The next morning, Annette rushed into Emily’s room almost out of breath.
“Oh, ma’amselle!” she cried, struggling to speak quickly. “What news I have to tell you! I have discovered who the prisoner was—but he was not a prisoner after all! The man who was locked away in that chamber I told you about—I almost think he must have been a ghost!”
“Who was the prisoner?” Emily asked.
Her thoughts immediately returned to the strange events of the previous night.
“You misunderstand me, ma’am,” Annette said. “He was not a prisoner at all.”
“Then who is he?”
“Holy Saints! How shocked I was!” Annette exclaimed. “I met him just now on the rampart below. I never experienced such a surprise in my life! Ah, ma’amselle, this castle is the strangest place in the world. If I lived here for a hundred years, I would still never stop being amazed.”
“Annette, your endless teasing is unbearable,” Emily said impatiently. “Please stop delaying and tell me.”
“No, ma’amselle, you must guess first. It is someone you know very well.”
“I cannot guess,” Emily replied.
“Then I will give you a clue,” Annette said. “He is a tall gentleman with a long face. He walks proudly, always so serious. He used to wear a large feather in his hat. When people spoke to him, he often looked down at the ground, and when he looked at others, he did so from beneath his dark eyebrows, as if he was always angry. You have seen him many times in Venice, ma’am. He was also very close to the Signor.”
Emily’s expression changed.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“Now that I think about it,” Annette continued, “I wonder what he could possibly have feared in this lonely old castle that made him lock himself away. But he is outside now, because I met him on the rampart just moments ago. I was frightened when I saw him because I always felt uneasy around him. Still, I did not want him to notice my fear, so I walked up to him, curtsied, and said, ‘Welcome to the castle, Signor Orsino.’”
“Oh, it was Signor Orsino!” Emily exclaimed.
“Yes, ma’amselle. Signor Orsino himself—the man who caused that Venetian gentleman to be killed, and who has been hiding from place to place ever since, or so I have heard.”
“Good heavens!” Emily cried, recovering from the shock. “Has he come to Udolpho? He has good reason to hide himself.”
“Yes, ma’amselle, but if hiding was all he wanted, this lonely castle would have been enough. Why would anyone ever think of searching for him here? I would sooner think of looking for someone in the other world.”
“There is some truth in that,” Emily said.
She now thought it might have been Orsino’s music she had heard the previous night, but she quickly rejected the idea. She knew he had neither the skill nor the taste for music.
Still, unwilling to reveal her own mysterious experience and add another story to Annette’s endless collection of strange events, she asked:
“Does anyone in this castle play a musical instrument?”
“Oh yes, ma’amselle,” Annette replied. “Benedetto plays the great drum wonderfully. Then there is Launcelot, the trumpeter. Even Ludovico himself can play the trumpet, although he is sick now. I remember once—”
Emily interrupted her.
“Have you heard any other music since you came to the castle? Any music last night?”
“Why, did you hear some last night, ma’amselle?”
Emily avoided answering and repeated her question.
“No, ma’am,” Annette said. “I have never heard any music here except drums and trumpets. As for last night, I only dreamed that I saw my late lady’s ghost.”
“Your late lady’s ghost?” Emily repeated in a trembling voice. “You know something more? Tell me everything, Annette. I beg you. Tell me the worst at once.”
“Nay, ma’amselle, you already know the worst.”
“I know nothing,” Emily replied.
“Yes, you do, ma’amselle. You know that nobody knows what happened to her. And because nobody knows anything, it is clear that she has disappeared just like the first lady of the castle. No one ever discovered what became of her either.”
Emily rested her head on her hand and remained silent for a long time.
Then she told Annette that she wished to be alone, and the girl left the room.
Annette’s words had awakened Emily’s terrible suspicion about Madame Montoni’s fate. She resolved to make another attempt to learn the truth by speaking with Montoni again.
Several hours later, Annette returned.
“Ma’amselle,” she said, “the porter of the castle wishes very much to speak with you. He says he has something important to tell you.”
But Emily’s mind had recently been filled with fear, and every new event immediately made her suspect danger. She had often noticed the unpleasant appearance and manner of the porter, and now she wondered whether this request was only a trick to lure her into danger.
