Emily was silent, and he left the room.
Recollecting, that it was for Valancourt's sake she had thus resisted,
she now smiled complacently upon the threatened sufferings, and retired
to the spot, which her aunt had pointed out as the repository of the
papers, relative to the estates, where she found them as described; and,
since she knew of no better place of concealment, than this, returned
them, without examining their contents, being fearful of discovery,
while she should attempt a perusal.
To her own solitary chamber she once more returned, and there thought
again of the late conversation with Montoni, and of the evil she might
expect from opposition to his will. But his power did not appear so
terrible to her imagination, as it was wont to do: a sacred pride was
in her heart, that taught it to swell against the pressure of injustice,
and almost to glory in the quiet sufferance of ills, in a cause, which
had also the interest of Valancourt for its object. For the first time,
she felt the full extent of her own superiority to Montoni, and despised
the authority, which, till now, she had only feared.
As she sat musing, a peal of laughter rose from the terrace, and, on
going to the casement, she saw, with inexpressible surprise, three
ladies, dressed in the gala habit of Venice, walking with several
gentlemen below. She gazed in an astonishment that made her remain at
the window, regardless of being observed, till the group passed under
it; and, one of the strangers looking up, she perceived the features of
Signora Livona, with whose manners she had been so much charmed, the day
after her arrival at Venice, and who had been there introduced at the
table of Montoni.
This discovery occasioned her an emotion of doubtful
joy; for it was matter of joy and comfort to know, that a person, of a
mind so gentle, as that of Signora Livona seemed to be, was near her;
yet there was something so extraordinary in her being at this castle,
circumstanced as it now was, and evidently, by the gaiety of her air,
with her own consent, that a very painful surmise arose, concerning her
character. But the thought was so shocking to Emily, whose affection the
fascinating manners of the Signora had won, and appeared so improbable,
when she remembered these manners, that she dismissed it almost
instantly. On Annette's appearance, however, she enquired, concerning these
strangers; and the former was as eager to tell, as Emily was to learn.
'They are just come, ma'amselle,' said Annette, 'with two Signors from
Venice, and I was glad to see such Christian faces once again.--But
what can they mean by coming here? They must surely be stark mad to come
freely to such a place as this! Yet they do come freely, for they seem
merry enough, I am sure.'