, while you can, and execute justic_ourself.'
  • 'Yes, yes,' rejoined Bertrand, 'if you wait till justice is done you- -you ma_tay long enough. Why if I want a friend of mine properly served, how am I t_et my revenge? Ten to one they will tell me he is in the right, and I am i_he wrong. Or, if a fellow has got possession of property, which I think ough_o be mine, why I may wait, till I starve, perhaps, before the law will giv_t me, and then, after all, the judge may say—the estate is his. What is to b_one then?—Why the case is plain enough, I must take it at last.'
  • Emily's horror at this conversation was heightened by a suspicion, that th_atter part of it was pointed against herself, and that these men had bee_ommissioned by Montoni to execute a similar kind of JUSTICE, in his cause.
  • 'But I was speaking of Signor Orsino,' resumed Bertrand, 'he is one of those, who love to do justice at once. I remember, about ten years ago, the Signo_ad a quarrel with a cavaliero of Milan. The story was told me then, and it i_till fresh in my head. They quarrelled about a lady, that the Signor liked, and she was perverse enough to prefer the gentleman of Milan, and even carrie_er whim so far as to marry him. This provoked the Signor, as well it might, for he had tried to talk reason to her a long while, and used to send peopl_o serenade her, under her windows, of a night; and used to make verses abou_er, and would swear she was the handsomest lady in Milan—But all would no_o—nothing would bring her to reason; and, as I said, she went so far at last, as to marry this other cavaliero. This made the Signor wrath, with _engeance; he resolved to be even with her though, and he watched hi_pportunity, and did not wait long, for, soon after the marriage, they set ou_or Padua, nothing doubting, I warrant, of what was preparing for them. Th_avaliero thought, to be sure, he was to be called to no account, but was t_o off triumphant; but he was soon made to know another sort of story.'
  • 'What then, the lady had promised to have Signor Orsino?' said Ugo.
  • 'Promised! No,' replied Bertrand, 'she had not wit enough even to tell him sh_iked him, as I heard, but the contrary, for she used to say, from the first, she never meant to have him. And this was what provoked the Signor, so, an_ith good reason, for, who likes to be told that he is disagreeable? and thi_as saying as good. It was enough to tell him this; she need not have gone, and married another.'
  • 'What, she married, then, on purpose to plague the Signor?' said Ugo.
  • 'I don't know as for that,' replied Bertrand, 'they said, indeed, that she ha_ad a regard for the other gentleman a great while; but that is nothing to th_urpose, she should not have married him, and then the Signor would not hav_een so much provoked. She might have expected what was to follow; it was no_o be supposed he would bear her ill usage tamely, and she might thank hersel_or what happened. But, as I said, they set out for Padua, she and he_usband, and the road lay over some barren mountains like these. This suite_he Signor's purpose well. He watched the time of their departure, and sen_is men after them, with directions what to do. They kept their distance, til_hey saw their opportunity, and this did not happen, till the second day'_ourney, when, the gentleman having sent his servants forward to the nex_own, may be, to have horses in readiness, the Signor's men quickened thei_ace, and overtook the carriage, in a hollow, between two mountains, where th_oods prevented the servants from seeing what passed, though they were the_ot far off. When we came up, we fired our tromboni, but missed.'
  • Emily turned pale, at these words, and then hoped she had mistaken them; whil_ertrand proceeded:
  • 'The gentleman fired again, but he was soon made to alight, and it was as h_urned to call his people, that he was struck. It was the most dexterous fea_ou ever saw—he was struck in the back with three stillettos at once. He fell, and was dispatched in a minute; but the lady escaped, for the servants ha_eard the firing, and came up before she could be taken care of. "Bertrand,"
  • said the Signor, when his men returned'—
  • 'Bertrand!' exclaimed Emily, pale with horror, on whom not a syllable of thi_arrative had been lost.
  • 'Bertrand, did I say?' rejoined the man, with some confusion—'No, Giovanni.
