The Mysteries of Udolpho
other person, and Du Pont immediately extinguished the lamp. “Ah! it is
too late!” exclaimed Emily, “what is to become of us?” They listened
again, and then perceived, that Ludovico was talking with a sentinel,
whose voices were heard also by Emily’s favourite dog, that had
followed her from the chamber, and now barked loudly. “This dog will
betray us!” said Du Pont, “I will hold him.” “I fear he has already
betrayed us!” replied Emily. Du Pont, however, caught him up, and,
again listening to what was going on without, they heard Ludovico say,
“I’ll watch the gates the while.”
“Stay a minute,” replied the sentinel, “and you need not have the
trouble, for the horses will be sent round to the outer stables, then
the gates will be shut, and I can leave my post.” “I don’t mind the
trouble, comrade,” said Ludovico, “you will do such another good turn
for me, some time. Go—go, and fetch the wine; the rogues, that are just
come in, will drink it all else.”
The soldier hesitated, and then called aloud to the people in the
second court, to know why they did not send out the horses, that the
gates might be shut; but they were too much engaged, to attend to him,
even if they had heard his voice.
“Aye—aye,” said Ludovico, “they know better than that; they are sharing
it all among them; if you wait till the horses come out, you must wait
till the wine is drunk. I have had my share already, but, since you do
not care about yours, I see no reason why I should not have that too.”
“Hold, hold, not so fast,” cried the sentinel, “do watch then, for a
moment: I’ll be with you presently.”
“Don’t hurry yourself,” said Ludovico, coolly, “I have kept guard
before now. But you may leave me your trombone,* that, if the castle
should be attacked, you know, I may be able to defend the pass, like a
hero.”
(*Note: A kind of blunderbuss. [A. R.])
“There, my good fellow,” returned the soldier, “there, take it—it has
seen service, though it could do little in defending the castle. I’ll
tell you a good story, though, about this same trombone.”
“You’ll tell it better when you have had the wine,” said Ludovico.
“There! they are coming out from the court already.”
“I’ll have the wine, though,” said the sentinel, running off. “I won’t
keep you a minute.”
“Take your time, I am in no haste,” replied Ludovico, who was already
hurrying across the court, when the soldier came back. “Whither so
fast, friend—whither so fast?” said the latter. “What! is this the way
you keep watch! I must stand to my post myself, I see.”
“Aye, well,” replied Ludovico, “you have saved me the trouble of
following you further, for I wanted to tell you, if you have a mind to
drink the Tuscany wine, you must go to Sebastian, he is dealing it out;
the other that Federico has, is not worth having. But you are not
likely to have any, I see, for they are all coming out.”
“By St. Peter! so they are,” said the soldier, and again ran off, while
Ludovico, once more at liberty, hastened to the door of the passage,
where Emily was sinking under the anxiety this long discourse had
occasioned; but, on his telling them the court was clear, they followed
him to the gates, without waiting another instant, yet not before he
had seized two horses, that had strayed from the second court, and were
picking a scanty meal among the grass, which grew between the pavement
of the first.
They passed, without interruption, the dreadful gates, and took the
road that led down among the woods, Emily, Monsieur Du Pont and Annette
on foot, and Ludovico, who was mounted on one horse, leading the other.
Having reached them, they stopped, while Emily and Annette were placed
on horseback with their two protectors, when, Ludovico leading the way,
they set off as fast as the broken road, and the feeble light, which a
rising moon threw among the foliage, would permit.
Emily was so much astonished by this sudden departure, that she
scarcely dared to believe herself awake; and she yet much doubted
whether this adventure would terminate in escape,—a doubt, which had
too much probability to justify it; for, before they quitted the woods,
they heard shouts in the wind, and, on emerging from them, saw lights
moving quickly near the castle above. Du Pont whipped his horse, and
with some difficulty compelled him to go faster.
“Ah! poor beast,” said Ludovico, “he is weary enough;—he has been out
all day; but, Signor, we must fly for it, now; for yonder are lights
coming this way.”
Having given his own horse a lash, they now both set off on a full
gallop; and, when they again looked back, the lights were so distant as
scarcely to be discerned, and the voices were sunk into silence. The
travellers then abated their pace, and, consulting whither they should
direct their course, it was determined they should descend into
Tuscany, and endeavour to reach the Mediterranean, where they could
readily embark for France. Thither Du Pont meant to attend Emily, if he
should learn, that the regiment he had accompanied into Italy, was
returned to his native country.
They were now in the road, which Emily had travelled with Ugo and
Bertrand; but Ludovico, who was the only one of the party, acquainted
with the passes of these mountains, said, that, a little further on, a
by-road, branching from this, would lead them down into Tuscany with
very little difficulty; and that, at a few leagues distance, was a
small town, where necessaries could be procured for their journey.
