At length, he informed her, that he had again visited the Chevalier, who
had directed him to confide in the guard of the prison, from whom he
had already received some instances of kindness, and who had promised to
permit his going into the castle for half an hour, on the ensuing night,
when Montoni and his companions should be engaged at their carousals.
'This was kind, to be sure,' added Ludovico: 'but Sebastian knows he
runs no risque in letting the Chevalier out, for, if he can get beyond
the bars and iron doors of the castle, he must be cunning indeed. But
the Chevalier desired me, Signora, to go to you immediately, and to
beg you would allow him to visit you, this night, if it was only for a
moment, for that he could no longer live under the same roof, without
seeing you; the hour, he said, he could not mention, for it must depend
on circumstances (just as you said, Signora); and the place he desired
you would appoint, as knowing which was best for your own safety.'
Emily was now so much agitated by the near prospect of meeting
Valancourt, that it was some time, before she could give any answer to
Ludovico, or consider of the place of meeting; when she did, she saw
none, that promised so much security, as the corridor, near her own
apartment, which she was checked from leaving, by the apprehension of
meeting any of Montoni's guests, on their way to their rooms; and she
dismissed the scruples, which delicacy opposed, now that a serious
danger was to be avoided by encountering them. It was settled,
therefore, that the Chevalier should meet her in the corridor, at that
hour of the night, which Ludovico, who was to be upon the watch, should
judge safest: and Emily, as may be imagined, passed this interval in
a tumult of hope and joy, anxiety and impatience. Never, since her
residence in the castle, had she watched, with so much pleasure, the
sun set behind the mountains, and twilight shade, and darkness veil the
scene, as on this evening.
She counted the notes of the great clock, and
listened to the steps of the sentinels, as they changed the watch,
only to rejoice, that another hour was gone. 'O, Valancourt!' said she,
'after all I have suffered; after our long, long separation, when I
thought I should never--never see you more--we are still to meet again!
O! I have endured grief, and anxiety, and terror, and let me, then, not
sink beneath this joy!' These were moments, when it was impossible
for her to feel emotions of regret, or melancholy, for any ordinary
interests;--even the reflection, that she had resigned the estates,
which would have been a provision for herself and Valancourt for life,
threw only a light and transient shade upon her spirits. The idea of
Valancourt, and that she should see him so soon, alone occupied her
heart.