After thinking carefully, she felt ashamed of her fear.
“I will speak with him, Annette,” she said. “Ask him to come to the corridor immediately.”
Annette left but soon returned.
“Barnardine cannot come to the corridor, ma’amselle,” she said. “He is too far from his post, and he cannot leave the gate even for a moment now. But he says that if you will come to him at the entrance gate by a hidden passage—without crossing the courtyards—he has something to tell you that will surprise you. You must not cross the courts because Signor Montoni might see you.”
Emily disliked both the secret paths and the secrecy of the request.
“No,” she said firmly. “Tell him that if he has anything important to say, I will hear him in the corridor whenever he can come there.”
Annette went to deliver the message.
A long time passed before she returned.
“It will not work, ma’amselle,” she said. “Barnardine has been thinking all this time about what can be done. Leaving his post now might cost him his position. But if you will come to the east rampart at dusk, he may be able to slip away and tell you what he wants.”
Emily was surprised and alarmed by the extreme secrecy.
Still, she thought he might be trying to warn her of some serious danger, so she agreed.
“Soon after sunset, I will be at the end of the east rampart,” she said.
Then she paused.
“But the guards will be there. How can Barnardine pass without being seen?”
“That is exactly what I asked him,” Annette replied. “He said he has the key to the gate at the end of the rampart, near the courts, and can let himself through. There are no sentinels at that end because the high walls and the east tower already protect the place. The guards at the other end are too far away to notice him if it is dark enough.”
“Well,” Emily said, “I must hear what he has to tell me. Go with me this evening.”
“He said it must be quite dark, ma’amselle, because of the guards.”
“Then I shall be there one hour after sunset,” Emily replied. “Tell Barnardine to be punctual. I must also avoid being seen by Signor Montoni. Where is he now? I wish to speak with him.”
“He is in the cedar room with the other gentlemen,” Annette answered. “They are planning some kind of entertainment today, perhaps to make up for what happened at the last gathering. Everyone is busy in the kitchen.”
“Does Montoni expect new guests?”
“I do not think so,” Annette replied. “Poor Ludovico would enjoy the celebration if he were well. But he may recover. Count Morano was wounded just as badly, and he became well again. He has already returned to Venice.”
“Is that true?” Emily asked quickly. “When did you hear this?”
“I heard it last night, ma’amselle, but I forgot to tell you.”
Emily asked several more questions. Then she told Annette to watch carefully and inform her whenever Montoni was alone.
But throughout the entire day, Montoni was too occupied for Emily to speak with him.
Annette spent her time watching his movements and caring for Ludovico with Caterina’s help. Emily was left alone much of the time.
Her thoughts constantly returned to Barnardine’s mysterious message.
Sometimes she imagined that he would reveal the truth about Madame Montoni. At other times, she feared that he meant to warn her of some danger threatening herself.
The secretive way he behaved made her believe the second possibility was more likely.
As the appointed hour approached, Emily became increasingly impatient.
At last, the sun set. She heard the guards taking their positions and waited for Annette to come.
Soon Annette arrived, and they went down together.
When Emily expressed fear of meeting Montoni or one of his guests, Annette reassured her.
“Oh, there is no danger, ma’amselle. They are still busy feasting, and Barnardine knows this.”
They reached the first terrace, where the guards stopped them and asked who was passing.
Emily answered, and they were allowed to continue.
At the entrance to the east rampart, another guard questioned them, but again they were permitted to pass.
Emily disliked placing herself under the control of these men at such a late hour. She hurried forward, eager to leave the place.
But Barnardine had not arrived.
She leaned against the wall and waited.
The darkness of evening covered the landscape. The valley, mountains, and forests blended together beneath the fading light. The tops of the trees moved gently in the evening breeze, creating the only sound in the silence, except for faint voices rising from inside the castle.
“What voices are those?” Emily whispered.
“It is only Signor Montoni and his guests drinking and celebrating,” Annette replied.
