They had to cross two courts, towards the east wing of the castle,
which, adjoining the chapel, was, like it, in ruins: but the silence and
gloom of these courts had now little power over Emily's mind, occupied
as it was, with more mournful ideas; and she scarcely heard the low
and dismal hooting of the night-birds, that roosted among the ivyed
battlements of the ruin, or perceived the still flittings of the bat,
which frequently crossed her way. But, when, having entered the chapel,
and passed between the mouldering pillars of the aisles, the bearers
stopped at a flight of steps, that led down to a low arched door, and,
their comrade having descended to unlock it, she saw imperfectly the
gloomy abyss beyond;--saw the corpse of her aunt carried down these
steps, and the ruffian-like figure, that stood with a torch at the
bottom to receive it--all her fortitude was lost in emotions of
inexpressible grief and terror. She turned to lean upon Annette, who was
cold and trembling like herself, and she lingered so long on the summit
of the flight, that the gleam of the torch began to die away on the
pillars of the chapel, and the men were almost beyond her view. Then,
the gloom around her awakening other fears, and a sense of what she
considered to be her duty overcoming her reluctance, she descended to
the vaults, following the echo of footsteps and the faint ray, that
pierced the darkness, till the harsh grating of a distant door, that was
opened to receive the corpse, again appalled her.
After the pause of a moment, she went on, and, as she entered the
vaults, saw between the arches, at some distance, the men lay down the
body near the edge of an open grave, where stood another of Montoni's
men and a priest, whom she did not observe, till he began the burial
service; then, lifting her eyes from the ground, she saw the venerable
figure of the friar, and heard him in a low voice, equally solemn and
affecting, perform the service for the dead. At the moment, in which
they let down the body into the earth, the scene was such as only the
dark pencil of a Domenichino, perhaps, could have done justice to. The
fierce features and wild dress of the condottieri, bending with their
torches over the grave, into which the corpse was descending, were
contrasted by the venerable figure of the monk, wrapt in long black
garments, his cowl thrown back from his pale face, on which the light
gleaming strongly shewed the lines of affliction softened by piety, and
the few grey locks, which time had spared on his temples: while,
beside him, stood the softer form of Emily, who leaned for support upon
Annette; her face half averted, and shaded by a thin veil, that fell
over her figure; and her mild and beautiful countenance fixed in
grief so solemn as admitted not of tears, while she thus saw committed
untimely to the earth her last relative and friend. The gleams, thrown
between the arches of the vaults, where, here and there, the broken
ground marked the spots in which other bodies had been recently
interred, and the general obscurity beyond were circumstances, that
alone would have led on the imagination of a spectator to scenes
more horrible, than even that, which was pictured at the grave of the
misguided and unfortunate Madame Montoni.