The Mysteries of Udolpho

The soft and shadowy tint, that overspread the scene, the waves,

undulating in the moon-light, and their low and measured murmurs on the

beach, were circumstances, that united to elevate the unaccustomed mind

of Blanche to enthusiasm.

'And have I lived in this glorious world so long,' said she, 'and never

till now beheld such a prospect--never experienced these delights! Every

peasant girl, on my father's domain, has viewed from her infancy the

face of nature; has ranged, at liberty, her romantic wilds, while I have

been shut in a cloister from the view of these beautiful appearances,

which were designed to enchant all eyes, and awaken all hearts. How

can the poor nuns and friars feel the full fervour of devotion, if they

never see the sun rise, or set? Never, till this evening, did I know

what true devotion is; for, never before did I see the sun sink below

the vast earth! To-morrow, for the first time in my life, I will see

it rise.

O, who would live in Paris, to look upon black walls and dirty

streets, when, in the country, they might gaze on the blue heavens, and

all the green earth!' This enthusiastic soliloquy was interrupted by a rustling noise in the

hall; and, while the loneliness of the place made her sensible to fear,

she thought she perceived something moving between the pillars. For

a moment, she continued silently observing it, till, ashamed of her

ridiculous apprehensions, she recollected courage enough to demand who

was there. 'O my young lady, is it you?' said the old housekeeper, who

was come to shut the windows, 'I am glad it is you.' The manner, in

which she spoke this, with a faint breath, rather surprised Blanche, who

said, 'You seemed frightened, Dorothee, what is the matter?'

'No, not frightened, ma'amselle,' replied Dorothee, hesitating and

trying to appear composed, 'but I am old, and--a little matter startles

me.' The Lady Blanche smiled at the distinction. 'I am glad, that my

lord the Count is come to live at the chateau, ma'amselle,' continued

Dorothee, 'for it has been many a year deserted, and dreary enough; now,

the place will look a little as it used to do, when my poor lady was

alive.' Blanche enquired how long it was, since the Marchioness died?

'Alas! my lady,' replied Dorothee, 'so long--that I have ceased to count

the years! The place, to my mind, has mourned ever since, and I am sure

my lord's vassals have! But you have lost yourself, ma'amselle,--shall I

shew you to the other side of the chateau?'