'O, I have seen enough, ma'am, and heard too much, as Ludovico can prove.Poor soul! they will murder him, too! I little thought, when he sung those sweet verses under my lattice, at Venice!'--Emily looked impatient and displeased.'Well, ma'amselle, as I was saying, these preparations about the castle, and these strange-looking people, that are calling here every day, and the Signor's cruel usage of my lady, and his odd goings-on--all these, as I told Ludovico, can bode no good.And he bid me hold my tongue.So, says I, the Signor's strangely altered, Ludovico, in this gloomy castle, to what he was in France; there, all so gay! Nobody so gallant to my lady, then; and he could smile, too, upon a poor servant, sometimes, and jeer her, too, good-naturedly enough.I remember once, when he said to me, as I was going out of my lady's dressing-room--Annette, says he--'
'Never mind what the Signor said,' interrupted Emily; 'but tell me, at once, the circumstance, which has thus alarmed you.'
'Aye, ma'amselle,' rejoined Annette, 'that is just what Ludovico said: says he, Never mind what the Signor says to you.So I told him what I thought about the Signor.He is so strangely altered, said I: for now he is so haughty, and so commanding, and so sharp with my lady; and, if he meets one, he'll scarcely look at one, unless it be to frown.So much the better, says Ludovico, so much the better.And to tell you the truth, ma'amselle, I thought this was a very ill-natured speech of Ludovico: but I went on.And then, says I, he is always knitting his brows; and if one speaks to him, he does not hear; and then he sits up counselling so, of a night, with the other Signors--there they are, till long past midnight, discoursing together! Aye, but says Ludovico, you don't know what they are counselling about.No, said I, but I can guess--it is about my young lady.Upon that, Ludovico burst out a-laughing, quite loud;so he put me in a huff, for I did not like that either I or you, ma'amselle, should be laughed at; and I turned away quick, but he stopped me."Don't be affronted, Annette," said he, "but I cannot help laughing;" and with that he laughed again."What!" says he, "do you think the Signors sit up, night after night, only to counsel about thy young lady! No, no, there is something more in the wind than that.And these repairs about the castle, and these preparations about the ramparts--they are not making about young ladies." Why, surely, said I, the Signor, my master, is not going to make war? "Make war!" said Ludovico, "what, upon the mountains and the woods? for here is no living soul to make war upon that I see."'What are these preparations for, then? said I; why surely nobody is coming to take away my master's castle! "Then there are so many ill-looking fellows coming to the castle every day," says Ludovico, without answering my question, "and the Signor sees them all, and talks with them all, and they all stay in the neighbourhood! By holy St.Marco! some of them are the most cut-throat-looking dogs I ever set my eyes upon."'I asked Ludovico again, if he thought they were coming to take away my master's castle; and he said, No, he did not think they were, but he did not know for certain."Then yesterday," said he, but you must not tell this, ma'amselle, "yesterday, a party of these men came, and left all their horses in the castle stables, where, it seems, they are to stay, for the Signor ordered them all to be entertained with the best provender in the manger; but the men are, most of them, in the neighbouring cottages."'So, ma'amselle, I came to tell you all this, for I never heard any thing so strange in my life.But what can these ill-looking men be come about, if it is not to murder us? And the Signor knows this, or why should he be so civil to them? And why should he fortify the castle, and counsel so much with the other Signors, and be so thoughtful?'
'Is this all you have to tell, Annette?' said Emily.'Have you heard nothing else, that alarms you?'
'Nothing else, ma'amselle!' said Annette; 'why, is not this enough?'
'Quite enough for my patience, Annette, but not quite enough to convince me we are all to be murdered, though I acknowledge here is sufficient food for curiosity.' She forbore to speak her apprehensions, because she would not encourage Annette's wild terrors; but the present circumstances of the castle both surprised, and alarmed her.Annette, having told her tale, left the chamber, on the wing for new wonders.
In the evening, Emily had passed some melancholy hours with Madame Montoni, and was retiring to rest, when she was alarmed by a strange and loud knocking at her chamber door, and then a heavy weight fell against it, that almost burst it open.She called to know who was there, and receiving no answer, repeated the call; but a chilling silence followed.It occurred to her--for, at this moment, she could not reason on the probability of circumstances--that some one of the strangers, lately arrived at the castle, had discovered her apartment, and was come with such intent, as their looks rendered too possible--to rob, perhaps to murder, her.The moment she admitted this possibility, terror supplied the place of conviction, and a kind of instinctive remembrance of her remote situation from the family heightened it to a degree, that almost overcame her senses.She looked at the door, which led to the staircase, expecting to see it open, and listening, in fearful silence, for a return of the noise, till she began to think it had proceeded from this door, and a wish of escaping through the opposite one rushed upon her mind.She went to the gallery door, and then, fearing to open it, lest some person might be silently lurking for her without, she stopped, but with her eyes fixed in expectation upon the opposite door of the stair-case.
As thus she stood, she heard a faint breathing near her, and became convinced, that some person was on the other side of the door, which was already locked.She sought for other fastening, but there was none.
