no other persons. While she hesitated, they approached. The gate at the
end of the terrace, whither they were advancing, she knew, was always
locked, and she could not depart by the opposite extremity, without
meeting them; but, before she passed them, she hastily drew a thin
veil over her face, which did, indeed, but ill conceal her beauty. They
looked earnestly at her, and spoke to each other in bad Italian,
of which she caught only a few words; but the fierceness of their
countenances, now that she was near enough to discriminate them, struck
her yet more than the wild singularity of their air and dress had
formerly done. It was the countenance and figure of him, who walked
between the other two, that chiefly seized her attention, which
expressed a sullen haughtiness and a kind of dark watchful villany, that
gave a thrill of horror to her heart. All this was so legibly written on
his features, as to be seen by a single glance, for she passed the group
swiftly, and her timid eyes scarcely rested on them a moment. Having
reached the terrace, she stopped, and perceived the strangers standing
in the shadow of one of the turrets, gazing after her, and seemingly, by
their action, in earnest conversation. She immediately left the rampart,
and retired to her apartment.

In the evening, Montoni sat late, carousing with his guests in the cedar
chamber. His recent triumph over Count Morano, or, perhaps, some other
circumstance, contributed to elevate his spirits to an unusual height.
He filled the goblet often, and gave a loose to merriment and talk. The
gaiety of Cavigni, on the contrary, was somewhat clouded by anxiety. He
kept a watchful eye upon Verezzi, whom, with the utmost difficulty,
he had hitherto restrained from exasperating Montoni further against
Morano, by a mention of his late taunting words.

One of the company exultingly recurred to the event of the preceding
evening. Verezzi's eyes sparkled. The mention of Morano led to that of
Emily, of whom they were all profuse in the praise, except Montoni, who
sat silent, and then interrupted the subject.

When the servants had withdrawn, Montoni and his friends entered into
close conversation, which was sometimes checked by the irascible temper
of Verezzi, but in which Montoni displayed his conscious superiority,
by that decisive look and manner, which always accompanied the vigour
of his thought, and to which most of his companions submitted, as to
a power, that they