When Montoni was told that his wife was dead, his first thought was not sorrow, but anger.
Madame Montoni had died without giving him the signature he needed to complete his plans. The disappointment destroyed whatever restraint he might have shown, and he openly expressed his resentment.
Emily was horrified by him and avoided seeing him whenever she could. For two days and two nights, she remained almost constantly beside the body of her late aunt.
As she watched over Madame Montoni, Emily’s feelings changed. She no longer remembered her aunt’s harsh words, her pride, or the unfair way she had sometimes treated her.
She saw only the suffering woman who had died in misery.
Her heart filled with compassion.
Sometimes, however, Emily could not stop thinking about the strange mistake that had ruined her aunt’s life—the marriage with Montoni.
She wondered how Madame Montoni had ever allowed herself to become connected with such a man.
That marriage had led her into endless suffering and finally to death.
Yet Emily did not think of it with anger.
She thought of it only with sadness.
She mourned the choice that had brought such terrible consequences.
During these days of grief, Montoni never disturbed her.
He avoided not only the room where his wife’s body rested but even the entire part of the castle nearby.
He behaved as though death itself was something dangerous that might infect him.
He gave no orders about the funeral.
Because of this, Emily began to fear that he intended to insult Madame Montoni even after her death.
But on the evening of the second day, Annette brought her news that the funeral would take place that very night.
Emily already knew Montoni would not attend.
The thought that her aunt’s body would be carried to the grave without a family member or friend beside her filled Emily with sorrow.
She decided that nothing would prevent her from performing this final duty.
Normally, she would have been frightened to follow the body into the dark underground vault of the castle.
The men who would carry it looked like criminals.
Their faces and manner seemed cruel and threatening.
And Montoni had chosen the silent hours of midnight, perhaps hoping that the memory of a woman who had suffered because of him would quickly disappear.
But Emily would not allow that.
With Annette’s help, she prepared the body for burial.
They wrapped Madame Montoni in burial cloth and covered her carefully.
Then they remained beside her until after midnight.
At last, they heard footsteps approaching.
The men had come to take the body away.
Emily struggled to control her emotions when the door opened.
The torchlight fell upon the dark faces of the men standing outside.
Without saying a word, two of them lifted the body onto their shoulders.
The third man walked ahead with the torch.
Together they moved through the castle toward the grave.
The burial place was in the lower vault beneath the chapel inside the castle walls.
They crossed two courtyards on their way to the eastern side of the castle.
That part of the building, like the chapel beside it, had fallen into ruin.
Normally, the silence and darkness of those places would have terrified Emily.
But her mind was filled with a deeper sorrow.
She hardly noticed the cries of the night birds hiding among the ruined walls.
She barely saw the bats flying silently through the air.
All she could think about was the woman being carried before her.
When they entered the chapel, they passed between old, broken pillars.
The men stopped before a staircase leading down to a low arched door.
One of them went down to unlock it.
Emily looked into the darkness beyond.
She saw only a frightening emptiness.
Then she watched as her aunt’s body was carried down those steps.
At the bottom stood a rough-looking man holding a torch, waiting to receive it.
At that moment, all of Emily’s courage disappeared.
Fear and grief overwhelmed her.
She turned toward Annette for support.
Annette herself was pale and trembling.
Emily remained standing at the top of the stairs for so long that the torchlight began to fade among the chapel pillars.
The men had almost disappeared from sight.
But then Emily remembered her duty.
She could not abandon her aunt.
Gathering her courage, she followed them down into the darkness.
She walked after the faint light and the echo of footsteps.
Then she heard the harsh sound of another door opening somewhere below.
The noise filled her with fresh terror.
After a moment’s hesitation, she continued.
As she entered the underground vault, she saw the men placing the body near an open grave.
Another of Montoni’s men stood nearby.
A priest was also there, though Emily had not noticed him before.
Only when he began the burial prayers did she look up and see him.
He was an elderly monk.
His voice was quiet, serious, and deeply moving as he performed the final ceremony.
When the men lowered the body into the earth, the scene seemed like something that could only have been painted by a great artist.
