CHAPTER X
And shall no lay of death With pleasing murmur sooth Her parted soul? Shall no tear wet her grave? SAYERS
On the following morning, Emily went early to the apartment of MadameMontoni, who had slept well, and was much recovered. Her spirits hadalso returned with her health, and her resolution to oppose Montoni'sdemands revived, though it yet struggled with her fears, which Emily,who trembled for the consequence of further opposition, endeavoured toconfirm.
Her aunt, as has been already shewn, had a disposition, which delightedin contradiction, and which taught her, when unpleasant circumstanceswere offered to her understanding, not to enquire into their truth, butto seek for arguments, by which she might make them appear false. Longhabit had so entirely confirmed this natural propensity, that shewas not conscious of possessing it. Emily's remonstrances andrepresentations, therefore, roused her pride, instead of alarming, orconvincing her judgment, and she still relied upon the discovery ofsome means, by which she might yet avoid submitting to the demand of herhusband. Considering, that, if she could once escape from his castle,she might defy his power, and, obtaining a decisive separation, live incomfort on the estates, that yet remained for her, she mentioned this toher niece, who accorded with her in the wish, but differed from her, asto the probability of its completion. She represented the impossibilityof passing the gates, secured and guarded as they were, and the extremedanger of committing her design to the discretion of a servant, whomight either purposely betray, or accidentally disclose it.--Montoni'svengeance would also disdain restraint, if her intention was detected:and, though Emily wished, as fervently as she could do, to regain herfreedom, and return to France, she consulted only Madame Montoni'ssafety, and persevered in advising her to relinquish her settlement,without braving further outrage.
The struggle of contrary emotions, however, continued to rage in heraunt's bosom, and she still brooded over the chance of effecting anescape. While she thus sat, Montoni entered the room, and, withoutnoticing his wife's indisposition, said, that he came to remind her ofthe impolicy of trifling with him, and that he gave her only till theevening to determine, whether she would consent to his demand, or compelhim, by a refusal, to remove her to the east turret. He added, that aparty of cavaliers would dine with him, that day, and that he expectedthat she would sit at the head of the table, where Emily, also, mustbe present. Madame Montoni was now on the point of uttering an absoluterefusal, but, suddenly considering, that her liberty, during thisentertainment, though circumscribed, might favour her further plans, sheacquiesced, with seeming reluctance, and Montoni, soon after, left theapartment. His command struck Emily with surprise and apprehension, whoshrank from the thought of being exposed to the gaze of strangers, suchas her fancy represented these to be, and the words of Count Morano, nowagain recollected, did not sooth her fears.
When she withdrew to prepare for dinner, she dressed herself with evenmore simplicity than usual, that she might escape observation--a policy,which did not avail her, for, as she re-passed to her aunt's apartment,she was met by Montoni, who censured what he called her prudishappearance, and insisted, that she should wear the most splendid dressshe had, even that, which had been prepared for her intended nuptialswith Count Morano, and which, it now appeared, her aunt had carefullybrought with her from Venice. This was made, not in the Venetian, but,in the Neapolitan fashion, so as to set off the shape and figure, to theutmost advantage. In it, her beautiful chestnut tresses were negligentlybound up in pearls, and suffered to fall back again on her neck. Thesimplicity of a better taste, than Madame Montoni's, was conspicuous inthis dress, splendid as it was, and Emily's unaffected beauty never hadappeared more captivatingly. She had now only to hope, that Montoni'sorder was prompted, not by any extraordinary design, but by anostentation of displaying his family, richly attired, to the eyesof strangers; yet nothing less than his absolute command could haveprevailed with her to wear a dress, that had been designed for such anoffensive purpose, much less to have worn it on this occasion. As shedescended to dinner, the emotion of her mind threw a faint blush overher countenance, and heightened its interesting expression; for timidityhad made her linger in her apartment, till the utmost moment, and,when she entered the hall, in which a kind of state dinner was spread,Montoni and his guests were already seated at the table. She was thengoing to place herself by her aunt; but Montoni waved his hand, and twoof the cavaliers rose, and seated her between them.
