“His conscience tells him the purport of my visit, and he
defers it, to avoid an explanation.” She now almost resolved to throw
herself in his way, but terror checked the intention, and this day
passed, as the preceding one, with Emily, except that a degree of awful
expectation, concerning the approaching night, now somewhat disturbed
the dreadful calmness that had pervaded her mind. Towards evening, the second part of the band, which had made the first
excursion among the mountains, returned to the castle, where, as they
entered the courts, Emily, in her remote chamber, heard their loud
shouts and strains of exultation, like the orgies of furies over some
horrid sacrifice. She even feared they were about to commit some
barbarous deed; a conjecture from which, however, Annette soon relieved
her, by telling, that the people were only exulting over the plunder
they had brought with them. This circumstance still further confirmed
her in the belief, that Montoni had really commenced to be a captain of
banditti, and meant to retrieve his broken fortunes by the plunder of
travellers! Indeed, when she considered all the circumstances of his
situation—in an armed, and almost inaccessible castle, retired far
among the recesses of wild and solitary mountains, along whose distant
skirts were scattered towns, and cities, whither wealthy travellers
were continually passing—this appeared to be the situation of all
others most suited for the success of schemes of rapine, and she
yielded to the strange thought, that Montoni was become a captain of
robbers. His character also, unprincipled, dauntless, cruel and
enterprising, seemed to fit him for the situation. Delighting in the
tumult and in the struggles of life, he was equally a stranger to pity
and to fear; his very courage was a sort of animal ferocity; not the
noble impulse of a principle, such as inspirits the mind against the
oppressor, in the cause of the oppressed; but a constitutional
hardiness of nerve, that cannot feel, and that, therefore, cannot fear. Emily’s supposition, however natural, was in part erroneous, for she
was a stranger to the state of this country and to the circumstances,
under which its frequent wars were partly conducted. The revenues of
the many states of Italy being, at that time, insufficient to the
support of standing armies, even during the short periods, which the
turbulent habits both of the governments and the people permitted to
pass in peace, an order of men arose not known in our age, and but
faintly described in the history of their own. Of the soldiers,
disbanded at the end of every war, few returned to the safe, but
unprofitable occupations, then usual in peace. Sometimes they passed
into other countries, and mingled with armies, which still kept the
field. Sometimes they formed themselves into bands of robbers, and
occupied remote fortresses, where their desperate character, the
weakness of the governments which they offended, and the certainty,
that they could be recalled to the armies, when their presence should
be again wanted, prevented them from being much pursued by the civil
power; and, sometimes, they attached themselves to the fortunes of a
popular chief, by whom they were led into the service of any state,
which could settle with him the price of their valour. From this latter
practice arose their name—_Condottieri_; a term formidable all over
Italy, for a period, which concluded in the earlier part of the
seventeenth century, but of which it is not so easy to ascertain the
commencement. Contests between the smaller states were then, for the most part,
affairs of enterprise alone, and the probabilities of success were
estimated, not from the skill, but from the personal courage of the
general, and the soldiers. The ability, which was necessary to the
conduct of tedious operations, was little valued. It was enough to know
how a party might be led towards their enemies, with the greatest
secrecy, or conducted from them in the compactest order. The officer
was to precipitate himself into a situation, where, but for his
example, the soldiers might not have ventured; and, as the opposed
parties knew little of each other’s strength, the event of the day was
frequently determined by the boldness of the first movements. In such
services the _Condottieri_ were eminent, and in these, where plunder
always followed success, their characters acquired a mixture of
intrepidity and profligacy, which awed even those whom they served. When they were not thus engaged, their chief had usually his own
fortress, in which, or in its neighbourhood, they enjoyed an irksome
rest; and, though their wants were, at one time, partly supplied from
the property of the inhabitants, the lavish distribution of their
plunder at others, prevented them from being obnoxious; and the
peasants of such districts gradually shared the character of their
warlike visitors. The neighbouring governments sometimes professed, but
seldom endeavoured, to suppress these military communities; both
because it was difficult to do so, and because a disguised protection
of them ensured, for the service of their wars, a body of men, who
could not otherwise be so cheaply maintained, or so perfectly
qualified. The commanders sometimes even relied so far upon this policy
of the several powers, as to frequent their capitals; and Montoni,
having met them in the gaming parties of Venice and Padua, conceived a
desire to emulate their characters, before his ruined fortunes tempted
him to adopt their practices. It was for the arrangement of his present
plan of life, that the midnight councils were held at his mansion in
Venice, and at which Orsino and some other members of the present
community then assisted with suggestions, which they had since executed
with the wreck of their fortunes. On the return of night, Emily resumed her station at the casement. There was now a moon; and, as it rose over the tufted woods, its yellow
light served to show the lonely terrace and the surrounding objects,
more distinctly, than the twilight of the stars had done, and promised
Emily to assist her observations, should the mysterious form return. On
this subject, she again wavered in conjecture, and hesitated whether to
speak to the figure, to which a strong and almost irresistible interest
urged her; but terror, at intervals, made her reluctant to do so. “If this is a person who has designs upon the castle,” said she, “my
curiosity may prove fatal to me; yet the mysterious music, and the
lamentations I heard, must surely have proceeded from him: if so, he
cannot be an enemy.”

She then thought of her unfortunate aunt, and, shuddering with grief
and horror, the suggestions of imagination seized her mind with all the
force of truth, and she believed, that the form she had seen was
supernatural. She trembled, breathed with difficulty, an icy coldness
touched her cheeks, and her fears for a while overcame her judgment.