The Mysteries of Udolpho

As Blanche sat, attentive to the narrative, that rendered the

scenes doubly interesting, and resigned to solemn emotion, while she

considered, that she was on the very ground, once polluted by these

events, her reverie was suddenly interrupted by a sound, that came

in the wind.--It was the distant bark of a watch-dog. The travellers

listened with eager hope, and, as the wind blew stronger, fancied, that

the sound came from no great distance; and, the guides having little

doubt, that it proceeded from the inn they were in search of, the Count

determined to pursue his way. The moon now afforded a stronger, though

still an uncertain light, as she moved among broken clouds; and the

travellers, led by the sound, recommenced their journey along the brow

of the precipice, preceded by a single torch, that now contended with

the moon-light; for the guides, believing they should reach the inn soon

after sun-set, had neglected to provide more. In silent caution they

followed the sound, which was heard but at intervals, and which, after

some time entirely ceased. The guides endeavoured, however, to point

their course to the quarter, whence it had issued, but the deep roaring

of a torrent soon seized their attention, and presently they came to

a tremendous chasm of the mountain, which seemed to forbid all further

progress.

Blanche alighted from her mule, as did the Count and St.

Foix, while the guides traversed the edge in search of a bridge, which,

however rude, might convey them to the opposite side, and they, at

length, confessed, what the Count had begun to suspect, that they had

been, for some time, doubtful of their way, and were now certain only,

that they had lost it.

At a little distance, was discovered a rude and dangerous passage,

formed by an enormous pine, which, thrown across the chasm, united the

opposite precipices, and which had been felled probably by the hunter,

to facilitate his chace of the izard, or the wolf. The whole party,

the guides excepted, shuddered at the prospect of crossing this alpine

bridge, whose sides afforded no kind of defence, and from which to fall

was to die.

The guides, however, prepared to lead over the mules, while

Blanche stood trembling on the brink, and listening to the roar of the

waters, which were seen descending from rocks above, overhung with lofty

pines, and thence precipitating themselves into the deep abyss, where

their white surges gleamed faintly in the moon-light. The poor animals

proceeded over this perilous bridge with instinctive caution, neither

frightened by the noise of the cataract, or deceived by the gloom, which

the impending foliage threw athwart their way. It was now, that the

solitary torch, which had been hitherto of little service, was found

to be an inestimable treasure; and Blanche, terrified, shrinking,

but endeavouring to re-collect all her firmness and presence of mind,

preceded by her lover and supported by her father, followed the red

gleam of the torch, in safety, to the opposite cliff.