The eldest of these was a tall man, with strong Italian features, anaquiline nose, and dark penetrating eyes, that flashed with fire, whenhis mind was agitated, and, even in its state of rest, retained somewhatof the wildness of the passions. His visage was long and narrow, and hiscomplexion of a sickly yellow.
The other, who appeared to be about forty, had features of a differentcast, yet Italian, and his look was slow, subtle and penetrating; hiseyes, of a dark grey, were small, and hollow; his complexion was asun-burnt brown, and the contour of his face, though inclined to oval,was irregular and ill-formed.
Eight other guests sat round the table, who were all dressed in anuniform, and had all an expression, more or less, of wild fierceness,of subtle design, or of licentious passions. As Emily timidly surveyedthem, she remembered the scene of the preceding morning, and againalmost fancied herself surrounded by banditti; then, looking back tothe tranquillity of her early life, she felt scarcely less astonishment,than grief, at her present situation. The scene, in which they sat,assisted the illusion; it was an antient hall, gloomy from the styleof its architecture, from its great extent, and because almost the onlylight it received was from one large gothic window, and from a pair offolding doors, which, being open, admitted likewise a view of the westrampart, with the wild mountains of the Apennine beyond.
The middle compartment of this hall rose into a vaulted roof, enrichedwith fretwork, and supported, on three sides, by pillars of marble;beyond these, long colonnades retired in gloomy grandeur, till theirextent was lost in twilight. The lightest footsteps of the servants,as they advanced through these, were returned in whispering echoes,and their figures, seen at a distance imperfectly through the dusk,frequently awakened Emily's imagination. She looked alternatelyat Montoni, at his guests and on the surrounding scene; and then,remembering her dear native province, her pleasant home and thesimplicity and goodness of the friends, whom she had lost, grief andsurprise again occupied her mind.
When her thoughts could return from these considerations, she fanciedshe observed an air of authority towards his guests, such as she hadnever before seen him assume, though he had always been distinguishedby an haughty carriage; there was something also in the manners of thestrangers, that seemed perfectly, though not servilely, to acknowledgehis superiority.
During dinner, the conversation was chiefly on war and politics. Theytalked with energy of the state of Venice, its dangers, the character ofthe reigning Doge and of the chief senators; and then spoke of the stateof Rome. When the repast was over, they rose, and, each filling hisgoblet with wine from the gilded ewer, that stood beside him, drank'Success to our exploits!' Montoni was lifting his goblet to his lips todrink this toast, when suddenly the wine hissed, rose to the brim, and,as he held the glass from him, it burst into a thousand pieces.
To him, who constantly used that sort of Venice glass, which had thequality of breaking, upon receiving poisoned liquor, a suspicion, thatsome of his guests had endeavoured to betray him, instantly occurred,and he ordered all the gates to be closed, drew his sword, and, lookinground on them, who stood in silent amazement, exclaimed, 'Here is atraitor among us; let those, that are innocent, assist in discoveringthe guilty.'
Indignation flashed from the eyes of the cavaliers, who all drew theirswords; and Madame Montoni, terrified at what might ensue, was hasteningfrom the hall, when her husband commanded her to stay; but his furtherwords could not now be distinguished, for the voice of every person rosetogether. His order, that all the servants should appear, was at lengthobeyed, an
d they declared their ignorance of any deceit--a protestationwhich could not be believed; for it was evident, that, as Montoni'sliquor, and his only, had been poisoned, a deliberate design had beenformed against his life, which could not have been carried so fartowards its accomplishment, without the connivance of the servant, whohad the care of the wine ewers.
This man, with another, whose face betrayed either the consciousnessof guilt, or the fear of punishment, Montoni ordered to be chainedinstantly, and confined in a strong room, which had formerly been usedas a prison. Thither, likewise, he would have sent all his guests,had he not foreseen the consequence of so bold and unjustifiable aproceeding. As to those, therefore, he contented himself with swearing,that no man should pass the gates, till this extraordinary affairhad been investigated, and then sternly bade his wife retire to herapartment, whither he suffered Emily to attend her.
