saw and heard, could no longer be silent. She
explained the whole subject upon which she had mistaken Montoni in the
morning, declaring, that she understood him to have consulted her solely
concerning the disposal of La Vallee, and concluding with entreating,
that he would write immediately to M. Quesnel, and rectify the mistake.

But Montoni either was, or affected to be, still incredulous; and
Count Morano was still entangled in perplexity. While she was speaking,
however, the attention of her auditors had been diverted from the
immediate occasion of their resentment, and their passion consequently
became less. Montoni desired the Count would order his servants to row
back to Venice, that he might have some private conversation with him;
and Morano, somewhat soothed by his softened voice and manner, and eager
to examine into the full extent of his difficulties, complied.

Emily, comforted by this prospect of release, employed the present
moments in endeavouring, with conciliating care, to prevent any fatal
mischief between the persons who so lately had persecuted and insulted
her.

Her spirits revived, when she heard once more the voice of song and
laughter, resounding from the grand canal, and at length entered
again between its stately piazzas. The zendaletto stopped at Montoni's
mansion, and the Count hastily led her into the hall, where Montoni took
his arm, and said something in a low voice, on which Morano kissed
the hand he held, notwithstanding Emily's effort to disengage it,
and, wishing her a good evening, with an accent and look she could not
misunderstand, returned to his zendaletto with Montoni.

Emily, in her own apartment, considered with intense anxiety all the
unjust and tyrannical conduct of Montoni, the dauntless perseverance
of Morano, and her own desolate situation, removed from her friends and
country. She looked in vain to Valancourt, confined by his profession
to a distant kingdom, as her protector; but it gave her comfort to know,
that there was, at least, one person in the world, who would sympathize
in her afflictions, and whose wishes would fly eagerly to release her.
Yet she determined not to give him unavailing pain by relating the
reasons she had to regret the having rejected his better judgment
concerning Montoni; reasons, however, which could not induce her to
lament the delicacy and disinterested affection that had made her reject
his proposal for a clandestine marriage. The appro