Valancourt yielded to these remonstrances, and her affecting entreaties
drew from him a promise, that, however Montoni might persist in his
design of disuniting them, he would not seek to redress his wrongs by
violence. “For my sake,” said Emily, “let the consideration of what I
should suffer deter you from such a mode of revenge!” “For your sake,
Emily,” replied Valancourt, his eyes filling with tears of tenderness
and grief, while he gazed upon her. “Yes—yes—I shall subdue myself. But, though I have given you my solemn promise to do this, do not
expect, that I can tamely submit to the authority of Montoni; if I
could, I should be unworthy of you. Yet, O Emily! how long may he
condemn me to live without you,—how long may it be before you return to
France!”

Emily endeavoured to sooth him with assurances of her unalterable
affection, and by representing, that, in little more than a year, she
should be her own mistress, as far as related to her aunt, from whose
guardianship her age would then release her; assurances, which gave
little consolation to Valancourt, who considered, that she would then
be in Italy and in the power of those, whose dominion over her would
not cease with their rights; but he affected to be consoled by them. Emily, comforted by the promise she had obtained, and by his apparent
composure, was about to leave him, when her aunt entered the room. She
threw a glance of sharp reproof upon her niece, who immediately
withdrew, and of haughty displeasure upon Valancourt. “This is not the conduct I should have expected from you, sir;” said
she, “I did not expect to see you in my house, after you had been
informed, that your visits were no longer agreeable, much less, that
you would seek a clandestine interview with my niece, and that she
would grant one.”

Valancourt, perceiving it necessary to vindicate Emily from such a
design, explained, that the purpose of his own visit had been to
request an interview with Montoni, and he then entered upon the subject
of it, with the tempered spirit which the sex, rather than the
respectability, of Madame Montoni, demanded. His expostulations were answered with severe rebuke; she lamented
again, that her prudence had ever yielded to what she termed
compassion, and added, that she was so sensible of the folly of her
former consent, that, to prevent the possibility of a repetition, she
had committed the affair entirely to the conduct of Signor Montoni. The feeling eloquence of Valancourt, however, at length, made her
sensible in some measure of her unworthy conduct, and she became
susceptible to shame, but not remorse: she hated Valancourt, who
awakened her to this painful sensation, and, in proportion as she grew
dissatisfied with herself, her abhorrence of him increased. This was
also the more inveterate, because his tempered words and manner were
such as, without accusing her, compelled her to accuse herself, and
neither left her a hope, that the odious portrait was the caricature of
his prejudice, or afforded her an excuse for expressing the violent
resentment, with which she contemplated it. At length, her anger rose
to such a height, that Valancourt was compelled to leave the house
abruptly, lest he should forfeit his own esteem by an intemperate
reply. He was then convinced, that from Madame Montoni he had nothing
to hope, for what of either pity, or justice could be expected from a
person, who could feel the pain of guilt, without the humility of
repentance? To Montoni he looked with equal despondency, since it was nearly
evident, that this plan of separation originated with him, and it was
not probable, that he would relinquish his own views to entreaties, or
remonstrances, which he must have foreseen and have been prepared to
resist. Yet, remembering his promise to Emily, and more solicitous,
concerning his love, than jealous of his consequence, Valancourt was
careful to do nothing that might unnecessarily irritate Montoni, he
wrote to him, therefore, not to demand an interview, but to solicit
one, and, having done this, he endeavoured to wait with calmness his
reply. Madame Clairval was passive in the affair. When she gave her
approbation to Valancourt’s marriage, it was in the belief, that Emily
would be the heiress of Madame Montoni’s fortune; and, though, upon the
nuptials of the latter, when she perceived the fallacy of this
expectation, her conscience had withheld her from adopting any measure
to prevent the union, her benevolence was not sufficiently active to
impel her towards any step, that might now promote it. She was, on the
contrary, secretly pleased, that Valancourt was released from an
engagement, which she considered to be as inferior, in point of
fortune, to his merit, as his alliance was thought by Montoni to be
humiliating to the beauty of Emily; and, though her pride was wounded
by this rejection of a member of her family, she disdained to show
resentment otherwise, than by silence. Montoni, in his reply to Valancourt, said, that as an interview could
neither remove the objections of the one, nor overcome the wishes of
the other, it would serve only to produce useless altercation between
them. He, therefore, thought proper to refuse it. In consideration of the policy, suggested by Emily, and of his promise
to her, Valancourt restrained the impulse, that urged him to the house
of Montoni, to demand what had been denied to his entreaties. He only
repeated his solicitations to see him; seconding them with all the
arguments his situation could suggest. Thus several days passed, in
remonstrance, on one side, and inflexible denial, on the other; for,
whether it was fear, or shame, or the hatred, which results from both,
that made Montoni shun the man he had injured, he was peremptory in his
refusal, and was neither softened to pity by the agony, which
Valancourt’s letters portrayed, nor awakened to a repentance of his own
injustice by the strong remonstrances he employed. At length,
Valancourt’s letters were returned unopened, and then, in the first
moments of passionate despair, he forgot every promise to Emily, except
the solemn one, which bound him to avoid violence, and hastened to
Montoni’s château, determined to see him by whatever other means might
be necessary. Montoni was denied, and Valancourt, when he afterwards
enquired for Madame, and Ma’amselle St. Aubert, was absolutely refused
admittance by the servants. Not choosing to submit himself to a contest
with these, he, at length, departed, and, returning home in a state of
mind approaching to frenzy, wrote to Emily of what had passed,
expressed without restraint all the agony of his heart, and entreated,
that, since he must not otherwise hope to see her immediately, she
would allow him an interview unknown to Montoni.