In about half an hour, he followed to the dressing-room; and Emilyobserved, with horror, his dark countenance and quivering lip, and heardhim denounce vengeance on her aunt.
'It will avail you nothing,' said he to his wife, 'to deny the fact;I have proof of your guilt. Your only chance of mercy rests on a fullconfession;--there is nothing to hope from sullenness, or falsehood;your accomplice has confessed all.'
Emily's fainting spirits were roused by astonishment, as she heard heraunt accused of a crime so atrocious, and she could not, for a moment,admit the possibility of her guilt. Meanwhile Madame Montoni's agitationdid not permit her to reply; alternately her complexion varied fromlivid paleness to a crimson flush; and she trembled,--but, whether withfear, or with indignation, it were difficult to decide.
'Spare your words,' said Montoni, seeing her about to speak, 'yourcountenance makes full confession of your crime.--You shall be instantlyremoved to the east turret.'
'This accusation,' said Madame Montoni, speaking with difficulty, 'isused only as an excuse for your cruelty; I disdain to reply to it. Youdo not believe me guilty.'
'Signor!' said Emily solemnly, 'this dreadful charge, I would answerwith my life, is false. Nay, Signor,' she added, observing the severityof his countenance, 'this is no moment for restraint, on my part; I donot scruple to tell you, that you are deceived--most wickedly deceived,by the suggestion of some person, who aims at the ruin of my aunt:--itis impossible, that you could yourself have imagined a crime sohideous.'
Montoni, his lips trembling more than before, replied only, 'If youvalue your own safety,' addressing Emily, 'you will be silent. I shallknow how to interpret your remonstrances, should you persevere in them.'
Emily raised her eyes calmly to heaven. 'Here is, indeed, then, nothingto hope!' said she.
'Peace!' cried Montoni, 'or you shall find there is something to fear.'
He turned to his wife, who had now recovered her spirits, and whovehemently and wildly remonstrated upon this mysterious suspicion: butMontoni's rage heightened with her indignation, and Emily, dreadingthe event of it, threw herself between them, and clasped his knees insilence, looking up in his face with an expression, that might havesoftened the heart of a fiend. Whether his was hardened by a convictionof Madame Montoni's guilt, or that a bare suspicion of it made himeager to exercise vengeance, he was totally and alike insensible to thedistress of his wife, and to the pleading looks of Emily, whom he madeno attempt to raise, but was vehemently menacing both, when he wascalled out of the room by some person at the door. As he shut the door,Emily heard him turn the lock and take out the key; so that MadameMontoni and herself were now prisoners; and she saw that his designsbecame more and more terrible. Her endeavours to explain his motivesfor this circumstance were almost as ineffectual as those to sooth thedistress of her aunt, whose innocence she could not doubt; but she, atlength, accounted for Montoni's readiness to suspect his wife by his ownconsciousness of cruelty towards her, and for the sudden violence ofhis present conduct against both, before even his suspicions could becompletely formed, by his general eagerness to effect suddenly whateverhe was led to desire and his carelessness of justice, or humanity, inaccomplishing it.
Madame Montoni, after some time, again looked round, in search of apossibility of escape from the castle, and conversed with Emily on thesubject, who was now willing to encounter any hazard, though she forboreto encourage a hope in her aunt, which she herself did not admit. Howstrongly the edifice was secured, and how vigilantly guarded, she knewtoo well; and trembled to commit their safety to the caprice ofthe servant, whose assistance they must solicit. Old Carlo wascompassionate, but he seemed to be too much in his master's interest tobe trusted by them; Annette could of herself do little, and Emily knewLudovico only from her report. At present, however, these considerationswere useless, Madame Montoni and her niece being shut up from allintercourse, even with the persons, whom there might be these reasons toreject.
