"I am not able to go in search of another, (replied Madeline) the shocks I received and the fatigue I have gone through this night have quite overpowered me."
"Lord (cried Lubin, starting) perhaps the Marquis of Montmorenci may be come to his castle, only you were afraid Mademoiselle of that part of the forest, we might have past it, and been able perhaps to have discovered."
"And even if we had (said Madeline) what benefit should we have derived from that circumstance?"
"Why we should certainly have obtained a lodging in his castle."
"I should be afraid to disturb the family at this late hour," cried Madeline hesitatingly.
"Lord I am sure (cried Lubin) it is better to disturb them than run the risque of being murdered here."
"But suppose they are not there?" said Madeline.
"Why then, Mademoiselle, (cried Lubin hastily) we will try to find some niche about the wall where we can shelter ourselves for the night, since you are so scrupulous about the door of this house."
"But, (said Madeline) though the family may not be come to the castle, there may be inhabitants in it."
"Oh! I understand you, Mademoiselle, (interrupted Lubin) you are afraid that some of the banditti I was telling you of may have taken up their quarters there; but of that I am sure there's no danger, the castle was too well secured for them to gain admittance; so that except we find the right inhabitants in it, I am confident we shall not find any: come, Mademoiselle, let's lose no time, will you accept my arm, or would you choose to mount again?"
"No, (replied she) I would rather walk."
"Go before me then, (said he) and I will lead the horses."
Madeline obeyed him though with difficulty, for she felt so agitated that she could scarcely drag her weary limbs along. As she approached the castle her eyes were anxiously fastened on it, in hopes of discovering a light or some other sign of inhabitation, but all was dark and dreary around.
"I am afraid, Lubin, (said she, stopping and mournfully shaking her head) I am afraid the family have not yet returned."
"I do not quite despair about that, Mademoiselle, (replied Lubin); at so very late an hour as this you know we could not expect to have found any of them up."
"How shall we make ourselves heard by them then?" asked Madeline.
"Why I suppose we shall find a great bell at the gate, which I shall ring."
"But if the Marquis's family (cried Madeline, shuddering at the very idea) should not be in the castle, may not the ringing of that bell expose us to destruction? Do you forget the banditti you told me infested this forest?"
"Lord (said Lubin) that's true, the bell would certainly alarm them—well Mademoiselle, I'll tell you what we can do: I recollect taking notice last spring as I passed this castle, of the very bad repair in which the court wall was, so we will search about it for some gap to clamber through."
He accordingly fastened the horses to the gate, and had not long searched about 'ere he found a place which Madeline easily got over.
Immediately opposite this spot was an arched gateway, which led through a wing of the building to another court; to this Lubin conducted Madeline, who trembled so she could scarcely stand, but the moment she entered it she shrunk back, affrighted at the desolation she beheld, and fancied in the hoarse murmurs of the wind that sighed thro' the shattered buildings surrounding it, she heard portentous sounds.
On each side of the gateway were several doors; Lubin perceived one of them open, and through this he led his trembling companion: they then found themselves in a spacious stone hall, light with one gothic window, through which the twilight now cast a dim religious light, and opposite to which was a folding door, of heavy workmanship: there was a damp smell in this hall, which proclaimed it long deserted, and struck cold to the very heart of Madeline.
"Shall I go now, Mademoiselle, (asked Lubin) and try whether there is any one within the castle?"
"Not yet, (replied Madeline, sitting down upon a little bench which ran round the hall) "not yet," said she in a faint voice, and involuntarily leaning her head against his arm for support.
Lubin was terrified, he almost believed her dying.
"Dear, dear, Mademoiselle, (said he) cheer up, I shall not be long absent; and whether there is or is not any one in the castle, we are secure for the night."
Madeline grew a little better, and no longer opposed his going. It was some time 'ere he could open the folding door; when he did it disclosed to his view a long dark passage, down which the anxious eyes of Madeline pursued him till slowly closing, the door hid him from her view.
