The Mysteries of Udolpho

While these visitors were at the chateau, it became a scene of gaiety

and splendour. The pavilion in the woods was fitted up and frequented,

in the fine evenings, as a supper-room, when the hour usually concluded

with a concert, at which the Count and Countess, who were scientific

performers, and the Chevaliers Henri and St. Foix, with the Lady Blanche

and Emily, whose voices and fine taste compensated for the want of more

skilful execution, usually assisted. Several of the Count's servants

performed on horns and other instruments, some of which, placed at

a little distance among the woods, spoke, in sweet response, to the

harmony, that proceeded from the pavilion.

At any other period, these parties would have been delightful to

Emily; but her spirits were now oppressed with a melancholy, which

she perceived that no kind of what is called amusement had power to

dissipate, and which the tender and, frequently, pathetic, melody of

these concerts sometimes increased to a very painful degree.

She was particularly fond of walking in the woods, that hung on a

promontory, overlooking the sea. Their luxuriant shade was soothing to

her pensive mind, and, in the partial views, which they afforded of

the Mediterranean, with its winding shores and passing sails, tranquil

beauty was united with grandeur. The paths were rude and frequently

overgrown with vegetation, but their tasteful owner would suffer little

to be done to them, and scarcely a single branch to be lopped from the

venerable trees. On an eminence, in one of the most sequestered parts

of these woods, was a rustic seat, formed of the trunk of a decayed oak,

which had once been a noble tree, and of which many lofty branches still

flourishing united with beech and pines to over-canopy the spot. Beneath

their deep umbrage, the eye passed over the tops of other woods, to the

Mediterranean, and, to the left, through an opening, was seen a ruined

watch-tower, standing on a point of rock, near the sea, and rising from

among the tufted foliage.

Hither Emily often came alone in the silence of evening, and, soothed

by the scenery and by the faint murmur, that rose from the waves, would

sit, till darkness obliged her to return to the chateau. Frequently,

also, she visited the watch-tower, which commanded the entire

prospect, and, when she leaned against its broken walls, and thought of

Valancourt, she not once imagined, what was so true, that this tower had

been almost as frequently his resort, as her own, since his estrangement

from the neighbouring chateau.

One evening, she lingered here to a late hour. She had sat on the steps

of the building, watching, in tranquil melancholy, the gradual effect

of evening over the extensive prospect, till the gray waters of the

Mediterranean and the massy woods were almost the only features of the

scene, that remained visible; when, as she gazed alternately on these,

and on the mild blue of the heavens, where the first pale star of

evening appeared, she personified the hour in the following lines:-