The Mysteries of Udolpho

'I heard it, last night, ma'amselle, but I forgot to tell it.'

Emily asked some further questions, and then, desiring Annette would

observe and inform her, when Montoni was alone, the girl went to deliver

her message to Barnardine.

Montoni was, however, so much engaged, during the whole day, that Emily

had no opportunity of seeking a release from her terrible suspense,

concerning her aunt. Annette was employed in watching his steps, and in

attending upon Ludovico, whom she, assisted by Caterina, nursed with

the utmost care; and Emily was, of course, left much alone. Her

thoughts dwelt often on the message of the porter, and were employed

in conjecturing the subject, that occasioned it, which she sometimes

imagined concerned the fate of Madame Montoni; at others, that it

related to some personal danger, which threatened herself. The cautious

secrecy which Barnardine observed in his conduct, inclined her to

believe the latter. As the hour of appointment drew near, her impatience increased. At

length, the sun set; she heard the passing steps of the sentinels going

to their posts; and waited only for Annette to accompany her to the

terrace, who, soon after, came, and they descended together. When Emily

expressed apprehensions of meeting Montoni, or some of his guests, 'O,

there is no fear of that, ma'amselle,' said Annette, 'they are all set

in to feasting yet, and that Barnardine knows.'

They reached the first terrace, where the sentinels demanded who passed;

and Emily, having answered, walked on to the east rampart, at the

entrance of which they were again stopped; and, having again replied,

were permitted to proceed. But Emily did not like to expose herself to

the discretion of these men, at such an hour; and, impatient to withdraw

from the situation, she stepped hastily on in search of Barnardine. He

was not yet come. She leaned pensively on the wall of the rampart,

and waited for him. The gloom of twilight sat deep on the surrounding

objects, blending in soft confusion the valley, the mountains, and the

woods, whose tall heads, stirred by the evening breeze, gave the only

sounds, that stole on silence, except a faint, faint chorus of distant

voices, that arose from within the castle. 'What voices are those?' said Emily, as she fearfully listened. 'It is only the Signor and his guests, carousing,' replied Annette. 'Good God!' thought Emily, 'can this man's heart be so gay, when he has

made another being so wretched; if, indeed, my aunt is yet suffered to

feel her wretchedness? O! whatever are my own sufferings, may my heart

never, never be hardened against those of others!'