Leaving behind the lively streets of Paris, we return to the gloomy Apennine mountains, where Emily’s heart still remained devoted to Valancourt.
He was her only hope, and she clung to every memory of his affection. She carefully recalled every promise he had made and every proof of his love. She read his letters again and again, studying every word that showed his feelings for her. Whenever despair threatened to overcome her, she dried her tears by reminding herself that he was faithful.
Meanwhile, Montoni had made every effort to discover the cause of the strange alarm that had disturbed him, but he learned nothing. At last, he was forced to believe that it had only been a cruel trick played by one of his servants.
His quarrels with Madame Montoni over her property had become more frequent than ever. He finally confined her completely to her own rooms and did not hesitate to threaten her with even harsher treatment if she continued to resist him.
If Madame Montoni had listened to reason, she would have found herself trapped between two difficult choices. Reason would have warned her that further resistance might provoke a man as dangerous as Montoni, a man whose power over her was almost absolute. Yet reason would also have told her that keeping her property was extremely important, because those possessions might one day allow her to live independently if she escaped his control.
But she was guided by something stronger than reason—the desire for revenge. She wanted to fight his cruelty with her own stubbornness and answer his force with resistance.
Now completely isolated in her room, she was forced to seek the company she had once rejected. Emily was the only person, besides Annette, whom she was allowed to speak with.
Because Emily sincerely cared about her aunt’s peace of mind, she tried to persuade her gently whenever she could not convince her directly. She used every kind word she could think of to encourage Madame Montoni to stop replying to Montoni with such sharpness, which only increased his anger.
Sometimes her aunt’s pride softened under Emily’s gentle influence. There were even moments when Madame Montoni seemed to appreciate her niece’s kindness.
The terrible arguments Emily was forced to witness exhausted her more than anything she had experienced since leaving Thoulouse.
The memory of her parents’ kindness and the happiness of her childhood often returned to her like visions from another, better world. Compared with those peaceful days, the people and events surrounding her now seemed frightening and unbelievable.
She could hardly imagine that such violent and conflicting passions could exist together in one person as they did in Montoni. Yet what surprised her even more was that, when necessary, he could control these emotions and hide them behind a calm expression whenever his interests required it.
However, Emily had seen him too often when he allowed his true nature to appear, and she was no longer easily deceived.
Her present life seemed like a nightmare created by a troubled imagination, like one of those terrible stories invented by poets.
Thinking about the past brought only sadness, and thinking about the future filled her with fear.
How often she wished she could escape like a bird taking flight, carried away by the fastest wind, and return once more to the peaceful lands of Languedoc.
She often asked about Count Morano’s health. Annette only heard uncertain reports that he was in great danger and that his surgeon believed he might never leave the cottage alive.
Emily was deeply troubled by the thought that, although she had never intended harm, she might somehow have caused his death. Annette noticed her sadness, but naturally misunderstood the reason behind it.
Soon, however, something happened that completely distracted Annette from Count Morano and awakened her endless curiosity.
One day, she rushed into Emily’s room with an important expression on her face.
“What can all this mean, ma’amselle?” she cried. “If I ever get safely back to Languedoc, they will never catch me travelling again! I thought seeing foreign countries would be such a wonderful adventure. I never imagined I would end up trapped in an old castle among these terrible mountains, where I might be murdered—or at least have my throat cut!”
“What can all this mean, indeed, Annette?” Emily asked, surprised.
“Yes, ma’amselle, you may look shocked. But perhaps you will not believe me until they have murdered you too. You did not believe me when I told you about the ghost, even though I showed you the very place where it appeared. You never believe anything I say.”
“I cannot believe you until you explain yourself more reasonably, Annette. For Heaven’s sake, tell me what you mean. You mentioned murder.”
“Yes, ma’amselle, they may be coming to murder us all. But what is the use of explaining? You will not believe me anyway.”
Emily again asked her to explain what she had seen or heard.
“Oh, I have seen enough and heard too much, ma’am, and Ludovico can prove it. Poor man! They will murder him too, I suppose. I never thought, when he sang those lovely songs beneath my window in Venice, that such things would happen!”
Emily looked impatient and annoyed.
“Well, ma’amselle, as I was saying, all these preparations around the castle, these strange people who come here every day, the Signor’s cruel treatment of my lady, and all his strange behavior—none of it can mean anything good.”
“Ludovico told me to keep quiet about it. But I told him, ‘The Signor has changed terribly since coming to this gloomy castle. In France he was so cheerful! Nobody was more charming toward my lady. He even smiled at a poor servant sometimes and joked kindly with her.’”
“Never mind what the Signor said,” Emily interrupted. “Tell me directly what has frightened you.”
“Yes, ma’amselle, that is exactly what Ludovico said. He told me not to pay attention to what the Signor said. So I told him what I thought.”
“I said, ‘He has changed so much. Now he is proud, commanding, and harsh with my lady. When he meets anyone, he barely looks at them unless it is to give them a terrible frown.’”