The fierce faces and strange clothing of Montoni’s soldiers stood around the grave, their torches shining over the darkness below.
Beside them stood the old monk.
He wore a long black robe, and his hood had fallen back from his pale face.
The torchlight revealed the sorrowful lines upon his features and the few gray hairs remaining at his temples.
His expression showed both suffering and religious devotion.
Near him stood Emily, supported by Annette.
Her face was partly turned away and hidden beneath a thin veil.
Her gentle features showed such deep sadness that even tears seemed unable to express it.
She was watching the last person she loved being buried.
The broken ground around the vault showed the places where others had recently been buried.
The darkness beyond the arches made the whole scene even more frightening.
When the ceremony ended, the monk looked carefully at Emily.
There was surprise and sympathy in his eyes.
It seemed that he wanted to speak to her.
But the presence of Montoni’s men prevented him.
As they led the way back through the castle, the soldiers laughed and joked cruelly about the monk and his religious order.
The monk endured their insults silently.
He asked only to be safely returned to his monastery.
Emily listened with sadness and disgust.
When they reached the courtyard, the monk stopped.
He raised his hand and gave Emily his blessing.
Then he looked at her once more with deep pity before walking toward the gate.
One of the soldiers carried a torch ahead of him.
Annette lit another torch and led Emily back to her room.
Emily could not forget the monk’s gentle expression.
She felt grateful toward him.
It had been because of her own request that Montoni had allowed a priest to perform the burial.
Yet she knew nothing about the man who had come.
Annette explained that he belonged to a monastery several miles away in the mountains.
The head of the monastery hated and feared Montoni and his companions.
He had probably been afraid to refuse their request.
So he had sent one of his monks.
The monk, though unwilling to enter such a dangerous place, had overcome his fear because he believed it was his duty to perform the final religious service.
Since the chapel stood on sacred ground, he had agreed that Madame Montoni could be buried there.
For several days afterward, Emily remained completely isolated.
Her heart was filled with grief for her aunt and fear for herself.
At last, she decided that she must try once more to persuade Montoni to allow her to return to France.
She could not understand why he wanted to keep her there.
But she knew one thing clearly:
He refused to let her leave.
She had little hope that he would change his mind.
Still, the fear she felt whenever she thought of facing him made her delay speaking to him day after day.
Then suddenly she received a message.
Montoni wanted her to come to him at a certain hour.
At first, Emily felt a small hope.
Perhaps now that her aunt was dead, he intended to give up the authority he had taken over her.
But then another thought came to her.
The estates that had caused so much conflict now belonged to her.
Perhaps Montoni wanted to use some trick to take them.
Perhaps he intended to keep her prisoner until she surrendered them.
This thought did not destroy her courage.
Instead, it awakened a strength she had not known she possessed.
The property she would once have gladly abandoned to save her aunt’s peace, she now determined never to give to Montoni because of her own suffering.
She thought also of Valancourt.
Those estates would provide the security she hoped would allow them to live comfortably together in the future.
As she imagined this, tears filled her eyes.
She pictured the moment when she could tell him that everything was his.
She imagined his happy smile.
She imagined the affection and gratitude in his face.
At that moment, she believed she could endure any suffering Montoni might try to bring upon her.
For the first time since her aunt’s death, she remembered the papers connected with the estates.
She decided that after meeting Montoni, she would search for them.
With this determination, Emily went to meet him.
She waited for him to reveal his purpose before mentioning her wish to return to France.
Montoni was not alone.
Orsino and another officer were with him.
They stood beside a table covered with papers.
Montoni appeared to be examining them.
“I sent for you, Emily,” Montoni said, looking up, “because I need you to witness some business I am completing with my friend Orsino.”
“All you need to do is sign your name on this paper.”
He picked up a document.
He quickly read a few lines too quickly for her to understand.
Then he placed it before her and offered her a pen.
Emily took the pen.
She was about to write.
Then suddenly she understood.
The truth struck her like lightning.
She trembled.
The pen slipped from her fingers.
“No,” she said. “I cannot sign something I have not read.”
Montoni laughed.
“You are being unnecessarily cautious,” he said.
He picked up the paper again and pretended to read it.
