The Mysteries of Udolpho

The travellers had lingered so long among the sublimer scenes of

these mountains, that they found themselves entirely mistaken in their

calculation that they could reach Montigny at sun-set; but, as they

wound along the valley, the saw, on a rude Alpine bridge, that united

two lofty crags of the glen, a group of mountaineer-children, amusing

themselves with dropping pebbles into a torrent below, and watching the

stones plunge into the water, that threw up its white spray high in the

air as it received them, and returned a sullen sound, which the echoes

of the mountains prolonged. Under the bridge was seen a perspective of

the valley, with its cataract descending among the rocks, and a cottage

on a cliff, overshadowed with pines. It appeared, that they could not

be far from some small town. St. Aubert bade the muleteer stop, and

then called to the children to enquire if he was near Montigny; but the

distance, and the roaring of the waters, would not suffer his voice to

be heard; and the crags, adjoining the bridge, were of such tremendous

height and steepness, that to have climbed either would have been

scarcely practicable to a person unacquainted with the ascent. St.

Aubert, therefore, did not waste more moments in delay. They continued

to travel long after twilight had obscured the road, which was so

broken, that, now thinking it safer to walk than to ride, they all

alighted.

The moon was rising, but her light was yet too feeble to

assist them. While they stepped carefully on, they heard the vesper-bell

of a convent. The twilight would not permit them to distinguish anything

like a building, but the sounds seemed to come from some woods, that

overhung an acclivity to the right. Valancourt proposed to go in

search of this convent. 'If they will not accommodate us with a night's

lodging,' said he, 'they may certainly inform us how far we are from

Montigny, and direct us towards it.' He was bounding forward, without

waiting St. Aubert's reply, when the latter stopped him. 'I am very

weary,' said St. Aubert, 'and wish for nothing so much as for immediate

rest. We will all go to the convent; your good looks would defeat our

purpose; but when they see mine and Emily's exhausted countenances, they

will scarcely deny us repose.'

As he said this, he took Emily's arm within his, and, telling Michael to

wait awhile in the road with the carriage, they began to ascend towards

the woods, guided by the bell of the convent. His steps were feeble, and

Valancourt offered him his arm, which he accepted. The moon now threw

a faint light over their path, and, soon after, enabled them to

distinguish some towers rising above the tops of the woods. Still

following the note of the bell, they entered the shade of those woods,

lighted only by the moonbeams, that glided down between the leaves,

and threw a tremulous uncertain gleam upon the steep track they were

winding. The gloom and the silence that prevailed, except when the bell

returned upon the air, together with the wildness of the surrounding

scene, struck Emily with a degree of fear, which, however, the voice and

conversation of Valancourt somewhat repressed. When they had been some

time ascending, St. Aubert complained of weariness, and they stopped to

rest upon a little green summit, where the trees opened, and admitted

the moon-light. He sat down upon the turf, between Emily and Valancourt.

The bell had now ceased, and the deep repose of the scene was

undisturbed by any sound, for the low dull murmur of some distant

torrents might be said to sooth, rather than to interrupt, the silence.