Emily seized a pause of Madame Montoni's voice, to speak.'Dear madam,' said she, 'but will not this serve to irritate the Signor unnecessarily? will it not provoke the harsh treatment you dread?'
'I do not care,' replied Madame Montoni, 'it does not signify: Iwill not submit to such usage.You would have me give up my settlements, too, I suppose!'
'No, madam, I do not exactly mean that.'
'What is it you do mean then?'
'You spoke of reproaching the Signor,'--said Emily, with hesitation.
'Why, does he not deserve reproaches?' said her aunt.
'Certainly he does; but will it be prudent in you, madam, to make them?'
'Prudent!' exclaimed Madame Montoni.'Is this a time to talk of prudence, when one is threatened with all sorts of violence?'
'It is to avoid that violence, that prudence is necessary.' said Emily.
'Of prudence!' continued Madame Montoni, without attending to her, 'of prudence towards a man, who does not scruple to break all the common ties of humanity in his conduct to me! And is it for me to consider prudence in my behaviour towards him! I am not so mean.'
'It is for your own sake, not for the Signor's, madam,' said Emily modestly, 'that you should consult prudence.Your reproaches, however just, cannot punish him, but they may provoke him to further violence against you.'
'What! would you have me submit, then, to whatever he commands--would you have me kneel down at his feet, and thank him for his cruelties?
Would you have me give up my settlements?'
'How much you mistake me, madam!' said Emily, 'I am unequal to advise you on a point so important as the last: but you will pardon me for saying, that, if you consult your own peace, you will try to conciliate Signor Montoni, rather than to irritate him by reproaches.'
'Conciliate indeed! I tell you, niece, it is utterly impossible; Idisdain to attempt it.'
Emily was shocked to observe the perverted understanding and obstinate temper of Madame Montoni; but, not less grieved for her sufferings, she looked round for some alleviating circumstance to offer her.'Your situation is, perhaps, not so desperate, dear madam,' said Emily, 'as you may imagine.The Signor may represent his affairs to be worse than they are, for the purpose of pleading a stronger necessity for his possession of your settlement.Besides, so long as you keep this, you may look forward to it as a resource, at least, that will afford you a competence, should the Signor's future conduct compel you to sue for separation.'
Madame Montoni impatiently interrupted her.'Unfeeling, cruel girl!'
said she, 'and so you would persuade me, that I have no reason to complain; that the Signor is in very flourishing circumstances, that my future prospects promise nothing but comfort, and that my griefs are as fanciful and romantic as your own! Is it the way to console me, to endeavour to persuade me out of my senses and my feelings, because you happen to have no feelings yourself? I thought I was opening my heart to a person, who could sympathize in my distress, but I find, that your people of sensibility can feel for nobody but themselves! You may retire to your chamber.'
Emily, without replying, immediately left the room, with a mingled emotion of pity and contempt, and hastened to her own, where she yielded to the mournful reflections, which a knowledge of her aunt's situation had occasioned.The conversation of the Italian with Valancourt, in France, again occurred to her.His hints, respecting the broken fortunes of Montoni, were now completely justified; those, also, concerning his character, appeared not less so, though the particular circumstances, connected with his fame, to which the stranger had alluded, yet remained to be explained.Notwithstanding, that her own observations and the words of Count Morano had convinced her, that Montoni's situation was not what it formerly appeared to be, the intelligence she had just received from her aunt on this point, struck her with all the force of astonishment, which was not weakened, when she considered the present style of Montoni's living, the number of servants he maintained, and the new expences he was incurring, by repairing and fortifying his castle.Her anxiety for her aunt and for herself increased with reflection.Several assertions of Morano, which, on the preceding night, she had believed were prompted either by interest, or by resentment, now returned to her mind with the strength of truth.She could not doubt, that Montoni had formerly agreed to give her to the Count, for a pecuniary reward;--his character, and his distressed circumstances justified the belief; these, also, seemed to confirm Morano's assertion, that he now designed to dispose of her, more advantageously for himself, to a richer suitor.
Amidst the reproaches, which Morano had thrown out against Montoni, he had said--he would not quit the castle HE DARED TO CALL HIS, nor willingly leave ANOTHER murder on his conscience--hints, which might have no other origin than the passion of the moment: but Emily was now inclined to account for them more seriously, and she shuddered to think, that she was in the hands of a man, to whom it was even possible they could apply.At length, considering, that reflection could neither release her from her melancholy situation, or enable her to bear it with greater fortitude, she tried to divert her anxiety, and took down from her little library a volume of her favourite Ariosto; but his wild imagery and rich invention could not long enchant her attention; his spells did not reach her heart, and over her sleeping fancy they played, without awakening it.