  • But I have forgot where I was;—"Bertrand," said the Signor'—
  • 'Bertrand, again!' said Emily, in a faltering voice, 'Why do you repeat tha_ame?'
  • Bertrand swore. 'What signifies it,' he proceeded, 'what the man wa_alled—Bertrand, or Giovanni—or Roberto? it's all one for that. You have pu_e out twice with that—question. "Bertrand," or Giovanni—or what yo_ill—"Bertrand," said the Signor, "if your comrades had done their duty, a_ell as you, I should not have lost the lady. Go, my honest fellow, and b_appy with this." He game him a purse of gold—and little enough too, considering the service he had done him.'
  • 'Aye, aye,' said Ugo, 'little enough—little enough.'
  • Emily now breathed with difficulty, and could scarcely support herself. Whe_irst she saw these men, their appearance and their connection with Monton_ad been sufficient to impress her with distrust; but now, when one of the_ad betrayed himself to be a murderer, and she saw herself, at the approach o_ight, under his guidance, among wild and solitary mountains, and going sh_carcely knew whither, the most agonizing terror seized her, which was th_ess supportable from the necessity she found herself under of concealing al_ymptoms of it from her companions. Reflecting on the character and th_enaces of Montoni, it appeared not improbable, that he had delivered her t_hem, for the purpose of having her murdered, and of thus securing to himself, without further opposition, or delay, the estates, for which he had so lon_nd so desperately contended. Yet, if this was his design, there appeared n_ecessity for sending her to such a distance from the castle; for, if an_read of discovery had made him unwilling to perpetrate the deed there, a muc_earer place might have sufficed for the purpose of concealment. Thes_onsiderations, however, did not immediately occur to Emily, with whom so man_ircumstances conspired to rouse terror, that she had no power to oppose it, or to enquire coolly into its grounds; and, if she had done so, still ther_ere many appearances which would too well have justified her most terribl_pprehensions. She did not now dare to speak to her conductors, at the soun_f whose voices she trembled; and when, now and then, she stole a glance a_hem, their countenances, seen imperfectly through the gloom of evening, served to confirm her fears.
  • The sun had now been set some time; heavy clouds, whose lower skirts wer_inged with sulphureous crimson, lingered in the west, and threw a reddis_int upon the pine forests, which sent forth a solemn sound, as the breez_olled over them. The hollow moan struck upon Emily's heart, and served t_ender more gloomy and terrific every object around her,—the mountains, shade_n twilight—the gleaming torrent, hoarsely roaring—the black forests, and th_eep glen, broken into rocky recesses, high overshadowed by cypress an_ycamore and winding into long obscurity. To this glen, Emily, as she sen_orth her anxious eye, thought there was no end; no hamlet, or even cottage, was seen, and still no distant bark of watch dog, or even faint, far-of_alloo came on the wind. In a tremulous voice, she now ventured to remind th_uides, that it was growing late, and to ask again how far they had to go: bu_hey were too much occupied by their own discourse to attend to her question, which she forbore to repeat, lest it should provoke a surly answer. Having, however, soon after, finished their supper, the men collected the fragment_nto their wallet, and proceeded along this winding glen, in gloomy silence; while Emily again mused upon her own situation, and concerning the motives o_ontoni for involving her in it. That it was for some evil purpose toward_erself, she could not doubt; and it seemed, that, if he did not intend t_estroy her, with a view of immediately seizing her estates, he meant t_eserve her a while in concealment, for some more terrible design, for on_hat might equally gratify his avarice and still more his deep revenge. A_his moment, remembering Signor Brochio and his behaviour in the corridor, _ew preceding nights, the latter supposition, horrible as it was, strengthene_n her belief. Yet, why remove her from the castle, where deeds of darknes_ad, she feared, been often executed with secrecy?—from chambers, perhaps
  • With many a foul, and midnight murder stain'd.
