“Speak low, Signor,” said Ludovico, “these passages send echoes all
round the castle.”

“Take care of the light,” cried Emily, “you go so fast, that the air
will extinguish it.”

Ludovico now opened another door, where they found Annette, and the
party then descended a short flight of steps into a passage, which,
Ludovico said, led round the inner court of the castle, and opened into
the outer one. As they advanced, confused and tumultuous sounds, that
seemed to come from the inner court, alarmed Emily. “Nay, Signora,”
said Ludovico, “our only hope is in that tumult; while the Signor’s
people are busied about the men, who are just arrived, we may, perhaps,
pass unnoticed through the gates. But hush!” he added, as they
approached the small door, that opened into the outer court, “if you
will remain here a moment, I will go to see whether the gates are open,
and anybody is in the way. Pray extinguish the light, Signor, if you
hear me talking,” continued Ludovico, delivering the lamp to Du Pont,
“and remain quite still.”

Saying this, he stepped out upon the court, and they closed the door,
listening anxiously to his departing steps. No voice, however, was
heard in the court, which he was crossing, though a confusion of many
voices yet issued from the inner one. “We shall soon be beyond the
walls,” said Du Pont softly to Emily, “support yourself a little
longer, Madam, and all will be well.”

But soon they heard Ludovico speaking loud, and the voice also of some
other person, and Du Pont immediately extinguished the lamp. “Ah! it is
too late!” exclaimed Emily, “what is to become of us?” They listened
again, and then perceived, that Ludovico was talking with a sentinel,
whose voices were heard also by Emily’s favourite dog, that had
followed her from the chamber, and now barked loudly. “This dog will
betray us!” said Du Pont, “I will hold him.” “I fear he has already
betrayed us!” replied Emily. Du Pont, however, caught him up, and,
again listening to what was going on without, they heard Ludovico say,
“I’ll watch the gates the while.”

“Stay a minute,” replied the sentinel, “and you need not have the
trouble, for the horses will be sent round to the outer stables, then
the gates will be shut, and I can leave my post.” “I don’t mind the
trouble, comrade,” said Ludovico, “you will do such another good turn
for me, some time. Go—go, and fetch the wine; the rogues, that are just
come in, will drink it all else.”

The soldier hesitated, and then called aloud to the people in the
second court, to know why they did not send out the horses, that the
gates might be shut; but they were too much engaged, to attend to him,
even if they had heard his voice. “Aye—aye,” said Ludovico, “they know better than that; they are sharing
it all among them; if you wait till the horses come out, you must wait
till the wine is drunk. I have had my share already, but, since you do
not care about yours, I see no reason why I should not have that too.”

“Hold, hold, not so fast,” cried the sentinel, “do watch then, for a
moment: I’ll be with you presently.”

“Don’t hurry yourself,” said Ludovico, coolly, “I have kept guard
before now. But you may leave me your trombone,* that, if the castle
should be attacked, you know, I may be able to defend the pass, like a
hero.”

(*Note: A kind of blunderbuss. [A. R.])


“There, my good fellow,” returned the soldier, “there, take it—it has
seen service, though it could do little in defending the castle. I’ll
tell you a good story, though, about this same trombone.”

“You’ll tell it better when you have had the wine,” said Ludovico. “There! they are coming out from the court already.”

“I’ll have the wine, though,” said the sentinel, running off. “I won’t
keep you a minute.”

“Take your time, I am in no haste,” replied Ludovico, who was already
hurrying across the court, when the soldier came back. “Whither so
fast, friend—whither so fast?” said the latter. “What! is this the way
you keep watch! I must stand to my post myself, I see.”

“Aye, well,” replied Ludovico, “you have saved me the trouble of
following you further, for I wanted to tell you, if you have a mind to
drink the Tuscany wine, you must go to Sebastian, he is dealing it out;
the other that Federico has, is not worth having. But you are not
likely to have any, I see, for they are all coming out.”

“By St. Peter! so they are,” said the soldier, and again ran off, while
Ludovico, once more at liberty, hastened to the door of the passage,
where Emily was sinking under the anxiety this long discourse had
occasioned; but, on his telling them the court was clear, they followed
him to the gates, without waiting another instant, yet not before he
had seized two horses, that had strayed from the second court, and were
picking a scanty meal among the grass, which grew between the pavement
of the first. They passed, without interruption, the dreadful gates, and took the
road that led down among the woods, Emily, Monsieur Du Pont and Annette
on foot, and Ludovico, who was mounted on one horse, leading the other. Having reached them, they stopped, while Emily and Annette were placed
on horseback with their two protectors, when, Ludovico leading the way,
they set off as fast as the broken road, and the feeble light, which a
rising moon threw among the foliage, would permit. Emily was so much astonished by this sudden departure, that she
scarcely dared to believe herself awake; and she yet much doubted
whether this adventure would terminate in escape,—a doubt, which had
too much probability to justify it; for, before they quitted the woods,
they heard shouts in the wind, and, on emerging from them, saw lights
moving quickly near the castle above. Du Pont whipped his horse, and
with some difficulty compelled him to go faster. “Ah! poor beast,” said Ludovico, “he is weary enough;—he has been out
all day; but, Signor, we must fly for it, now; for yonder are lights
coming this way.”

Having given his own horse a lash, they now both set off on a full
gallop; and, when they again looked back, the lights were so distant as
scarcely to be discerned, and the voices were sunk into silence. The
travellers then abated their pace, and, consulting whither they should
direct their course, it was determined they should descend into
Tuscany, and endeavour to reach the Mediterranean, where they could
readily embark for France. Thither Du Pont meant to attend Emily, if he
should learn, that the regiment he had accompanied into Italy, was
returned to his native country. They were now in the road, which Emily had travelled with Ugo and
Bertrand; but Ludovico, who was the only one of the party, acquainted
with the passes of these mountains, said, that, a little further on, a
by-road, branching from this, would lead them down into Tuscany with
very little difficulty; and that, at a few leagues distance, was a
small town, where necessaries could be procured for their journey.