In the hall, confusion and tumult still reigned. Emily, as she listenedanxiously to the murmur, that sounded along the gallery, sometimesfancied she heard the clashing of swords, and, when she considered thenature of the provocation, given by Montoni, and his impetuosity, itappeared probable, that nothing less than arms would terminate thecontention. Madame Montoni, having exhausted all her expressions ofindignation, and Emily, hers of comfort, they remained silent, in thatkind of breathless stillness, which, in nature, often succeeds to theuproar of conflicting elements; a stillness, like the morning, thatdawns upon the ruins of an earthquake.
An uncertain kind of terror pervaded Emily's mind; the circumstancesof the past hour still came dimly and confusedly to her memory; and herthoughts were various and rapid, though without tumult.
From this state of waking visions she was recalled by a knocking at thechamber-door, and, enquiring who was there, heard the whispering voiceof Annette.
'Dear madam, let me come in, I have a great deal to say,' said the poorgirl.
'The door is locked,' answered the lady.
'Yes, ma'am, but do pray open it.'
'The Signor has the key,' said Madame Montoni.
'O blessed Virgin! what will become of us?' exclaimed Annette.
'Assist us to escape,' said her mistress. 'Where is Ludovico?'
'Below in the hall, ma'am, amongst them all, fighting with the best ofthem!'
'Fighting! Who are fighting?' cried Madame Montoni.
'Why the Signor, ma'am, and all the Signors, and a great many more.'
'Is any person much hurt?' said Emily, in a tremulous voice. 'Hurt!Yes, ma'amselle,--there they lie bleeding, and the swords are clashing,and--O holy saints! Do let me in, ma'am, they are coming this way--Ishall be murdered!'
'Fly!' cried Emily, 'fly! we cannot open the door.'
Annette repeated, that they were coming, and in the same moment fled.
'Be calm, madam,' said Emily, turning to her aunt, 'I entreat you to becalm, I am not frightened--not frightened in the least, do not you bealarmed.'
'You can scarcely support yourself,' replied her aunt; 'Merciful God!what is it they mean to do with us?'
'They come, perhaps, to liberate us,' said Emily, 'Signor Montoniperhaps is--is conquered.'
The belief of his death gave her spirits a sudden shock, and she grewfaint as she saw him in imagination, expiring at her feet.
'They are coming!' cried Madame Montoni--'I hear their steps--they areat the door!'
Emily turned her languid eyes to the door, but terror deprived her ofutterance. The key sounded in the lock; the door opened, and Montoniappeared, followed by three ruffian-like men. 'Execute your orders,'said he, turning to them, and pointing to his wife, who shrieked, butwas immediately carried from the room; while Emily sunk, senseless, ona couch, by which she had endeavoured to support herself. When sherecovered, she was alone, and recollected only, that Madame Montoni hadbeen there, together with some unconnected particulars of the precedingtransaction, which were, however, sufficient to renew all her terror.She looked wildly round the apartment, as if in search of some means ofintelligence, concerning her aunt, while neither h
er own danger, or anidea of escaping from the room, immediately occurred.
When her recollection was more complete, she raised herself and went,but with only a faint hope, to examine whether the door was unfastened.It was so, and she then stepped timidly out into the gallery, but pausedthere, uncertain which way she should proceed. Her first wish was togather some information, as to her aunt, and she, at length, turned hersteps to go to the lesser hall, where Annette and the other servantsusually waited.
Every where, as she passed, she heard, from a distance, the uproar ofcontention, and the figures and faces, which she met, hurrying along thepassages, struck her mind with dismay. Emily might now have appeared,like an angel of light, encompassed by fiends. At length, she reachedthe lesser hall, which was silent and deserted, but, panting for breath,she sat down to recover herself. The total stillness of this place wasas awful as the tumult, from which she had escaped: but she had now timeto recall her scattered thoughts, to remember her personal danger, andto consider of some means of safety. She perceived, that it was uselessto seek Madame Montoni, through the wide extent and intricacies of thecastle, now, too, when every avenue seemed to be beset by ruffians; inthis hall she could not resolve to stay, for she knew not how soon itmight become their place of rendezvous; and, though she wished to go toher chamber, she dreaded again to encounter them on the way.
