The Mysteries of Udolpho

  CHAPTER IV

  There is one within, Besides the things, that we have heard and seen, Recounts most horrid sights, seen by the watch. JULIUS CAESAR

  In the morning, Emily found Madame Montoni nearly in the same condition,as on the preceding night; she had slept little, and that little hadnot refreshed her; she smiled on her niece, and seemed cheered by herpresence, but spoke only a few words, and never named Montoni, who,however, soon after, entered the room. His wife, when she understoodthat he was there, appeared much agitated, but was entirely silent, tillEmily rose from a chair at the bed-side, when she begged, in a feeblevoice, that she would not leave her.

  The visit of Montoni was not to sooth his wife, whom he knew to bedying, or to console, or to ask her forgiveness, but to make a lasteffort to procure that signature, which would transfer her estates inLanguedoc, after her death, to him rather than to Emily. This was ascene, that exhibited, on his part, his usual inhumanity, and, on thatof Madame Montoni, a persevering spirit, contending with a feeble frame;while Emily repeatedly declared to him her willingness to resign allclaim to those estates, rather than that the last hours of her auntshould be disturbed by contention. Montoni, however, did not leave theroom, till his wife, exhausted by the obstinate dispute, had fainted,and she lay so long insensible, that Emily began to fear that the sparkof life was extinguished. At length, she revived, and, looking feeblyup at her niece, whose tears were falling over her, made an effort tospeak, but her words were unintelligible, and Emily again apprehendedshe was dying. Afterwards, however, she recovered her speech, and, beingsomewhat restored by a cordial, conversed for a considerable time, onthe subject of her estates in France, with clearness and precision. Shedirected her niece where to find some papers relative to them, which shehad hitherto concealed from the search of Montoni, and earnestly chargedher never to suffer these papers to escape her.

  Soon after this conversation, Madame Montoni sunk into a dose, andcontinued slumbering, till evening, when she seemed better than shehad been since her removal from the turret. Emily never left her, for amoment, till long after midnight, and even then would not have quittedthe room, had not her aunt entreated, that she would retire to rest. Shethen obeyed, the more willingly, because her patient appeared somewhatrecruited by sleep; and, giving Annette the same injunction, as on thepreceding night, she withdrew to her own apartment. But her spiritswere wakeful and agitated, and, finding it impossible to sleep, shedetermined to watch, once more, for the mysterious appearance, that hadso much interested and alarmed her.

  It was now the second watch of the night, and about the time whenthe figure had before appeared. Emily heard the passing steps of thesentinels, on the rampart, as they changed guard; and, when all wasagain silent, she took her station at the casement, leaving her lamp ina remote part of the chamber, that she might escape notice from without.The moon gave a faint and uncertain light, for heavy vapours surroundedit, and, often rolling over the disk, left the scene below in totaldarkness. It was in one of these moments of obscurity, that she observeda small and lambent flame, moving at some distance on the terrace. Whileshe gazed, it disappeared, and, the moon again emerging from the luridand heavy thunder clouds, she turned her attention to the heavens, wherethe vivid lightnings darted from cloud to cloud, and flashed silently onthe woods below. She loved to catch, in the momentary gleam, the gloomylandscape. Sometimes, a cloud opened its light upon a distant mountain,and, while the sudden splendour illumined all its recesses of rock andwood, the rest of the scene remained in deep shadow; at others, partialfeatures of the castle were revealed by the glimpse--the antient archleading to the east rampart, the turret above, or the fortificationsbeyond; and then, perhaps, the whole edifice with all its towers, itsdark massy walls and pointed casements would appear, and vanish in aninstant.

  Emily, looking again upon the rampart, perceived the flame she hadseen before; it moved onward; and, soon after, she thought she heard afootstep. The light appeared and disappeared frequently, while, as shewatched, it glided under her casements, and, at the same instant, shewas certain, that a footstep passed, but the darkness did not permit herto distinguish any object except the flame. It moved away, and then, bya gleam of lightning, she perceived some person on the terrace. All theanxieties of the preceding night returned. This person advanced, and theplaying flame alternately appeared and vanished. Emily wished to speak,to end her doubts, whether this figure were human or supernatural; buther courage failed as often as she attempted utterance, till the lightmoved again under the casement, and she faintly demanded, who passed.

  'A friend,' replied a voice.

  'What friend?' said Emily, somewhat encouraged 'who are you, and what isthat light you carry?'

