She found her aunt in her dressing-room, preparing for dinner. Emily's
pale and affrighted countenance alarmed even Madame Montoni; but she had
sufficient strength of mind to be silent on the subject, that still made
her shudder, and which was ready to burst from her lips. In her aunt's
apartment she remained, till they both descended to dinner. There she
met the gentlemen lately arrived, who had a kind of busy seriousness in
their looks, which was somewhat unusual with them, while their thoughts
seemed too much occupied by some deep interest, to suffer them to bestow
much attention either on Emily, or Madame Montoni. They spoke little,
and Montoni less. Emily, as she now looked on him, shuddered. The horror
of the chamber rushed on her mind. Several times the colour faded from
her cheeks, and she feared, that illness would betray her emotions,
and compel her to leave the room; but the strength of her resolution
remedied the weakness of her frame; she obliged herself to converse, and
even tried to look cheerful.
Montoni evidently laboured under some vexation, such as would probably
have agitated a weaker mind, or a more susceptible heart, but which
appeared, from the sternness of his countenance, only to bend up his
faculties to energy and fortitude. It was a comfortless and silent meal.
The gloom of the castle seemed to
have spread its contagion even over the gay countenance of Cavigni, and
with this gloom was mingled a fierceness, such as she had seldom seen
him indicate. Count Morano was not named, and what conversation there
was, turned chiefly upon the wars, which at that time agitated the
Italian states, the strength of the Venetian armies, and the characters
of their generals. After dinner, when the servants had withdrawn, Emily learned, that the
cavalier, who had drawn upon himself the vengeance of Orsino, had since
died of his wounds, and that strict search was still making for his
murderer. The intelligence seemed to disturb Montoni, who mused, and
then enquired, where Orsino had concealed himself. His guests, who all,
except Cavigni, were ignorant, that Montoni had himself assisted him
to escape from Venice, replied, that he had fled in the night with such
precipitation and secrecy, that his most intimate companions knew not
whither. Montoni blamed himself for having asked the question, for a
second thought convinced him, that a man of Orsino's suspicious temper
was not likely to trust any of the persons present with the knowledge
of his asylum. He considered himself, however, as entitled to his utmost
confidence, and did not doubt, that he should soon hear of him.