The Mysteries of Udolpho
the happiness, which rank and wealth are usually believed to bestow,
but because she desired to partake the importance, which such an
alliance would give. When, therefore, she discovered that Valancourt
was the nephew of a person of so much consequence as Madame Clairval,
she became anxious for the connection, since the prospect it afforded
of future fortune and distinction for Emily, promised the exaltation
she coveted for herself. Her calculations concerning fortune in this
alliance were guided rather by her wishes, than by any hint of
Valancourt, or strong appearance of probability; and, when she rested
her expectation on the wealth of Madame Clairval, she seemed totally to
have forgotten, that the latter had a daughter. Valancourt, however,
had not forgotten this circumstance, and the consideration of it had
made him so modest in his expectations from Madame Clairval, that he
had not even named the relationship in his first conversation with
Madame Cheron. But, whatever might be the future fortune of Emily, the
present distinction, which the connection would afford for herself, was
certain, since the splendour of Madame Clairval’s establishment was
such as to excite the general envy and partial imitation of the
neighbourhood. Thus had she consented to involve her niece in an
engagement, to which she saw only a distant and uncertain conclusion,
with as little consideration of her happiness, as when she had so
precipitately forbade it: for though she herself possessed the means of
rendering this union not only certain, but prudent, yet to do so was no
part of her present intention.
From this period Valancourt made frequent visits to Madame Cheron, and
Emily passed in his society the happiest hours she had known since the
death of her father. They were both too much engaged by the present
moments to give serious consideration to the future. They loved and
were beloved, and saw not, that the very attachment, which formed the
delight of their present days, might possibly occasion the sufferings
of years. Meanwhile, Madame Cheron’s intercourse with Madame Clairval
became more frequent than before, and her vanity was already gratified
by the opportunity of proclaiming, wherever she went, the attachment
that subsisted between their nephew and niece.
Montoni was now also become a daily guest at the château, and Emily was
compelled to observe, that he really was a suitor, and a favoured
suitor, to her aunt.
Thus passed the winter months, not only in peace, but in happiness, to
Valancourt and Emily; the station of his regiment being so near
Thoulouse, as to allow this frequent intercourse. The pavilion on the
terrace was the favourite scene of their interviews, and there Emily,
with Madame Cheron, would work, while Valancourt read aloud works of
genius and taste, listened to her enthusiasm, expressed his own, and
caught new opportunities of observing, that their minds were formed to
constitute the happiness of each other, the same taste, the same noble
and benevolent sentiments animating each.
CHAPTER XIII
As when a shepherd of the Hebrid-Isles,
Placed far amid the melancholy main,
(Whether it be lone fancy him beguiles,
Or that aerial beings sometimes deign
To stand embodied to our senses plain)
Sees on the naked hill, or valley low,
The whilst in ocean Phœbus dips his wain,
A vast assembly moving to and fro,
Then all at once in air dissolves the wondrous show.
CASTLE OF INDOLENCE
Madame Cheron’s avarice at length yielded to her vanity. Some very
splendid entertainments, which Madame Clairval had given, and the
general adulation, which was paid her, made the former more anxious
than before to secure an alliance, that would so much exalt her in her
own opinion and in that of the world. She proposed terms for the
immediate marriage of her niece, and offered to give Emily a dower,
provided Madame Clairval observed equal terms, on the part of her
nephew. Madame Clairval listened to the proposal, and, considering that
Emily was the apparent heiress of her aunt’s wealth, accepted it.
Meanwhile, Emily knew nothing of the transaction, till Madame Cheron
informed her, that she must make preparation for the nuptials, which
would be celebrated without further delay; then, astonished and wholly
unable to account for this sudden conclusion, which Valancourt had not
solicited (for he was ignorant of what had passed between the elder
ladies, and had not dared to hope such good fortune), she decisively
objected to it. Madame Cheron, however, quite as jealous of
contradiction now, as she had been formerly, contended for a speedy
marriage with as much vehemence as she had formerly opposed whatever
had the most remote possibility of leading to it; and Emily’s scruples
disappeared, when she again saw Valancourt, who was now informed of the
happiness, designed for him, and came to claim a promise of it from
herself.
While preparations were making for these nuptials, Montoni became the
acknowledged lover of Madame Cheron; and, though Madame Clairval was
much displeased, when she heard of the approaching connection, and was
willing to prevent that of Valancourt with Emily, her conscience told
her, that she had no right thus to trifle with their peace, and Madame
Clairval, though a woman of fashion, was far less advanced than her
friend in the art of deriving satisfaction from distinction and
admiration, rather than from conscience.
