The Mysteries of Udolpho

The darkness would not permit them to read the inscription; but the

guides knew this to be a cross, raised to the memory of a Count de

Beliard, who had been murdered here by a horde of banditti, that had

infested this part of the Pyrenees, a few years before; and the uncommon

size of the monument seemed to justify the supposition, that it was

erected for a person of some distinction. Blanche shuddered, as she

listened to some horrid particulars of the Count's fate, which one of

the guides related in a low, restrained tone, as if the sound of his own

voice frightened him; but, while they lingered at the cross, attending

to his narrative, a flash of lightning glanced upon the rocks, thunder

muttered at a distance, and the travellers, now alarmed, quitted this

scene of solitary horror, in search of shelter.

Having regained their former track, the guides, as they passed on,

endeavoured to interest the Count by various stories of robbery, and

even of murder, which had been perpetrated in the very places they

must unavoidably pass, with accounts of their own dauntless courage

and wonderful escapes. The chief guide, or rather he, who was the most

completely armed, drawing forth one of the four pistols, that were

tucked into his belt, swore, that it had shot three robbers within the

year. He then brandished a clasp-knife of enormous length, and was

going to recount the wonderful execution it had done, when St. Foix,

perceiving, that Blanche was terrified, interrupted him. The Count,

meanwhile, secretly laughing at the terrible histories and extravagant

boastings of the man, resolved to humour him, and, telling Blanche in

a whisper, his design, began to recount some exploits of his own, which

infinitely exceeded any related by the guide.

To these surprising circumstances he so artfully gave the colouring of

truth, that the courage of the guides was visibly affected by them,

who continued silent, long after the Count had ceased to speak. The

loquacity of the chief hero thus laid asleep, the vigilance of his eyes

and ears seemed more thoroughly awakened, for he listened, with much

appearance of anxiety, to the deep thunder, which murmured at intervals,

and often paused, as the breeze, that was now rising, rushed among the

pines. But, when he made a sudden halt before a tuft of cork trees,

that projected over the road, and drew forth a pistol, before he would

venture to brave the banditti which might lurk behind it, the Count

could no longer refrain from laughter.

Having now, however, arrived at a level spot, somewhat sheltered from

the air, by overhanging cliffs and by a wood of larch, that rose over

the precipice on the left, and the guides being yet ignorant how far

they were from the inn, the travellers determined to rest, till the moon

should rise, or the storm disperse. Blanche, recalled to a sense of the

present moment, looked on the surrounding gloom, with terror; but giving

her hand to St. Foix, she alighted, and the whole party entered a kind

of cave, if such it could be called, which was only a shallow cavity,

formed by the curve of impending rocks. A light being struck, a fire was

kindled, whose blaze afforded some degree of cheerfulness, and no

small comfort, for, though the day had been hot, the night air of this

mountainous region was chilling; a fire was partly necessary also to

keep off the wolves, with which those wilds were infested.