The Mysteries of Udolpho

When he returned, his countenance had recovered its usual serenity; he

took Emily's hand, pressed it affectionately, without speaking, and soon

after called to the muleteer, who sat at a little distance, concerning

a road among the mountains towards Rousillon. Michael said, there were

several that way, but he did not know how far they extended, or even

whether they were passable; and St. Aubert, who did not intend to travel

after sun-set, asked what village they could reach about that time. The

muleteer calculated that they could easily reach Mateau, which was in

their present road; but that, if they took a road that sloped more to

the south, towards Rousillon, there was a hamlet, which he thought they

could gain before the evening shut in.

St. Aubert, after some hesitation, determined to take the latter course,

and Michael, having finished his meal, and harnessed his mules, again

set forward, but soon stopped; and St. Aubert saw him doing homage to a

cross, that stood on a rock impending over their way. Having concluded

his devotions, he smacked his whip in the air, and, in spite of the

rough road, and the pain of his poor mules, which he had been lately

lamenting, rattled, in a full gallop, along the edge of a precipice,

which it made the eye dizzy to look down. Emily was terrified almost

to fainting; and St. Aubert, apprehending still greater danger from

suddenly stopping the driver, was compelled to sit quietly, and trust

his fate to the strength and discretion of the mules, who seemed to

possess a greater portion of the latter quality than their master; for

they carried the travellers safely into the valley, and there stopped

upon the brink of the rivulet that watered it.

Leaving the splendour of extensive prospects, they now entered this

narrow valley screened by Rocks on rocks piled, as if by magic spell,

Here scorch'd by lightnings, there with ivy green.

The scene of barrenness was here and there interrupted by the spreading

branches of the larch and cedar, which threw their gloom over the cliff,

or athwart the torrent that rolled in the vale. No living creature

appeared, except the izard, scrambling among the rocks, and often

hanging upon points so dangerous, that fancy shrunk from the view of

them. This was such a scene as SALVATOR would have chosen, had he then

existed, for his canvas; St. Aubert, impressed by the romantic character

of the place, almost expected to see banditti start from behind some

projecting rock, and he kept his hand upon the arms with which he always

travelled. As they advanced, the valley opened; its savage features gradually

softened, and, towards evening, they were among heathy mountains,

stretched in far perspective, along which the solitary sheep-bell was

heard, and the voice of the shepherd calling his wandering flocks to the

nightly fold. His cabin, partly shadowed by the cork-tree and the ilex,

which St. Aubert observed to flourish in higher regions of the air than

any other trees, except the fir, was all the human habitation that yet

appeared. Along the bottom of this valley the most vivid verdure was

spread; and, in the little hollow recesses of the mountains, under the

shade of the oak and chestnut, herds of cattle were grazing. Groups

of them, too, were often seen reposing on the banks of the rivulet, or

laving their sides in the cool stream, and sipping its wave.