“This is a new custom,” said he; “when I left the castle,
the Signors used to sit up counselling.”

“Aye, and for that matter, carousing too,” replied the soldier, “but,
since the siege, they have done nothing but make merry: and if I was
they, I would settle accounts with myself, for all my hard fighting,
the same way.”

They had now crossed the second court, and reached the hall door, when
the soldier, bidding them good night, hastened back to his post; and,
while they waited for admittance, Emily considered how she might avoid
seeing Montoni, and retire unnoticed to her former apartment, for she
shrunk from the thought of encountering either him, or any of his
party, at this hour. The uproar within the castle was now so loud,
that, though Ugo knocked repeatedly at the hall door, he was not heard
by any of the servants, a circumstance, which increased Emily’s alarm,
while it allowed her time to deliberate on the means of retiring
unobserved; for, though she might, perhaps, pass up the great staircase
unseen, it was impossible she could find the way to her chamber,
without a light, the difficulty of procuring which, and the danger of
wandering about the castle, without one, immediately struck her. Bertrand had only a torch, and she knew, that the servants never
brought a taper to the door, for the hall was sufficiently lighted by
the large tripod lamp, which hung in the vaulted roof; and, while she
should wait till Annette could bring a taper, Montoni, or some of his
companions, might discover her. The door was now opened by Carlo; and Emily, having requested him to
send Annette immediately with a light to the great gallery, where she
determined to await her, passed on with hasty steps towards the
staircase; while Bertrand and Ugo, with the torch, followed old Carlo
to the servants’ hall, impatient for supper and the warm blaze of a
wood fire. Emily, lighted only by the feeble rays, which the lamp above
threw between the arches of this extensive hall, endeavoured to find
her way to the staircase, now hid in obscurity; while the shouts of
merriment, that burst from a remote apartment, served, by heightening
her terror, to increase her perplexity, and she expected, every
instant, to see the door of that room open, and Montoni and his
companions issue forth. Having, at length, reached the staircase, and
found her way to the top, she seated herself on the last stair, to
await the arrival of Annette; for the profound darkness of the gallery
deterred her from proceeding farther, and, while she listened for her
footstep, she heard only distant sounds of revelry, which rose in
sullen echoes from among the arcades below. Once she thought she heard
a low sound from the dark gallery behind her; and, turning her eyes,
fancied she saw something luminous move in it; and, since she could
not, at this moment, subdue the weakness that caused her fears, she
quitted her seat, and crept softly down a few stairs lower. Annette not yet appearing, Emily now concluded, that she was gone to
bed, and that nobody chose to call her up; and the prospect, that
presented itself, of passing the night in darkness, in this place, or
in some other equally forlorn (for she knew it would be impracticable
to find her way through the intricacies of the galleries to her
chamber), drew tears of mingled terror and despondency from her eyes. While thus she sat, she fancied she heard again an odd sound from the
gallery, and she listened, scarcely daring to breathe, but the
increasing voices below overcame every other sound. Soon after, she
heard Montoni and his companions burst into the hall, who spoke, as if
they were much intoxicated, and seemed to be advancing towards the
staircase. She now remembered, that they must come this way to their
chambers, and, forgetting all the terrors of the gallery, hurried
towards it with an intention of secreting herself in some of the
passages, that opened beyond, and of endeavouring, when the Signors
were retired, to find her way to her own room, or to that of Annette,
which was in a remote part of the castle. With extended arms, she crept along the gallery, still hearing the
voices of persons below, who seemed to stop in conversation at the foot
of the staircase, and then pausing for a moment to listen, half fearful
of going further into the darkness of the gallery, where she still
imagined, from the noise she had heard, that some person was lurking,
“They are already informed of my arrival,” said she, “and Montoni is
coming himself to seek me! In the present state of his mind, his
purpose must be desperate.” Then, recollecting the scene, that had
passed in the corridor, on the night preceding her departure from the
castle, “O Valancourt!” said she, “I must then resign you for ever. To
brave any longer the injustice of Montoni, would not be fortitude, but
rashness.” Still the voices below did not draw nearer, but they became
louder, and she distinguished those of Verezzi and Bertolini above the
rest, while the few words she caught made her listen more anxiously for
others. The conversation seemed to concern herself; and, having
ventured to step a few paces nearer to the staircase, she discovered,
that they were disputing about her, each seeming to claim some former
promise of Montoni, who appeared, at first, inclined to appease and to
persuade them to return to their wine, but afterwards to be weary of
the dispute, and, saying that he left them to settle it as they could,
was returning with the rest of the party to the apartment he had just
quitted. Verezzi then stopped him. “Where is she? Signor,” said he, in
a voice of impatience: “tell us where she is.” “I have already told you
that I do not know,” replied Montoni, who seemed to be somewhat
overcome with wine; “but she is most probably gone to her apartment.”
Verezzi and Bertolini now desisted from their enquiries, and sprang to
the staircase together, while Emily, who, during this discourse, had
trembled so excessively, that she had with difficulty supported
herself, seemed inspired with new strength, the moment she heard the
sound of their steps, and ran along the gallery, dark as it was, with
the fleetness of a fawn. But, long before she reached its extremity,
the light, which Verezzi carried, flashed upon the walls; both
appeared, and, instantly perceiving Emily, pursued her. At this moment,
Bertolini, whose steps, though swift, were not steady, and whose
impatience overcame what little caution he had hitherto used, stumbled,
and fell at his length. The lamp fell with him, and was presently
expiring on the floor; but Verezzi, regardless of saving it, seized the
advantage this accident gave him over his rival, and followed Emily, to
whom, however, the light had shown one of the passages that branched
from the gallery, and she instantly turned into it.