' 'Dear ma'amselle! I will shew you the very cannon; you can see it from
these windows!' 'Well,' said Emily, 'but that does not prove, that an apparition guards
it.' 'What! not if I shew you the very cannon! Dear ma'am, you will believe
nothing.' 'Nothing probably upon this subject, but what I see,' said
Emily.--'Well, ma'am, but you shall see it, if you will only step this
way to the casement.'--Emily could not forbear laughing, and Annette
looked surprised. Perceiving her extreme aptitude to credit the
marvellous, Emily forbore to mention the subject she had intended, lest
it should overcome her with idle terrors, and she began to speak on a
lively topic--the regattas of Venice.
'Aye, ma'amselle, those rowing matches,' said Annette, 'and the fine
moon-light nights, are all, that are worth seeing in Venice. To be sure
the moon is brighter than any I ever saw; and then to hear such sweet
music, too, as Ludovico has often and often sung under the lattice by
the west portico! Ma'amselle, it was Ludovico, that told me about that
picture, which you wanted so to look at last night, and---' '
What picture?' said Emily, wishing Annette to explain herself. 'O! that terrible picture with the black veil over it.' 'You never saw it, then?' said Emily. 'Who, I!--No, ma'amselle, I never did. But this morning,' continued
Annette, lowering her voice, and looking round the room, 'this morning,
as it was broad daylight, do you know, ma'am, I took a strange fancy to
see it, as I had heard such odd hints about it, and I got as far as the
door, and should have opened it, if it had not been locked!
' Emily, endeavouring to conceal the emotion this circumstance occasioned,
enquired at what hour she went to the chamber, and found, that it was
soon after herself had been there. She also asked further questions, and
the answers convinced her, that Annette, and probably her informer, were
ignorant of the terrible truth, though in Annette's account something
very like the truth, now and then, mingled with the falsehood. Emily now
began to fear, that her visit to the chamber had been observed, since
the door had been closed, so immediately after her departure; and
dreaded lest this should draw upon her the vengeance of Montoni. Her
anxiety, also, was excited to know whence, and for what purpose, the
delusive report, which had been imposed upon Annette, had originated,
since Montoni could only have wished for silence and secrecy; but she
felt, that the subject was too terrible for this lonely hour, and she
compelled herself to leave it, to converse with Annette, whose chat,
simple as it was, she preferred to the stillness of total solitude.