Emily also
was retiring, but her aunt desired she would stay; and Montoni had so
often made her a witness of their contention, that he no longer had
scruples on that account. “I insist upon knowing this instant, Signor, what all this means:” said
his wife—“what are all these armed men, whom they tell me of, gone out
about?” Montoni answered her only with a look of scorn; and Emily
whispered something to her. “It does not signify,” said her aunt: “I
will know; and I will know, too, what the castle has been fortified
for.”

“Come, come,” said Montoni, “other business brought me here. I must be
trifled with no longer. I have immediate occasion for what I
demand—those estates must be given up, without further contention; or I
may find a way—”

“They never shall be given up,” interrupted Madame Montoni: “they never
shall enable you to carry on your wild schemes;—but what are these? I
will know. Do you expect the castle to be attacked? Do you expect
enemies? Am I to be shut up here, to be killed in a siege?”

“Sign the writings,” said Montoni, “and you shall know more.”

“What enemy can be coming?” continued his wife. “Have you entered into
the service of the state? Am I to be blocked up here to die?”

“That may possibly happen,” said Montoni, “unless you yield to my
demand: for, come what may, you shall not quit the castle till then.”
Madame Montoni burst into loud lamentation, which she as suddenly
checked, considering, that her husband’s assertions might be only
artifices, employed to extort her consent. She hinted this suspicion,
and, in the next moment, told him also, that his designs were not so
honourable as to serve the state, and that she believed he had only
commenced a captain of banditti, to join the enemies of Venice, in
plundering and laying waste the surrounding country. Montoni looked at her for a moment with a steady and stern countenance;
while Emily trembled, and his wife, for once, thought she had said too
much. “You shall be removed, this night,” said he, “to the east turret:
there, perhaps, you may understand the danger of offending a man, who
has an unlimited power over you.”

Emily now fell at his feet, and, with tears of terror, supplicated for
her aunt, who sat, trembling with fear, and indignation; now ready to
pour forth execrations, and now to join the intercessions of Emily. Montoni, however, soon interrupted these entreaties with a horrible
oath; and, as he burst from Emily, leaving his cloak, in her hand, she
fell to the floor, with a force, that occasioned her a severe blow on
the forehead. But he quitted the room, without attempting to raise her,
whose attention was called from herself, by a deep groan from Madame
Montoni, who continued otherwise unmoved in her chair, and had not
fainted. Emily, hastening to her assistance, saw her eyes rolling, and
her features convulsed. Having spoken to her, without receiving an answer, she brought water,
and supported her head, while she held it to her lips; but the
increasing convulsions soon compelled Emily to call for assistance. On
her way through the hall, in search of Annette, she met Montoni, whom
she told what had happened, and conjured to return and comfort her
aunt; but he turned silently away, with a look of indifference, and
went out upon the ramparts. At length she found old Carlo and Annette,
and they hastened to the dressing-room, where Madame Montoni had fallen
on the floor, and was lying in strong convulsions. Having lifted her
into the adjoining room, and laid her on the bed, the force of her
disorder still made all their strength necessary to hold her, while
Annette trembled and sobbed, and old Carlo looked silently and
piteously on, as his feeble hands grasped those of his mistress, till,
turning his eyes upon Emily, he exclaimed, “Good God! Signora, what is
the matter?”

Emily looked calmly at him, and saw his enquiring eyes fixed on her:
and Annette, looking up, screamed loudly; for Emily’s face was stained
with blood, which continued to fall slowly from her forehead: but her
attention had been so entirely occupied by the scene before her, that
she had felt no pain from the wound. She now held a handkerchief to her
face, and, notwithstanding her faintness, continued to watch Madame
Montoni, the violence of whose convulsions was abating, till at length
they ceased, and left her in a kind of stupor. “My aunt must remain quiet,” said Emily. “Go, good Carlo; if we should
want your assistance, I will send for you. In the mean time, if you
have an opportunity, speak kindly of your mistress to your master.”

“Alas!” said Carlo, “I have seen too much! I have little influence with
the Signor. But do, dear young lady, take some care of yourself; that
is an ugly wound, and you look sadly.”

“Thank you, my friend, for your consideration,” said Emily, smiling
kindly: “the wound is trifling, it came by a fall.”

Carlo shook his head, and left the room; and Emily, with Annette,
continued to watch by her aunt. “Did my lady tell the Signor what
Ludovico said, ma’amselle?” asked Annette in a whisper; but Emily
quieted her fears on the subject. “I thought what this quarrelling would come to,” continued Annette: “I
suppose the Signor has been beating my lady.”

“No, no, Annette, you are totally mistaken, nothing extraordinary has
happened.”

“Why, extraordinary things happen here so often, ma’amselle, that there
is nothing in them. Here is another legion of those ill-looking
fellows, come to the castle, this morning.”

“Hush! Annette, you will disturb my aunt; we will talk of that by and
bye.”

They continued watching silently, till Madame Montoni uttered a low
sigh, when Emily took her hand, and spoke soothingly to her; but the
former gazed with unconscious eyes, and it was long before she knew her
niece. Her first words then enquired for Montoni; to which Emily
replied by an entreaty, that she would compose her spirits, and consent
to be kept quiet, adding, that, if she wished any message to be
conveyed to him, she would herself deliver it. “No,” said her aunt
faintly, “no—I have nothing new to tell him. Does he persist in saying
I shall be removed from my chamber?”

Emily replied that he had not spoken on the subject since Madame
Montoni heard him; and then she tried to divert her attention to some
other topic; but her aunt seemed to be inattentive to what she said,
and lost in secret thoughts. Emily, having brought her some
refreshment, now left her to the care of Annette, and went in search of
Montoni, whom she found on a remote part of the rampart, conversing
among a group of the men described by Annette.