CHAPTER VI
might we but hear The folded flocks penn'd in their watled cotes, Or sound of pastoral reed with oaten stops, Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock Count 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 cameat an early hour.
'Here were fine doings in the castle, last night, ma'amselle,' saidshe, as soon as she entered the room,--'fine doings, indeed! Was you notfrightened, ma'amselle, at not seeing me?'
'I was alarmed both on your account and on my own,' replied Emily--'Whatdetained you?'
'Aye, I said so, I told him so; but it would not do. It was not myfault, indeed, ma'amselle, for I could not get out. That rogue Ludovicolocked me up again.'
'Locked you up!' said Emily, with displeasure, 'Why do you permitLudovico to lock you up?'
'Holy Saints!' exclaimed Annette, 'how can I help it! If he will lockthe door, ma'amselle, and take away the key, how am I to get out, unlessI jump through the window? But that I should not mind so much, if thecasements here were not all so high; one can hardly scramble up to themon the inside, and one should break one's neck, I suppose, going downon the outside. But you know, I dare say, ma'am, what a hurly-burly thecastle was in, last night; you must 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 therewas not one of the Signors sober; and what is more, not one of thosefine ladies sober, either. I thought, when I saw them first, that allthose fine silks and fine veils,--why, ma'amselle, their veils wereworked with silver! and fine trimmings--boded no good--I guessed whatthey 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 thecastle among all these drunken Signors?'
'O! says I, for that matter, I only want to go to my young lady'schamber, and I have only to go, you know, along the vaulted passage andacross the great hall and up the marble stair-case and along the northgallery and through the west wing of the castle and I am in the corridorin a minute.' 'Are you so? says he, and what is to become of you, ifyou meet any of those noble cavaliers in the way?' 'Well, says I, if youthink there is danger, then, go with me, and guard me; I am never afraidwhen you are by.' 'What! says he, when I am scarcely recovered of onewound, shall I put myself in the way of getting another? for if any ofthe cavaliers meet you, they will fall a-fighting with me directly.No, no, says he, I will cut the way shorter, than through the vaultedpassage and up the marble stair-case, and along the north gallery andthrough 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 anothersubject,--'so he locked you up?'
'Yes, he did indeed, ma'amselle, notwithstanding all I could say to thecontrary; and Caterina and I and he staid there all night. And in a fewminutes after I was not so vexed, for there came Signor Verezzi roaringalong the passage, like a mad bull, and he mistook Ludovico's hall, forold Carlo's; so he tried to burst open the door, and called out for morewine, for that he had drunk all the flasks dry, and was dying of thirst.So we were all as still as night, that he might suppose there was nobodyin the room; but the Signor was as cunning as the best of us, and keptcalling out at the door, "Come forth, my antient hero!" said he, "hereis no enemy at the gate, that you need hide yourself: come forth, myvalorous Signor Steward!" Just then old Carlo opened his door, and hecame with a flask in his hand; for, as soon as the Signor saw him, hewas as tame as could be, and followed him away as naturally as a dogdoes a butcher with a piece of meat in his basket. All this I sawthrough the key-hole. Well, Annette, said Ludovico, jeeringly, shall Ilet you out now? O no, says I, I would not'--
'I have some questions to ask you on another subject,' interruptedEmily, quite wearied by this story. 'Do you know whether there are anyprisoners in the castle, and whether they are confined at this end ofthe edifice?'
'I was not in the way, ma'amselle,' replied Annette, 'when the firstparty came in from the mountains, and the last party is not comeback yet, so I don't know, whether there are any prisoners; but it isexpected 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 thinkingof Monsieur Valancourt, and that he may have come among the armies,which, they say, are come from our country, to fight against this state,and that he has met with some of OUR people, and is taken captive. OLord! how glad I should be, if it was so!'
'Would you, indeed, be glad?' said Emily, in a tone of mournfulreproach.
'To be sure I should, ma'am,' replied Annette, 'and would not you beglad too, to see Signor Valancourt? I don't know any chevalier I likebetter, I have a very great regard for the Signor, truly.'
'Your regard for him cannot be doubted,' said Emily, 'since you wish tosee him a prisoner.'
'Why no, ma'amselle, not a prisoner either; but one must be glad to seehim, you know. And it was only the other night I dreamt--I dreamt I sawhim drive into the castle-yard all in a coach and six, and dressed out,with a laced coat and a sword, like a lord as he is.'
Emily could not forbear smiling at Annette's ideas of Valancourt,and repeated her enquiry, whether she had heard the servants talk ofprisoners.
'No, ma'amselle,' replied she, 'never; and lately they have done nothingbut talk of the apparition, that has been walking about of a night onthe ramparts, and that frightened the sentinels into fits. It came amongthem like a flash of fire, they say, and they all fell down in a row,till they came to themselves again; and then it was gone, and nothing tobe seen but the old castle walls; so they helped one another up again asfast as they could. You would not believe, ma'amselle, though I shewedyou the very cannon, where it used to appear.'
'And are you, indeed, so simple, Annette,' said Emily, smiling at thiscurious exaggeration of the circumstances she had witnessed, 'as tocredit these stories?'
'Credit them, ma'amselle! why all the world could not persuade me outof them. Roberto and Sebastian and half a dozen more of them went intofits! To be sure, there was no occasion for that; I said, myself, therewas no need of that, for, says I, when the enemy comes, what a prettyfigure 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 another up, but will fall to, cutting andslashing, till he makes them all rise up dead men. No, no, says I, thereis reason in all things: though I might have fallen down in a fit thatwas no rule for them, being, because it is no business of mine to lookgruff, and fight battles.'
Emily endeavoured to correct the superstitious weakness of Annette,though she could not entirely subdue her own; to which the latter onlyreplied, 'Nay, ma'amselle, you will believe nothing; you are almost asbad as the Signor himself, who was in a great passion when they toldof what had happened, and swore that the first man, who repeated suchnonsense, should be thrown into the dungeon under the east turret. Thiswas a hard punishment too, for only talking nonsense, as he called it,but I dare say he had other reasons for calling it so, than you have,ma'am.'