  'I am Anthonio, one of the Signor's soldiers,' replied the voice.

  'And what is that tapering light you bear?' said Emily, 'see how itdarts upwards,--and now it vanishes!'

  'This light, lady,' said the soldier, 'has appeared to-night as you seeit, on the point of my lance, ever since I have been on watch; but whatit means I cannot tell.'

  'This is very strange!' said Emily.

  'My fellow-guard,' continued the man, 'has the same flame on his arms;he says he has sometimes seen it before. I never did; I am but latelycome to the castle, for I have not been long a soldier.'

  'How does your comrade account for it?' said Emily.

  'He says it is an omen, lady, and bodes no good.'

  'And what harm can it bode?' rejoined Emily.

  'He knows not so much as that, lady.'

  Whether Emily was alarmed by this omen, or not, she certainly wasrelieved from much terror by discovering this man to be only a soldieron duty, and it immediately occurred to her, that it might be he,who had occasioned so much alarm on the preceding night. There were,however, some circumstances, that still required explanation. As faras she could judge by the faint moon-light, that had assisted herobservation, the figure she had seen did not resemble this man eitherin shape or size; besides, she was certain it had carried no arms. Thesilence of its steps, if steps it had, the moaning sounds, too, whichit had uttered, and its strange disappearance, were circumstances ofmysterious import, that did not apply, with probability, to a soldierengaged in the duty of his guard.

  She now enquired of the sentinel, whether he had seen any person besideshis fellow watch, walking on the terrace, about midnight; and thenbriefly related what she had herself observed.

  'I was not on guard that night, lady,' replied the man, 'but I heard ofwhat happened. There are amongst us, who believe strange things. Strangestories, too, have long been told of this castle, but it is no businessof mine to repeat them; and, for my part, I have no reason to complain;our Chief does nobly by us.'

  'I commend your prudence,' said Emily. 'Good night, and accept this fromme,' she added, throwing him a small piece of coin, and then closing thecasement to put an end to the discourse.

  When he was gone, she opened it again, listened with a gloomy pleasureto the distant thunder, that began to murmur among the mountains, andwatched the arrowy lightnings, which broke over the remoter scene. Thepealing thunder rolled onward, and then, reverbed by the mountains,other thunder seemed to answer from the opposite horizon; while theaccumulating clouds, entirely concealing the moon, assumed a redsulphureous tinge, that foretold a violent storm.

  Emily remained at her casement, till the vivid lightning, that now,every instant, revealed the wide horizon and the landscape below, madeit no longer safe to do so, and she went to her couch; but, unableto compose her mind to sleep, still listened in silent awe to thetremendous sounds, that seemed to shake the castle to its foundation.

  She had continued thus for a considerable time, when, amidst the uproarof the storm, she thought she heard a voice, and, raising herself tolisten, saw the chamber door open, and Annette enter with a countenanceof wild affright.

  'She is dying, ma'amselle, my lady is dying!' said she.

  Emily started up, and ran to Madame Montoni's ro
om. When she entered,her aunt appeared to have fainted, for she was quite still, andinsensible; and Emily with a strength of mind, that refused to yield togrief, while any duty required her activity, applied every means thatseemed likely to restore her. But the last struggle was over--she wasgone for ever.

  When Emily perceived, that all her efforts were ineffectual, sheinterrogated the terrified Annette, and learned, that Madame Montonihad fallen into a doze soon after Emily's departure, in which she hadcontinued, until a few minutes before her death.

  'I wondered, ma'amselle,' said Annette, 'what was the reason my lady didnot seem frightened at the thunder, when I was so terrified, and I wentoften to the bed to speak to her, but she appeared to be asleep; tillpresently I heard a strange noise, and, on going to her, saw she wasdying.'

  Emily, at this recital, shed tears. She had no doubt but that theviolent change in the air, which the tempest produced, had effected thisfatal one, on the exhausted frame of Madame Montoni.

  After some deliberation, she determined that Montoni should not beinformed of this event till the morning, for she considered, that hemight, perhaps, utter some inhuman expressions, such as in the presenttemper of her spirits she could not bear. With Annette alone, therefore,whom she encouraged by her own example, she performed some of the lastsolemn offices for the dead, and compelled herself to watch during thenight, by the body of her deceased aunt. During this solemn period,rendered more awful by the tremendous storm that shook the air, shefrequently addressed herself to Heaven for support and protection, andher pious prayers, we may believe, were accepted of the God, that givethcomfort.