Experience had
taught him to understand the full value of the qualities, which he had
before admired, but which the contrasted characters he had seen in the
world made him now adore; and these reflections, increasing the pangs
of remorse and regret, occasioned the deep dejection, that had
accompanied him even into the presence of Emily, of whom he considered
himself no longer worthy. To the ignominy of having received pecuniary
obligations from the Marchioness Chamfort, or any other lady of
intrigue, as the Count De Villefort had been informed, or of having
been engaged in the depredating schemes of gamesters, Valancourt had
never submitted; and these were some of such scandals as often mingle
with truth, against the unfortunate. Count De Villefort had received
them from authority which he had no reason to doubt, and which the
imprudent conduct he had himself witnessed in Valancourt, had certainly
induced him the more readily to believe. Being such as Emily could not
name to the Chevalier, he had no opportunity of refuting them; and,
when he confessed himself to be unworthy of her esteem, he little
suspected, that he was confirming to her the most dreadful calumnies. Thus the mistake had been mutual, and had remained so, when Mons. Bonnac explained the conduct of his generous, but imprudent young
friend to Du Pont, who, with severe justice, determined not only to
undeceive the Count on this subject, but to resign all hope of Emily. Such a sacrifice as his love rendered this, was deserving of a noble
reward, and Mons. Bonnac, if it had been possible for him to forget the
benevolent Valancourt, would have wished that Emily might accept the
just Du Pont. When the Count was informed of the error he had committed, he was
extremely shocked at the consequence of his credulity, and the account
which Mons. Bonnac gave of his friend’s situation, while at Paris,
convinced him, that Valancourt had been entrapped by the schemes of a
set of dissipated young men, with whom his profession had partly
obliged him to associate, rather than by an inclination to vice; and,
charmed by the humanity, and noble, though rash generosity, which his
conduct towards Mons. Bonnac exhibited, he forgave him the transient
errors, that had stained his youth, and restored him to the high degree
of esteem, with which he had regarded him, during their early
acquaintance. But, as the least reparation he could now make Valancourt
was to afford him an opportunity of explaining to Emily his former
conduct, he immediately wrote, to request his forgiveness of the
unintentional injury he had done him, and to invite him to
Château-le-Blanc. Motives of delicacy withheld the Count from informing
Emily of this letter, and of kindness from acquainting her with the
discovery respecting Valancourt, till his arrival should save her from
the possibility of anxiety, as to its event; and this precaution spared
her even severer inquietude, than the Count had foreseen, since he was
ignorant of the symptoms of despair, which Valancourt’s late conduct
had betrayed. CHAPTER XVII

But in these cases,
We still have judgment here; that we but teach
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return
To plague the inventor:  thus even-handed justice
Commends the ingredients of our poison’d chalice
To our own lips. MACBETH


Some circumstances of an extraordinary nature now withdrew Emily from
her own sorrows, and excited emotions, which partook of both surprise
and horror. A few days followed that, on which Signora Laurentini died, her will
was opened at the monastery, in the presence of the superiors and Mons. Bonnac, when it was found, that one third of her personal property was
bequeathed to the nearest surviving relative of the late Marchioness de
Villeroi, and that Emily was the person. With the secret of Emily’s family the abbess had long been acquainted,
and it was in observance of the earnest request of St. Aubert, who was
known to the friar, that attended him on his death-bed, that his
daughter had remained in ignorance of her relationship to the
Marchioness. But some hints, which had fallen from Signora Laurentini,
during her last interview with Emily, and a confession of a very
extraordinary nature, given in her dying hours, had made the abbess
think it necessary to converse with her young friend, on the topic she
had not before ventured to introduce; and it was for this purpose, that
she had requested to see her on the morning that followed her interview
with the nun. Emily’s indisposition had then prevented the intended
conversation; but now, after the will had been examined, she received a
summons, which she immediately obeyed, and became informed of
circumstances, that powerfully affected her. As the narrative of the
abbess was, however, deficient in many particulars, of which the reader
may wish to be informed, and the history of the nun is materially
connected with the fate of the Marchioness de Villeroi, we shall omit
the conversation, that passed in the parlour of the convent, and mingle
with our relation a brief history of

LAURENTINI DI UDOLPHO,


who was the only child of her parents, and heiress of the ancient house
of Udolpho, in the territory of Venice. It was the first misfortune of
her life, and that which led to all her succeeding misery, that the
friends, who ought to have restrained her strong passions, and mildly
instructed her in the art of governing them, nurtured them by early
indulgence. But they cherished their own failings in her; for their
conduct was not the result of rational kindness, and, when they either
indulged, or opposed the passions of their child, they gratified their
own. Thus they indulged her with weakness, and reprehended her with
violence; her spirit was exasperated by their vehemence, instead of
being corrected by their wisdom; and their oppositions became contest
for victory, in which the due tenderness of the parents, and the
affectionate duties of the child, were equally forgotten; but, as
returning fondness disarmed the parents’ resentment soonest, Laurentini
was suffered to believe that she had conquered, and her passions became
stronger by every effort, that had been employed to subdue them. The death of her father and mother in the same year left her to her own
discretion, under the dangerous circumstances attendant on youth and
beauty. She was fond of company, delighted with admiration, yet
disdainful of the opinion of the world, when it happened to contradict
her inclinations; had a gay and brilliant wit, and was mistress of all
the arts of fascination. Her conduct was such as might have been
expected, from the weakness of her principles and the strength of her
passions. Among her numerous admirers was the late Marquis de Villeroi, who, on
his tour through Italy, saw Laurentini at Venice, where she usually
resided, and became her passionate adorer.