he subject of her sorrow. 'This saloon, ma'amselle, was in
my lady's time the finest apartment in the chateau, and it was fitted
up according to her own taste. All this grand furniture, but you can
now hardly see what it is for the dust, and our light is none of the
best--ah! how I have seen this room lighted up in my lady's time!--all
this grand furniture came from Paris, and was made after the fashion of
some in the Louvre there, except those large glasses, and they came from
some outlandish place, and that rich tapestry. How the colours are faded
already!--since I saw it last!'

'I understood, that was twenty years ago,' observed Emily.

'Thereabout, madam,' said Dorothee, 'and well remembered, but all the
time between then and now seems as nothing. That tapestry used to be
greatly admired at, it tells the stories out of some famous book, or
other, but I have forgot the name.'

Emily now rose to examine the figures it exhibited, and discovered, by
verses in the Provencal tongue, wrought underneath each scene, that it
exhibited stories from some of the most celebrated ancient romances.

Dorothee's spirits being now more composed, she rose, and unlocked the
door that led into the late Marchioness's apartment, and Emily passed
into a lofty chamber, hung round with dark arras, and so spacious, that
the lamp she held up did not shew its extent; while Dorothee, when she
entered, had dropped into a chair, where, sighing deeply, she scarcely
trusted herself with the view of a scene so affecting to her. It was
some time before Emily perceived, through the dusk, the bed on which the
Marchioness was said to have died; when, advancing to the upper end of
the room, she discovered the high canopied tester of dark green damask,
with the curtains descending to the floor in the fashion of a tent,
half drawn, and remaining apparently, as they had been left twenty years
before; and over the whole bedding was thrown a counterpane, or pall, of
black velvet, that hung down to the floor. Emily shuddered, as she held
the lamp over it, and looked within the dark curtains, where she almost
expected to have seen a human face, and, suddenly remembering the
horror she had suffered upon discovering the dying Madame Montoni in the
turret-chamber of Udolpho, her spirits fainted, and she was turning from
the bed, when Dorothee, who had now reached it, exclaimed, 'Holy Virgin!
methinks I see my lady stretched upon that pall--as when last I saw
her