sionally the haunt of banditti. She, therefore, turned
back, and was hastily pursuing her way to the dancers, when she heard
steps approaching from the avenue; and, being still beyond the call of
the peasants on the green, for she could neither hear their voices, or
their music, she quickened her pace; but the persons following gained
fast upon her, and, at length, distinguishing the voice of Henri, she
walked leisurely, till he came up. He expressed some surprise at meeting
her so far from the company; and, on her saying, that the pleasant
moon-light had beguiled her to walk farther than she intended, an
exclamation burst from the lips of his companion, and she thought she
heard Valancourt speak! It was, indeed, he! and the meeting was such as
may be imagined, between persons so affectionate, and so long separated
as they had been.

In the joy of these moments, Emily forgot all her past sufferings, and
Valancourt seemed to have forgotten, that any person but Emily existed;
while Henri was a silent and astonished spectator of the scene.

Valancourt asked a thousand questions, concerning herself and Montoni,
which there was now no time to answer; but she learned, that her letter
had been forwarded to him, at Paris, which he had previously quitted,
and was returning to Gascony, whither the letter also returned, which,
at length, informed him of Emily's arrival, and on the receipt of which
he had immediately set out for Languedoc. On reaching the
monastery, whence she had dated her letter, he found, to his extreme
disappointment, that the gates were already closed for the night;
and believing, that he should not see Emily, till the morrow, he was
returning to his little inn, with the intention of writing to her, when
he was overtaken by Henri, with whom he had been intimate at Paris, and
was led to her, whom he was secretly lamenting that he should not see,
till the following day.

Emily, with Valancourt and Henri, now returned to the green, where the
latter presented Valancourt to the Count, who, she fancied, received him
with less than his usual benignity, though it appeared, that they were
not strangers to each other. He was invited, however, to partake of the
diversions of the evening; and, when he had paid his respects to the
Count, and while the dancers continued their festivity, he seated
himself by Emily, and conversed, without restraint. The lights, which
were hung among the trees, under which they sat, allowed