kept quiet, adding, that, if she wished any message to be conveyed to
him, she would herself deliver it. 'No,' said her aunt faintly, 'no--I
have nothing new to tell him. Does he persist in saying I shall be
removed from my chamber?'

Emily replied, that he had not spoken, on the subject, since Madame
Montoni heard him; and then she tried to divert her attention to some
other topic; but her aunt seemed to be inattentive to what she said, and
lost in secret thoughts. Emily, having brought her some refreshment, now
left her to the care of Annette, and went in search of Montoni, whom she
found on a remote part of the rampart, conversing among a group of
the men described by Annette. They stood round him with fierce, yet
subjugated, looks, while he, speaking earnestly, and pointing to the
walls, did not perceive Emily, who remained at some distance, waiting
till he should be at leisure, and observing involuntarily the appearance
of one man, more savage than his fellows, who stood resting on his pike,
and looking, over the shoulders of a comrade, at Montoni, to whom he
listened with uncommon earnestness. This man was apparently of low
condition; yet his looks appeared not to acknowledge the superiority of
Montoni, as did those of his companions; and sometimes they even assumed
an air of authority, which the decisive manner of the Signor could not
repress. Some few words of Montoni then passed in the wind; and, as the
men were separating, she heard him say, 'This evening, then, begin the
watch at sun-set.'

'At sun-set, Signor,' replied one or two of them, and walked away; while
Emily approached Montoni, who appeared desirous of avoiding her: but,
though she observed this, she had courage to proceed. She endeavoured to
intercede once more for her aunt, represented to him her sufferings,
and urged the danger of exposing her to a cold apartment in her present
state. 'She suffers by her own folly,' said Montoni, 'and is not to be
pitied;--she knows how she may avoid these sufferings in future--if she
is removed to the turret, it will be her own fault. Let her be obedient,
and sign the writings you heard of, and I will think no more of it.'

When Emily ventured still to plead, he sternly silenced and rebuked her
for interfering in his domestic affairs, but, at length, dismissed her
with this concession--That he would not remove Madame Montoni, on the
ensuing night, but allow her till the next to consider, whether she
would res