All that is required of you will be to sign your name to
this paper:” he then took one up, hurried unintelligibly over some
lines, and, laying it before her on the table, offered her a pen. She
took it, and was going to write—when the design of Montoni came upon
her mind like a flash of lightning; she trembled, let the pen fall, and
refused to sign what she had not read. Montoni affected to laugh at her
scruples, and, taking up the paper, again pretended to read; but Emily,
who still trembled on perceiving her danger, and was astonished, that
her own credulity had so nearly betrayed her, positively refused to
sign any paper whatever. Montoni, for some time, persevered in
affecting to ridicule this refusal; but, when he perceived by her
steady perseverance, that she understood his design, he changed his
manner, and bade her follow him to another room. There he told her,
that he had been willing to spare himself and her the trouble of
useless contest, in an affair, where his will was justice, and where
she should find it law; and had, therefore, endeavoured to persuade,
rather than to compel, her to the practice of her duty. “I, as the husband of the late Signora Montoni,” he added, “am the heir
of all she possessed; the estates, therefore, which she refused to me
in her life-time, can no longer be withheld, and, for your own sake, I
would undeceive you, respecting a foolish assertion she once made to
you in my hearing—that these estates would be yours, if she died
without resigning them to me. She knew at that moment, she had no power
to withhold them from me, after her decease; and I think you have more
sense, than to provoke my resentment by advancing an unjust claim. I am
not in the habit of flattering, and you will, therefore, receive, as
sincere, the praise I bestow, when I say, that you possess an
understanding superior to that of your sex; and that you have none of
those contemptible foibles, that frequently mark the female
character—such as avarice and the love of power, which latter makes
women delight to contradict and to tease, when they cannot conquer. If
I understand your disposition and your mind, you hold in sovereign
contempt these common failings of your sex.”

Montoni paused; and Emily remained silent and expecting; for she knew
him too well, to believe he would condescend to such flattery, unless
he thought it would promote his own interest; and, though he had
forborne to name vanity among the foibles of women, it was evident,
that he considered it to be a predominant one, since he designed to
sacrifice to hers the character and understanding of her whole sex. “Judging as I do,” resumed Montoni, “I cannot believe you will oppose,
where you know you cannot conquer, or, indeed, that you would wish to
conquer, or be avaricious of any property, when you have not justice on
your side. I think it proper, however, to acquaint you with the
alternative. If you have a just opinion of the subject in question, you
shall be allowed a safe conveyance to France, within a short period;
but, if you are so unhappy as to be misled by the late assertion of the
Signora, you shall remain my prisoner, till you are convinced of your
error.”

Emily calmly said,

“I am not so ignorant, Signor, of the laws on this subject, as to be
misled by the assertion of any person. The law, in the present
instance, gives me the estates in question, and my own hand shall never
betray my right.”

“I have been mistaken in my opinion of you, it appears,” rejoined
Montoni, sternly. “You speak boldly, and presumptuously, upon a
subject, which you do not understand. For once, I am willing to pardon
the conceit of ignorance; the weakness of your sex, too, from which, it
seems, you are not exempt, claims some allowance; but, if you persist
in this strain—you have everything to fear from my justice.”

“From your justice, Signor,” rejoined Emily, “I have nothing to fear—I
have only to hope.”

Montoni looked at her with vexation, and seemed considering what to
say. “I find that you are weak enough,” he resumed, “to credit the idle
assertion I alluded to! For your own sake I lament this; as to me, it
is of little consequence. Your credulity can punish only yourself; and
I must pity the weakness of mind, which leads you to so much suffering
as you are compelling me to prepare for you.”

“You may find, perhaps, Signor,” said Emily, with mild dignity, “that
the strength of my mind is equal to the justice of my cause; and that I
can endure with fortitude, when it is in resistance of oppression.”

“You speak like a heroine,” said Montoni, contemptuously; “we shall see
whether you can suffer like one.”

Emily was silent, and he left the room. Recollecting, that it was for Valancourt’s sake she had thus resisted,
she now smiled complacently upon the threatened sufferings, and retired
to the spot, which her aunt had pointed out as the repository of the
papers, relative to the estates, where she found them as described;
and, since she knew of no better place of concealment, than this,
returned them, without examining their contents, being fearful of
discovery, while she should attempt a perusal. To her own solitary chamber she once more returned, and there thought
again of the late conversation with Montoni, and of the evil she might
expect from opposition to his will. But his power did not appear so
terrible to her imagination, as it was wont to do: a sacred pride was
in her heart, that taught it to swell against the pressure of
injustice, and almost to glory in the quiet sufferance of ills, in a
cause, which had also the interest of Valancourt for its object. For
the first time, she felt the full extent of her own superiority to
Montoni, and despised the authority, which, till now, she had only
feared. As she sat musing, a peal of laughter rose from the terrace, and, on
going to the casement, she saw, with inexpressible surprise, three
ladies, dressed in the gala habit of Venice, walking with several
gentlemen below. She gazed in an astonishment that made her remain at
the window, regardless of being observed, till the group passed under
it; and, one of the strangers looking up, she perceived the features of
Signora Livona, with whose manners she had been so much charmed, the
day after her arrival at Venice, and who had been there introduced at
the table of Montoni. This discovery occasioned her an emotion of
doubtful joy; for it was matter of joy and comfort to know, that a
person, of a mind so gentle, as that of Signora Livona seemed to be,
was near her; yet there was something so extraordinary in her being at
this castle, circumstanced as it now was, and evidently, by the gaiety
of her air, with her own consent, that a very painful surmise arose,
concerning her character. But the thought was so shocking to Emily,
whose affection the fascinating manners of the Signora had won, and
appeared so improbable, when she remembered these manners, that she
dismissed it almost instantly.