But Emily now saw the danger clearly.
She had almost been deceived by trusting him.
“No,” she repeated firmly. “I will not sign any paper.”
For some time, Montoni continued pretending to mock her refusal.
But when he saw that she would not change her mind, his expression hardened.
“Come with me to another room,” he ordered.
Once they were alone, he spoke coldly.
“I wanted to spare both of us the trouble of a useless argument,” he said.
“In matters where my will is justice, you should recognize it as such.”
“I tried persuasion instead of force.”
He paused.
“As the husband of the late Signora Montoni, I am the heir to everything she possessed.”
“The estates she refused to give me during her lifetime can no longer be denied to me.”
“For your own sake, I should correct a foolish idea she once told you.”
“She claimed that the estates would become yours if she died without surrendering them to me.”
“But she knew she had no power to prevent me from receiving them after her death.”
“I believe you are intelligent enough not to challenge my rights.”
Montoni looked at her.
“You have an understanding superior to most women,” he continued.
“You do not possess the common weaknesses of your sex—greed and the desire for power.”
“These weaknesses often make women enjoy contradiction and resistance simply because they cannot win.”
“If I understand your character correctly, you must despise such faults.”
Emily remained silent.
She knew Montoni would never offer praise unless he believed it would help him.
Although he had not mentioned vanity among women’s weaknesses, she understood that he was trying to appeal to her pride.
“I cannot believe,” Montoni continued, “that you would oppose me when you know you cannot succeed.”
“You cannot wish to possess property that does not belong to you.”
“However, I will explain your choices.”
“If you accept that you are mistaken, you will be allowed to return safely to France.”
“But if you continue believing the false words of the late Signora, you will remain my prisoner until you understand your error.”
Emily answered calmly:
“I am not so ignorant of the law that I can be misled by anyone’s words.”
“The law gives me these estates.”
“My own hand will never surrender what belongs to me.”
Montoni’s face darkened.
“It seems I was mistaken about you,” he said.
“You speak with confidence about a subject you do not understand.”
“Your ignorance may be forgiven once.”
“Your weakness as a woman may also deserve some allowance.”
“But if you continue speaking this way, you will have everything to fear from my justice.”
Emily looked at him steadily.
“From your justice, Signor, I have nothing to fear.”
“I have only something to hope for.”
Montoni stared at her angrily.
Then he said:
“You speak like a heroine.”
“We shall see whether you can suffer like one.”
Emily said nothing.
Montoni turned and left the room.
She remembered that she had resisted him for Valancourt’s sake.
This thought gave her peace.
She went immediately to the hiding place her aunt had once shown her.
There she found the papers concerning the estates exactly where Madame Montoni had described.
Because she knew no safer place, she returned them without opening them.
She feared being discovered while reading them.
Back in her room, Emily thought about her conversation with Montoni.
She considered what suffering he might now prepare for her.
But strangely, his power no longer seemed as terrifying as before.
A new strength had awakened within her.
She felt a quiet pride.
She realized that she could resist injustice.
For the first time, she understood that she was stronger than Montoni.
She no longer merely feared his authority.
She despised it.
As she sat thinking, she suddenly heard laughter coming from the terrace.
She went to the window.
Below, she saw three ladies dressed in elegant Venetian clothing walking with several gentlemen.
Emily stared in surprise.
She almost forgot that she might be seen.
When one of the women looked upward, Emily recognized her.
It was Signora Livona—the woman whose gentle manners had impressed her when she first arrived in Venice and who had once dined at Montoni’s table.
The discovery brought Emily mixed feelings.
She was glad that someone kind and familiar was near her.
Yet something about Livona’s presence in this castle troubled her.
Why would such a woman willingly come to Udolpho?
The thought was painful.
Emily could hardly believe it.
She immediately dismissed the suspicion.
When Annette entered, Emily questioned her.
“Who are those ladies?” she asked.
Annette was eager to answer.
“They have just arrived, ma’amselle,” she said.
“They came from Venice with two gentlemen.”
“I was so happy to see some friendly faces again.”
“But why would they come here?”
“They must be crazy to enter such a place willingly.”
