“Noble Signor,” replied Verezzi, glad to find he had escaped Montoni’s resentment, “with my good will, you shall build your ramparts of gold.”
“Pass the goblet,” cried Montoni. “We will drink to Signora St. Aubert,” said Cavigni. “By your leave we will first drink to the lady of the castle.” said Bertolini.—Montoni was silent. “To the lady of the castle,” said his guests. He bowed his head.
“It much surprises me, Signor,” said Bertolini, “that you have so long neglected this castle; it is a noble edifice.”
“It suits our purpose,” replied Montoni, “and is a noble edifice. You know not, it seems, by what mischance it came to me.”
“It was a lucky mischance, be it what it may, Signor,” replied Bertolini, smiling. “I would, that one so lucky had befallen me.”
Montoni looked gravely at him. “If you will attend to what I say,” he resumed, “you shall hear the story.”
The countenances of Bertolini and Verezzi expressed something more than curiosity; Cavigni, who seemed to feel none, had probably heard the relation before.
“It is now near twenty years,” said Montoni, “since this castle came into my possession. I inherit it by the female line. The lady, my predecessor, was only distantly related to me; I am the last of her family. She was beautiful and rich; I wooed her; but her heart was fixed upon another, and she rejected me. It is probable, however, that she was herself rejected of the person, whoever he might be, on whom she bestowed her favour, for a deep and settled melancholy took possession of her; and I have reason to believe she put a period to her own life. I was not at the castle at the time; but, as there are some singular and mysterious circumstances attending that event, I shall repeat them.”
“Repeat them!” said a voice.
Montoni was silent; the guests looked at each other, to know who spoke; but they perceived, that each was making the same enquiry. Montoni, at length, recovered himself. “We are overheard,” said he: “we will finish this subject another time. Pass the goblet.”