among Montoni's people, and I will own I was weak enough to partake of
it.'

Monsieur Du Pont and Emily thus continued to converse of Montoni, and
then of France, and of the plan of their voyage; when Emily told him,
that it was her intention to retire to a convent in Languedoc, where she
had been formerly treated with much kindness, and from thence to write
to her relation Monsieur Quesnel, and inform him of her conduct. There,
she designed to wait, till La Vallee should again be her own, whither
she hoped her income would some time permit her to return; for Du
Pont now taught her to expect, that the estate, of which Montoni had
attempted to defraud her, was not irrecoverably lost, and he again
congratulated her on her escape from Montoni, who, he had not a doubt,
meant to have detained her for life. The possibility of recovering her
aunt's estates for Valancourt and herself lighted up a joy in Emily's
heart, such as she had not known for many months; but she endeavoured to
conceal this from Monsieur Du Pont, lest it should lead him to a painful
remembrance of his rival.

They continued to converse, till the sun was declining in the west, when
Du Pont awoke Ludovico, and they set forward on their journey. Gradually
descending the lower slopes of the valley, they reached the Arno, and
wound along its pastoral margin, for many miles, delighted with the
scenery around them, and with the remembrances, which its classic waves
revived. At a distance, they heard the gay song of the peasants among
the vineyards, and observed the setting sun tint the waves with yellow
lustre, and twilight draw a dusky purple over the mountains, which, at
length, deepened into night. Then the LUCCIOLA, the fire-fly of Tuscany,
was seen to flash its sudden sparks among the foliage, while the
cicala, with its shrill note, became more clamorous than even during the
noon-day heat, loving best the hour when the English beetle, with less
offensive sound,

winds
His small but sullen horn,
As oft he rises 'midst the twilight path,
Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum.*

(* Collins. [A. R.])

The travellers crossed the Arno by moon-light, at a ferry, and, learning
that Pisa was distant only a few miles down the river, they wished to
have proceeded thither in a boat, but, as none could be procured, they
set out on their wearied horses for that city. As they approached it,
the vale expanded into a plain, variegated with vineyards, c