The Mysteries of Udolpho

Her present life appeared like the dream of a distempered imagination,

or like one of those frightful fictions, in which the wild genius of

the poets sometimes delighted. Reflection brought only regret, and

anticipation terror. How often did she wish to 'steal the lark's wing,

and mount the swiftest gale,' that Languedoc and repose might once more

be hers! Of Count Morano's health she made frequent enquiry; but Annette heard

only vague reports of his danger, and that his surgeon had said he would

never leave the cottage alive; while Emily could not but be shocked to

think, that she, however innocently, might be the means of his death;

and Annette, who did not fail to observe her emotion, interpreted it in

her own way. But a circumstance soon occurred, which entirely withdrew Annette's

attention from this subject, and awakened the surprise and curiosity so

natural to her.

Coming one day to Emily's apartment, with a countenance

full of importance, 'What can all this mean, ma'amselle?' said she.

'Would I was once safe in Languedoc again, they should never catch me

going on my travels any more! I must think it a fine thing, truly, to

come abroad, and see foreign parts! I little thought I was coming to be

catched up in a old castle, among such dreary mountains, with the chance

of being murdered, or, what is as good, having my throat cut!' 'What can all this mean, indeed, Annette?' said Emily, in astonishment.

'Aye, ma'amselle, you may look surprised; but you won't believe it,

perhaps, till they have murdered you, too. You would not believe about

the ghost I told you of, though I shewed you the very place, where it

used to appear!--You will believe nothing, ma'amselle.'

'Not till you speak more reasonably, Annette; for Heaven's sake, explain

your meaning. You spoke of murder!' 'Aye, ma'amselle, they are coming to murder us all, perhaps; but what

signifies explaining?--you will not believe.'

Emily again desired her to relate what she had seen, or heard. 'O, I have seen enough, ma'am, and heard too much, as Ludovico can

prove. Poor soul! they will murder him, too! I little thought, when

he sung those sweet verses under my lattice, at Venice!'--Emily looked

impatient and displeased. 'Well, ma'amselle, as I was saying, these

preparations about the castle, and these strange-looking people, that

are calling here every day, and the Signor's cruel usage of my lady, and

his odd goings-on--all these, as I told Ludovico, can bode no good. And

he bid me hold my tongue. So, says I, the Signor's strangely altered,

Ludovico, in this gloomy castle, to what he was in France; there, all so

gay! Nobody so gallant to my lady, then; and he could smile, too, upon

a poor servant, sometimes, and jeer her, too, good-naturedly enough.

I remember once, when he said to me, as I was going out of my lady's

dressing-room--Annette, says he--'