The Mysteries of Udolpho

Soon after his arrival at Venice, Montoni received a packet from M.

Quesnel, in which the latter mentioned the death of his wife's uncle,

at his villa on the Brenta; and that, in consequence of this event, he

should hasten to take possession of that estate and of other effects

bequeathed to him. This uncle was the brother of Madame Quesnel's late

mother; Montoni was related to her by the father's side, and though

he could have had neither claim nor expectation concerning these

possessions, he could scarcely conceal the envy which M. Quesnel's

letter excited. Emily had observed with concern, that, since they left France, Montoni

had not even affected kindness towards her aunt, and that, after

treating her, at first, with neglect, he now met her with uniform

ill-humour and reserve. She had never supposed, that her aunt's foibles

could have escaped the discernment of Montoni, or that her mind or

figure were of a kind to deserve his attention. Her surprise, therefore,

at this match, had been extreme; but since he had made the choice, she

did not suspect that he would so openly have discovered his contempt of

it.

But Montoni, who had been allured by the seeming wealth of Madame

Cheron, was now severely disappointed by her comparative poverty, and

highly exasperated by the deceit she had employed to conceal it, till

concealment was no longer necessary. He had been deceived in an affair,

wherein he meant to be the deceiver; out-witted by the superior

cunning of a woman, whose understanding he despised, and to whom he had

sacrificed his pride and his liberty, without saving himself from the

ruin, which had impended over his head. Madame Montoni had contrived

to have the greatest part of what she really did possess, settled upon

herself: what remained, though it was totally inadequate both to her

husband's expectations, and to his necessities, he had converted into

money, and brought with him to Venice, that he might a little longer

delude society, and make a last effort to regain the fortunes he had

lost.

The hints which had been thrown out to Valancourt, concerning Montoni's

character and condition, were too true; but it was now left to time and

occasion, to unfold the circumstances, both of what had, and of what had

not been hinted, and to time and occasion we commit them.

Madame Montoni was not of a nature to bear injuries with meekness, or to

resent them with dignity: her exasperated pride displayed itself in all

the violence and acrimony of a little, or at least of an ill-regulated

mind. She would not acknowledge, even to herself, that she had in any

degree provoked contempt by her duplicity, but weakly persisted in

believing, that she alone was to be pitied, and Montoni alone to be

censured; for, as her mind had naturally little perception of moral

obligation, she seldom understood its force but when it happened to be

violated towards herself: her vanity had already been severely shocked

by a discovery of Montoni's contempt; it remained to be farther reproved

by a discovery of his circumstances. His mansion at Venice, though its

furniture discovered a part of the truth to unprejudiced persons, told

nothing to those who were blinded by a resolution to believe whatever

they wished. Madame Montoni still thought herself little less than

a princess, possessing a palace at Venice, and a castle among the

Apennines. To the castle di Udolpho, indeed, Montoni sometimes talked of

going for a few weeks to examine into its condition, and to receive some

rents; for it appeared that he had not been there for two years, and

that, during this period, it had been inhabited only by an old servant,

whom he called his steward.