The Mysteries of Udolpho

Emily briefly related the accident of their meeting in the presence of

her father, and then so earnestly entreated the Count not to hesitate in

declaring what he knew, that he perceived the violent emotion, against

which she was contending, and, regarding her with a look of tender

compassion, considered how he might communicate his information with

least pain to his anxious auditor.

'The Chevalier and my son,' said he, 'were introduced to each other,

at the table of a brother officer, at whose house I also met him, and

invited him to my own, whenever he should be disengaged. I did not then

know, that he had formed an acquaintance with a set of men, a disgrace

to their species, who live by plunder and pass their lives in continual

debauchery. I knew several of the Chevalier's family, resident at Paris,

and considered them as sufficient pledges for his introduction to my

own.

But you are ill; I will leave the subject.'--'No, sir,' said Emily,

'I beg you will proceed: I am only distressed.'--'ONLY!' said the Count,

with emphasis; 'however, I will proceed. I soon learned, that these, his

associates, had drawn him into a course of dissipation, from which he

appeared to have neither the power, nor the inclination, to extricate

himself. He lost large sums at the gaming-table; he became infatuated

with play; and was ruined. I spoke tenderly of this to his friends, who

assured me, that they had remonstrated with him, till they were weary.

I afterwards learned, that, in consideration of his talents for play,

which were generally successful, when unopposed by the tricks of

villany,--that in consideration of these, the party had initiated him

into the secrets of their trade, and allotted him a share of their

profits.'

'Impossible!' said Emily suddenly; 'but--pardon me, sir, I

scarcely know what I say; allow for the distress of my mind. I must,

indeed, I must believe, that you have not been truly informed. The

Chevalier had, doubtless, enemies, who misrepresented him.'--'I should

be most happy to believe so,' replied the Count, 'but I cannot. Nothing

short of conviction, and a regard for your happiness, could have urged

me to repeat these unpleasant reports.' Emily was silent. S

he recollected Valancourt's sayings, on the preceding

evening, which discovered the pangs of self-reproach, and seemed to

confirm all that the Count had related. Yet she had not fortitude enough

to dare conviction. Her heart was overwhelmed with anguish at the mere

suspicion of his guilt, and she could not endure a belief of it. After

a silence, the Count said, 'I perceive, and can allow for, your want

of conviction. It is necessary I should give some proof of what I have

asserted; but this I cannot do, without subjecting one, who is very dear

to me, to danger.'--'What is the danger you apprehend, sir?' said Emily;

'if I can prevent it, you may safely confide in my honour.'--'On your

honour I am certain I can rely,' said the Count; 'but can I trust your

fortitude?