  • The dread of what she might be going to encounter was now so excessive, tha_t sometimes threatened her senses; and, often as she went, she thought of he_ate father and of all he would have suffered, could he have foreseen th_trange and dreadful events of her future life; and how anxiously he woul_ave avoided that fatal confidence, which committed his daughter to the car_f a woman so weak as was Madame Montoni. So romantic and improbable, indeed, did her present situation appear to Emily herself, particularly when sh_ompared it with the repose and beauty of her early days, that there wer_oments, when she could almost have believed herself the victim of frightfu_isions, glaring upon a disordered fancy.
  • Restrained by the presence of her guides from expressing her terrors, thei_cuteness was, at length, lost in gloomy despair. The dreadful view of wha_ight await her hereafter rendered her almost indifferent to the surroundin_angers. She now looked, with little emotion, on the wild dingles, and th_loomy road and mountains, whose outlines were only distinguishable throug_he dusk;—objects, which but lately had affected her spirits so much, as t_waken horrid views of the future, and to tinge these with their own gloom.
  • It was now so nearly dark, that the travellers, who proceeded only by th_lowest pace, could scarcely discern their way. The clouds, which seeme_harged with thunder, passed slowly along the heavens, shewing, at intervals, the trembling stars; while the groves of cypress and sycamore, that overhun_he rocks, waved high in the breeze, as it swept over the glen, and the_ushed among the distant woods. Emily shivered as it passed.
  • 'Where is the torch?' said Ugo, 'It grows dark.'
  • 'Not so dark yet,' replied Bertrand, 'but we may find our way, and 'tis bes_ot light the torch, before we can help, for it may betray us, if an_traggling party of the enemy is abroad.'
  • Ugo muttered something, which Emily did not understand, and they proceeded i_arkness, while she almost wished, that the enemy might discover them; fo_rom change there was something to hope, since she could scarcely imagine an_ituation more dreadful than her present one.
  • As they moved slowly along, her attention was surprised by a thin taperin_lame, that appeared, by fits, at the point of the pike, which Bertran_arried, resembling what she had observed on the lance of the sentinel, th_ight Madame Montoni died, and which he had said was an omen. The even_mmediately following it appeared to justify the assertion, and _uperstitious impression had remained on Emily's mind, which the presen_ppearance confirmed. She thought it was an omen of her own fate, and watche_t successively vanish and return, in gloomy silence, which was at lengt_nterrupted by Bertrand.
  • 'Let us light the torch,' said he, 'and get under shelter of the woods;—_torm is coming on—look at my lance.'
  • He held it forth, with the flame tapering at it_oint.[[3]](footnotes.xml#footnote_3) 'Aye,' said Ugo, 'you are not one o_hose, that believe in omens: we have left cowards at the castle, who woul_urn pale at such a sight. I have often seen it before a thunder storm, it i_n omen of that, and one is coming now, sure enough. The clouds flash fas_lready.' Emily was relieved by this conversation from some of the terrors o_uperstition, but those of reason increased, as, waiting while Ugo searche_or a flint, to strike fire, she watched the pale lightning gleam over th_oods they were about to enter, and illumine the harsh countenances of he_ompanions. Ugo could not find a flint, and Bertrand became impatient, for th_hunder sounded hollowly at a distance, and the lightning was more frequent.
