The dread of what she might be going to encounter was now so excessive, that it sometimes threatened her senses; and, often as she went, she thought of her late father and of all he would have suffered, could he have foreseen the strange and dreadful events of her future life; and how anxiously he would have avoided that fatal confidence, which committed his daughter to the care of a woman so weak as was Madame Montoni.So romantic and improbable, indeed, did her present situation appear to Emily herself, particularly when she compared it with the repose and beauty of her early days, that there were moments, when she could almost have believed herself the victim of frightful visions, glaring upon a disordered fancy.
Restrained by the presence of her guides from expressing her terrors, their acuteness was, at length, lost in gloomy despair.The dreadful view of what might await her hereafter rendered her almost indifferent to the surrounding dangers.She now looked, with little emotion, on the wild dingles, and the gloomy road and mountains, whose outlines were only distinguishable through the dusk;--objects, which but lately had affected her spirits so much, as to awaken horrid views of the future, and to tinge these with their own gloom.
It was now so nearly dark, that the travellers, who proceeded only by the slowest pace, could scarcely discern their way.The clouds, which seemed charged with thunder, passed slowly along the heavens, shewing, at intervals, the trembling stars; while the groves of cypress and sycamore, that overhung the rocks, waved high in the breeze, as it swept over the glen, and then rushed among the distant woods.Emily shivered as it passed.
'Where is the torch?' said Ugo, 'It grows dark.'
'Not so dark yet,' replied Bertrand, 'but we may find our way, and 'tis best not light the torch, before we can help, for it may betray us, if any straggling party of the enemy is abroad.'
Ugo muttered something, which Emily did not understand, and they proceeded in darkness, while she almost wished, that the enemy might discover them; for from change there was something to hope, since she could scarcely imagine any situation more dreadful than her present one.
As they moved slowly along, her attention was surprised by a thin tapering flame, that appeared, by fits, at the point of the pike, which Bertrand carried, resembling what she had observed on the lance of the sentinel, the night Madame Montoni died, and which he had said was an omen.The event immediately following it appeared to justify the assertion, and a superstitious impression had remained on Emily's mind, which the present appearance confirmed.She thought it was an omen of her own fate, and watched it successively vanish and return, in gloomy silence, which was at length interrupted by Bertrand.
'Let us light the torch,' said he, 'and get under shelter of the woods;--a storm is coming on--look at my lance.'
He held it forth, with the flame tapering at its point.*(*See the Abbe Berthelon on Electricity.[A.R.])'Aye,' said Ugo, 'you are not one of those, that believe in omens:
we have left cowards at the castle, who would turn pale at such a sight.I have often seen it before a thunder storm, it is an omen of that, and one is coming now, sure enough.The clouds flash fast already.'
Emily was relieved by this conversation from some of the terrors of superstition, but those of reason increased, as, waiting while Ugo searched for a flint, to strike fire, she watched the pale lightning gleam over the woods they were about to enter, and illumine the harsh countenances of her companions.Ugo could not find a flint, and Bertrand became impatient, for the thunder sounded hollowly at a distance, and the lightning was more frequent.Sometimes, it revealed the nearer recesses of the woods, or, displaying some opening in their summits, illumined the ground beneath with partial splendour, the thick foliage of the trees preserving the surrounding scene in deep shadow.
At length, Ugo found a flint, and the torch was lighted.The men then dismounted, and, having assisted Emily, led the mules towards the woods, that skirted the glen, on the left, over broken ground, frequently interrupted with brush-wood and wild plants, which she was often obliged to make a circuit to avoid.
She could not approach these woods, without experiencing keener sense of her danger.Their deep silence, except when the wind swept among their branches, and impenetrable glooms shewn partially by the sudden flash, and then, by the red glare of the torch, which served only to make 'darkness visible,' were circumstances, that contributed to renew all her most terrible apprehensions; she thought, too, that, at this moment, the countenances of her conductors displayed more than their usual fierceness, mingled with a kind of lurking exultation, which they seemed endeavouring to disguise.To her affrighted fancy it occurred, that they were leading her into these woods to complete the will of Montoni by her murder.The horrid suggestion called a groan from her heart, which surprised her companions, who turned round quickly towards her, and she demanded why they led her thither, beseeching them to continue their way along the open glen, which she represented to be less dangerous than the woods, in a thunder storm.
'No, no,' said Bertrand, 'we know best where the danger lies.See how the clouds open over our heads.Besides, we can glide under cover of the woods with less hazard of being seen, should any of the enemy be wandering this way.By holy St.Peter and all the rest of them, I've as stout a heart as the best, as many a poor devil could tell, if he were alive again--but what can we do against numbers?'