Thus she sat, trembling and hesitating, when a distant murmur broke onthe silence, and grew louder and louder, till she distinguished voicesand steps approaching. She then rose to go, but the sounds came alongthe only passage, by which she could depart, and she was compelled toawait in the hall, the arrival of the persons, whose steps she heard.As these advanced, she distinguished groans, and then saw a man borneslowly along by four others. Her spirits faltered at the sight, and sheleaned against the wall for support. The bearers, meanwhile, entered thehall, and, being too busily occupied to detain, or even notice Emily,she attempted to leave it, but her strength failed, and she again satdown on the bench. A damp chillness came over her; her sight becameconfused; she knew not what had passed, or where she was, yet the groansof the wounded person still vibrated on her heart. In a few moments, thetide of life seemed again to flow; she began to breathe more freely, andher senses revived. She had not fainted, nor had ever totally lost herconsciousness, but had contrived to support herself on the bench; stillwithout courage to turn her eyes upon the unfortunate object, whichremained near her, and about whom the men were yet too much engaged toattend to her.
When her strength returned, she rose, and was suffered to leavethe hall, though her anxiety, having produced some vain enquiries,concerning Madame Montoni, had thus made a discovery of herself. Towardsher chamber she now hastened, as fast as her steps would bear her, forshe still perceived, upon her passage, the sounds of confusion at adistance, and she endeavoured, by taking her way through some obscurerooms, to avoid encountering the persons, whose looks had terrified herbefore, as well as those parts of the castle, where the tumult mightstill rage.
At length, she reached her chamber, and, having secured the door of thecorridor, felt herself, for a moment, in safety. A profound stillnessreigned in this remote apartment, which not even the faint murmur ofthe most distant sounds now reached. She sat down, near one of thecasements, and, as she gazed on the mountain-view beyond, the deeprepose of its beauty struck her with all the force of contrast, and shecould scarcely believe herself so near a scene of savage discord. Thecontending elements seemed to have retired from their natural spheres,and to have collected themselves into the minds of men, for there alonethe tempest now reigned.
Emily tried to tranquillize her spirits, but anxiety made her constantlylisten for some sound, and often look out upon the ramparts, where all,however, was lonely and still. As a sense of her own immediate dangerhad decreased, her apprehension concerning Madame Montoni heightened,who, she remembered, had been fiercely threatened with confinement inthe east turret, and it was possible, that her husband had satisfied hispresent vengeance with this punishment. She, therefore, determined, whennight should return, and the inhabitants of the castle should be asleep,to explore the way to the turret, which, as the direction it stood inwas mentioned, appeared not very difficult to be done. She knew, indeed,that although her aunt might be there, she could afford her no effectualassistance, but it might give her some comfort even to know, that shewas discovered, and to hear the sound of her niece's voice; forherself, any certainty, concerning Madame Montoni's fate, appeared moretolerable, than this exhausting suspense.
Meanwhile, Annette did not appear, and Emily was surprised, and somewhatalarmed for her, whom, in the confusion of the late scene, variousaccidents might have befallen, and it was improbable, that she wouldhave failed to come to her apartment, unless something unfortunate hadhappened.
Thus the hours passed in solitude, in silence, and in anxiousconjecturing. Being not once disturbed by a message, or a sound, itappeared, that Montoni had wholly forgotten her, and it gave her somecomfort to find, that she could be so unnoticed. She endeavoured towithdraw her thoughts from the anxiety, that preyed upon them, but theyrefused controul; she could neither read, or draw, and the tones of herlute were so utterly discordant with the present state of her feelings,that she could not endure them for a moment.
The sun, at length, set behind the western mountains; his fiery beamsfaded from the clouds, and then a dun melancholy purple drew over them,and gradually involved the features of the country below. Soon after,the sentinels passed on the rampart to commence the watch.