Emily looked displeased, and made no reply. As she mused upon therecollected appearance, which had lately so much alarmed her, andconsidered the circumstances of the figure having stationed itselfopposite to her casement, she was for a moment inclined to believe itwas Valancourt, whom she had seen. Yet, if it was he, why did he notspeak to her, when he had the opportunity of doing so--and, if he was aprisoner in the castle, and he could be here in no other character, howcould he obtain the means of walking abroad on the rampart? Thus shewas utterly unable to decide, whet
her the musician and the form she hadobserved, were the same, or, if they were, whether this was Valancourt.She, however, desired that Annette would endeavour to learn whether anyprisoners were in the castle, and also their names.
'O dear, ma'amselle!' said Annette, 'I forget to tell you what you bademe ask about, the ladies, as they call themselves, who are lately cometo Udolpho. Why that Signora Livona, that the Signor brought to see mylate lady at Venice, is his mistress now, and was little better then,I dare say. And Ludovico says (but pray be secret, ma'am) that hisexcellenza introduced her only to impose upon the world, that had begunto make free with her character. So when people saw my lady notice her,they thought what they had heard must be scandal. The other two are themistresses of Signor Verezzi and Signor Bertolini; and Signor Montoniinvited them all to the castle; and so, yesterday, he gave a greatentertainment; and there they were, all drinking Tuscany wine and allsorts, and laughing and singing, till they made the castle ring again.But I thought they were dismal sounds, so soon after my poor lady'sdeath too; and they brought to my mind what she would have thought, ifshe had heard them--but she cannot hear them now, poor soul! said I.'
Emily turned away to conceal her emotion, and then desired Annette togo, and make enquiry, concerning the prisoners, that might be in thecastle, but conjured her to do it with caution, and on no account tomention her name, or that of Monsieur Valancourt.
'Now I think of it, ma'amselle,' said Annette, 'I do believe there areprisoners, for I overheard one of the Signor's men, yesterday, in theservants hall, talking something about ransoms, and saying what a finething it was for his excellenza to catch up men, and they were asgood booty as any other, because of the ransoms. And the other man wasgrumbling, and saying it was fine enough for the Signor, but none sofine for his soldiers, because, said he, we don't go shares there.'
This information heightened Emily's impatience to know more, and Annetteimmediately departed on her enquiry.
The late resolution of Emily to resign her estates to Montoni, now gaveway to new considerations; the possibility, that Valancourt was nearher, revived her fortitude, and she determined to brave the threatenedvengeance, at least, till she could be assured whether he was really inthe castle. She was in this temper of mind, when she received a messagefrom Montoni, requiring her attendance in the cedar parlour, which sheobeyed with trembling, and, on her way thither, endeavoured to animateher fortitude with the idea of Valancourt.
Montoni was alone. 'I sent for you,' said he, 'to give you anotheropportunity of retracting your late mistaken assertions concerning theLanguedoc estates. I will condescend to advise, where I may command.--Ifyou are really deluded by an opinion, that you have any right to theseestates, at least, do not persist in the error--an error, which youmay perceive, too late, has been fatal to you. Dare my resentment nofurther, but sign the papers.'
'If I have no right in these estates, sir,' said Emily, 'of what servicecan it be to you, that I should sign any papers, concerning them? Ifthe lands are yours by law, you certainly may possess them, without myinterference, or my consent.'
'I will have no more argument,' said Montoni, with a look that madeher tremble. 'What had I but trouble to expect, when I condescendedto reason with a baby! But I will be trifled with no longer: let therecollection of your aunt's sufferings, in consequence of her folly andobstinacy, teach you a lesson.--Sign the papers.'
Emily's resolution was for a moment awed:--she shrunk at therecollections he revived, and from the vengeance he threatened; butthen, the image of Valancourt, who so long had loved her, and who wasnow, perhaps, so near her, came to her heart, and, together with thestrong feelings of indignation, with which she had always, from herinfancy, regarded an act of injustice, inspired her with a noble, thoughimprudent, courage.
'Sign the papers,' said Montoni, more impatiently than before.
'Never, sir,' replied Emily; 'that request would have proved to me theinjustice of your claim, had I even been ignorant of my right.'
Montoni turned pale with anger, while his quivering lip and lurking eyemade her almost repent the boldness of her speech.
'Then all my vengeance falls upon you,' he exclaimed, with an horribleoath. 'And think not it shall be delayed. Neither the estates inLanguedoc, or Gascony, shall be yours; you have dared to question myright,--now dare to question my power. I have a punishment which youthink not of; it is terrible! This night--this very night'--
'This night!' repeated another voice.
Montoni paused, and turned half round, but, seeming to recollecthimself, he proceeded in a lower tone.
'You have lately seen one terrible example of obstinacy and folly; yetthis, it appears, has not been sufficient to deter you.--I could tellyou of others--I could make you tremble at the bare recital.'
He was interrupted by a groan, which seemed to rise from underneath thechamber they were in; and, as he threw a glance round it, impatience andrage flashed from his eyes, yet something like a shade of fear passedover his countenance. Emily sat down in a chair, near the door, for thevarious emotions she had suffered, now almost overcame her; but Montonipaused scarcely an instant, and, commanding his features, resumed hisdiscourse in a lower, yet sterner voice.
'I say, I could give you other instances of my power and of mycharacter, which it seems you do not understand, or you would not defyme.--I could tell you, that, when once my resolution is taken--but Iam talking to a baby. Let me, however, repeat, that terrible as are theexamples I could recite, the recital could not now benefit you; for,though your repentance would put an immediate end to opposition, itwould not now appease my indignation.--I will have vengeance as well asjustice.'
Another groan filled the pause which Montoni made.
'Leave the room instantly!' said he, seeming not to notice this strangeoccurrence. Without power to implore his pity, she rose to go, but foundthat she could not support herself; awe and terror overcame her, and shesunk again into the chair.