Emily asked:
“Perhaps they were brought here as prisoners?”
“Prisoners?” Annette cried.
“No, ma’amselle! Not at all.”
“I remember one of them in Venice.”
“She visited the Signor several times.”
“People said—but I never believed it—that the Signor liked her more than he should.”
“Then why would he bring her here to your aunt?”
“Ludovico said that too.”
“But he looked as though he knew more than he wanted to say.”
Emily asked Annette to discover everything she could about the visitors.
Then she changed the subject and spoke of France.
“Ah, ma’amselle,” Annette said sadly, almost crying.
“We shall never see France again!”
“I suppose I must continue traveling forever!”
Emily tried to comfort her.
“How could you leave France and leave Monsieur Valancourt too?” Annette sobbed.
“If Ludovico had been in France, I would never have left.”
Emily smiled faintly.
“Then why do you regret leaving France?”
“If you had stayed there, you would never have met Ludovico.”
Annette sighed.
“I only wish I could be out of this terrible castle, serving you in France.”
“I would ask for nothing more.”
“Thank you, my dear Annette,” Emily said.
“The day may come when you remember those words happily.”
Annette left.
Emily tried to escape her worries by reading poetry.
But even the beauty of literature could not comfort her.
The imagination of the poet seemed cold and distant.
She looked at the pages and wondered:
“Are these truly the words that once gave me such happiness?”
“Where did their power come from?”
“Was it in the poet’s imagination, or in my own mind?”
She paused.
“It existed in both.”
“The poet’s fire is useless unless the reader’s heart is prepared to receive it.”
She wanted to continue thinking about this because it distracted her from her suffering.
But her thoughts returned again to her own situation.
That evening, she did not wish to go outside where Montoni’s men might stare at her.
Instead, she walked in the gallery beside her room.
When she reached the far end, she heard distant laughter.
It was not gentle happiness.
It was wild, careless noise.
It seemed to come from the rooms where Montoni usually stayed.
The sound shocked her.
Her aunt had only recently died.
How could such celebration happen so soon?
As she listened, she thought she heard women’s voices among the laughter.
This confirmed her fears about Signora Livona and her companions.
They had not been brought there by force.
They had come willingly.
Emily felt surrounded by danger.
She was trapped in a remote mountain castle among men she believed were cruel and immoral.
The future seemed filled with horror.
At that moment, even the thought of Valancourt could not completely comfort her.
Her courage weakened.
She imagined the suffering Montoni might prepare.
She almost decided to surrender the estates immediately if doing so would allow her to escape.
But then she remembered Valancourt.
And once again she was caught between fear and hope.
She continued walking through the gallery until twilight filled the painted windows.
The dark wood panels around her became deeper and more frightening.
The distant corridor disappeared into shadow.
The laughter below echoed faintly.
Then silence returned.
Emily did not want to go back to her lonely room.
So she continued walking.
As she passed the door of the mysterious chamber where she had once seen something terrible hidden behind the veil, the memory suddenly returned.
This time it frightened her more than ever.
Montoni’s recent actions made that old horror seem even more threatening.
She quickly turned away.
Then she heard footsteps behind her.
She thought it might be Annette.
But when she looked back, she saw a tall figure following her through the darkness.
The terror of that chamber rushed into her mind.
Before she could move, someone grabbed her.
A deep voice whispered near her ear.
When she could finally speak, she demanded:
“Who is holding me?”
“It is I,” the man replied.
“Why are you so frightened?”
Emily tried to see his face, but the weak light from the distant window revealed nothing.
“Whoever you are,” she said trembling, “for heaven’s sake, let me go!”
“My dear Emily,” the man said, “why hide yourself in this dark place when there is entertainment below?”
“Come with me to the cedar room.”
“You will be the most beautiful person there.”
“You will not regret it.”
Emily refused to answer.
She struggled to escape.
“Promise you will come,” he said.
“Then I will release you.”
“But first, give me a reward.”
“Who are you?” Emily cried.
“How dare you treat me this way?”
“Why call me cruel?” he said.
“I only want to take you from this lonely place to a happier one.”
“Do you not know me?”
Emily slowly recognized him.