Twilight had now spread its gloom over every object; the dismalobscurity of her chamber recalled fearful thoughts, but she remembered,that to procure a light she must pass through a great extent of thecastle, and, above all, through the halls, where she had alreadyexperienced so much horror. Darkness, indeed, in the present state ofher spirits, made silence and solitude terrible to her; it would alsoprevent the possibility of her finding her way to the turret, andcondemn her to remain in suspense, concerning the fate of her aunt; yetshe dared not to venture forth for a lamp.
Continuing at the casement, that she might catch the last lingeringgleam of evening, a thousand vague images of fear floated on her fancy.'What if some of these ruffians,' said she, 'should find out the privatestair-case, and in the darkness of night steal into my chamber!' Then,recollecting the mysterious inhabitant of the neighbouring apartment,her terror changed its object. 'He is not a prisoner,' said she, 'thoughhe remains in one chamber, for Montoni did not fasten the door, when heleft it; the unknown person himself did this; it is certain, therefore,he can come out when he pleases.'
She paused, for, notwithstanding the terrors of darkness, she consideredit to be very improbable, whoever he was, that he could have anyinterest in intruding upon her retirement; and again the subject of heremotion changed, when, remembering her nearness to the chamber, wherethe veil had formerly disclosed a dreadful spectacle, she doubtedwhether some passage might not communicate between it and the insecuredoor of the stair-case.
It was now entirely dark, and she left the casement. As she sat withher eyes fixed on the hearth, she thought she perceived there a sparkof light; it twinkled and disappeared, and then again was visible. Atlength, with much care, she fanned the embers of a wood fire, that hadbeen lighted in the morning, into flame, and, having communicated it toa lamp, which always stood in her room, felt a satisfaction not to beconceived, without a review of her situation. Her first care was toguard the door of the stair-case, for which purpose she placed againstit all the furniture she could move, and she was thus employed, forsome time, at the end of which she had another instance how much moreoppressive misfortune is to the idle, than to the busy; for, having thenleisure to think over all the circumstances of her present afflictions,she imagined a thousand evils for futurity, and these real and idealsubjects of distress alike wounded her mind.
Thus heavily moved the hours till midnight, when she counted the sullennotes of the great clock, as they rolled al
ong the rampart, unmingledwith any sound, except the distant foot-fall of a sentinel, who cameto relieve guard. She now thought she might venture towards the turret,and, having gently opened the chamber door to examine the corridor, andto listen if any person was stirring in the castle, found all aroundin perfect stillness. Yet no sooner had she left the room, than sheperceived a light flash on the walls of the corridor, and, withoutwaiting to see by whom it was carried, she shrunk back, and closed herdoor. No one approaching, she conjectured, that it was Montoni going topay his mid-night visit to her unknown neighbour, and she determined towait, till he should have retired to his own apartment.
When the chimes had tolled another half hour, she once more openedthe door, and, perceiving that no person was in the corridor, hastilycrossed into a passage, that led along the south side of the castletowards the stair-case, whence she believed she could easily find herway to the turret. Often pausing on her way, listening apprehensively tothe murmurs of the wind, and looking fearfully onward into the gloom ofthe long passages, she, at length, reached the stair-case; but there herperplexity began. Two passages appeared, of which she knew not how toprefer one, and was compelled, at last, to decide by chance, rather thanby circumstances. That she entered, opened first into a wide gallery,along which she passed lightly and swiftly; for the lonely aspect of theplace awed her, and she started at the echo of her own steps.