  • Sometimes, it revealed the nearer recesses of the woods, or, displaying som_pening in their summits, illumined the ground beneath with partial splendour, the thick foliage of the trees preserving the surrounding scene in dee_hadow. At length, Ugo found a flint, and the torch was lighted. The men the_ismounted, and, having assisted Emily, led the mules towards the woods, tha_kirted the glen, on the left, over broken ground, frequently interrupted wit_rush-wood and wild plants, which she was often obliged to make a circuit t_void. She could not approach these woods, without experiencing keener sens_f her danger. Their deep silence, except when the wind swept among thei_ranches, and impenetrable glooms shewn partially by the sudden flash, an_hen, by the red glare of the torch, which served only to make 'darknes_isible,' were circumstances, that contributed to renew all her most terribl_pprehensions; she thought, too, that, at this moment, the countenances of he_onductors displayed more than their usual fierceness, mingled with a kind o_urking exultation, which they seemed endeavouring to disguise. To he_ffrighted fancy it occurred, that they were leading her into these woods t_omplete the will of Montoni by her murder. The horrid suggestion called _roan from her heart, which surprised her companions, who turned round quickl_owards her, and she demanded why they led her thither, beseeching them t_ontinue their way along the open glen, which she represented to be les_angerous than the woods, in a thunder storm. 'No, no,' said Bertrand, 'w_now best where the danger lies. See how the clouds open over our heads.
  • Besides, we can glide under cover of the woods with less hazard of being seen, should any of the enemy be wandering this way. By holy St. Peter and all th_est of them, I've as stout a heart as the best, as many a poor devil coul_ell, if he were alive again—but what can we do against numbers?' 'What ar_ou whining about?' said Ugo, contemptuously, 'who fears numbers! Let the_ome, though they were as many, as the Signor's castle could hold; I woul_hew the knaves what fighting is. For you—I would lay you quietly in a dr_itch, where you might peep out, and see me put the rogues to flight.—Wh_alks of fear!' Bertrand replied, with an horrible oath, that he did not lik_uch jesting, and a violent altercation ensued, which was, at length, silence_y the thunder, whose deep volley was heard afar, rolling onward till it burs_ver their heads in sounds, that seemed to shake the earth to its centre. Th_uffians paused, and looked upon each other. Between the boles of the trees, the blue lightning flashed and quivered along the ground, while, as Emil_ooked under the boughs, the mountains beyond, frequently appeared to b_lothed in livid flame. At this moment, perhaps, she felt less fear of th_torm, than did either of her companions, for other terrors occupied her mind.
  • The men now rested under an enormous chesnut-tree, and fixed their pikes i_he ground, at some distance, on the iron points of which Emily repeatedl_bserved the lightning play, and then glide down them into the earth. 'I woul_e were well in the Signor's castle!' said Bertrand, 'I know not why he shoul_end us on this business. Hark! how it rattles above, there! I could almos_ind in my heart to turn priest, and pray. Ugo, hast got a rosary?' 'No,'
  • replied Ugo, 'I leave it to cowards like thee, to carry rosaries—I, carry _word.' 'And much good may it do thee in fighting against the storm!' sai_ertrand. Another peal, which was reverberated in tremendous echoes among th_ountains, silenced them for a moment. As it rolled away, Ugo proposed goin_n. 'We are only losing time here,' said he, 'for the thick boughs of th_oods will shelter us as well as this chesnut- tree.' They again led the mule_orward, between the boles of the trees, and over pathless grass, tha_oncealed their high knotted roots. The rising wind was now heard contendin_ith the thunder, as it rushed furiously among the branches above, an_rightened the red flame of the torch, which threw a stronger light forwar_mong the woods, and shewed their gloomy recesses to be suitable resorts fo_he wolves, of which Ugo had formerly spoken. At length, the strength of th_ind seemed to drive the storm before it, for the thunder rolled away int_istance, and was only faintly heard. After travelling through the woods fo_early an hour, during which the elements seemed to have returned to repose, the travellers, gradually ascending from the glen, found themselves upon th_pen brow of a mountain, with a wide valley, extending in misty moon- light, at their feet, and above, the blue sky, trembling through the few thin clouds, that lingered after the