She had passed the
spring of youth, but her wit prolonged the triumph of its reign, and
they mutually assisted the fame of each other; for those, who were
charmed by her loveliness, spoke with enthusiasm of her talents; and
others, who admired her playful imagination, declared, that her
personal graces were unrivalled. But her imagination was merely
playful, and her wit, if such it could be called, was brilliant, rather
than just; it dazzled, and its fallacy escaped the detection of the
moment; for the accents, in which she pronounced it, and the smile,
that accompanied them, were a spell upon the judgment of the auditors. Her _petits soupers_ were the most tasteful of any in Paris, and were
frequented by many of the second class of literati. She was fond of
music, was herself a scientific performer, and had frequently concerts
at her house. Valancourt, who passionately loved music, and who
sometimes assisted at these concerts, admired her execution, but
remembered with a sigh the eloquent simplicity of Emily’s songs and the
natural expression of her manner, which waited not to be approved by
the judgment, but found their way at once to the heart. Madame _La Comtesse_ had often deep play at her house, which she
affected to restrain, but secretly encouraged; and it was well known
among her friends, that the splendour of her establishment was chiefly
supplied from the profits of her tables. But her _petits soupers_ were
the most charming imaginable! Here were all the delicacies of the four
quarters of the world, all the wit and the lighter efforts of genius,
all the graces of conversation—the smiles of beauty, and the charm of
music; and Valancourt passed his pleasantest, as well as most dangerous
hours in these parties. His brother, who remained with his family in Gascony, had contented
himself with giving him letters of introduction to such of his
relations, residing at Paris, as the latter was not already known to. All these were persons of some distinction; and, as neither the person,
mind, nor manners of Valancourt the younger threatened to disgrace
their alliance, they received him with as much kindness as their
nature, hardened by uninterrupted prosperity, would admit of; but their
attentions did not extend to acts of real friendship; for they were too
much occupied by their own pursuits, to feel any interest in his; and
thus he was set down in the midst of Paris, in the pride of youth, with
an open, unsuspicious temper and ardent affections, without one friend,
to warn him of the dangers, to which he was exposed. Emily, who, had
she been present, would have saved him from these evils by awakening
his heart, and engaging him in worthy pursuits, now only increased his
danger;—it was to lose the grief, which the remembrance of her
occasioned, that he first sought amusement; and for this end he pursued
it, till habit made it an object of abstract interest. There was also a Marchioness Champfort, a young widow, at whose
assemblies he passed much of his time. She was handsome, still more
artful, gay and fond of intrigue. The society, which she drew round
her, was less elegant and more vicious, than that of the Countess
Lacleur: but, as she had address enough to throw a veil, though but a
slight one, over the worst part of her character, she was still visited
by many persons of what is called distinction. Valancourt was
introduced to her parties by two of his brother officers, whose late
ridicule he had now forgiven so far, that he could sometimes join in
the laugh, which a mention of his former manners would renew. The gaiety of the most splendid court in Europe, the magnificence of
the palaces, entertainments, and equipages, that surrounded him—all
conspired to dazzle his imagination, and reanimate his spirits, and the
example and maxims of his military associates to delude his mind. Emily’s image, indeed, still lived there; but it was no longer the
friend, the monitor, that saved him from himself, and to which he
retired to weep the sweet, yet melancholy, tears of tenderness. When he
had recourse to it, it assumed a countenance of mild reproach, that
wrung his soul, and called forth tears of unmixed misery; his only
escape from which was to forget the object of it, and he endeavoured,
therefore, to think of Emily as seldom as he could. Thus dangerously circumstanced was Valancourt, at the time, when Emily
was suffering at Venice, from the persecuting addresses of Count
Morano, and the unjust authority of Montoni; at which period we leave
him. CHAPTER IX

The image of a wicked, heinous fault
Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his
Does show the mood of a much-troubled breast. KING JOHN


Leaving the gay scenes of Paris, we return to those of the gloomy
Apennine, where Emily’s thoughts were still faithful to Valancourt. Looking to him as to her only hope, she recollected, with jealous
exactness, every assurance and every proof she had witnessed of his
affection; read again and again the letters she had received from him;
weighed, with intense anxiety, the force of every word, that spoke of
his attachment; and dried her tears, as she trusted in his truth. Montoni, meanwhile, had made strict enquiry concerning the strange
circumstance of his alarm, without obtaining information; and was, at
length, obliged to account for it by the reasonable supposition, that
it was a mischievous trick played off by one of his domestics. His
disagreements with Madame Montoni, on the subject of her settlements,
were now more frequent than ever; he even confined her entirely to her
own apartment, and did not scruple to threaten her with much greater
severity, should she persevere in a refusal. Reason, had she consulted it, would now have perplexed her in the
choice of a conduct to be adopted. It would have pointed out the danger
of irritating by further opposition a man, such as Montoni had proved
himself to be, and to whose power she had so entirely committed
herself; and it would also have told her, of what extreme importance to
her future comfort it was, to reserve for herself those possessions,
which would enable her to live independently of Montoni, should she
ever escape from his immediate control. But she was directed by a more
decisive guide than reason—the spirit of revenge, which urged her to
oppose violence to violence, and obstinacy to obstinacy. Wholly confined to the solitude of her apartment, she was now reduced
to solicit the society she had lately rejected; for Emily was the only
person, except Annette, with whom she was permitted to converse. Generously anxious for her peace, Emily, therefore, tried to persuade,
when she could not convince, and sought by every gentle means to induce
her to forbear that asperity of reply, which so greatly irritated
Montoni. The pride of her aunt did sometimes soften to the soothing
voice of Emily, and there even were moments, when she regarded her
affectionate attentions with goodwill.