Another groan filled the pause which Montoni made.
“Leave the room instantly!” said he, seeming not to notice this strange occurrence. Without power to implore his pity, she rose to go, but found that she could not support herself; awe and terror overcame her, and she sunk again into the chair.
“Quit my presence!” cried Montoni. “This affectation of fear ill becomes the heroine who has just dared to brave my indignation.”
“Did you hear nothing, Signor?” said Emily, trembling, and still unable to 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 will soon discover by whom they are practised.”
Emily again rose, and exerted herself to the utmost to leave the room, while Montoni followed her; but, instead of calling aloud to his servants to search the chamber, as he had formerly done on a similar occurrence, passed to the ramparts.
As, in her way to the corridor, she rested for a moment at an open casement, Emily saw a party of Montoni’s troops winding down a distant mountain, whom she noticed no further than as they brought to her mind the wretched prisoners they were, perhaps, bringing to the castle. At length, having reached her apartment, she threw herself upon the couch, overcome with the new horrors of her situation. Her thoughts lost in tumult and perplexity, she could neither repent of, nor approve, her late conduct; 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 and terrors of superstition, which had, for a moment, so strongly assailed her, now yielded to those of reason.
She was, at length, roused from the reverie which engaged her, by a confusion of distant voices, and a clattering of hoofs, that seemed to come, on the wind, from the courts. A sudden hope, that some good was approaching, seized her mind, till she remembered the troops she had observed from the casement, and concluded this to be the party, which Annette had said were expected at Udolpho.
Soon after, she heard voices faintly from the halls, and the noise of horses’ feet sunk away in the wind; silence ensued. Emily listened anxiously for Annette’s step in the corridor, but a pause of total stillness continued, till again the castle seemed to be all tumult and confusion. She heard the echoes of many footsteps, passing to and fro in the halls and avenues below, and then busy tongues were loud on the rampart. Having hurried to her casement, she perceived Montoni, with some of his officers, leaning on the walls, and pointing from them; while several soldiers were employed at the further end of the rampart about some cannon; and she continued to observe them, careless of the passing time.
Annette at length appeared, but brought no intelligence of Valancourt, “For, ma’amselle,” said she, “all the people pretend to know nothing about any prisoners. But here is a fine piece of business! The rest of the party are just arrived, ma’am; they came scampering in, as if they would have broken their necks; one scarcely knew whether the man, or his horse would get within the gates first. And they have brought word—and such news! they have brought word, that a party of the enemy, as they call them, are coming towards the castle; so we shall have all the officers of justice, I suppose, besieging it! all those terrible-looking fellows one used to see at Venice.”
“Thank God!” exclaimed Emily, fervently, “there is yet a hope left for me, then!”
“What mean you, ma’amselle? Do you wish to fall into the hands of those sad-looking men! Why I used to shudder as I passed them, and should have guessed 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 of justice?”
“Why our people, ma’am, are all in such a fright, and a fuss; and I don’t know anything 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 in the vaults under the castle; but you must not tell the Signor this, ma’amselle, and I overheard two of them talking—Holy Mother! what makes you 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 the men are loading the cannon, and some are examining the great gates, and the walls all round, and are hammering and patching up, just as if all those repairs had never been made, that were so long about. But what is to become of me and you, ma’amselle, and Ludovico? O! when I hear the sound of the cannon, I shall die with fright. If I could but catch the great gate open for one minute, I would be even with it for shutting me within 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, terrified Annette, still more than her words; who entreated Emily to explain the meaning of them, to whom it