On a sudden, she thought she heard a voice, and, not distinguishingfrom whence it came, feared equally to proceed, or to return. For somemoments, she stood in an attitude of listening expectation, shrinkingalmost from herself and scarcely daring to look round her. The voicecame again, but, though it was now near her, terror did not allow her tojudge exactly whence it proceeded. She thought, however, that it was thevoice of complaint, and her belief was soon confirmed by a low moaningsound, that seemed to proceed from one of the chambers, opening intothe gallery. It instantly occurred to her, that Madame Montoni might bethere confined, and she advanced to the door to speak, but was checkedby considering, that she was, perhaps, going to commit herself to astranger, who might discover her to Montoni; for, though this person,whoever it was, seemed to be in affliction, it did not follow, that hewas a prisoner.
While these thoughts passed over her mind, and left her still inhesitation, the voice spoke again, and, calling 'Ludovico,' she thenperceived it to be that of Annette; on which, no longer hesitating, shewent in joy to answer her.
'Ludovico!' cried Annette, sobbing--'Ludovico!'
'It is not Ludovico, it is I--Mademoiselle Emily.'
Annette ceased sobbing, and was silent.
'If you can open the door, let me in,' said Emily, 'here is no person tohurt you.'
'Ludovico!--O, Ludovico!' cried Annette.
Emily now lost her patience, and her fear of being overheard increasing,she was even nearly about to leave the door, when she considered, thatAnnette might, possibly, know something of the situation of MadameMontoni, or direct her to the turret. At length, she obtained a reply,though little satisfactory, to her questions, for Annette knew nothingof Madame Montoni, and only conjured Emily to tell her what was becomeof Ludovico. Of him she had no information to give, and she again askedwho had shut Annette up.
'Ludovico,' said the poor girl, 'Ludovico shut me up. When I ran awayfrom the dressing-room door to-day, I went I scarcely knew where, forsafety; and, in this gallery, here, I met Ludovico, who hurried me intothis chamber, and locked me up to keep me out of harm, as he said. Buthe was in such a hurry himself, he hardly spoke ten words, but he toldme he would come, and let me out, when all was quiet, and he took awaythe key with him. Now all these hours are passed, and I have neitherseen, or heard a word of him; they have murdered him--I know they have!'
Emily suddenly remembered the wounded person, whom she had seen borneinto the servants' hall, and she scarcely doubted, that he was Ludovico,but she concealed the circumstance from Annette, and endeavoured tocomfort her. Then, impatient to learn something of her aunt, she againenquired the way to the turret.
'O! you are not going, ma'amselle,' said Annette, 'for Heaven's sake, donot go, and leave me here by myself.'
'Nay, Annette, you do not think I can wait in the gallery all night,'replied Emily. 'Direct me to the turret; in the morning I will endeavourto release you.'
'O holy Mary!' exclaimed Annette, 'am I to stay here by myself allnight! I shall be frightened out of my senses, and I shall die ofhunger; I have had nothing to eat since dinner!'
Emily could scarcely forbear smiling at the heterogeneous distresses ofAnnette, though she sincerely pitied them, and said what she could tosooth her. At length, she obtained something like a direction to theeast turret, and quitted the door, from whence, after many intricaciesand perplexities, she reached the steep and winding stairs of theturret, at the foot of which she stopped to rest, and to re-animate hercourage with a sense of her duty. As she surveyed this dismal place, sheperceived a door on the opposite side of the stair-case, and, anxiousto know whether it would lead her to Madame Montoni, she tried to undrawthe bolts, which fastened it. A fresher air came to her face, as sheunclosed the door, which opened upon the east rampart, and the suddencurrent had nearly extinguished her light, which she now removed to adistance; and again, looking out upon the obscure terrace, she perceivedonly the faint outline of the walls and of some towers, while, above,heavy clouds, borne along the wind, seemed to mingle with the stars, andwrap the night in thicker darkness. As she gazed, now willing to deferthe moment of certainty, from which she expected only confirmation ofevil, a distant footstep reminded her, that she might be observed bythe men on watch, and, hastily closing the door, she took her lamp,and passed up the stair-case. Trembling came upon her, as she ascendedthrough the gloom. To her melancholy fancy this seemed to be a place ofdeath, and the chilling silence, that reigned, confirmed its character.Her spirits faltered. 'Perhaps,' said she, 'I am come hither only tolearn a dreadful truth, or to witness some horrible spectacle; I feelthat my senses would not survive such an addition of horror.'
