The Mysteries of Udolpho

Adjoining the eastern side of the green-house, looking towards the

plains of Languedoc, was a room, which Emily called hers, and which

contained her books, her drawings, her musical instruments, with some

favourite birds and plants. Here she usually exercised herself in

elegant arts, cultivated only because they were congenial to her taste,

and in which native genius, assisted by the instructions of Monsieur

and Madame St. Aubert, made her an early proficient. The windows of

this room were particularly pleasant; they descended to the floor, and,

opening upon the little lawn that surrounded the house, the eye was led

between groves of almond, palm-trees, flowering-ash, and myrtle, to the

distant landscape, where the Garonne wandered.

The peasants of this gay climate were often seen on an evening, when

the day's labour was done, dancing in groups on the margin of the river.

Their sprightly melodies, debonnaire steps, the fanciful figure of

their dances, with the tasteful and capricious manner in which the girls

adjusted their simple dress, gave a character to the scene entirely

French.

The front of the chateau, which, having a southern aspect, opened upon

the grandeur of the mountains, was occupied on the ground floor by a

rustic hall, and two excellent sitting rooms. The first floor, for the

cottage had no second story, was laid out in bed-chambers, except one

apartment that opened to a balcony, and which was generally used for a

breakfast-room. In the surrounding ground, St. Aubert had made very tasteful

improvements; yet, such was his attachment to objects he had remembered

from his boyish days, that he had in some instances sacrificed taste

to sentiment. There were two old larches that shaded the building, and

interrupted the prospect; St. Aubert had sometimes declared that he

believed he should have been weak enough to have wept at their fall. In

addition to these larches he planted a little grove of beech, pine, and

mountain-ash. On a lofty terrace, formed by the swelling bank of the

river, rose a plantation of orange, lemon, and palm-trees, whose fruit,

in the coolness of evening, breathed delicious fragrance. With these

were mingled a few trees of other species. Here, under the ample shade

of a plane-tree, that spread its majestic canopy towards the river, St.

Aubert loved to sit in the fine evenings of summer, with his wife and

children, watching, beneath its foliage, the setting sun, the mild

splendour of its light fading from the distant landscape, till the

shadows of twilight melted its various features into one tint of sober

grey.

Here, too, he loved to read, and to converse with Madame St.

Aubert; or to play with his children, resigning himself to the influence

of those sweet affections, which are ever attendant on simplicity and

nature. He has often said, while tears of pleasure trembled in his eyes,

that these were moments infinitely more delightful than any passed amid

the brilliant and tumultuous scenes that are courted by the world. His

heart was occupied; it had, what can be so rarely said, no wish for a

happiness beyond what it experienced. The consciousness of acting right

diffused a serenity over his manners, which nothing else could impart

to a man of moral perceptions like his, and which refined his sense of

every surrounding blessing.