“‘That is better,’ said Ludovico.”
“I thought that was a very unkind thing for him to say. But I continued.”
“I said, ‘He is always frowning. If anyone speaks to him, he acts as if he cannot hear. And every night he sits with the other gentlemen, discussing matters until long after midnight.’”
“‘But you do not know what they are discussing,’ Ludovico replied.”
“‘No,’ I said, ‘but I can guess. It must be about my young lady.’”
“Then Ludovico suddenly laughed loudly.”
“He laughed at me, ma’amselle! I was offended because I did not like him laughing at either me or you.”
“But he stopped me and said, ‘Do not be angry, Annette, but I cannot help laughing.’”
“Then he said, ‘Do you really think these gentlemen stay awake every night only to discuss your young lady? No, no. Something much bigger is happening.’”
“He said the repairs around the castle and the work on the walls were not being done because of young ladies.”
“‘Then why are they doing it?’ I asked.”
“‘Are they preparing for war?’ Ludovico replied.”
“‘War?’ I said. ‘Against whom? There is nobody here except mountains and forests.’”
“Then I asked, ‘Perhaps someone is coming to take away my master’s castle?’”
“Ludovico did not answer directly. Instead, he told me about all the suspicious-looking men arriving every day. The Signor meets them, speaks with them, and they remain nearby.”
“‘By Saint Mark,’ he said, ‘some of them look like the worst criminals I have ever seen.’”
“I asked him again whether they were planning to take the castle.”
“He said he did not think so, but he could not be certain.”
“Then yesterday,” Annette continued, lowering her voice, “a group of these men arrived. They left their horses in the castle stables because, apparently, they are staying here. The Signor ordered that the horses receive the finest food, while most of the men are staying in nearby cottages.”
“So I came to tell you everything, ma’amselle, because I have never heard anything so strange. Why else would these frightening men come here unless they intend to murder us? And why would the Signor be so friendly with them? Why would he strengthen the castle and spend so much time planning with the other gentlemen?”
“Is that all you have to tell me, Annette?” Emily asked.
“Have you heard nothing else that concerns you?”
“Nothing else?” Annette cried. “Why, ma’amselle, is that not enough?”
“It is enough to test my patience, Annette,” Emily replied. “But it is not enough to convince me that we are all going to be murdered. Still, I admit there is enough here to make one curious.”
Emily avoided expressing her own fears because she did not want to encourage Annette’s imagination. Yet the strange events at the castle truly disturbed her.
Annette, after telling her story, left the room immediately, eager to discover more mysteries.
That evening, Emily spent several unhappy hours with Madame Montoni. When she finally prepared to retire, she was suddenly frightened by a loud knocking at her bedroom door.
Before she could respond, something heavy struck against it with such force that it nearly broke open.
“Who is there?” she called.
No answer came.
She called again.
Still there was only a terrible silence.
At that moment, unable to judge clearly because of her fear, Emily imagined that one of the strangers who had recently arrived at the castle had discovered her room and had come with the intention of robbing or murdering her.
The moment such a possibility entered her mind, terror became stronger than reason.
She looked toward the door leading to the staircase, expecting it to open. She listened carefully, waiting for another sound.
Then she began to wonder whether the noise had actually come from that door.
The thought of escaping through the opposite entrance suddenly came to her mind.
She approached the gallery door, but fear stopped her from opening it. Perhaps someone was waiting silently outside.
She stood frozen, staring at the staircase door.
Then she heard a faint sound of breathing nearby.
She became certain that someone was standing on the other side of the locked door.
She searched for another way to secure it, but there was none.
The breathing continued.
Looking around her large, lonely room, Emily felt her fear increase.
She considered calling for help, but the silence seemed so strange that she almost regained courage—until she heard the breathing again and knew the person had not left.
Finally, exhausted by anxiety, she decided to call from her window.
She was moving toward it when she thought she heard footsteps climbing the private staircase.
Expecting the door to open, she forgot her previous fear and hurried toward the corridor.
As she opened the door, she almost fell over someone lying on the floor outside.
She screamed and tried to move past, but her trembling body would not obey her.
Leaning against the wall, she looked down and recognized the figure.
It was Annette.
Her fear instantly changed into astonishment.
Emily rushed to help her.
When Annette finally recovered, Emily helped her into the room. But she could not speak and kept looking around as though she expected to see someone else there.
Emily tried to calm her and did not question her immediately.
But Annette was never silent for long.
Soon she began explaining, in broken and frightened words, what had happened.
She insisted—with such complete confidence that even Emily was almost shaken—that she had seen a ghost while walking through the corridor toward her room.
“I had heard strange stories about that chamber before,” Annette said. “But because it is so close to yours, ma’amselle, I never told you. I did not want to frighten you.”
“The servants have told me again and again that the room is haunted. That is why it is locked. In fact, that is why this whole row of rooms is closed.”
“I always trembled when I passed by. Sometimes I thought I heard strange noises inside.”
