The Mysteries of Udolpho [153]
and immediately retreated; but the agitation of her spirits, and the extent and duskiness of the hall, had prevented her from distinguishing the persons of the strangers. Her fears, however, had but one object, and they had called up that object to her fancy:--she believed that she had seen Count Morano.
When she thought that they had passed the hall, she ventured again to the door, and proceeded, unobserved, to her room, where she remained, agitated with apprehensions, and listening to every distant sound. At length, hearing voices on the rampart, she hastened to her window, and observed Montoni, with Signor Cavigni, walking below, conversing earnestly, and often stopping and turning towards each other, at which time their discourse seemed to be uncommonly interesting.
Of the several persons who had appeared in the hall, here was Cavigni alone: but Emily's alarm was soon after heightened by the steps of some one in the corridor, who, she apprehended, brought a message from the Count. In the next moment, Annette appeared.
'Ah! ma'amselle,' said she, 'here is the Signor Cavigni arrived! I am sure I rejoiced to see a christian person in this place; and then he is so good natured too, he always takes so much notice of me!--And here is also Signor Verezzi, and who do you think besides, ma'amselle?'
'I cannot guess, Annette; tell me quickly.'
'Nay, ma'am, do guess once.'
'Well, then,' said Emily, with assumed composure, 'it is--Count Morano, I suppose.'
'Holy Virgin!' cried Annette, 'are you ill, ma'amselle? you are going to faint! let me get some water.'
Emily sunk into a chair. 'Stay, Annette,' said she, feebly, 'do not leave me--I shall soon be better; open the casement.--The Count, you say--he is come, then?'
'Who, I!--the Count! No, ma'amselle, I did not say so.' 'He is NOT come then?' said Emily eagerly. 'No, ma'amselle.'
'You are sure of it?'
'Lord bless me!' said Annette, 'you recover very suddenly, ma'am! why, I thought you was dying, just now.'
'But the Count--you are sure, is not come?'
'O yes, quite sure of that, ma'amselle. Why, I was looking out through the grate in the north turret, when the carriages drove into the court-yard, and I never expected to see such a goodly sight in this dismal old castle! but here are masters and servants, too, enough to make the place ring again. O! I was ready to leap through the rusty old bars for joy!--O! who would ever have thought of seeing a christian face in this huge dreary house? I could have kissed the very horses that brought them.'
'Well, Annette, well, I am better now.'
'Yes, ma'amselle, I see you are. O! all the servants will lead merry lives here, now; we shall have singing and dancing in the little hall, for the Signor cannot hear us there--and droll stories-- Ludovico's come, ma'am; yes, there is Ludovico come with them! You remember Ludovico, ma'am--a tall, handsome young man--Signor Cavigni's lacquey--who always wears his cloak with such a grace, thrown round his left arm, and his hat set on so smartly, all on one side, and--'
'No,' said Emily, who was wearied by her loquacity.
'What, ma'amselle, don't you remember Ludovico--who rowed the Cavaliero's gondola, at the last regatta, and won the prize? And who used to sing such sweet verses about Orlandos and about the Black-a- moors, too; and Charly--Charly--magne, yes, that was the name, all under my lattice, in the west portico, on the moon-light nights at Venice? O! I have listened to him!'---
'I fear, to thy peril, my good Annette,' said Emily; 'for it seems his verses have stolen thy heart. But let me advise you; if it is so, keep the secret; never let him know it.'
'Ah--ma'amselle!--how can one keep such a secret as that?'
'Well, Annette, I am now so much better, that you may leave me.'
'O, but, ma'amselle, I forgot to ask--how did you sleep in this dreary old chamber last night?'--'As well as usual.'--'Did you hear no noises?'--'None.'--'Nor see anything?'--'Nothing.'--'Well, that is
When she thought that they had passed the hall, she ventured again to the door, and proceeded, unobserved, to her room, where she remained, agitated with apprehensions, and listening to every distant sound. At length, hearing voices on the rampart, she hastened to her window, and observed Montoni, with Signor Cavigni, walking below, conversing earnestly, and often stopping and turning towards each other, at which time their discourse seemed to be uncommonly interesting.
Of the several persons who had appeared in the hall, here was Cavigni alone: but Emily's alarm was soon after heightened by the steps of some one in the corridor, who, she apprehended, brought a message from the Count. In the next moment, Annette appeared.
'Ah! ma'amselle,' said she, 'here is the Signor Cavigni arrived! I am sure I rejoiced to see a christian person in this place; and then he is so good natured too, he always takes so much notice of me!--And here is also Signor Verezzi, and who do you think besides, ma'amselle?'
'I cannot guess, Annette; tell me quickly.'
'Nay, ma'am, do guess once.'
'Well, then,' said Emily, with assumed composure, 'it is--Count Morano, I suppose.'
'Holy Virgin!' cried Annette, 'are you ill, ma'amselle? you are going to faint! let me get some water.'
Emily sunk into a chair. 'Stay, Annette,' said she, feebly, 'do not leave me--I shall soon be better; open the casement.--The Count, you say--he is come, then?'
'Who, I!--the Count! No, ma'amselle, I did not say so.' 'He is NOT come then?' said Emily eagerly. 'No, ma'amselle.'
'You are sure of it?'
'Lord bless me!' said Annette, 'you recover very suddenly, ma'am! why, I thought you was dying, just now.'
'But the Count--you are sure, is not come?'
'O yes, quite sure of that, ma'amselle. Why, I was looking out through the grate in the north turret, when the carriages drove into the court-yard, and I never expected to see such a goodly sight in this dismal old castle! but here are masters and servants, too, enough to make the place ring again. O! I was ready to leap through the rusty old bars for joy!--O! who would ever have thought of seeing a christian face in this huge dreary house? I could have kissed the very horses that brought them.'
'Well, Annette, well, I am better now.'
'Yes, ma'amselle, I see you are. O! all the servants will lead merry lives here, now; we shall have singing and dancing in the little hall, for the Signor cannot hear us there--and droll stories-- Ludovico's come, ma'am; yes, there is Ludovico come with them! You remember Ludovico, ma'am--a tall, handsome young man--Signor Cavigni's lacquey--who always wears his cloak with such a grace, thrown round his left arm, and his hat set on so smartly, all on one side, and--'
'No,' said Emily, who was wearied by her loquacity.
'What, ma'amselle, don't you remember Ludovico--who rowed the Cavaliero's gondola, at the last regatta, and won the prize? And who used to sing such sweet verses about Orlandos and about the Black-a- moors, too; and Charly--Charly--magne, yes, that was the name, all under my lattice, in the west portico, on the moon-light nights at Venice? O! I have listened to him!'---
'I fear, to thy peril, my good Annette,' said Emily; 'for it seems his verses have stolen thy heart. But let me advise you; if it is so, keep the secret; never let him know it.'
'Ah--ma'amselle!--how can one keep such a secret as that?'
'Well, Annette, I am now so much better, that you may leave me.'
'O, but, ma'amselle, I forgot to ask--how did you sleep in this dreary old chamber last night?'--'As well as usual.'--'Did you hear no noises?'--'None.'--'Nor see anything?'--'Nothing.'--'Well, that is