“He desired it might be pretty duskyish, ma’amselle,” repeated Annette, “because of the watch.”
Emily paused, and then said she would be on the terrace, an hour after sunset;—“and tell Barnardine,” she added, “to be punctual to the time; for that I, also, may be observed by Signor Montoni. Where is the Signor? I would speak with him.”
“He is in the cedar chamber, ma’am, counselling with the other Signors. He is going to give them a sort of treat today, to make up for what passed at the last, I suppose; the people are all very busy in the kitchen.”
Emily now enquired, if Montoni expected any new guests? and Annette believed that he did not. “Poor Ludovico!” added she, “he would be as merry as the best of them, if he was well; but he may recover yet. Count Morano was wounded as bad, as he, and he is got well again, and is gone back to Venice.”
“Is he so?” said Emily, “when did you hear this?”
“I heard it last night, ma’amselle, but I forgot to tell it.”
Emily asked some further questions, and then, desiring Annette would observe and inform her, when Montoni was alone, the girl went to deliver her message to Barnardine.
Montoni was, however, so much engaged, during the whole day, that Emily had no opportunity of seeking a release from her terrible suspense, concerning her aunt. Annette was employed in watching his steps, and in attending upon Ludovico, whom she, assisted by Caterina, nursed with the utmost care; and Emily was, of course, left much alone. Her thoughts dwelt often on the message of the porter, and were employed in conjecturing the subject, that occasioned it, which she sometimes imagined concerned the fate of Madame Montoni; at others, that it related to some personal danger, which threatened herself. The cautious secrecy which Barnardine observed in his conduct, inclined her to believe the latter.
As the hour of appointment drew near, her impatience increased. At length, the sun set; she heard the passing steps of the sentinels going to their posts; and waited only for Annette to accompany her to the terrace, who, soon after, came, and they descended together. When Emily expressed apprehensions of meeting Montoni, or some of his guests, “O, there is no fear of that, ma’amselle,” said Annette, “they are all set in to feasting yet, and that Barnardine knows.”
They reached the first terrace, where the sentinels demanded who passed; and Emily, having answered, walked on to the east rampart, at the entrance of which they were again stopped; and, having again replied, were permitted to proceed. But Emily did not like to expose herself to the discretion of these men, at such an hour; and, impatient to withdraw from the situation, she stepped hastily on in search of Barnardine. He was not yet come. She leaned pensively on the wall of the rampart, and waited for him. The gloom of twilight sat deep on the surrounding objects, blending in soft confusion the valley, the mountains, and the woods, whose tall heads, stirred by the evening breeze, gave the only sounds, that stole on silence, except a faint, faint chorus of distant voices, that arose from within the castle.