The Mysteries of Udolpho

'And I have made you a very unexpected return for the compliment,'

said St. Aubert, who lamented again the rashness which had produced

the accident, and explained the cause of his late alarm. But Valancourt

seemed anxious only to remove from the minds of his companions every

unpleasant feeling relative to himself; and, for that purpose, still

struggled against a sense of pain, and tried to converse with gaiety.

Emily meanwhile was silent, except when Valancourt particularly

addressed her, and there was at those times a tremulous tone in his

voice that spoke much.

They were now so near the fire, which had long flamed at a distance on

the blackness of night, that it gleamed upon the road, and they could

distinguish figures moving about the blaze. The way winding still

nearer, they perceived in the valley one of those numerous bands of

gipsies, which at that period particularly haunted the wilds of the

Pyrenees, and lived partly by plundering the traveller. Emily looked

with some degree of terror on the savage countenances of these people,

shewn by the fire, which heightened the romantic effects of the scenery,

as it threw a red dusky gleam upon the rocks and on the foliage of the

trees, leaving heavy masses of shade and regions of obscurity, which the

eye feared to penetrate.

They were preparing their supper; a large pot stood by the fire, over

which several figures were busy. The blaze discovered a rude kind of

tent, round which many children and dogs were playing, and the whole

formed a picture highly grotesque. The travellers saw plainly their

danger. Valancourt was silent, but laid his hand on one of St. Aubert's

pistols; St. Aubert drew forth another, and Michael was ordered to

proceed as fast as possible. They passed the place, however,

without being attacked; the rovers being probably unprepared for the

opportunity, and too busy about their supper to feel much interest, at

the moment, in any thing besides.

After a league and a half more, passed in darkness, the travellers

arrived at Beaujeu, and drove up to the only inn the place afforded;

which, though superior to any they had seen since they entered the

mountains, was bad enough.

The surgeon of the town was immediately sent for, if a surgeon he could

be called, who prescribed for horses as well as for men, and shaved

faces at least as dexterously as he set bones. After examining

Valancourt's arm, and perceiving that the bullet had passed through

the flesh without touching the bone, he dressed it, and left him with

a solemn prescription of quiet, which his patient was not inclined to

obey. The delight of ease had now succeeded to pain; for ease may be

allowed to assume a positive quality when contrasted with anguish; and,

his spirits thus re-animated, he wished to partake of the conversation

of St. Aubert and Emily, who, released from so many apprehensions, were

uncommonly cheerful. Late as it was, however, St. Aubert was obliged to

go out with the landlord to buy meat for supper; and Emily, who, during

this interval, had been absent as long as she could, upon excuses of

looking to their accommodation, which she found rather better than she

expected, was compelled to return, and converse with Valancourt alone.

They talked of the character of the scenes they had passed, of the

natural history of the country, of poetry, and of St. Aubert; a subject

on which Emily always spoke and listened to with peculiar pleasure.