The Mysteries of Udolpho

When Du Pont joined the ladies, the stranger took leave, and they proceeded to the

chateau, where the Count, when he heard of Mons. Bonnac, claimed him for

an acquaintance, and, on learning the melancholy occasion of his visit

to Languedoc, and that he was lodged at a small inn in the village,

begged the favour of Mons. Du Pont to invite him to the chateau.

The latter was happy to do so, and the scruples of reserve, which made

M. Bonnac hesitate to accept the invitation, being at length overcome,

they went to the chateau, where the kindness of the Count and the

sprightliness of his son were exerted to dissipate the gloom, that

overhung the spirits of the stranger. M. Bonnac was an officer in the

French service, and appeared to be about fifty; his figure was tall

and commanding, his manners had received the last polish, and there was

something in his countenance uncommonly interesting; for over features,

which, in youth, must have been remarkably handsome, was spread a

melancholy, that seemed the effect of long misfortune, rather than of

constitution, or temper.

The conversation he held, during supper, was evidently an effort of

politeness, and there were intervals in which, unable to struggle

against the feelings, that depressed him, he relapsed into silence and

abstraction, from which, however, the Count, sometimes, withdrew him in

a manner so delicate and benevolent, that Emily, while she observed him,

almost fancied she beheld her late father.

The party separated, at an early hour, and then, in the solitude of her

apartment, the scenes, which Emily had lately witnessed, returned to

her fancy, with dreadful energy. That in the dying nun she should have

discovered Signora Laurentini, who, instead of having been murdered by

Montoni, was, as it now seemed, herself guilty of some dreadful crime,

excited both horror and surprise in a high degree; nor did the hints,

which she had dropped, respecting the marriage of the Marchioness de

Villeroi, and the enquiries she had made concerning Emily's birth,

occasion her a less degree of interest, though it was of a different

nature.

The history, which sister Frances had formerly related, and had said to

be that of Agnes, it now appeared, was erroneous; but for what purpose

it had been fabricated, unless the more effectually to conceal the true

story, Emily could not even guess. Above all, her interest was excited

as to the relation, which the story of the late Marchioness de Villeroi

bore to that of her father; for, that some kind of relation existed

between them, the grief of St. Aubert, upon hearing her named, his

request to be buried near her, and her picture, which had been found

among his papers, certainly proved. Sometimes it occurred to Emily, that

he might have been the lover, to whom it was said the Marchioness was

attached, when she was compelled to marry the Marquis de Villeroi; but

that he had afterwards cherished a passion for her, she could not suffer

herself to believe, for a moment.