He was one of the officers who had been with Montoni earlier that morning.
“I thank you for your intention,” she said coldly.
“But I wish only that you leave me.”
“My charming Emily,” he said.
“Give up this foolish desire for solitude.”
“Come with me.”
“You alone are worthy of my admiration.”
He tried to kiss her hand.
Anger gave Emily new strength.
She pulled free and ran toward her room.
She reached the door before him and locked it.
Then she collapsed into a chair, trembling from fear and exhaustion.
She heard him outside.
He called her name.
He tried to open the door.
But she could not move.
Finally, she heard him leave.
After waiting in silence, she suddenly remembered the private staircase.
The door was only locked from the other side.
He might enter that way.
With desperate effort, she secured it as she had done before.
She now believed Montoni had begun his revenge by removing his protection.
She regretted challenging such a powerful man.
The estates seemed impossible to defend.
If she survived this night, she decided she would surrender everything the next day if Montoni would only allow her to leave Udolpho.
After making this decision, her mind became calmer.
Still, she listened constantly.
She imagined sounds coming from the staircase.
Hours passed.
Annette did not return.
Emily began to fear something had happened to her.
But she could not leave her room.
She had no choice but to wait.
Again and again, she went to the staircase door to listen.
No footsteps came.
Finally, she lay down on her dark bed.
She cried quietly.
She thought of her parents.
She thought of Valancourt.
She whispered their names.
The deep silence around her allowed her sorrow to grow.
Then suddenly she heard music.
She listened carefully.
It was the same instrument she had heard before at midnight.
She rose and moved quietly to the window.
The sound seemed to come from a lower room.
Soon a voice joined the music.
It was filled with such sadness that Emily knew the singer was expressing real sorrow, not pretending.
The voice sounded strangely familiar.
The melody entered her heart like a gentle blessing.
It comforted her in the middle of her suffering.
Then she heard the singer perform a familiar song from her own province of Gascony.
The song she had loved as a child.
The song her father had often sung.
Emily’s heart broke.
Memories returned.
She saw the peaceful landscapes of Gascony.
She remembered her parents’ kindness.
She remembered her simple and happy childhood.
Those beautiful memories were so different from the danger surrounding her now that she could hardly endure them.
Her breathing became uneven.
She could no longer listen.
She moved away from the window.
But the music continued.
Then another melody began.
Emily immediately recognized it.
It was the same song she had once heard at the fishing house in Gascony.
That mysterious music had always remained in her memory.
And now she was certain.
This was the same voice.
A sudden thought struck her.
Could it be Valancourt?
Her heart filled with hope.
She remembered that Valancourt had once told her the fishing house had been his favorite place before they met.
She had unexpectedly found him there.
Perhaps he had been the musician.
Perhaps he had written the poems she discovered there.
Who else could it have been?
Joy, fear, and tenderness filled her heart.
She leaned from the window, hoping to hear more.
But suddenly the music stopped.
For a moment she wondered whether she should call out.
Then she hesitated.
She did not want to say his name if it was truly him.
Finally, she called:
“Is that song from Gascony?”
No answer came.
The silence returned.
She called again.
Still nothing.
Only the wind moved among the castle walls.
At first she comforted herself by thinking the singer had simply moved too far away to hear her.
But then another thought came.
Perhaps he had heard her.
Perhaps he remained silent because he could not safely answer.
If Valancourt was inside the castle, he might be a prisoner.
Perhaps he had been captured with others during the wars in Italy.
Perhaps he feared revealing himself.
What she had just hoped for now frightened her.
She feared discovering that Valancourt was near her.
She feared discovering that he was suffering.
Yet beneath that fear was another feeling she could not deny.
The hope of seeing him again.
Emily remained by the window until dawn began to appear.
The eastern mountains slowly became visible.
Exhausted, she returned to her bed.
But sleep would not come.
Joy, fear, love, and uncertainty kept her awake through the entire night.
Again and again she rose.
Again and again she opened the window to listen.
Then she walked impatiently around the room.
Then she returned hopelessly to her pillow.
Never had time seemed to pass so slowly.
All she could do was wait for Annette to return and end the painful uncertainty.