'Quit my presence!' cried Montoni. 'This affectation of fear ill becomesthe heroine who has just dared to brave my indignation.'
'Did you hear nothing, Signor?' said Emily, trembling, and still unableto leave the room.
'I heard my own voice,' rejoined Montoni, sternly.
'And nothing else?' said Emily, speaking with difficulty.--'There again!Do you hear nothing now?'
'Obey my order,' repeated Montoni. 'And for these fool's tricks--I willsoon discover by whom they are practised.'
Emily again rose, and exerted herself to the utmost to leave theroom, while Montoni followed her; but, instead of calling aloud to hisservants to search the chamber, as he had formerly done on a similaroccurrence, passed to the ramparts.
As, in her way to the corridor, she rested for a moment at an opencasement, Emily saw a party of Montoni's troops winding down a distantmountain, whom she noticed no further, than as they brought to her mindthe wretched prisoners they were, perhaps, bringing to the castle. Atlength, having reached her apartment, she threw herself upon the couch,overcome with the new horrors of her situation. Her thoughts lost intumult and perplexity, she could neither repent of, or approve, her lateconduct; she could only remember, that she was in the power of a man,who had no principle of action--but his will; and the astonishment andterrors of superstition, which had, for a moment, so strongly assailedher, now yielded to those of reason.
She was, at length, roused from the reverie, which engaged her, by aconfusion of distant voices, and a clattering of hoofs, that seemed tocome, on the wind, from the courts. A sudden hope, that some good wasapproaching, seized her mind, till she remembered the troops she hadobserved from the casement, and concluded this to be the party, whichAnnette had said were expected at Udolpho.
Soon after, she heard voices faintly from the halls, and the noiseof horses' feet sunk away in the wind; silence ensued. Emily listenedanxiously for Annette's step in the corridor, but a pause of totalstillness continued, till again the castle seemed to be all tumult andconfusion. She heard th
e echoes of many footsteps, passing to and froin the halls and avenues below, and then busy tongues were loud on therampart. Having hurried to her casement, she perceived Montoni, withsome of his officers, leaning on the walls, and pointing from them;while several soldiers were employed at the further end of the rampartabout some cannon; and she continued to observe them, careless of thepassing time.
Annette at length appeared, but brought no intelligence of Valancourt,'For, ma'amselle,' said she, 'all the people pretend to know nothingabout any prisoners. But here is a fine piece of business! The rest ofthe party are just arrived, ma'am; they came scampering in, as if theywould have broken their necks; one scarcely knew whether the man, or hishorse would get within the gates first. And they have brought word--andsuch news! they have brought word, that a party of the enemy, as theycall them, are coming towards the castle; so we shall have all theofficers of justice, I suppose, besieging it! all those terrible-lookingfellows one used to see at Venice.'
'Thank God!' exclaimed Emily, fervently, 'there is yet a hope left forme, then!'
'What mean you, ma'amselle? Do you wish to fall into the hands of thosesad-looking men! Why I used to shudder as I passed them, and should haveguessed what 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 ofjustice?'
'Why OUR people, ma'am, are all in such a fright, and a fuss; and Idon't know any thing but the fear of justice, that could make them so.I used to think nothing on earth could fluster them, unless, indeed,it was a ghost, or so; but now, some of them are for hiding down inthe vaults under the castle; but you must not tell the Signor this,ma'amselle, and I overheard two of them talking--Holy Mother! what makesyou look so sad, ma'amselle? You don't hear what I say!'
'Yes, I do, Annette; pray proceed.'
'Well, ma'amselle, all the castle is in such hurly-burly. Some of themen are loading the cannon, and some are examining the great gates, andthe walls all round, and are hammering and patching up, just as if allthose repairs had never been made, that were so long about. But what isto become of me and you, ma'amselle, and Ludovico? O! when I hear thesound of the cannon, I shall die with fright. If I could but catch thegreat gate open for one minute, I would be even with it for shutting mewithin these walls so long!--it should never see me again.'
Emily caught the latter words of Annette. 'O! if you could find it open,but for one moment!' she exclaimed, 'my peace might yet be saved!'The heavy groan she uttered, and the wildness of her look, terrifiedAnnette, still more than her words; who entreated Emily to explain themeaning of them, to whom it suddenly occurred, that Ludovico might beof some service, if there should be a possibility of escape, and whorepeated the substance of what had passed between Montoni and herself,but conjured her to mention this to no person except to Ludovico. 'Itmay, perhaps, be in his power,' she added, 'to effect our escape. Go tohim, Annette, tell him what I have to apprehend, and what I havealready suffered; but entreat him to be secret, and to lose no time inattempting to release us. If he is willing to undertake this he shallbe amply rewarded. I cannot speak with him myself, for we might beobserved, and then effectual care would be taken to prevent our flight.But be quick, Annette, and, above all, be discreet--I will await yourreturn in this apartment.'
The girl, whose honest heart had been much affected by the recital, wasnow as eager to obey, as Emily was to employ her, and she immediatelyquitted the room.
Emily's surprise increased, as she reflected upon Annette'sintelligence. 'Alas!' said she, 'what can the officers of justicedo against an armed castle? these cannot be such.' Upon furtherconsideration, however, she concluded, that, Montoni's bands havingplundered the country round, the inhabitants had taken arms, and werecoming with the officers of police and a party of soldiers, to forcetheir way into the castle. 'But they know not,' thought she, 'itsstrength, or the armed numbers within it. Alas! except from flight, Ihave nothing to hope!'
