'Well, but the repairs,' interrupted Montoni. 'Aye, the repairs,' said Carlo: 'a part of the roof of the great hall
has fallen in, and all the winds from the mountains rushed through it
last winter, and whistled through the whole castle so, that there was no
keeping one's self warm, be where one would. There, my wife and I used
to sit shivering over a great fire in one corner of the little hall,
ready to die with cold, and'-'But there are no more repairs wanted,' said Montoni, impatiently. 'O Lord! Your excellenza, yes--the wall of the rampart has tumbled down
in three places; then, the stairs, that lead to the west gallery, have
been a long time so bad, that it is dangerous to go up them; and the
passage leading to the great oak chamber, that overhangs the north
rampart--one night last winter I ventured to go there by myself, and
your excellenza'-'Well, well, enough of this,' said Montoni, with quickness: 'I will talk
more with thee to-morrow.'
The fire was now lighted; Carlo swept the hearth, placed chairs, wiped
the dust from a large marble table that stood near it, and then left the
room. Montoni and his family drew round the fire. Madame Montoni made several
attempts at conversation, but his sullen answers repulsed her, while
Emily sat endeavouring to acquire courage enough to speak to him. At
length, in a tremulous voice, she said, 'May I ask, sir, the motive
of this sudden journey?'--After a long pause, she recovered sufficient
courage to repeat the question. 'It does not suit me to answer enquiries,' said Montoni, 'nor does it
become you to make them; time may unfold them all: but I desire I may
be no further harassed, and I recommend it to you to retire to your
chamber, and to endeavour to adopt a more rational conduct, than that
of yielding to fancies, and to a sensibility, which, to call it by the
gentlest name, is only a weakness.' E
mily rose to withdraw. 'Good night, madam,' said she to her aunt, with
an assumed composure, that could not disguise her emotion. 'Good night, my dear,' said Madame Montoni, in a tone of kindness, which
her niece had never before heard from her; and the unexpected endearment
brought tears to Emily's eyes. She curtsied to Montoni, and was
retiring; 'But you do not know the way to your chamber,' said her aunt.
Montoni called the servant, who waited in the ante-room, and bade
him send Madame Montoni's woman, with whom, in a few minutes, Emily
withdrew. 'Do you know which is my room?' said she to Annette, as they crossed the
hall. 'Yes, I believe I do, ma'amselle; but this is such a strange rambling
place! I have been lost in it already: they call it the double chamber,
over the south rampart, and I went up this great stair-case to it. My
lady's room is at the other end of the castle.'