Emily looked toward the castle and thought:
“How can this man’s heart be so joyful when he has caused another person such misery? If my aunt is still alive and able to suffer, how can he laugh like this? Whatever happens to me, may I never become so hard-hearted that I forget the pain of others.”
She looked up with horror at the east tower beside her.
A faint light shone through the bars of the lower room, but the upper chamber remained completely dark.
Soon she saw someone carrying a lamp across the lower room.
But this gave her no hope for Madame Montoni. She had already searched that chamber and found nothing except soldiers’ equipment.
Still, she decided that once Barnardine left, she would try the outer door of the tower and see whether she could enter.
Time passed.
Barnardine still did not appear.
Emily began to wonder whether she should continue waiting.
She thought of sending Annette to hurry him, but she feared being left alone in the darkness. The last red trace of daylight was disappearing from the western sky.
Yet the importance of Barnardine’s message kept her there.
While she and Annette were wondering what had delayed him, they heard a key turning in the lock of the nearby gate.
A man appeared.
It was Barnardine.
Emily quickly approached him.
“What is it you have to tell me?” she asked. “Please tell me quickly. This evening air has become very cold.”
“You must send away your maid, lady,” Barnardine said in a deep voice that frightened her. “What I have to tell you is only for you.”
After some hesitation, Emily asked Annette to move a short distance away.
“Now, my friend, what do you wish to say?”
Barnardine remained silent for a moment.
Then he spoke.
“What I tell you could cost me my position if it reached the Signor’s ears. You must promise that nothing will ever make you reveal a single word of this matter. I was trusted with this secret, and if it became known that I betrayed that trust, my life itself might pay the price. But I felt concern for you, lady, and I decided you should know.”
Emily thanked him and promised to keep silent.
“Annette told us in the hall how unhappy you were about Signora Montoni and how desperately you wanted to know what happened to her.”
“That is true,” Emily said eagerly. “You can tell me? I beg you, tell me everything. Do not delay.”
She placed her trembling hand against the wall.
“I can tell you,” Barnardine said.
Then he stopped.
Emily could not force herself to ask again.
“I can tell you,” he repeated, “but—”
“But what?” Emily cried.
“Here I am, ma’amselle,” Annette called, having heard Emily’s anxious voice and running toward them.
“Leave us!” Barnardine said sharply. “You are not needed.”
Emily said nothing, and Annette obeyed.
“I can tell you,” Barnardine continued, “but I do not know how. You were already suffering before.”
“I am prepared for the worst,” Emily answered solemnly. “Any truth would be easier to bear than this terrible uncertainty.”
“Then listen,” he said. “You know, I suppose, that the Signor and his lady often disagreed. It is not my place to ask why, but you know it was so.”
“Yes,” Emily said. “Continue.”
“Recently, the Signor became extremely angry with her. I saw and heard more than people thought, but it was not my business, so I remained silent. A few days ago, the Signor sent for me.”
Barnardine lowered his voice.
“He said, ‘Barnardine, you are an honest man. I believe I can trust you.’ I assured him that he could. Then he told me he had a matter he wanted me to help with. He explained what I was to do—but I cannot tell you that part. It concerned only the Signora.”
Emily turned pale.
“Oh heavens! What have you done?”
Barnardine was silent.
“What terrible force could have persuaded him—or you—to do such a thing?” Emily cried.
“It was a terrible force,” Barnardine replied darkly.
They both remained silent.
Emily could not ask more, and Barnardine seemed unable to continue.
Finally he said:
“There is no use thinking about the past. The Signor was cruel, but he demanded obedience. What difference would my refusal have made? He would only have found someone else without hesitation.”
“You murdered her, then?” Emily whispered.
“I am speaking to a murderer!”
Barnardine stood silent.
Emily turned away and tried to leave.
“Stay, lady!” he said. “You may continue to think that if you believe me capable of such a deed.”
“If you are innocent, tell me quickly,” Emily said faintly. “I do not think I can bear this much longer.”
“I will tell you no more,” Barnardine replied.
He turned and walked away.
Emily barely had enough strength to call him back.
Then she called Annette, leaned on her arm, and slowly began walking along the rampart.
Soon they heard footsteps behind them.
It was Barnardine.