Montoni, though not precisely what Emily apprehended him to be--acaptain of banditti--had employed his troops in enterprises not lessdaring, or less atrocious, than such a character would have undertaken.They had not only pillaged, whenever opportunity offered, the helplesstraveller, but had attacked, and plundered the villas of severalpersons, which, being situated among the solitary recesses of themountains, were totally unprepared for resistance. In these expeditionsthe commanders of the party did not appear, and the men, partlydisguised, had sometimes been mistaken for common robbers, and, atothers, for bands of the foreign enemy, who, at that period, invadedthe country. But, though they had already pillaged several mansions, andbrought home considerable treasures, they had ventured to approach onlyone castle, in the attack of which they were assisted by other troops oftheir own order; from this, however, they were vigorously repulsed,and pursued by some of the foreign enemy, who were in league with thebesieged. Montoni's troops fled precipitately towards Udolpho, but wereso closely tracked over the mountains, that, when they reached one ofthe heights in the neighbourhood of the castle, and looked back upon theroad, they perceived the enemy winding among the cliffs below, andat not more than a league distant. Upon this discovery, they hastenedforward with increased speed, to prepare Montoni for the enemy; and itwas their arrival, which had thrown the castle into such confusion andtumult.
As Emily awaited anxiously some information from below, she now saw fromher casements a body of troops pour over the neighbouring heights; and,though Annette had been gone a very short time, and had a difficult anddangerous business to accomplish, her impatience for intelligence becamepainful: she listened; opened her door; and often went out upon thecorridor to meet her.
At length, she heard a footstep approach her chamber; and, on openingthe door, saw, not Annette, but old Carlo! New fears rushed upon hermind. He said he came from the Signor, who had ordered him to informher, that she must be ready to depart from Udolpho immediately, for thatthe castle was about to be besieged; and that mules were preparing toconvey her, with her guides, to a place of safety.
'Of safety!' exclaimed Emily, thoughtlessly; 'has, then, the Signor somuch consideration for me?'
Carlo looked upon the ground, and made no reply. A thousand oppositeemotions agitated Emily, successively, as she listened to old Carlo;those of joy, grief, distrust and apprehension, appeared, and vanishedfrom her mind, with the quickness of lightning. One moment, it seemedimpossible, that Montoni could take this measure merely for herpreservation; and so very strange was his sending her from the castleat all, that she could attribute it only to the design of carrying intoexecution the new scheme of vengeance, with which he had menaced her. Inthe next instant, it appeared so desirable to quit the castle, under anycircumstances, that she could not but rejoice in the prospect, believingthat change must be for the better, till she remembered the probabilityof Valancourt being detained in it, when sorrow and regret usurped hermind, and she wished, much more fervently than she had yet done, that itmight not be his voice which she had heard.
Carlo having reminded her, that she had no time to lose, for that theenemy were within sight of the castle, Emily entreated him to informher whither she was to go; and, after some hesitation, he said he hadreceived no orders to tell; but, on her repeating the question, replied,that he believed she was to be carried into Tuscany.'
'To Tuscany!' exclaimed Emily--'and why thither?'
Carlo answered, that he knew nothing further, than that she was tobe lodged in a cottage on the borders of Tuscany, at the feet of theApennines--'Not a day's journey distant,' said he.
Emily now dismissed him; and, with trembling hands, prepared the smallpackage, that she meant to take with her; while she was employed aboutwhich Annette returned.
'O ma'amselle!' said she, 'nothing can be done! Ludovico says the newporter is more watchful even than Barnardine was, and we might as wellthrow ourselves in the way of a dragon, as in his. Ludovico is almost asbroken-hearted as you are, ma'am
, on my account, he says, and I am sureI shall never live to hear the cannon fire twice!'
She now began to weep, but revived upon hearing of what had justoccurred, and entreated Emily to take her with her.
'That I will do most willingly,' replied Emily, 'if Signor Montonipermits it;' to which Annette made no reply, but ran out of the room,and immediately sought Montoni, who was on the terrace, surrounded byhis officers, where she began her petition. He sharply bade her go intothe castle, and absolutely refused her request. Annette, however, notonly pleaded for herself, but for Ludovico; and Montoni had ordered someof his men to take her from his presence, before she would retire.
In an agony of disappointment, she returned to Emily, who forebodedlittle good towards herself, from this refusal to Annette, and who, soonafter, received a summons to repair to the great court, where the mules,with her guides, were in waiting. Emily here tried in vain to sooth theweeping Annette, who persisted in saying, that she should never see herdear young lady again; a fear, which her mistress secretly thoughttoo well justified, but which she endeavoured to restrain, while,with apparent composure, she bade this affectionate servant farewell.Annette, however, followed to the courts, which were now thronged withpeople, busy in preparation for the enemy; and, having seen her mounther mule and depart, with her attendants, through the portal, turnedinto the castle and wept again.
Emily, meanwhile, as she looked back upon the gloomy courts of thecastle, no longer silent as when she had first entered them, butresounding with the noise of preparation for their defence, as well ascrowded with soldiers and workmen, hurrying to and fro; and, when shepassed once more under the huge portcullis, which had formerly struckher with terror and dismay, and, looking round, saw no walls to confineher steps--felt, in spite of anticipation, the sudden joy of a prisoner,who unexpectedly finds himself at liberty. This emotion would not sufferher now to look impartially on the dangers that awaited her without; onmountains infested by hostile parties, who seized every opportunity forplunder; and on a journey commended under the guidance of men, whosecountenances certainly did not speak favourably of their dispositions.In the present moments, she could only rejoice, that she was liberatedfrom those walls, which she had entered with such dismal forebodings;and, remembering the superstitious presentiment, which had then seizedher, 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 high over the woods, among which she wound, the stranger, whomshe believed to be confined there, returned to her remembrance, andanxiety and apprehension, lest he should be Valancourt, again passedlike a cloud upon her joy. She recollected every circumstance,concerning this unknown person, since the night, when she had firstheard him play the song of her native province;--circumstances, whichshe had so often recollected, and compared before, without extractingfrom them any thing like conviction, and which still only prompted herto believe, that Valancourt was a prisoner at Udolpho. It was possible,however, that the men, who were her conductors, might afford herinformation, on this subject; but, fearing to question them immediately,lest they should be unwilling to discover any circumstance to her in thepresence of each other, she watched for an opportunity of speaking withthem separately.
