Of aery tongues, that syllable men's names
On sands and shores and desert wildernesses.
MILTON
It is now necessary to mention some circumstances, which could not be
related amidst the events of Emily's hasty departure from Venice, or
together with those, which so rapidly succeeded to her arrival in the
castle. On the morning of her journey, Count Morano had gone at the appointed
hour to the mansion of Montoni, to demand his bride. When he reached
it, he was somewhat surprised by the silence and solitary air of the
portico, where Montoni's lacqueys usually loitered; but surprise
was soon changed to astonishment, and astonishment to the rage of
disappointment, when the door was opened by an old woman, who told his
servants, that her master and his family had left Venice, early in the
morning, for terra-firma.
Scarcely believing what his servants told, he
left his gondola, and rushed into the hall to enquire further. The old
woman, who was the only person left in care of the mansion, persisted in
her story, which the silent and deserted apartments soon convinced him
was no fiction. He then seized her with a menacing air, as if he meant
to wreak all his vengeance upon her, at the same time asking her twenty
questions in a breath, and all these with a gesticulation so furious,
that she was deprived of the power of answering them; then suddenly
letting her go, he stamped about the hall, like a madman, cursing
Montoni and his own folly.
When the good woman was at liberty, and had somewhat recovered from her
fright, she told him all she knew of the affair, which was, indeed, very
little, but enough to enable Morano to discover, that Montoni was gone
to his castle on the Apennine. Thither he followed, as soon as his
servants could complete the necessary preparation for the journey,
accompanied by a friend, and attended by a number of his people,
determined to obtain Emily, or a full revenge on Montoni. When his mind
had recovered from the first effervescence of rage, and his
thoughts became less obscured, his conscience hinted to him certain
circumstances, which, in some measure, explained the conduct of Montoni:
but how the latter could have been led to suspect an intention, which,
he had believed, was known only to himself, he could not even guess. On
this occasion, however, he had been partly betrayed by that sympathetic
intelligence, which may be said to exist between bad minds, and which
teaches one man to judge what another will do in the same circumstances.
Thus it was with Montoni, who had now received indisputable proof of a
truth, which he had some time suspected--that Morano's circumstances,
instead of being affluent, as he had been bidden to believe, were
greatly involved. Montoni had been interested in his suit, by motives
entirely selfish, those of avarice and pride; the last of which would
have been gratified by an alliance with a Venetian nobleman, the former
by Emily's estate in Gascony, which he had stipulated, as the price of
his favour, should be delivered up to him from the day of her marriage.
In the meantime, he had been led to suspect the consequence of the
Count's boundless extravagance; but it was not till the evening,
preceding the intended nuptials, that he obtained certain information
of his distressed circumstances.