s
of the great gates by no means confirmed the VALIANT account just given
by Ugo of the scampering party, who, it was evident, had not only made
a stand, but had done much mischief before they took to flight; for this
tower appeared, as far as Emily could judge by the dim moon-light
that fell upon it, to be laid open, and the battlements were nearly
demolished. While she gazed, a light glimmered through one of the lower
loop-holes, and disappeared; but, in the next moment, she perceived
through the broken wall, a soldier, with a lamp, ascending the narrow
staircase, that wound within the tower, and, remembering that it was the
same she had passed up, on the night, when Barnardine had deluded her
with a promise of seeing Madame Montoni, fancy gave her somewhat of
the terror she had then suffered. She was now very near the gates, over
which the soldier having opened the door of the portal-chamber, the lamp
he carried gave her a dusky view of that terrible apartment, and she
almost sunk under the recollected horrors of the moment, when she had
drawn aside the curtain, and discovered the object it was meant to
conceal.

'Perhaps,' said she to herself, 'it is now used for a similar purpose;
perhaps, that soldier goes, at this dead hour, to watch over the corpse
of his friend!' The little remains of her fortitude now gave way to the
united force of remembered and anticipated horrors, for the melancholy
fate of Madame Montoni appeared to foretell her own. She considered,
that, though the Languedoc estates, if she relinquished them, would
satisfy Montoni's avarice, they might not appease his vengeance, which
was seldom pacified but by a terrible sacrifice; and she even thought,
that, were she to resign them, the fear of justice might urge him either
to detain her a prisoner, or to take away her life.

They were now arrived at the gates, where Bertrand, observing the light
glimmer through a small casement of the portal-chamber, called aloud;
and the soldier, looking out, demanded who was there. 'Here, I have
brought you a prisoner,' said Ugo, 'open the gate, and let us in.'

'Tell me first who it is, that demands entrance,' replied the soldier.
'What! my old comrade,' cried Ugo, 'don't you know me? not know Ugo? I
have brought home a prisoner here, bound hand and foot--a fellow, who
has been drinking Tuscany wine, while we here have been fighting.'

'You will not rest till you meet with your match,' said Bertrand
sullenly. '