The Mysteries of Udolpho

One circumstance, however, she had to rejoice in. Her

prudence, or rather her fears, had saved her from mentioning the name

of Valancourt to Montoni, which she was several times on the point of

doing, before she signed the paper, and of stipulating for his release,

if he should be really a prisoner in the castle. Had she done this,

Montoni's jealous fears would now probably have loaded Valancourt

with new severities, and have suggested the advantage of holding him a

captive for life.

Thus passed the melancholy day, as she had before passed many in this

same chamber. When night drew on, she would have withdrawn herself to

Annette's bed, had not a particular interest inclined her to remain

in this chamber, in spite of her fears; for, when the castle should be

still, and the customary hour arrived, she determined to watch for the

music, which she had formerly heard. Though its sounds might not enable

her positively to determine, whether Valancourt was there, they would

perhaps strengthen her opinion that he was, and impart the comfort, so

necessary to her present support.--But, on the other hand, if all should

be silent--! She hardly dared to suffer her thoughts to glance that way,

but waited, with impatient expectation, the approaching hour.

The night was stormy; the battlements of the castle appeared to rock in

the wind, and, at intervals, long groans seemed to pass on the air,

such as those, which often deceive the melancholy mind, in tempests,

and amidst scenes of desolation. Emily heard, as formerly, the sentinels

pass along the terrace to their posts, and, looking out from her

casement, observed, that the watch was doubled; a precaution, which

appeared necessary enough, when she threw her eyes on the walls, and saw

their shattered condition. The well-known sounds of the soldiers' march,

and of their distant voices, which passed her in the wind, and were lost

again, recalled to her memory the melancholy sensation she had

suffered, when she formerly heard the same sounds; and occasioned almost

involuntary comparisons between her present, and her late situation.

But this was no subject for congratulations, and she wisely checked the

course of her thoughts, while, as the hour was not yet come, in which

she had been accustomed to hear the music, she closed the casement,

and endeavoured to await it in patience. The door of the stair-case she

tried to secure, as usual, with some of the furniture of the room; but

this expedient her fears now represented to her to be very inadequate to

the power and perseverance of Verezzi; and she often looked at a large

and heavy chest, that stood in the chamber, with wishes that she and

Annette had strength enough to move it. While she blamed the long

stay of this girl, who was still with Ludovico and some other of the

servants, she trimmed her wood fire, to make the room appear less

desolate, and sat down beside it with a book, which her eyes perused,

while her thoughts wandered to Valancourt, and her own misfortunes. As

she sat thus, she thought, in a pause of the wind, she distinguished

music, and went to the casement to listen, but the loud swell of the

gust overcame every other sound. When the wind sunk again, she heard

distinctly, in the deep pause that succeeded, the sweet strings of a

lute; but again the rising tempest bore away the notes, and again was

succeeded by a solemn pause.