The image of her aunt murdered--murdered, perhaps, by the hand ofMontoni, rose to her mind; she trembled, gasped for breath--repentedthat she had dared to venture hither, and checked her steps. But, aftershe had paused a few minutes, the consciousness of her duty returned,and she went on. Still all was silent. At length a track of blood, upona stair, caught her eye; and instantly she perceived, that the wall andseveral other steps were stained. She paused, again struggled to supportherself, and the lamp almost fell from her trembling hand. Stillno sound was heard, no living being seemed to inhabit the turret; athousand times she wished herself again in her chamber; dreaded toenquire farther--dreaded to encounter some horrible spectacle, andyet could not resolve, now that she was so near the termination of herefforts, to desist from them. Having again collected courage to proceed,after ascending about half way up the turret, she came to another door,but here again she stopped in hesitation; listened for sounds within,and then, summoning all her resolution, unclosed it, and entered achamber, which, as her lamp shot its feeble rays through the darkness,seemed to exhibit only dew-stained and deserted walls. As she stoodexamining it, in fearful expectation of discovering the remains of herunfortunate aunt, she perceived something lying in an obscure corner ofthe room, and, struck with an horrible conviction, she became, foran instant, motionless and nearly insensible. Then, with a kind ofdesperate resolution, she hurried towards the object that excited herterror, when, perceiving the clothes of some person, on the floor,she caught hold of them, and found in her grasp the old uniform of asoldier, beneath which appeared a heap of pikes and other arms. Scarcelydaring to trust her sight, she continued, for some moments, to gazeon the object of her late alarm, and then left the chamber, so muchcomforted and occupied by the conviction, that her aunt was not there,that she was going to descend the turret, without enquiring farther;when, on turning to do so, she observed upon some steps on the secondflight an appearance of blood, and remembering, that there was
yetanother chamber to be explored, she again followed the windings ofthe ascent. Still, as she ascended, the track of blood glared upon thestairs.
It led her to the door of a landing-place, that terminated them, but shewas unable to follow it farther. Now that she was so near the sought-forcertainty, she dreaded to know it, even more than before, and had notfortitude sufficient to speak, or to attempt opening the door.
Having listened, in vain, for some sound, that might confirm, or destroyher fears, she, at length, laid her hand on the lock, and, finding itfastened, called on Madame Montoni; but only a chilling silence ensued.
'She is dead!' she cried,--'murdered!--her blood is on the stairs!'
Emily grew very faint; could support herself no longer, and had scarcelypresence of mind to set down the lamp, and place herself on a step.
When her recollection returned, she spoke again at the door, and againattempted to open it, and, having lingered for some time, withoutreceiving any answer, or hearing a sound, she descended the turret,and, with all the swiftness her feebleness would permit, sought her ownapartment.
As she turned into the corridor, the door of a chamber opened, fromwhence Montoni came forth; but Emily, more terrified than ever to beholdhim, shrunk back into the passage soon enough to escape being noticed,and heard him close the door, which she had perceived was the same sheformerly observed. Having here listened to his departing steps, tilltheir faint sound was lost in distance, she ventured to her apartment,and, securing it once again, retired to her bed, leaving the lampburning on the hearth. But sleep was fled from her harassed mind, towhich images of horror alone occurred. She endeavoured to think itpossible, that Madame Montoni had not been taken to the turret; but,when she recollected the former menaces of her husband and the terriblespirit of vengeance, which he had displayed on a late occasion; when sheremembered his general character, the looks of the men, who had forcedMadame Montoni from her apartment, and the written traces on the stairsof the turret--she could not doubt, that her aunt had been carriedthither, and could scarcely hope, that she had not been carried to bemurdered.
The grey of morning had long dawned through her casements, before Emilyclosed her eyes in sleep; when wearied nature, at length, yielded her arespite from suffering.