The Mysteries of Udolpho

When Lady Blanche returned to the chateau, instead of going to the

apartment of the Countess, she amused herself with wandering over that

part of the edifice, which she had not yet examined, of which the most

antient first attracted her curiosity; for, though what she had seen of

the modern was gay and elegant, there was something in the former more

interesting to her imagination. Having passed up the great stair-case,

and through the oak gallery, she entered upon a long suite of chambers,

whose walls were either hung with tapestry, or wainscoted with cedar,

the furniture of which looked almost as antient as the rooms themselves;

the spacious fire-places, where no mark of social cheer remained,

presented an image of cold desolation; and the whole suite had so much

the air of neglect and desertion, that it seemed, as if the venerable

persons, whose portraits hung upon the walls, had been the last to

inhabit them.

On leaving these rooms, she found herself in another gallery, one end of

which was terminated by a back stair-case, and the other by a door,

that seemed to communicate with the north-side of the chateau, but which

being fastened, she descended the stair-case, and, opening a door in

the wall, a few steps down, found herself in a small square room, that

formed part of the west turret of the castle. Three windows presented

each a separate and beautiful prospect; that to the north, overlooking

Languedoc; another to the west, the hills ascending towards the

Pyrenees, whose awful summits crowned the landscape; and a third,

fronting the south, gave the Mediterranean, and a part of the wild

shores of Rousillon, to the eye.

Having left the turret, and descended the narrow stair-case, she found

herself in a dusky passage, where she wandered, unable to find her way,

till impatience yielded to apprehension, and she called for assistance.

Presently steps approached, and light glimmered through a door at the

other extremity of the passage, which was opened with caution by some

person, who did not venture beyond it, and whom Blanche observed

in silence, till the door was closing, when she called aloud, and,

hastening towards it, perceived the old housekeeper. 'Dear ma'amselle!

is it you?' said Dorothee, 'How could you find your way hither?'

Had Blanche been less occupied by her own fears, she would probably have

observed the strong expressions of terror and surprise on Dorothee's

countenance, who now led her through a long succession of passages and

rooms, that looked as if they had been uninhabited for a century,

till they reached that appropriated to the housekeeper, where Dorothee

entreated she would sit down and take refreshment. Blanche accepted the

sweet meats, offered to her, mentioned her discovery of the pleasant

turret, and her wish to appropriate it to her own use. Whether

Dorothee's taste was not so sensible to the beauties of landscape as her

young lady's, or that the constant view of lovely scenery had deadened

it, she forbore to praise the subject of Blanche's enthusiasm, which,

however, her silence did not repress. To Lady Blanche's enquiry of

whither the door she had found fastened at the end of the gallery led,

she replied, that it opened to a suite of rooms, which had not been

entered, during many years, 'For,' added she, 'my late lady died in one

of them, and I could never find in my heart to go into them since.'