Soon after, a trumpet echoed faintly from a distance; the guidesstopped, and looked toward the quarter whence it came, but the thickwoods, which surrounded them, excluding all view of the country beyond,one of the men rode on to the point of an eminence, that afforded amore extensive prospect, to observe how near the enemy, whose trumpet heguessed this to be, were advanced; the other, meanwhile, remained withEmily, and to him she put some questions, concerning the stranger atUdolpho. Ugo, for this was his name, said, that there were severalprisoners in the castle, but he neither recollected their persons,or the precise time of their arrival, and could therefore give her noinformation. There was a surliness in his manner, as he spoke, that madeit probable he would not have satisfied her enquiries, even if he couldhave done so.
Having asked him what prisoners had been taken, about the time, asnearly as she could remember, when she had first heard the music, 'Allthat week,' said Ugo, 'I was out with a party, upon the mountains, andknew nothing of what was doing at the castle. We had enough upon ourhands, 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, theytravelled on in deep silence; while Emily often caught, between theopening woods, partial glimpses of the castle above--the west towers,whose battlements were now crowded with archers, and the rampartsbelow, where soldiers were seen hurrying along, or busy upon the walls,preparing the cannon.
Having emerged from the woods, they wound along the valley in anopposite direction to that, from whence the enemy were approaching.Emily now had a full view of Udolpho, with its gray walls, towers andterraces, high over-topping the precipices and the dark woods, andglittering partially with the arms of the condottieri, as the sun'srays, streaming through an autumnal cloud, glanced upon a part ofthe edifice, whose remaining features stood in darkened majesty. Shecontinued to gaze, through her tears, upon walls that, perhaps, confinedValancourt, and which now, as the cloud floated away, were lighted upwith sudden splendour, and then, as suddenly were shrouded in gloom;while the passing gleam fell on the wood-tops below, and heightened thefirst tints of autumn, that had begun to steal upon the foliage. Thewinding mountains, at length, shut Udolpho from her view, and sheturned, with mournful reluctance, to other objects. The melancholysighing of the wind among the pines, that waved high over the steeps,and the distant thunder of a torrent assisted her musings, and conspiredwith the wild scenery around, to diffuse over her mind emotions solemn,yet not unpleasing, but which were soon interrupted by the distant roarof cannon, echoing among the mountains. The sounds rolled along thewind, and were repeated in faint and fainter reverberation, till theysunk in sullen murmurs. This was a signal, that the enemy had reachedthe castle, and fear for Valancourt again tormented Emily. She turnedher anxious eyes towards that part of the country, where the edificestood, but the intervening heights concealed it from her view; still,however, she saw the tall head of a mountain, which immediately frontedher late chamber, and on this she fixed her gaze, as if it could havetold her of all that was passing in the scene it overlooked. The guidestwice reminded her, that she was losing time and that they had far togo, before she could turn from this interesting object, and, even whenshe again moved onward, she often sent a look back, till only its bluepoint, brightening in a gleam of sunshine, appeared peeping over othermountains.
The sound of the cannon affected Ugo, as the blast of the trumpetdoes the war-horse; it called forth all the fire of his nature; hewas impatient to be in the midst of the fight, and uttered frequentexecrations against Montoni for having sent him to a distance. Thefeelings of his comrade seemed to be very opposite, and adapted ratherto the cruelties, than to the dangers of war.
Emily asked frequent questions, concerning the place of her destination,but could only learn, that she was going to a cottage in Tuscany; and,whenever she mentioned the subject, she fancied she perceived, in thecountenances of these men, an expression of malice and cunning, thatalarmed her.
It was afternoon, when they had left the castle. During several hours,they travelled through regions of profound solitude, where no bleat ofsheep, or bark of watch-dog, broke on silence, and they were now too faroff to hear even the faint thunder of the cannon. Towards evening, theywound down precipices, black with forests of cypress, pine and cedar,into a glen so savage and secluded, that, if Solitude ever had localhabitation, this might have been 'her place of dearest residence.' ToEmily it appeared a spot exactly suited for the retreat of banditti,and, in her imagination, she already saw them lurking under the brow ofsome projecting rock, whence their shadows, lengthened by the settingsun, stretched across the road, and warned the traveller of his danger.She shuddered at the idea, and, looking at her condu
ctors, to observewhether they were armed, thought she saw in them the banditti shedreaded!
It was in this glen, that they proposed to alight, 'For,' said Ugo,'night will come on presently, and then the wolves will make itdangerous to stop.' This was a new subject of alarm to Emily, butinferior to what she suffered from the thought of being left in thesewilds, at midnight, with two such men as her present conductors. Darkand dreadful hints of what might be Montoni's purpose in sending herhither, came to her mind. She endeavoured to dissuade the men fromstopping, and enquired, with anxiety, how far they had yet to go.
'Many leagues yet,' replied Bertrand. 'As for you, Signora, you may doas you please about eating, but for us, we will make a hearty supper,while we can. We shall have need of it, I warrant, before we finishour journey. The sun's going down apace; let us alight under that rock,yonder.'
His comrade assented, and, turning the mules out of the road, theyadvanced towards a cliff, overhung with cedars, Emily following intrembling silence. They lifted her from her mule, and, having seatedthemselves on the grass, at the foot of the rocks, drew some homelyfare from a wallet, of which Emily tried to eat a little, the better todisguise her apprehensions.
The sun was now sunk behind the high mountains in the west, upon which apurple haze began to spread, and the gloom of twilight to draw over thesurrounding objects. To the low and sullen murmur of the breeze, passingamong the woods, she no longer listened with any degree of pleasure,for it conspired with the wildness of the scene and the evening hour, todepress her spirits.
Suspense had so much increased her anxiety, as to the prisoner atUdolpho, that, finding it impracticable to speak alone with Bertrand, onthat subject, she renewed her questions in the presence of Ugo; buthe either was, or pretended to be entirely ignorant, concerning thestranger. When he had dismissed the question, he talked with Ugo on somesubject, which led to the mention of Signor Orsino and of the affairthat had banished him from Venice; respecting which Emily had venturedto ask a few questions. Ugo appeared to be well acquainted withthe circumstances of that tragical event, and related some minuteparticulars, that both shocked and surprised her; for it appearedvery extraordinary how such particulars could be known to any, but topersons, present when the assassination was committed.