“Send away the girl,” he said. “Then I will tell you more.”
“She may stay,” Emily replied. “She can hear whatever you have to say.”
“Can she?” Barnardine said. “Then you shall hear nothing more.”
He began to walk away.
Emily’s anxiety overcame her anger and fear.
“Stay,” she said.
Then she asked Annette to step aside.
“The Signora is alive,” Barnardine finally said. “She lives because of me. But she is still my prisoner. His Excellency has locked her in the chamber above the great gate of the courtyard, and I am responsible for guarding her.”
Emily felt an overwhelming relief.
“I was going to tell you that you might see her,” Barnardine continued, “but now—”
Emily immediately forgave him.
She begged him to allow her to visit her aunt.
He agreed more easily than she expected.
“If you come tomorrow night, after the Signor has gone to sleep, to the small gate of the castle, you may perhaps see Madame Montoni.”
Emily thanked him again and again.
She asked him to show pity toward her aunt and promised that she would reward him herself.
She assured him she would keep the appointment.
Then she wished him good night and returned unnoticed to her room.
For a long time, Emily could not think clearly. The sudden joy of discovering that her aunt was alive overwhelmed every other thought.
But when her emotions settled, she remembered the danger that still remained.
Madame Montoni was still a prisoner of a man who might harm her because of anger or greed.
And the person guarding her was Barnardine—a man whose cruel appearance seemed to reveal a violent nature.
When Emily remembered his dark expression and strange manner, she feared there might be no crime he could not be persuaded to commit.
She began to doubt whether she should trust him at all.
For a moment, she even wondered whether Madame Montoni might already be dead and whether Barnardine planned to lure her into a secret place where Montoni could destroy her as well and claim the disputed property in Languedoc.
The thought was so terrible that she eventually rejected it as impossible.
Yet her doubts about Barnardine remained.
Later that evening, her thoughts returned to the mysterious music she had heard the previous night.
Now she waited anxiously to hear it again.
For many hours, she could still hear Montoni and his companions celebrating—their loud arguments, careless laughter, and songs echoing through the halls.
At last, the great gates of the castle closed for the night.
The noise immediately disappeared.
Only quiet footsteps moving through the corridors disturbed the silence.
Emily believed it was now close to the same hour when she had heard the strange music before.
She dismissed Annette and carefully opened her window, waiting.
The bright star she had noticed during the previous night’s music had not yet appeared.
Still, with a feeling she knew was unreasonable, she kept watching the place in the sky where it would rise, almost expecting that when it appeared, the music would return.
At last, the star rose above the eastern towers of the castle.
Emily’s heart trembled.
She barely had the courage to remain at the window, afraid that the returning music might confirm her fears and destroy the little strength she possessed.
Soon afterward, the clock struck one.
Knowing this was nearly the time when the music had begun before, she sat beside the window and tried to calm herself.
But expectation itself disturbed her.
Everything remained silent.
She heard only the lonely footsteps of a guard and the gentle whisper of the forest below.
Again she leaned toward the window and looked at the star now shining high above the towers.
She waited.
No music came.
“Those sounds could not have been made by ordinary people,” Emily whispered.
“No person in this castle could create such beautiful music. What human heart could express such perfect emotion?”
She remembered stories she had heard of heavenly sounds appearing on earth.
Father Pierre and Father Antoine had said that they once heard such music during the quiet night when they alone were awake, praying to heaven.
And her own beloved father had once told her that shortly after her mother’s death, while he was lying awake in grief, he heard music of extraordinary sweetness calling him from his bed.
When he opened the window, he heard magnificent sounds passing through the midnight air.
He had said that the music comforted him, gave him faith, and allowed him to surrender her soul to God.
Emily stopped and cried at the memory.
“Perhaps,” she whispered, “perhaps the music I heard was sent to comfort and encourage me. I will never forget those sounds I heard in Languedoc. Perhaps my father watches over me even now.”
She wept again.
The night passed in silence and deep reflection.
But the music never returned.
At last, when the first light of dawn began touching the mountain peaks and pushing away the darkness, Emily accepted that the mysterious sounds would not come again.
Reluctantly, she closed the window and went to rest.