Emily, however, still attended to Madame Quesnel, who spoke of France
(for even the name of her native country was dear to her) and she
found some pleasure in looking at a person, who had lately been in
it. That country, too, was inhabited by Valancourt, and she listened
to the mention of it, with a faint hope, that he also would be named.
Madame Quesnel, who, when she was in France, had talked with rapture
of Italy, now, that she was in Italy, talked with equal praise of
France, and endeavoured to excite the wonder and the envy of her
auditors by accounts of places, which they had not been happy enough
to see. In these descriptions she not only imposed upon them, but
upon herself, for she never thought a present pleasure equal to one,
that was passed; and thus the delicious climate, the fragrant
orangeries and all the luxuries, which surrounded her, slept
unnoticed, while her fancy wandered over the distant scenes of a
northern country.
Emily listened in vain for the name of Valancourt. Madame Montoni
spoke in her turn of the delights of Venice, and of the pleasure she
expected from visiting the fine castle of Montoni, on the Apennine;
which latter mention, at least, was merely a retaliating boast, for
Emily well knew, that her aunt had no taste for solitary grandeur,
and, particularly, for such as the castle of Udolpho promised.
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