Emily ascended the marble staircase, and came to the corridor, as they passed through which, Annette resumed her chat--'What a wild lonely place this is, ma'am! I shall be quite frightened to live in it.How often, and often have I wished myself in France again! Ilittle thought, when I came with my lady to see the world, that Ishould ever be shut up in such a place as this, or I would never have left my own country! This way, ma'amselle, down this turning.I can almost believe in giants again, and such like, for this is just like one of their castles; and, some night or other, I suppose I shall see fairies too, hopping about in that great old hall, that looks more like a church, with its huge pillars, than any thing else.'
'Yes,' said Emily, smiling, and glad to escape from more serious thought, 'if we come to the corridor, about midnight, and look down into the hall, we shall certainly see it illuminated with a thousand lamps, and the fairies tripping in gay circles to the sound of delicious music; for it is in such places as this, you know, that they come to hold their revels.But I am afraid, Annette, you will not be able to pay the necessary penance for such a sight: and, if once they hear your voice, the whole scene will vanish in an instant.'
'O! if you will bear me company, ma'amselle, I will come to the corridor, this very night, and I promise you I will hold my tongue;it shall not be my fault if the show vanishes.--But do you think they will come?'
'I cannot promise that with certainty, but I will venture to say, it will not be your fault if the enchantment should vanish.'
'Well, ma'amselle, that is saying more than I expected of you: but Iam not so much afraid of fairies, as of ghosts, and they say there are a plentiful many of them about the castle: now I should be frightened to death, if I should chance to see any of them.But hush! ma'amselle, walk softly! I have thought, several times, something passed by me.'
'Ridiculous!' said Emily, 'you must not indulge such fancies.'
'O ma'am! they are not fancies, for aught I know; Benedetto says these dismal galleries and halls are fit for nothing but ghosts to live in; and I verily believe, if I LIVE long in them I shall turn to one myself!'
'I hope,' said Emily, 'you will not suffer Signor Montoni to hear of these weak fears; they would highly displease him.'
'What, you know then, ma'amselle, all about it!' rejoined Annette.
'No, no, I do know better than to do so; though, if the Signor can sleep sound, nobody else in the castle has any right to lie awake, Iam sure.' Emily did not appear to notice this remark.
'Down this passage, ma'amselle; this leads to a back stair-case.O!
if I see any thing, I shall be frightened out of my wits!'
'That will scarcely be possible,' said Emily smiling, as she followed the winding of the passage, which opened into another gallery: and then Annette, perceiving that she had missed her way, while she had been so eloquently haranguing on ghosts and fairies, wandered about through other passages and galleries, till, at length, frightened by their intricacies and desolation, she called aloud for assistance:
but they were beyond the hearing of the servants, who were on the other side of the castle, and Emily now opened the door of a chamber on the left.
'O! do not go in there, ma'amselle,' said Annette, 'you will only lose yourself further.'
'Bring the light forward,' said Emily, 'we may possibly find our way through these rooms.'
Annette stood at the door, in an attitude of hesitation, with the light held up to shew the chamber, but the feeble rays spread through not half of it.'Why do you hesitate?' said Emily, 'let me see whither this room leads.'
Annette advanced reluctantly.It opened into a suite of spacious and ancient apartments, some of which were hung with tapestry, and others wainscoted with cedar and black larch-wood.What furniture there was, seemed to be almost as old as the rooms, and retained an appearance of grandeur, though covered with dust, and dropping to pieces with the damps, and with age.
'How cold these rooms are, ma'amselle!' said Annette: 'nobody has lived in them for many, many years, they say.Do let us go.'
'They may open upon the great stair-case, perhaps,' said Emily, passing on till she came to a chamber, hung with pictures, and took the light to examine that of a soldier on horseback in a field of battle.--He was darting his spear upon a man, who lay under the feet of the horse, and who held up one hand in a supplicating attitude.
The soldier, whose beaver was up, regarded him with a look of vengeance, and the countenance, with that expression, struck Emily as resembling Montoni.She shuddered, and turned from it.Passing the light hastily over several other pictures, she came to one concealed by a veil of black silk.The singularity of the circumstance struck her, and she stopped before it, wishing to remove the veil, and examine what could thus carefully be concealed, but somewhat wanting courage.'Holy Virgin! what can this mean?' exclaimed Annette.
'This is surely the picture they told me of at Venice.'
'What picture?' said Emily.'Why a picture--a picture,' replied Annette, hesitatingly--'but I never could make out exactly what it was about, either.'
'Remove the veil, Annette.'
'What! I, ma'amselle!--I! not for the world!' Emily, turning round, saw Annette's countenance grow pale.'And pray, what have you heard of this picture, to terrify you so, my good girl?' said she.
'Nothing, ma'amselle: I have heard nothing, only let us find our way out.'
'Certainly: but I wish first to examine the picture; take the light, Annette, while I lift the veil.' Annette took the light, and immediately walked away with it, disregarding Emily's call to stay, who, not choosing to be left alone in the dark chamber, at length followed her.'What is the reason of this, Annette?' said Emily, when she overtook her, 'what have you heard concerning that picture, which makes you so unwilling to stay when I bid you?'
