Dorothee's spirits being now more composed, she rose, and unlocked the
door that led into the late Marchioness's apartment, and Emily passed
into a lofty chamber, hung round with dark arras, and so spacious, that
the lamp she held up did not shew its extent; while Dorothee, when she
entered, had dropped into a chair, where, sighing deeply, she scarcely
trusted herself with the view of a scene so affecting to her. It was
some time before Emily perceived, through the dusk, the bed on which the
Marchioness was said to have died; when, advancing to the upper end of
the room, she discovered the high canopied tester of dark green damask,
with the curtains descending to the floor in the fashion of a tent,
half drawn, and remaining apparently, as they had been left twenty years
before; and over the whole bedding was thrown a counterpane, or pall, of
black velvet, that hung down to the floor. Emily shuddered, as she held
the lamp over it, and looked within the dark curtains, where she almost
expected to have seen a human face, and, suddenly remembering the
horror she had suffered upon discovering the dying Madame Montoni in the
turret-chamber of Udolpho, her spirits fainted, and she was turning from
the bed, when Dorothee, who had now reached it, exclaimed, 'Holy Virgin!
methinks I see my lady stretched upon that pall--as when last I saw
her!'
Emily, shocked by this exclamation, looked involuntarily again within
the curtains, but the blackness of the pall only appeared; while
Dorothee was compelled to support herself upon the side of the bed, and
presently tears brought her some relief.
'Ah!' said she, after she had wept awhile, 'it was here I sat on that
terrible night, and held my lady's hand, and heard her last words, and
saw all her sufferings--HERE she died in my arms!' '
Do not indulge these painful recollections,' said Emily, 'let us go.
Shew me the picture you mentioned, if it will not too much affect you.' 'It hangs in the oriel,' said Dorothee rising, and going towards a small
door near the bed's head, which she opened, and Emily followed with the
light, into the closet of the late Marchioness
. 'Alas! there she is, ma'amselle,' said Dorothee, pointing to a portrait
of a lady, 'there is her very self! just as she looked when she came
first to the chateau. You see, madam, she was all blooming like you,
then--and so soon to be cut off!'
While Dorothee spoke, Emily was attentively examining the picture, which
bore a strong resemblance to the miniature, though the expression of the
countenance in each was somewhat different; but still she thought she
perceived something of that pensive melancholy in the portrait, which so
strongly characterised the miniature.