The Mysteries of Udolpho
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 suddenly occurred, that
Ludovico might be of some service, if there should be a possibility of
escape, and who repeated the substance of what had passed between
Montoni and herself, but conjured her to mention this to no person
except to Ludovico. “It may, perhaps, be in his power,” she added, “to
effect our escape. Go to him, Annette, tell him what I have to
apprehend, and what I have already suffered; but entreat him to be
secret, and to lose no time in attempting to release us. If he is
willing to undertake this he shall be amply rewarded. I cannot speak
with him myself, for we might be observed, and then effectual care
would be taken to prevent our flight. But be quick, Annette, and, above
all, be discreet—I will await your return in this apartment.”
The girl, whose honest heart had been much affected by the recital, was
now as eager to obey, as Emily was to employ her, and she immediately
quitted the room.
Emily’s surprise increased, as she reflected upon Annette’s
intelligence. “Alas!” said she, “what can the officers of justice do
against an armed castle? these cannot be such.” Upon further
consideration, however, she concluded, that, Montoni’s bands having
plundered the country round, the inhabitants had taken arms, and were
coming with the officers of police and a party of soldiers, to force
their way into the castle. “But they know not,” thought she, “its
strength, or the armed numbers within it. Alas! except from flight, I
have nothing to hope!”
Montoni, though not precisely what Emily apprehended him to be—a
captain of banditti—had employed his troops in enterprises not less
daring, or less atrocious, than such a character would have undertaken.
They had not only pillaged, whenever opportunity offered, the helpless
traveller, but had attacked, and plundered the villas of several
persons, which, being situated among the solitary recesses of the
mountains, were totally unprepared for resistance. In these expeditions
the commanders of the party did not appear, and the men, partly
disguised, had sometimes been mistaken for common robbers, and, at
others, for bands of the foreign enemy, who, at that period, invaded
the country. But, though they had already pillaged several mansions,
and brought home considerable treasures, they had ventured to approach
only one castle, in the attack of which they were assisted by other
troops of their own order; from this, however, they were vigorously
repulsed, and pursued by some of the foreign enemy, who were in league
with the besieged. Montoni’s troops fled precipitately towards Udolpho,
but were so closely tracked over the mountains, that, when they reached
one of the heights in the neighbourhood of the castle, and looked back
upon the road, they perceived the enemy winding among the cliffs below,
and at not more than a league distant. Upon this discovery, they
hastened forward with increased speed, to prepare Montoni for the
enemy; and it was their arrival, which had thrown the castle into such
confusion and tumult.
As Emily awaited anxiously some information from below, she now saw
from her casements a body of troops pour over the neighbouring heights;
and, though Annette had been gone a very short time, and had a
difficult and dangerous business to accomplish, her impatience for
intelligence became painful: she listened; opened her door; and often
went out upon the corridor to meet her.
At length, she heard a footstep approach her chamber; and, on opening
the door, saw, not Annette, but old Carlo! New fears rushed upon her
mind. He said he came from the Signor, who had ordered him to inform
her, that she must be ready to depart from Udolpho immediately, for
that the castle was about to be besieged; and that mules were preparing
to convey her, with her guides, to a place of safety.
“Of safety!” exclaimed Emily, thoughtlessly; “has, then, the Signor so
much consideration for me?”
Carlo looked upon the ground, and made no reply. A thousand opposite
emotions agitated Emily, successively, as she listened to old Carlo;
those of joy, grief, distrust and apprehension, appeared, and vanished
from her mind, with the quickness of lightning. One moment, it seemed
impossible, that Montoni could take this measure merely for her
preservation; and so very strange was his sending her from the castle
at all, that she could attribute it only to the design of carrying into
execution the new scheme of vengeance, with which he had menaced her.
In the next instant, it appeared so desirable to quit the castle, under
any circumstances, that she could not but rejoice in the prospect,
believing that change must be for the better, till she remembered the
probability of Valancourt being detained in it, when sorrow and regret
usurped her mind, and she wished, much more fervently than she had yet
done, that it might not be his voice which she had heard.
Carlo having reminded her, that she had no time to lose, for that the
enemy were within sight of the castle, Emily entreated him to inform
her whither she was to go; and, after some hesitation, he said he had
received 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 to be
lodged in a cottage on the borders of Tuscany, at the feet of the
Apennines—“Not a day’s journey distant,” said he.
Emily now dismissed him; and, with trembling hands, prepared the small
package, that she meant to take with her; while she was employed about
which Annette returned.
“O ma’amselle!” said she, “nothing can be done! Ludovico says the new
porter is more watchful even than Barnardine was, and we might as well
throw ourselves in the way of a dragon, as in his. Ludovico is almost
as broken-hearted as you are, ma’am, on my account, he says, and I am
sure I shall never live to hear the cannon fire twice!”
She now began to weep, but revived upon hearing of what had just
occurred, and entreated Emily to take her with her.
“That I will do most willingly,” replied Emily, “if Signor Montoni
permits it;” to which Annette made no reply, but ran out of the room,
and immediately sought Montoni, who was on the terrace, surrounded by
his officers, where she began her petition. He sharply bade her go into
the castle, and absolutely refused her request. Annette, however, not
only pleaded for herself, but for Ludovico; and Montoni had ordered
some of his men to take her from his presence, before she would retire.