Madame Montoni, after some time, again looked round, in search of a possibility of escape from the castle, and conversed with Emily on the subject, who was now willing to encounter any hazard, though she forbore to encourage a hope in her aunt, which she herself did not admit. How strongly the edifice was secured, and how vigilantly guarded, she knew too well; and trembled to commit their safety to the caprice of the servant, whose assistance they must solicit. Old Carlo was compassionate, but he seemed to be too much in his master’s interest to be trusted by them; Annette could of herself do little, and Emily knew Ludovico only from her report. At present, however, these considerations were useless, Madame Montoni and her niece being shut up from all intercourse, even with the persons, whom there might be these reasons to reject.
In the hall, confusion and tumult still reigned. Emily, as she listened anxiously to the murmur, that sounded along the gallery, sometimes fancied she heard the clashing of swords, and, when she considered the nature of the provocation, given by Montoni, and his impetuosity, it appeared probable, that nothing less than arms would terminate the contention. Madame Montoni, having exhausted all her expressions of indignation, and Emily, hers of comfort, they remained silent, in that kind of breathless stillness, which, in nature, often succeeds to the uproar of conflicting elements; a stillness, like the morning, that dawns upon the ruins of an earthquake.
An uncertain kind of terror pervaded Emily’s mind; the circumstances of the past hour still came dimly and confusedly to her memory; and her thoughts were various and rapid, though without tumult.
From this state of waking visions she was recalled by a knocking at the chamber-door, and, enquiring who was there, heard the whispering voice of Annette.
“Dear madam, let me come in, I have a great deal to say,” said the poor girl.
“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 of them!”
“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—I shall 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 be calm, I am not frightened—not frightened in the least, do not you be alarmed.”
“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 Montoni perhaps is—is conquered.”
The belief of his death gave her spirits a sudden shock, and she grew faint as she saw him in imagination, expiring at her feet.
“They are coming!” cried Madame Montoni—“I hear their steps—they are at the door!”
Emily turned her languid eyes to the door, but terror deprived her of utterance. The key sounded in the lock; the door opened, and Montoni appeared, followed by three ruffian-like men. “Execute your orders,” said he, turning to them, and pointing to his wife, who shrieked, but was immediately carried from the room; while Emily sunk, senseless, on a couch, by which she had endeavoured to support herself. When she recovered, she was alone, and recollected only, that Madame Montoni had been there, together with some unconnected particulars of the preceding transaction, which were, however, sufficient to renew all her terror. She looked wildly round the apartment, as if in search of some means of intelligence, concerning her aunt, while neither her own danger, nor an idea 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 paused there, uncertain which way she should proceed. Her first wish was to gather some information, as to her aunt, and she, at length, turned her steps to go to the lesser hall, where Annette and the other servants usually waited.
Everywhere, as she passed, she heard, from a distance, the uproar of contention, and the figures and faces, which she met, hurrying along the passages, struck her mind with dismay. Emily might now have appeared, like an angel of light, encompassed by fiends. At length, she reached the lesser hall, which was silent and deserted, but, panting for breath, she sat down to recover herself. The total stillness of this place was as awful as the tumult, from which she had escaped: but she had now time to recall her scattered thoughts, to remember her personal danger, and to consider of some means of safety. She perceived, that it was useless to seek Madame Montoni, through the wide extent and intricacies of the castle, now, too, when every avenue seemed to be