“But tonight, as I was walking through the corridor, I was not thinking about ghosts at all—not even about the strange voice the gentlemen heard the other night.”
“Suddenly, a great light appeared behind me.”
“I turned around, and there was a tall figure.”
“I saw it as clearly as I see you now, ma’amselle.”
“It moved silently into that locked room—the one nobody has a key to except the Signor.”
“Then the door closed immediately.”
“Then it must have been the Signor,” Emily said.
“No, ma’amselle, it could not have been him. I left him arguing with my lady in her dressing-room!”
“You bring me very strange stories, Annette,” Emily replied. “This morning you frightened me by saying we might all be murdered. Now you tell me you have seen a ghost. Your wonderful discoveries come very quickly.”
“I will say no more,” Annette answered. “But if I had not truly been frightened, I would never have fainted like that.”
“I ran as fast as I could toward your room, but I could not even call out. Then I thought something terrible must be happening to me, and I fell down.”
“Was it the room where the black veil hangs?” Emily asked.
“Oh no, ma’amselle. It was another room, closer to yours.”
“What shall I do? I would not walk through that corridor again for anything!”
Emily herself had been badly shaken and did not want to spend the night alone. She told Annette she could remain with her.
“Oh no, ma’amselle,” Annette cried. “I would not sleep in that room now for a thousand sequins!”
Emily first tried to laugh at Annette’s fears, though she secretly shared them. Then she tried to comfort her.
Neither worked.
Annette remained convinced that what she had seen was not human.
Only after Emily had recovered some calm did she remember the footsteps she had heard on the staircase. That memory made her insist that Annette stay with her for the night.
After much persuasion, and because Annette was especially terrified of returning through the corridor, she finally agreed.
The next morning, as Emily crossed the hall toward the battlements, she heard great activity in the courtyard—the noise of people moving and the sound of horses.
Curious, she went to an upper window instead.
Below, she saw a large group of armed horsemen dressed in strange but matching clothing.
They wore short black and red jackets, and some had plain black cloaks covering their entire bodies down to their stirrups.
When one cloak moved aside, Emily saw daggers of different sizes attached to the rider’s belt.
Many others carried similar weapons, and some also held spears or javelins.
They wore small Italian caps, several decorated with black feathers.
Whether the clothing created a fierce appearance or their faces were naturally frightening, Emily thought she had never seen such a terrifying group of men.
For a moment, she almost believed she was looking at a band of criminals.
A sudden thought crossed her mind—that Montoni might be their leader and that the castle was their meeting place.
The idea was shocking, though she could think of no better explanation.
Among the group, she recognized some of the strangers who had frightened her before. They were now marked by black feathers.
As she watched, Cavigni, Verezzi, and Bertolini came out from the hall dressed like the others.
They wore hats decorated with black and red feathers, and their weapons were different from those of the rest.
When they mounted their horses, Emily noticed the proud happiness on Verezzi’s face.
Cavigni appeared cheerful but thoughtful.
As he controlled his horse with skill, his noble figure looked more impressive than ever.
Emily thought he somewhat resembled Valancourt in his dignity and spirit.
But she searched in vain for the kindness and intelligence that always shone from Valancourt’s face.
She hardly knew why, but Emily secretly hoped Montoni would ride with them.
Instead, he appeared at the hall entrance without weapons.
He watched the horsemen carefully, spoke with the leaders for a while, and then said goodbye.
The group turned in the courtyard and, led by Verezzi, rode away through the castle gate.
Montoni followed them to the entrance and watched until they disappeared.
Emily returned from the window and, now believing she would not be disturbed, went to walk on the battlements.
Soon she saw the group moving westward through the mountains, appearing and disappearing among the forests until distance turned them into a single dark shape.
She noticed that no workers remained on the walls and that the repairs seemed complete.
As she walked thoughtfully, she heard distant footsteps.
Looking up, she saw several men hiding beneath the castle walls.
They were clearly not workers, but they looked similar to the men who had just departed.
Wondering where Annette had disappeared to, and thinking Madame Montoni might now be awake, Emily went to her aunt’s room.
She explained everything she had seen.
But Madame Montoni either could not or would not give any explanation.
Montoni’s secrecy toward his wife was perhaps nothing unusual, yet to Emily it made the entire matter seem even more mysterious.
It suggested that his plans might involve danger—or even wrongdoing.
Soon Annette arrived, once again full of alarm.
When Madame Montoni eagerly asked what she had heard from the servants, Annette replied:
“Ah, madam! Nobody knows what is happening except old Carlo. He knows, I am sure, but he is as silent as his master.”
“Some say the Signor is going out to frighten an enemy. But where is this enemy?”
“Others say he is going to take someone else’s castle. But I think he already has enough space here!”
“Besides, I would much rather see this castle filled with good people.”
“Ah,” Madame Montoni replied, “you may soon have your wish.”
And so the strange events around the castle continued to unfold, leaving Emily surrounded by fear, uncertainty, and secrets she could not yet understand.