every gentle means to induce
her to forbear that asperity of reply, which so greatly irritated
Montoni. The pride of her aunt did sometimes soften to the soothing
voice of Emily, and there even were moments, when she regarded her
affectionate attentions with goodwill.
The scenes of terrible contention, to which Emily was frequently
compelled to be witness, exhausted her spirits more than any
circumstances, that had occurred since her departure from Tholouse. The
gentleness and goodness of her parents, together with the scenes of her
early happiness, often stole on her mind, like the visions of a higher
world; while the characters and circumstances, now passing beneath her
eye, excited both terror and surprise. She could scarcely have
imagined, that passions so fierce and so various, as those which Montoni
exhibited, could have been concentrated in one individual; yet what
more surprised her, was, that, on great occasions, he could bend these
passions, wild as they were, to the cause of his interest, and generally
could disguise in his countenance their operation on his mind; but she
had seen him too often, when he had thought it unnecessary to conceal
his nature, to be deceived on such occasions.
Her present life appeared like the dream of a distempered imagination,
or like one of those frightful fictions, in which the wild genius of
the poets sometimes delighted. Reflection brought only regret, and
anticipation terror. How often did she wish to 'steal the lark's wing,
and mount the swiftest gale,' that Languedoc and repose might once more
be hers!
Of Count Morano's health she made frequent enquiry; but Annette heard
only vague reports of his danger, and that his surgeon had said he would
never leave the cottage alive; while Emily could not but be shocked to
think, that she, however innocently, might be the means of his death;
and Annette, who did not fail to observe her emotion, interpreted it in
her own way.
But a circumstance soon occurred, which entirely withdrew Annette's
attention from this subject, and awakened the surprise and curiosity so
natural to her. Coming one day to Emily's apartment, with a countenance
full of importance, 'What can all this mean, ma'amselle?' said she.
'Would I was once safe in Languedoc again, they should never catch me
going on my travels any more! I must think it a fine thing, truly, to
come abroad, and see foreign parts! I little thought I was coming to be
catched up in a o
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