'He was of rank,' said Bertrand, 'or the State would not have troubleditself to enquire after his assassins. The Signor has been luckyhitherto; this is not the first affair of the kind he has had upon hishands; and to be sure, when a gentleman has no other way of gettingredress--why he must take this.'
'Aye,' said Ugo, 'and why is not this as good as another? This is theway to have justice done at once, without more ado. If you go to law,you must stay till 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 justice yourself.'
'Yes, yes,' rejoined Bertrand, 'if you wait till justice is doneyou--you may stay long enough. Why if I want a friend of mine properlyserved, how am I to get my revenge? Ten to one they will tell me he isin the right, and I am in the wrong. Or, if a fellow has got possessionof property, which I think ought to be mine, why I may wait, till Istarve, perhaps, before the law will give it me, and then, after all,the judge may say--the estate is his. What is to be done then?--Why thecase is plain enough, I must take it at last.'
Emily's horror at this conversation was heightened by a suspicion, thatthe latter part of it was pointed against herself, and that these menhad been commissioned by Montoni to execute a similar kind of JUSTICE,in his cause.
'But I was speaking of Signor Orsino,' resumed Bertrand, 'he is one ofthose, who love to do justice at once. I remember, about ten years ago,the Signor had a quarrel with a cavaliero of Milan. The story was toldme then, and it is still fresh in my head. They quarrelled about alady, that the Signor liked, and she was perverse enough to prefer thegentleman of Milan, and even carried her whim so far as to marry him.This provoked the Signor, as well it might, for he had tried to talkreason to her a long while, and used to send people to serenade her,under her windows, of a night; and used to make verses about her, andwould swear she was the handsomest lady in Milan--But all would notdo--nothing would bring her to reason; and, as I said, she went so farat last, as to marry this other cavaliero. This made the Signor wrath,with a vengeance; he resolved to be even with her though, and he watchedhis opportunity, and did not wait long, for, soon after the marriage,they set out for Padua, nothing doubting, I warrant, of what waspreparing for them. The cavaliero thought, to be sure, he was to becalled to no account, but was to go off triumphant; but he was soon madeto 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 tellhim she liked 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 provokedthe Signor, so, and with good reason, for, who likes to be told that heis disagreeable? and this was saying as good. It was enough to tell himthis; 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, thatshe had had a regard for the other gentleman a great while; but that isnothing to the purpose, she should not have married him, and then theSignor would not have been so much provoked. She might have expectedwhat was to follow; it was not to be supposed he would bear her illusage tamely, and she might thank herself for what happened. But, as Isaid, they set out for Padua, she and her husband, and the road lay oversome barren mountains like these. This suited the Signor's purpose well.He watched the time of their departure, and sent his men after them,with directions what to do. They kept their distance, till they sawtheir opportunity, and this did not happen, till the second day'sjourney, when, the gentleman having sent his servants forward tothe next town, may be, to have horses in readiness, the Signor's menquickened their pace, and overtook the carriage, in a hollow, betweentwo mountains, where the woods prevented the servants from seeing whatpassed, though they were then not far off. When we came up, we fired ourtromboni, but missed.'
Emily turned pale, at these words, and then hoped she had mistaken them;while Bertrand proceeded:
'The gentleman fired again, but he was soon made to alight, and it wasas he turned to call his people, that he was struck. It was the mostdexterous feat you ever saw--he was struck in the back with threestillettos at once. He fell, and was dispatched in a minute; but thelady escaped, for the servants had heard the firing, and came up beforeshe could be taken care of. "Bertrand," said the Signor, when his menreturned'--
'Bertrand!' exclaimed Emily, pale with horror, on whom not a syllable ofthis narrative 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 repeatthat name?'
Bertrand swore. 'What signifies it,' he proceeded, 'what the man wascalled--Bertrand, or Giovanni--or Roberto? it's all one for that. Youhave put me out twice with that--question. "Bertrand," or Giovanni--orwhat you will--"Bertrand," said the Signor, "if your comrades had donetheir duty, as well as you, I should not have lost the lady. Go, myhonest fellow, and be happy with this." He game him a purse of gold--andlittle 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.When first she saw these men, their appearance and their connection withMontoni had been sufficient to impress her with distrust; but now, whenone of them had betrayed himself to be a murderer, and she saw herself,at the approach of night, under his guidance, among wild and solitarymountains, and going she scarcely knew whither, the most agonizingterror seized her, which was the less supportable from the necessityshe found herself under of conc
ealing all symptoms of it from hercompanions. Reflecting on the character and the menaces of Montoni,it appeared not improbable, that he had delivered her to them, for thepurpose of having her murdered, and of thus securing to himself, withoutfurther opposition, or delay, the estates, for which he had so long andso desperately contended. Yet, if this was his design, there appearedno necessity for sending her to such a distance from the castle; for,if any dread of discovery had made him unwilling to perpetrate thedeed there, a much nearer place might have sufficed for the purpose ofconcealment. These considerations, however, did not immediately occur toEmily, with whom so many circumstances conspired to rouse terror, thatshe had no power to oppose it, or to enquire coolly into its grounds;and, if she had done so, still there were many appearances which wouldtoo well have justified her most terrible apprehensions. She did notnow dare to speak to her conductors, at the sound of whose voices shetrembled; and when, now and then, she stole a glance at them, theircountenances, seen imperfectly through the gloom of evening, served toconfirm her fears.