“But, I hope,” added he, “we shall meet with no straggling parties of
banditti; some of them are abroad, I know. However, I have got a good
trombone, which will be of some service, if we should encounter any of
those brave spirits. You have no arms, Signor?” “Yes,” replied Du Pont,
“I have the villain’s stilletto, who would have stabbed me—but let us
rejoice in our escape from Udolpho, nor torment ourselves with looking
out for dangers, that may never arrive.”
The moon was now risen high over the woods, that hung upon the sides of
the narrow glen, through which they wandered, and afforded them light
sufficient to distinguish their way, and to avoid the loose and broken
stones, that frequently crossed it. They now travelled leisurely, and
in profound silence; for they had scarcely yet recovered from the
astonishment, into which this sudden escape had thrown them.—Emily’s
mind, especially, was sunk, after the various emotions it had suffered,
into a kind of musing stillness, which the reposing beauty of the
surrounding scene and the creeping murmur of the night-breeze among the
foliage above contributed to prolong. She thought of Valancourt and of
France, with hope, and she would have thought of them with joy, had not
the first events of this evening harassed her spirits too much, to
permit her now to feel so lively a sensation. Meanwhile, Emily was
alone the object of Du Pont’s melancholy consideration; yet, with the
despondency he suffered, as he mused on his recent disappointment, was
mingled a sweet pleasure, occasioned by her presence, though they did
not now exchange a single word. Annette thought of this wonderful
escape, of the bustle in which Montoni and his people must be, now that
their flight was discovered; of her native country, whither she hoped
she was returning, and of her marriage with Ludovico, to which there no
longer appeared any impediment, for poverty she did not consider such.
Ludovico, on his part, congratulated himself, on having rescued his
Annette and Signora Emily from the danger, that had surrounded them; on
his own liberation from people, whose manners he had long detested; on
the freedom he had given to Monsieur Du Pont; on his prospect of
happiness with the object of his affections, and not a little on the
address, with which he had deceived the sentinel, and conducted the
whole of this affair.
Thus variously engaged in thought, the travellers passed on silently,
for above an hour, a question only being, now and then, asked by Du
Pont, concerning the road, or a remark uttered by Annette, respecting
objects, seen imperfectly in the twilight. At length, lights were
perceived twinkling on the side of a mountain, and Ludovico had no
doubt, that they proceeded from the town he had mentioned, while his
companions, satisfied by this assurance, sunk again into silence.
Annette was the first who interrupted this. “Holy Peter!” said she,
“What shall we do for money on our journey? for I know neither I, nor
my lady, have a single sequin; the Signor took care of that!”
This remark produced a serious enquiry, which ended in as serious an
embarrassment, for Du Pont had been rifled of nearly all his money,
when he was taken prisoner; the remainder he had given to the sentinel,
who had enabled him occasionally to leave his prison-chamber; and
Ludovico, who had for some time found a difficulty, in procuring any
part of the wages due to him, had now scarcely cash sufficient to
procure necessary refreshment at the first town, in which they should
arrive.
Their poverty was the more distressing, since it would detain them
among the mountains, where, even in a town, they could scarcely
consider themselves safe from Montoni. The travellers, however, had
only to proceed and dare the future; and they continued their way
through lonely wilds and dusky valleys, where the overhanging foliage
now admitted, and then excluded the moonlight; wilds so desolate, that
they appeared, on the first glance, as if no human being had ever trod
them before. Even the road, in which the party were, did but slightly
contradict this error, for the high grass and other luxuriant
vegetation, with which it was overgrown, told how very seldom the foot
of a traveller had passed it.
At length, from a distance, was heard the faint tinkling of a
sheep-bell; and, soon after, the bleat of flocks, and the party then
knew, that they were near some human habitation, for the light, which
Ludovico had fancied to proceed from a town, had long been concealed by
intervening mountains. Cheered by this hope, they quickened their pace
along the narrow pass they were winding, and it opened upon one of
those pastoral valleys of the Apennines, which might be painted for a
scene of Arcadia, and whose beauty and simplicity are finely contrasted
by the grandeur of the snowtopped mountains above.
The morning light, now glimmering in the horizon, showed faintly, at a
little distance, upon the brow of a hill, which seemed to peep from
“under the opening eye-lids of the morn,” the town they were in search
of, and which they soon after reached. It was not without some
difficulty, that they there found a house, which could afford shelter
for themselves and their horses; and Emily desired they might not rest
longer than was necessary for refreshment. Her appearance excited some
surprise, for she was without a hat, having had time only to throw on
her veil before she left the castle, a circumstance, that compelled her
to regret again the want of money, without which it was impossible to
procure this necessary article of dress.
Ludovico, on examining his purse, found it even insufficient to supply
present refreshment, and Du Pont, at length, ventured to inform the
landlord, whose countenance was simple and honest, of their exact
situation, and requested, that he would assist them to pursue their
journey; a purpose, which he promised to comply with, as far as he was
able, when he learned that they were prisoners escaping from Montoni,
whom he had too much reason to hate. But, though he consented to lend
them fresh horses to carry them to the next town, he was too poor
himself to trust them with money, and they were again lamenting their
poverty, when Ludovico, who had been with his tired horses to the