Scarcely was she left to herself 'ere she regretted not having accompanied him, for as her eye timidly glanced around, she shuddered at the profound gloom in which she was involved; never had she felt more forlorn, scarcely ever more disconsolate: the manner in which her first journey had been taken recurred to her recollection, and the contrast she drew between her situation now and then, heightened all the horrors of the present: so true is it, that the remembrance of past joys aggravates our present miseries.
From her melancholy retrospection she was roused by the opening of the door, tho' expecting Lubin, her spirits were so weak she involuntarily started from her seat.
"Don't be frightened Mademoiselle, (cried Lubin, in a whispering voice, as he softly closed the door after him) 'tis only I."
"Well, Lubin, (said Madeline, almost gasping for breath through agitation) what intelligence—did you see any one?"
"I can't tell you now, Mademoiselle, (cried he) we must be gone."
"Oh, heavens! (said Madeline) is there any danger."
"This is no time to ask questions, (replied Lubin) no place I can assure you to answer them; I again repeat it—we must be gone!"
To move was scarcely in the power of Madeline, so much was she overpowered by the terror Lubin's words had given her, she gave him her hand however, and he led her from the hall: but scarcely had they proceeded a few yards down the gateway, 'ere he started, suddenly stopped, and in a low voice exclaimed,
"There are some of them!"
"Gracious heaven! (cried Madeline) what do you mean?"
To repeat her question was unnecessary, for at that instant she beheld two men crossing the court. Lubin now drew, or rather carried her back to the hall, for her tremor had increased to such a degree that she could not stand, and he was compelled to support her upon the seat on which she sunk.
In a voice of agony she now conjured him to tell her what they had to fear, declaring that no certainty almost of danger could be more dreadful than the suspense she at present endured.
"Since you must know, Mademoiselle, (said he) we have nothing more to fear than being robbed and murdered!"
"Good heaven! (exclaimed Madeline) do you think the men we just beheld are murderers?"
"Yes," replied Lubin, ruefully shaking his head.
"What reason have you for so horrible a suspicion?" asked Madeline.
"Why you must know, Mademoiselle, I had not proceeded far down the dark passage 'ere I heard a noise, which sounded to me like the clattering of arms. A sudden panic instantly seized me, and I had a great mind to return directly and lead you from the castle: this, however, was but the thought of a minute, for when I reflected there was no probability of getting a lodging elsewhere, and how dismal a thing it would be to pass the remainder of the night in the open air, I resolved on going forward and trying to discover whether there were friends within.
"I accordingly proceeded till I came to the foot of a narrow flight of stairs, down which a faint light glimmered; up these I softly ascended to a half open door, from which the light issued, and peeping in I beheld a large ill-furnished chamber, with half a dozen men in it, as ill looking dogs as ever I beheld, before a huge fire, cleaning some fire arms: but that was not all—in one corner of the chamber lay the body of a man dreadfully mangled. The dogs laughed as they pursued their work, and talked of the exploits they had achieved and still hoped to achieve with th
eir arms; in short, it was soon evident to me, that the banditti I had mentioned to you had thought proper to make free with the castle in the Marquis's absence, so I made the best of my way back to you, in order to take you directly from it; an intention which the rogues have disappointed."
"The horses will betray us," said Madeline in an agony.
"Aye, so I fear, (cried Lubin) it was devilish unlucky my fastening them to the gate."
"Hark! (exclaimed Madeline) do you not hear a noise?"
Both were instantly silent, and then clearly heard a violent shouting in the outer court. The dreadful fears it excited were soon however a little appeased by its growing fainter, as if the persons it came from had moved to a greater distance.
"I think, (cried Lubin, after the silence of a few minutes, and gasping for the breath he had before suppressed) I think I will now have another peep to try whether or not the coast is clear."
Madeline rising declared she would accompany him, that if there was an opportunity for escaping, not a moment might be lost.
