'ungrateful man!' said madame montoni, 'he has deceived me in every respect; and now he has taken me from my country and friends, to shut me up in this old castle; and, here he thinks he can compel me to do whatever he designs! but he shall find himself mistaken, he shall find that no threats can --but who would have believed! who would have supposed, that a man of his family and apparent wealth had absolutely no fortune?--no, scarcely a sequin of his own! i did all for the best; i thought he was a man of consequence, of great property, or i am sure i would never have married him,--ungrateful, artful man!' she paused to take breath.
'dear madam, be composed,' said emily: 'the signor may not be so rich as you had reason to expect, but surely he cannot be very poor, since this castle and the mansion at venice are his.may i ask what are the circumstances, that particularly affect you?'
'what are the circumstances!' exclaimed madame montoni with resentment: 'why is it not sufficient, that he had long ago ruined his own fortune by play, and that he has since lost what i brought him--and that now he would compel me to sign away my settlement (it was well i had the chief of my property settled on myself!) that he may lose this also, or throw it away in wild schemes, which nobody can understand but himself? and, and--is not all this sufficient?'
'it is, indeed,' said emily, 'but you must recollect, dear madam, that i knew nothing of all this.'
'well, and is it not sufficient,' rejoined her aunt, 'that he is also absolutely ruined, that he is sunk deeply in debt, and that neither this castle, or the mansion at venice, is his own, if all his debts, honourable and dishonourable, were paid!'
'i am shocked by what you tell me, madam,' said emily.
'and is it not enough,' interrupted madame montoni, 'that he has treated me with neglect, with cruelty, because i refused to relinquish my settlements, and, instead of being frightened by his menaces, resolutely defied him, and upbraided him with his shameful conduct? but i bore all meekly,--you know, niece, i never uttered a word of complaint, till now; no! that such a disposition as mine should be so imposed upon! that i, whose only faults are too much kindness, too much generosity, should be chained for life to such a vile, deceitful, cruel monster!'