Emily observed with concern the ascendancy, which Montoni had acquired
over Madame Cheron, as well as the increasing frequency of his visits;
and her own opinion of this Italian was confirmed by that of
Valancourt, who had always expressed a dislike of him. As she was, one
morning, sitting at work in the pavilion, enjoying the pleasant
freshness of spring, whose colours were now spread upon the landscape,
and listening to Valancourt, who was reading, but who often laid aside
the book to converse, she received a summons to attend Madame Cheron
immediately, and had scarcely entered the dressing-room, when she
observed with surprise the dejection of her aunt’s countenance, and the
contrasted gaiety of her dress. “So, niece!”—said Madame, and she
stopped under some degree of embarrassment.—“I sent for you—I—I wished
to see you; I have news to tell you. From this hour you must consider
the Signor Montoni as your uncle—we were married this morning.”
Astonished—not so much at the marriage, as at the secrecy with which it
had been concluded, and the agitation with which it was announced,
Emily, at length, attributed the privacy to the wish of Montoni, rather
than of her aunt. His wife, however, intended, that the contrary should
be believed, and therefore added, “you see I wished to avoid a bustle;
but now the ceremony is over I shall do so no longer; and I wish to
announce to my servants that they must receive the Signor Montoni for
their master.” Emily made a feeble attempt to congratulate her on these
apparently imprudent nuptials. “I shall now celebrate my marriage with
some splendour,” continued Madame Montoni, “and to save time I shall
avail myself of the preparation that has been made for yours, which
will, of course, be delayed a little while. Such of your wedding
clothes as are ready I shall expect you will appear in, to do honour to
this festival. I also wish you to inform Monsieur Valancourt, that I
have changed my name, and he will acquaint Madame Clairval. In a few
days I shall give a grand entertainment, at which I shall request their
presence.”
Emily was so lost in surprise and various thought, that she made Madame
Montoni scarcely any reply, but, at her desire, she returned to inform
Valancourt of what had passed. Surprise was not his predominant emotion
on hearing of these hasty nuptials; and, when he learned, that they
were to be the means of delaying his own, and that the very ornaments
of the château, which had been prepared to grace the nuptial day of his
Emily, were to be degraded to the celebration of Madame Montoni’s,
grief and indignation agitated him alternately. He could conceal
neither from the observation of Emily, whose efforts to abstract him
from these serious emotions, and to laugh at the apprehensive
considerations, that assailed him, were ineffectual; and, when, at
length, he took leave, there was an earnest tenderness in his manner,
that extremely affected her; she even shed tears, when he disappeared
at the end of the terrace, yet knew not exactly why she should do so.
Montoni now took possession of the château, and the command of its
inhabitants, with the ease of a man, who had long considered it to be
his own. His friend Cavigni, who had been extremely serviceable, in
having paid Madame Cheron the attention and flattery, which she
required, but from which Montoni too often revolted, had apartments
assigned to him, and received from the domestics an equal degree of
obedience with the master of the mansion.
Within a few days, Madame Montoni, as she had promised, gave a
magnificent entertainment to a very numerous company, among whom was
Valancourt; but at which Madame Clairval excused herself from
attending. There was a concert, ball and supper. Valancourt was, of
course, Emily’s partner, and though, when he gave a look to the
decorations of the apartments, he could not but remember, that they
were designed for other festivities, than those they now contributed to
celebrate, he endeavoured to check his concern by considering, that a
little while only would elapse before they would be given to their
original destination. During this evening, Madame Montoni danced,
laughed and talked incessantly; while Montoni, silent, reserved and
somewhat haughty, seemed weary of the parade, and of the frivolous
company it had drawn together.
This was the first and the last entertainment, given in celebration of
their nuptials. Montoni, though the severity of his temper and the
gloominess of his pride prevented him from enjoying such festivities,
was extremely willing to promote them. It was seldom, that he could
meet in any company a man of more address, and still seldomer one of
more understanding, than himself; the balance of advantage in such
parties, or in the connections, which might arise from them, must,
therefore, be on his side; and, knowing, as he did, the selfish
purposes, for which they are generally frequented, he had no objection
to measure his talents of dissimulation with those of any other
competitor for distinction and plunder. But his wife, who, when her own
interest was immediately concerned, had sometimes more discernment than
vanity, acquired a consciousness of her inferiority to other women, in
personal attractions, which, uniting with the jealousy natural to the
discovery, counteracted his readiness for mingling with all the parties
Thoulouse could afford. Till she had, as she supposed, the affections
of a husband to lose, she had no motive for discovering the unwelcome
truth, and it had never obtruded itself upon her; but, now that it
influenced her policy, she opposed her husband’s inclination for
company, with the more eagerness, because she believed him to be really
as well received in the female society of the place, as, during his
addresses to her, he had affected to be.
A few weeks only had elapsed, since the marriage, when Madame Montoni
informed Emily, that the Signor intended to return to Italy, as soon as
the necessary preparation could be made for so long a journey. “We
shall go to Venice,” said she, “where the Signor has a fine mansion,
and from thence to his estate in Tuscany. Why do you look so grave,
child?—You, who are so fond of a romantic country and fine views, will
doubtless be delighted with this journey.”
“Am I then to be of the party, madam?” said Emily, with extreme