storm, and were sinking slowly to the verge of th_orizon. Emily's spirits, now that she had quitted the woods, began to revive; for she considered, that, if these men had received an order to destroy her, they would probably have executed their barbarous purpose in the solitar_ild, from whence they had just emerged, where the deed would have bee_hrouded from every human eye. Reassured by this reflection, and by the quie_emeanour of her guides, Emily, as they proceeded silently, in a kind of shee_rack, that wound along the skirts of the woods, which ascended on the right, could not survey the sleeping beauty of the vale, to which they wer_eclining, without a momentary sensation of pleasure. It seemed varied wit_oods, pastures, and sloping grounds, and was screened to the north and th_ast by an amphitheatre of the Apennines, whose outline on the horizon wa_ere broken into varied and elegant forms; to the west and the south, th_andscape extended indistinctly into the lowlands of Tuscany. 'There is th_ea yonder,' said Bertrand, as if he had known that Emily was examining th_wilight view, 'yonder in the west, though we cannot see it.' Emily alread_erceived a change in the climate, from that of the wild and mountainous trac_he had left; and, as she continued descending, the air became perfumed by th_reath of a thousand nameless flowers among the grass, called forth by th_ate rain. So soothingly beautiful was the scene around her, and so strikingl_ontrasted to the gloomy grandeur of those, to which she had long bee_onfined, and to the manners of the people, who moved among them, that sh_ould almost have fancied herself again at La Vallee, and, wondering wh_ontoni had sent her hither, could scarcely believe, that he had selected s_nchanting a spot for any cruel design. It was, however, probably not th_pot, but the persons, who happened to inhabit it, and to whose care he coul_afely commit the execution of his plans, whatever they might be, that ha_etermined his choice. She now ventured again to enquire, whether they wer_ear the place of their destination, and was answered by Ugo, that they ha_ot far to go. 'Only to the wood of chesnuts in the valley yonder,' said he,
  • 'there, by the brook, that sparkles with the moon; I wish I was once at res_here, with a flask of good wine, and a slice of Tuscany bacon.' Emily'_pirits revived, when she heard, that the journey was so nearly concluded, an_aw the wood of chesnuts in an open part of the vale, on the margin of th_tream. In a short time, they reached the entrance of the wood, and perceived, between the twinkling leaves, a light, streaming from a distant cottag_indow. They proceeded along the edge of the brook to where the trees, crowding over it, excluded the moon-beams, but a long line of light, from th_ottage above, was seen on its dark tremulous surface. Bertrand now stepped o_irst, and Emily heard him knock, and call loudly at the door. As she reache_t, the small upper casement, where the light appeared, was unclosed by a man, who, having enquired what they wanted, immediately descended, let them into _eat rustic cot, and called up his wife to set refreshments before th_ravellers. As this man conversed, rather apart, with Bertrand, Emil_nxiously surveyed him. He was a tall, but not robust, peasant, of a sallo_omplexion, and had a shrewd and cunning eye; his countenance was not of _haracter to win the ready confidence of youth, and there was nothing in hi_anner, that might conciliate a stranger. Ugo called impatiently for supper, and in a tone as if he knew his authority here to be unquestionable. '_xpected you an hour ago,' said the peasant, 'for I have had Signor Montoni'_etter these three hours, and I and my wife had given you up, and gone to bed.
  • How did you fare in the storm?' 'Ill enough,' replied Ugo, 'ill enough and w_re like to fare ill enough here, too, unless you will make more haste. Get u_ore wine, and let us see what you have to eat.' The peasant placed befor_hem all, that his cottage afforded—ham, wine, figs, and grapes of such siz_nd flavour, as Emily had seldom tasted. After taking refreshment, she wa_hewn by the peasant's wife to her little bed-chamber, where she asked som_uestions concerning Montoni, to which the woman, whose name was Dorina, gav_eserved answers, pretending ignorance of his excellenza's intention i_ending Emily hither, but acknowledging that her husband had been apprized o_he circumstance. Perceiving, that she could obtain no intelligence concernin_er destination, Emily dismissed Dorina, and retired to repose; but all th_usy scenes of her past and the anticipated ones of the future came to he_nxious mind, and conspired with the sense of her new situation to banis_leep.