The sun had now been set some time; heavy clouds, whose lower skirtswere tinged with sulphureous crimson, lingered in the west, and threw areddish tint upon the pine forests, which sent forth a solemn sound, asthe breeze rolled over them. The hollow moan struck upon Emily's heart,and served to render more gloomy and terrific every object aroundher,--the mountains, shaded in twilight--the gleaming torrent, hoarselyroaring--the black forests, and the deep glen, broken into rockyrecesses, high overshadowed by cypress and sycamore and winding intolong obscurity. To this glen, Emily, as she sent forth her anxious eye,thought there was no end; no hamlet, or even cottage, was seen, andstill no distant bark of watch dog, or even faint, far-off halloocame on the wind. In a tremulous voice, she now ventured to remind theguides, that it was growing late, and to ask again how far they had togo: but they were too much occupied by their own discourse to attendto her question, which she forbore to repeat, lest it should provoke asurly answer. Having, however, soon after, finished their supper, themen collected the fragments into their wallet, and proceeded along thiswinding glen, in gloomy silence; while Emily again mused upon her ownsituation, and concerning the motives of Montoni for involving her init. That it was for some evil purpose towards herself, she could notdoubt; and it seemed, that, if he did not intend to destroy her, with aview of immediately seizing her estates, he meant to reserve her awhile in concealment, for some more terrible design, for one that mightequally gratify his avarice and still more his deep revenge. At thismoment, remembering Signor Brochio and his behaviour in the corridor,a few preceding nights, the latter supposition, horrible as it was,strengthened in her belief. Yet, why remove her from the castle,where deeds of darkness had, she feared, been often executed withsecrecy?--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,that it sometimes threatened her senses; and, often as she went, shethought of her late father and of all he would have suffered, could hehave foreseen the strange and dreadful events of her future life;and how anxiously he would have avoided that fatal confidence, whichcommitted his daughter to the care of a woman so weak as was MadameMontoni. So romantic and improbable, indeed, did her present situationappear to Emily herself, particularly when she compared it with therepose and beauty of her early days, that there were moments, when shecould almost have believed herself the victim of frightful visions,glaring upon a disordered fancy.
Restrained by the presence of her guides from expressing her terrors,their acuteness was, at length, lost in gloomy despair. The dreadfulview of what might await her hereafter rendered her almost indifferentto the surrounding dangers. She now looked, with little emotion, on thewild dingles, and the gloomy road and mountains, whose outlines wereonly distinguishable through the dusk;--objects, which but lately hadaffected her spirits so much, as to awaken 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 bythe slowest pace, could scarcely discern their way. The clouds, whichseemed charged with thunder, passed slowly along the heavens, shewing,at intervals, the trembling stars; while the groves of cypress andsycamore, that overhung the rocks, waved high in the breeze, as it sweptover the glen, and then rushed among the distant woods. Emily shiveredas it passed.
'Where is the torch?' said Ugo, 'It grows dark.'
'Not so dark yet,' replied Bertrand, 'but we may find our way, and 'tisbest not light the torch, before we can help, for it may betray us, ifany straggling party of the enemy is abroad.'
Ugo muttered something, which Emily did not understand, and theyproceeded in darkness, while she almost wished, that the enemy mightdiscover them; for from change there was something to hope, since shecould scarcely imagine any situation more dreadful than her present one.
As they moved slowly along, her attention was surprised by a thintapering flame, that appeared, by fits, at the point of the pike, whichBertrand carried, resembling what she had observed on the lance of thesentinel, the night Madame Montoni died, and which he had said wasan omen. The event immediately following it appeared to justify theassertion, and a superstitious impression had remained on Emily's mind,which the present appearance confirmed. She thought it was an omen ofher own fate, and watched it successively vanish and return, in gloomysilence, which was at length interrupted by Bertrand.
'Let us light the torch,' said he, 'and get under shelter of thewoods;--a storm is coming on--look at my lance.'
He held it forth, with the flame tapering at its point.*
(*See the Abbe Berthelon on Electricity. [A. R.])
'Aye,' said Ugo, 'you are not one of those, that believe in omens: wehave left cowards at the castle, who would turn pale at such a sight.I have often seen it before a thunder storm, it is an omen of that, andone is coming now, sure enough. The clouds flash fast already.'
Emily was relieved by this conversation from some of the terrors ofsuperstition, but those of reason increased, as, waiting while Ugosearched for a flint, to strike fire, she watched the pale lightninggleam over the woods they were about to enter, and illumine the harshcountenances of her companions. Ugo could not find a flint, and Bertrandbecame impatient, for the thunder sounded hollowly at a distance, andthe lightning was more frequent. Sometimes, it revealed the nearerrecesses of the woods, or, displaying some opening in their summits,illumined the ground beneath with partial splendour, the thick foliageof the trees preserving the surrounding scene in deep shadow.
At length, Ugo found a flint, and the torch was lighted. The men thendismounted, and, having assisted Emily, led the mules towards the woods,that skirted the glen, on the left, over broken ground, frequentlyinterrupted with brush-wood and wild plants, which she was often obligedto make a circuit to avoid.
She could not approach these woods, without experiencing keener sense ofher danger. Their deep silence, except when the wind swept among theirbranches, and impenetrable glooms shewn partially by the sudden flash,and then, by the red glare of the torch, which served only to make'darkness visible,' were circumstances, that contributed to renew allher most terrible apprehensions; she thought, too, that, at this moment,the countenances of her conductors displayed more than their usualfierceness, mingled with a kind of lurking exultation, which they seemedendeavouring to disguise. To her affrighted fancy it occurred, that theywere leading her into these woods to complete the will of Montoni byher murder. The horrid suggestion called a groan from her heart, whichsurprised her companions, who turned round quickly towards her, and shedemanded why they led her thither, beseeching them to continue their wayalong the open glen, which she represented to be less dangerous than thewoods, in a thunder storm.
'No, no,' said Bertrand, 'we know best where the danger lies. See howthe clouds open over our heads. Besides, we can glide under cover ofthe woods with less hazard of being seen, should any of the enemy bewandering this way. By holy St. Peter an
d all the rest of them, I've asstout a heart as the best, as many a poor devil could tell, if he werealive again--but what can we do against numbers?'
'What are you whining about?' said Ugo, contemptuously, 'who fearsnumbers! Let them come, though they were as many, as the Signor's castlecould hold; I would shew the knaves what fighting is. For you--I wouldlay you quietly in a dry ditch, where you might peep out, and see me putthe rogues to flight.--Who talks of fear!'
