The Mysteries of Udolpho

'They were taken prisoners, perhaps?' said Emily. 'Taken prisoners!' exclaimed Annette; 'no, indeed, ma'amselle, not they.

I remember one of them very well at Venice: she came two or three times,

to the Signor's you know, ma'amselle, and it was said, but I did not

believe a word of it--it was said, that the Signor liked her better than

he should do. Then why, says I, bring her to my lady? Very true, said

Ludovico; but he looked as if he knew more, too.'

Emily desired Annette would endeavour to learn who these ladies were, as

well as all she could concerning them; and she then changed the subject,

and spoke of distant France. 'Ah, ma'amselle! we shall never see it more!' said Annette, almost

weeping.--'I must come on my travels, forsooth!'

Emily tried to sooth and to cheer her, with a hope, in which she

scarcely herself indulged. 'How--how, ma'amselle, could you leave France, and leave Mons.

Valancourt, too?' said Annette, sobbing. 'I--I--am sure, if Ludovico had

been in France, I would never have left it.' 'Why do you lament quitting France, then?' said Emily, trying to smile,

'since, if you had remained there, you would not have found Ludovico.' 'Ah, ma'amselle! I only wish I was out of this frightful castle, serving

you in France, and I would care about nothing else!'

'Thank you, my good Annette, for your affectionate regard; the time will

come, I hope, when you may remember the expression of that wish with

pleasure.' Annette departed on her business, and Emily sought to lose the sense of

her own cares, in the visionary scenes of the poet; but she had again to

lament the irresistible force of circumstances over the taste and powers

of the mind; and that it requires a spirit at ease to be sensible even

to the abstract pleasures of pure intellect. The enthusiasm of genius,

with all its pictured scenes, now appeared cold, and dim. As she mused

upon the book before her, she involuntarily exclaimed, 'Are these,

indeed, the passages, that have so often given me exquisite delight?

Where did the charm exist?--Was it in my mind, or in the imagination

of the poet? It lived in each,' said she, pausing. 'But the fire of the

poet is vain, if the mind of his reader is not tempered like his own,

however it may be inferior to his in power.'

Emily would have pursued this train of thinking, because it relieved her

from more painful reflection, but she found again, that thought cannot

always be controlled by will; and hers returned to the consideration of

her own situation. In the evening, not choosing to venture down to the ramparts, where she

would be exposed to the rude gaze of Montoni's associates, she walked

for air in the gallery, adjoining her chamber; on reaching the further

end of which she heard distant sounds of merriment and laughter. It was

the wild uproar of riot, not the cheering gaiety of tempered mirth; and

seemed to come from that part of the castle, where Montoni usually was.

Such sounds, at this time, when her aunt had been so few days dead,

particularly shocked her, consistent as they were with the late conduct

of Montoni.