Again therefore they quitted the hall, but had scarcely done so 'ere they once more retreated to it with precipitation, on hearing the shouting in the court renewed with double violence.
"The horses have, I am sure, as you feared, betrayed us; (cried Lubin) and I make no doubt search is now making for us."
"Oh! Lubin, (said Madeline) is there no way of escaping the impending danger?"
"None that I know of, (answered he) but don't be so frightened Mademoiselle, I promise you (he continued, grasping his rusty sword) those that attempt to harm you shall pay dearly for doing so: the villains perhaps may not be such villains as you imagine, they may have some little mercy in their hearts."
As he spoke the gateway resounded with the shouting, and a light glimmered beneath the door opening from it.
Madeline turned her eyes with dreadful expectation towards it; the next minute it was flung open, and several men entered: Her first impulse was to fall at their feet, and supplicate their mercy, but as she attempted to rise her senses totally receded, and she fell fainting upon the out stretched arm of Lubin.
When her reason returned she found herself supported between two women, and surrounded by men, amongst whom Lubin stood talking with earnestness. She looked round her wildly, too much disordered to understand the words of Lubin, or observe whether the appearance of the men was calculated to remove or confirm her fears.
Her clear perception was however soon restored by Lubin, who almost as soon as he saw her senses restored, exclaimed
"Come, cheer up, Mademoiselle, after all our fright we are in no danger; the noble owner of the castle has returned to it, and the fine fellows I saw cleaning the fire-arms, and whom I took, humbly begging their pardons, for robbers, which to be sure was a great wonder, seeing what honest countenances they have, were some of his Lordship's servants."
Madeline raised her eyes in thankfulness to heaven, and Lubin proceeded to inform her that the body he had seen had been one of the banditti, who the night before had made an unsuccessful attempt upon the castle, and that the tumult in the court originated from the domestics suspecting, in consequence of finding the horses fastened to the gate, that they were again lurking about it.
"Now that you find yourself in no dishonorable hands, I hope, Madam, you will speedily recover your spirits," said an elderly man, whose looks and manner denoted a conscious superiority over the rest of his companions.
Madeline thanked him for the hope he had expressed, and was going to explain the cause of her coming to the castle, when Lubin hastily interrupted her by saying, he had already explained every circumstance.
"My Lord (cried the man who had before addressed her, respectfully bowing as he spoke) has been already apprised of your situation, and has commissioned me, Madam, to present his compliments to you, and to entreat you to have the goodness to excuse his not doing the honors of his house himself, which the weak state of his health and spirits prevents: he also desired me to request you would honor his servants by your commands, and not think of quitting the castle till perfectly recovered from your late fatigue and fright."
Madeline felt truly grateful for this politeness, and rather happy than otherwise at not being introduced to the Marquis de Montmorenci, as her exhausted strength and spirits left her little inclination or ability to converse with a stranger.
The housekeeper, who was one of the women that had supported her, now conducted her down the passage, Lubin had before explored, to a large apartment near its termination; where, in a few minutes, a table was covered with refreshments. Lubin was taken to the servants hall, and Madeline, somewhat cheered by the knowledge of her safety, partook of the things provided for her: she found her companion extremely loquacious, and so she talked, not much caring whether it was questions she asked or answered.
Madeline inquired how long the Marquis had been indisposed.
"Many, many years, (replied the housekeeper, with a melancholy shake of the head) after the heavy afflictions he has sustained, it would be a wonder indeed if he had retained either his health or spirits."
Madeline, who perfectly recollected the account she had already heard of him, now made no inquiry concerning the nature of those afflictions; but of her own accord the housekeeper gave her a narrative of them.
"The Count St. Julian, his son, (continued she) was certainly one of the finest youths I ever beheld; his death undoubtedly caused that of my Lady Marchioness: 'tis generally imagined he fell by the hands of banditti, but some people have their doubts about that, and I own I am one of them."