Bertrand replied, with an horrible oath, that he did not like suchjesting, and a violent altercation ensued, which was, at length,silenced by the thunder, whose deep volley was heard afar, rollingonward till it burst over their heads in sounds, that seemed to shakethe earth to its centre. The ruffians paused, and looked upon eachother. Between the boles of the trees, the blue lightning flashed andquivered along the ground, while, as Emily looked under the boughs, themountains beyond, frequently appeared to be clothed in livid flame. Atthis moment, perhaps, she felt less fear of the storm, than did eitherof her companions, for other terrors occupied her mind.
The men now rested under an enormous chesnut-tree, and fixed theirpikes in the ground, at some distance, on the iron points of which Emilyrepeatedly observed the lightning play, and then glide down them intothe earth.
'I would we were well in the Signor's castle!' said Bertrand, 'I knownot why he should send us on this business. Hark! how it rattles above,there! I could almost find in my heart to turn priest, and pray. Ugo,hast got a rosary?'
'No,' replied Ugo, 'I leave it to cowards like thee, to carryrosaries--I, carry a sword.'
'And much good may it do thee in fighting against the storm!' saidBertrand.
Another peal, which was reverberated in tremendous echoes among themountains, silenced them for a moment. As it rolled away, Ugo proposedgoing on. 'We are only losing time here,' said he, 'for the thick boughsof the woods will shelter us as well as this chesnut-tree.'
They again led the mules forward, between the boles of the trees, andover pathless grass, that concealed their high knotted roots. The risingwind was now heard contending with the thunder, as it rushed furiouslyamong the branches above, and brightened the red flame of the torch,which threw a stronger light forward among the woods, and shewed theirgloomy recesses to be suitable resorts for the wolves, of which Ugo hadformerly spoken.
At length, the strength of the wind seemed to drive the storm before it,for the thunder rolled away into distance, and was only faintly heard.After travelling through the woods for nearly an hour, during which theelements seemed to have returned to repose, the travellers, graduallyascending from the glen, found themselves upon the open brow of amountain, with a wide valley, extending in misty moon-light, at theirfeet, and above, the blue sky, trembling through the few thin clouds,that lingered after the storm, and were sinking slowly to the verge ofthe horizon.
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 destroyher, they would probably have executed their barbarous purpose in thesolitary wild, from whence they had just emerged, where the deed wouldhave been shrouded from every human eye. Reassured by this reflection,and by the quiet demeanour of her guides, Emily, as they proceededsilently, in a kind of sheep track, that wound along the skirts of thewoods, which ascended on the right, could not survey the sleeping beautyof the vale, to which they were declining, without a momentary sensationof pleasure. It seemed varied with woods, pastures, and sloping grounds,and was screened to the north and the east by an amphitheatre of theApennines, whose outline on the horizon was here broken into variedand elegant forms; to the west and the south, the landscape extendedindistinctly into the lowlands of Tuscany.
'There is the sea yonder,' said Bertrand, as if he had known that Emilywas examining the twilight view, 'yonder in the west, though we cannotsee it.'
Emily already perceived a change in the climate, from that of the wildand mountainous tract she had left; and, as she continued descending,the air became perfumed by the breath of a thousand nameless flowersamong the grass, called forth by the late rain. So soothingly beautifulwas the scene around her, and so strikingly contrasted to the gloomygrandeur of those, to which she had long been confined, and to themanners of the people, who moved among them, that she could almost havefancied herself again at La Vallee, and, wondering why Montoni had senther hither, could scarcely believe, that he had selected so enchantinga spot for any cruel design. It was, however, probably not the spot,but the persons, who happened to inhabit it, and to whose care he couldsafely commit the execution of his plans, whatever they might be, thathad determined his choice.
She now ventured again to enquire, whether they were near the place oftheir destination, and was answered by Ugo, that they had not far to go.'Only to the wood of chesnuts in the valley yonder,' said he, 'there, bythe brook, that sparkles with the moon; I wish I was once at rest there,with a flask of good wine, and a slice of Tuscany bacon.'
Emily's spirits revived, when she heard, that the journey was so nearlyconcluded, and saw the wood of chesnuts in an open part of the vale, onthe margin of the stream.
In a short time, they reached the entrance of the wood, and perceived,between the twinkling leaves, a light, streaming from a distant cottagewindow. 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 the cottage above, was seen on its dark tremulous surface. Bertrandnow stepped on first, and Emily heard him knock, and call loudly atthe door. As she reached it, the small upper casement, where the lightappeared, was unclosed by a man, who, having enquired what they wanted,immediately descended, let them into a neat rustic cot, and calledup his wife to set refreshments before the travellers. As this manconversed, rather apart, with Bertrand, Emily anxiously surveyed him. Hewas a tall, but not robust, peasant, of a sallow complexion, and had ashrewd and cunning eye; his countenance was not of a character to winthe ready confidence of youth, and there was nothing in his manner, thatmight conciliate a stranger.
Ugo called impatiently for supper, and in a tone as if he knew hisauthority here to be unquestionable. 'I expected you an hour ago,' saidthe peasant, 'for I have had Signor Montoni's letter these three hours,and I and my wife had given you up, and gone to bed. How did you fare inthe storm?'
'Ill enough,' replied Ugo, 'ill enough and we are like to fare illenough here, too, unless you will make more haste. Get us more wine, andlet us see what you have to eat.'
The peasant placed before them all, that his cottage afforded--ham,wine, figs, and grapes of such size and flavour, as Emily had seldomtasted.
After taking refreshment, she was shewn by the peasant's wife to herlittle bed-chamber, where she asked some questions concerning Montoni,to which the woman, whose name was Dorina, gave reserved answers,pretending ignorance of his excellenza's intention in sending Emilyhither, but acknowledging that her husband had been apprized ofthe circumstance. Perceiving, that she could obtain no intelligenceconcerning her destination, Emily dismissed Dorina, and retired torepose; but all the busy scenes of her past and the anticipated ones ofthe future came to her anxious mind, and conspired with the sense of hernew situation to banish sleep.