The Mysteries of Udolpho

This is surely something more than mortal!'

'That is what they say, my Lord,' said the valet; 'they say it is

nothing mortal, that utters it; and if I might say my thoughts'-

'Peace!' said the Count, and he listened till the strain died away.

'This is strange!' said he, as he turned from the window, 'Close the

casements, Pierre.'

Pierre obeyed, and the Count soon after dismissed him, but did not so

soon lose the remembrance of the music, which long vibrated in his fancy

in tones of melting sweetness, while surprise and perplexity engaged his

thoughts. Ludovico, meanwhile, in his remote chamber, heard, now and then, the

faint echo of a closing door, as the family retired to rest, and then

the hall clock, at a great distance, strike twelve. 'It is midnight,'

said he, and he looked suspiciously round the spacious chamber. The fire

on the hearth was now nearly expiring, for his attention having been

engaged by the book before him, he had forgotten every thing besides;

but he soon added fresh wood, not because he was cold, though the night

was stormy, but because he was cheerless; and, having again trimmed

his lamp, he poured out a glass of wine, drew his chair nearer to the

crackling blaze, tried to be deaf to the wind, that howled mournfully

at the casements, endeavoured to abstract his mind from the melancholy,

that was stealing upon him, and again took up his book. It had been lent

to him by Dorothee, who had formerly picked it up in an obscure corner

of the Marquis's library, and who, having opened it and perceived

some of the marvels it related, had carefully preserved it for her own

entertainment, its condition giving her some excuse for detaining it

from its proper station.

The damp corner into which it had fallen, had

caused the cover to be disfigured and mouldy, and the leaves to be so

discoloured with spots, that it was not without difficulty the letters

could be traced. The fictions of the Provencal writers, whether drawn

from the Arabian legends, brought by the Saracens into Spain, or

recounting the chivalric exploits performed by the crusaders, whom the

Troubadors accompanied to the east, were generally splendid and always

marvellous, both in scenery and incident; and it is not wonderful, that

Dorothee and Ludovico should be fascinated by inventions, which had

captivated the careless imagination in every rank of society, in a

former age.

Some of the tales, however, in the book now before Ludovico,

were of simple structure, and exhibited nothing of the magnificent

machinery and heroic manners, which usually characterized the fables of

the twelfth century, and of this description was the one he now happened

to open, which, in its original style, was of great length, but which

may be thus shortly related. The reader will perceive, that it is

strongly tinctured with the superstition of the times.