"Good heaven! (cried Madeline) who but banditti could be suspected of murdering him?"
The housekeeper shook her head—
"There were people, Mademoiselle, but"—as if suddenly recollecting herself, "it does not become me to tell family secrets."
The curiosity of Madeline was highly raised, but into secrets which indeed she thought properly withheld, she could not think of prying.
"Would not the sympathizing society of friends be of some service to your Lord?" asked Madeline, after the pause of a minute.
"I scarcely think it would, Madam, (answered the housekeeper) but at any rate he will not try whether it would have any effect upon him; he lives the most strange and solitary life imaginable, rambling about from one seat to another, and never admitting any one to his presence, except his attendants, and now and then a kinsman, who lives some leagues from this, and will be his heir. This castle, in the life time of my Lady, was one of the finest and gayest places perhaps you can conceive; and 'tis a grievous thing to any one who knew it in it's glory, to see it now going to rack and ruin for want of a little repair, its courts full of rubbish, and its fine old towers mouldering away; but my Lord seems pleased at beholding its decay."
"Does he never go about the domain?" asked Madeline.
"No: he generally confines himself to a great lonely apartment, where he scarcely suffers a ray of the blessed day-light to enter, and frequently passes whole nights within the chapel, where he has caused a magnificent monument to be erected to the memory of his lady and son."
The conversation into which she had entered cast an involuntary gloom over the mind of Madeline, and by again depressing her spirits made her soon betray symptoms of languor and weariness.
The housekeeper then offered to conduct her to her chamber, an offer which she gladly accepted, and was accordingly led up a flight of stairs, at the end of the passage, to a gallery immediately over it; here she found a comfortable room prepared for her.
Too much fatigued to converse any longer with pleasure, Madeline would have been pleased if her companion had now retired, but the good woman was so fond of talking that she declared she would not leave her till she had seen her to bed.
Madeline had scarcely begun to undress when she missed her father's picture. Struck with consternation and regret at its loss, she threw herself on a chair, with a countenance so full of concern, that the housekeeper
hastily demanded what was the matter: On being informed, she begged Madeline not to be so much distressed, at least till convinced she could not find it, declaring there was every probability of its being dropped in the hall at the time they were trying to recover her.
Madeline instantly started up with an intention of going in quest of it, but was prevented by the housekeeper, who assured her, that she herself would make a diligent search after it. This assurance however was not sufficient to prevent Madeline from wishing to join in it, till told that if she went now to the hall, she would run the chance of encountering the Marquis, who always passed through it in his way to the chapel, which he frequently visited at this hour.
As the housekeeper spoke somebody tapped at the door; she demanded who it was, and a voice which Madeline immediately recollected to be that of the Marquis's valet, who had so politely addressed her in the hall, replied,
" 'Tis Lafroy.—My Lord presents his compliments to the young lady, and begs she may have the goodness to come to him for a few minutes."
"Lord have mercy upon me! (exclaimed the housekeeper, with uplifted hands and eyes) what can be the meaning of this?—Why, Lafroy (eagerly opening the door) you have quite astonished me!"
The surprise of Madeline, if possible, surpassed her companions; besides, with her's was intermingled something like fear.
"Aye, (cried Lafroy, in reply to the housekeeper) I don't wonder, indeed, Mrs. Beatrice, at your being astonished, 'tis quite a marvel to have my Lord desire to see a stranger, when he won't permit his own friends to come to him."
"But, pray, Lafroy, did he give no reason for desiring to see the young lady?"
"Why as I was lighting him to the chapel which, according to his usual custom, whenever he finds himself in very bad spirits, he was going to, he found in the hall a little picture, which he directly concluded must belong to the young lady; so instead of repairing to the chapel, he immediately returned to his apartment, declaring he must himself restore it to her."
The Complete Northanger Horrid Novel Collection (9 Books of Gothic Romance and Horror) Page 305
