The Mysteries of Udolpho - Page 509/578

Light thickens, and the crow

Makes wing to the rooky wood:

Good things of day begin to droop, and drowze;

While night's black agents to their preys do rouze.

MACBETH

Meanwhile Count De Villefort and Lady Blanche had passed a pleasant

fortnight at the chateau de St. Foix, with the Baron and Baroness,

during which they made frequent excursions among the mountains, and were

delighted with the romantic wildness of Pyrenean scenery. It was with

regret, that the Count bade adieu to his old friends, although with the

hope of being soon united with them in one family; for it was settled

that M. St. Foix, who now attended them into Gascony, should receive the

hand of the Lady Blanche, upon their arrival at Chateau-le-Blanc.

As the road, from the Baron's residence to La Vallee, was over some of

the wildest tract of the Pyrenees, and where a carriage-wheel had never

passed, the Count hired mules for himself and his family, as well as a

couple of stout guides, who were well armed, informed of all the passes

of the mountains, and who boasted, too, that they were acquainted with

every brake and dingle in the way, could tell the names of all the

highest points of this chain of Alps, knew every forest, that spread

along their narrow vallies, the shallowest part of every torrent they

must cross, and the exact distance of every goat-herd's and hunter's

cabin they should have occasion to pass,--which last article of learning

required no very capacious memory, for even such simple inhabitants were

but thinly scattered over these wilds.

The Count left the chateau de St. Foix, early in the morning, with an

intention of passing the night at a little inn upon the mountains, about

half way to La Vallee, of which his guides had informed him; and, though

this was frequented chiefly by Spanish muleteers, on their route into

France, and, of course, would afford only sorry accommodation, the Count

had no alternative, for it was the only place like an inn, on the road.

After a day of admiration and fatigue, the travellers found themselves,

about sun-set, in a woody valley, overlooked, on every side, by abrupt

heights. They had proceeded for many leagues, without seeing a human

habitation, and had only heard, now and then, at a distance, the

melancholy tinkling of a sheep-bell; but now they caught the notes of

merry music, and presently saw, within a little green recess among the

rocks, a group of mountaineers, tripping through a dance. The Count,

who could not look upon the happiness, any more than on the misery

of others, with indifference, halted to enjoy this scene of simple

pleasure. The group before him consisted of French and Spanish peasants,

the inhabitants of a neighbouring hamlet, some of whom were performing a

sprightly dance, the women with castanets in their hands, to the sounds

of a lute and a tamborine, till, from the brisk melody of France, the

music softened into a slow movement, to which two female peasants danced

a Spanish Pavan.