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CARMILLA PART 2

Part one is pinned :)

Madame and Mademoiselle came scurrying out of their rooms in alarm; a lamp burned always on

the lobby, and seeing me, they soon learned the cause of my terror.

I insisted on our knocking at Carmilla's door. Our knocking was unanswered. It soon became a

pounding and an uproar.

We shrieked her name, but all was vain. We all grew frightened, for the door was locked. We

hurried back, in panic, to my room. There we rang the bell long and furiously. If my father's room had been at that side of the house, we would have called him up at once to our aid. But, alas! he

was quite out of hearing, and to reach him involved an excursion for which we none of us had

courage.

Servants, however, soon came running up the stairs; I had got on my dressing-gown and slippers

meanwhile, and my companions were already similarly furnished. Recognising the voices of the

servants on the lobby, we sallied out together; and having renewed, as fruitlessly, our summons at

Carmilla's door, I ordered the men to force the lock. They did so, and we stood, holding our lights

aloft, in the doorway, and so stared into the room.

We called her by name; but there was still no reply. We looked round the room. Everything was

undisturbed. It was exactly in the state in which I had left it on bidding her good night. But

Carmilla was gone.

At sight of the room, perfectly undisturbed except for our violent entrance, we began to cool a

little, and soon recovered our senses sufficiently to dismiss the men. It had struck Mademoiselle

that possibly Carmilla had been wakened by the uproar at her door, and in her first panic had

jumped from her bed, and hid herself in a press, or behind a curtain, from which she could not, of

course, emerge until the majordomo and his myrmidons had withdrawn. We now recommenced

our search, and began to call her by name again.

It was all to no purpose. Our perplexity and agitation increased. We examined the windows, but

they were secured. I implored of Carmilla, if she had concealed herself, to play this cruel trick no

longer—to come out, and to end our anxieties. It was all useless. I was by this time convinced that

she was not in the room, nor in the dressing room, the door of which was still locked on this side.

She could not have passed it. I was utterly puzzled. Had Carmilla discovered one of those secret

passages which the old house-keeper said were known to exist in the schloss, although the tradition

of their exact situation had been lost. A little time would, no doubt, explain all—utterly perplexed

as, for the present, we were.

It was past four o'clock, and I preferred passing the remaining hours of darkness in Madame's

room. Daylight brought no solution of the difficulty.

The whole household, with my father at its head, was in a state of agitation next morning. Every

part of the chateau was searched. The grounds were explored. Not a trace of the missing lady could

be discovered. The stream was about to be dragged; my father was in distraction; what a tale to

have to tell the poor girl's mother on her return. I, too, was almost beside myself, though my grief

was quite of a different kind.

The morning was passed in alarm and excitement. It was now one o'clock, and still no tidings. I ran

up to Carmilla's room, and found her standing at her dressing-table. I was astounded. I could not

believe my eyes. She beckoned me to her with her pretty finger, in silence. Her face expressed

extreme fear.

I ran to her in an ecstasy of joy; I kissed and embraced her again and again. I ran to the bell and

rang it vehemently, to bring others to the spot, who might at once relieve my father's anxiety.

"Dear Carmilla, what has become of you all this time? We have been in agonies of anxiety about

you," I exclaimed. "Where have you been? How did you come back?"

"Last night has been a night of wonders," she said.

"For mercy's sake, explain all you can."

"It was past two last night," she said, "when I went to sleep as usual in my bed, with my doors

locked, that of the dressing-room, and that opening upon the gallery. My sleep was uninterrupted,

and, so far as I know, dreamless; but I awoke just now on the sofa in the dressing-room there, and I

found the door between the rooms open, and the other door forced. How could all this have

happened without my being wakened? It must have been accompanied with a great deal of noise,

and I am particularly easily wakened; and how could I have been carried out of my bed without my

sleep having been interrupted, I whom the slightest stir startles?"

By this time, Madame, Mademoiselle, my father, and a number of the servants were in the room.

Carmilla was, of course, overwhelmed with inquiries, congratulations, and welcomes. She had but one story to tell, and seemed the least able of all the party to suggest any way of accounting for

what had happened.

My father took a turn up and down the room, thinking. I saw Carmilla's eye follow him for a

moment with a sly, dark glance.

When my father had sent the servants away, Mademoiselle having gone in search of a little bottle

of valerian and sal-volatile, and there being no one now in the room with Carmilla, except my

father, Madame, and myself, he came to her thoughtfully, took her hand very kindly, led her to the

sofa, and sat down beside her.

"Will you forgive me, my dear, if I risk a conjecture, and ask a question?"

"Who can have a better right?" she said. "Ask what you please, and I will tell you everything. But

my story is simply one of bewilderment and darkness. I know absolutely nothing. Put any question

you please. But you know, of course, the limitations mamma has placed me under."

"Perfectly, my dear child. I need not approach the topics on which she desires our silence. Now, the

marvel of last night consists in your having been removed from your bed and your room, without

being wakened, and this removal having occurred apparently while the windows were still secured,

and the two doors locked upon the inside. I will tell you my theory, and first ask you a question."

Carmilla was leaning on her hand dejectedly; Madame and I were listening breathlessly.

"Now, my question is this. Have you ever been suspected of walking in your sleep?"

"Never, since I was very young indeed."

"But you did walk in your sleep when you were young?"

"Yes; I know I did. I have been told so often by my old nurse."

My father smiled and nodded.

"Well, what has happened is this. You got up in your sleep, unlocked the door, not leaving the key,

as usual, in the lock, but taking it out and locking it on the outside; you again took the key out, and

carried it away with you to some one of the five-and-twenty rooms on this floor, or perhaps upstairs

or down-stairs. There are so many rooms and closets, so much heavy furniture, and such

accumulations of lumber, that it would require a week to search this old house thoroughly. Do you

see, now, what I mean?"

"I do, but not all," she answered.

"And how, papa, do you account for her finding herself on the sofa in the dressing-room, which we

had searched so carefully?"

"She came there after you had searched it, still in her sleep, and at last awoke spontaneously, and

was as much surprised to find herself where she was as any one else. I wish all mysteries were as

easily and innocently explained as yours, Carmilla," he said, laughing. "And so we may

congratulate ourselves on the certainty that the most natural explanation of the occurrence is one

that involves no drugging, no tampering with locks, no burglars, or poisoners, or witches—nothing

that need alarm Carmilla, or any one else, for our safety."

Carmilla was looking charmingly. Nothing could be more beautiful than her tints. Her beauty was,

I think, enhanced by that graceful languor that was peculiar to her. I think my father was silently contrasting her looks with mine, for he said:

"I wish my poor Laura was looking more like herself;" and he sighed. So our alarms were happily

ended, and Carmilla restored to her friends.

THE DOCTOR

As Carmilla would not hear of an attendant sleeping in her room, my father arranged that a servant

should sleep outside her door, so that she could not attempt to make another such excursion without

being arrested at her own door.

That night passed quietly; and next morning early, the doctor, whom my father had sent for

without telling me a word about it, arrived to see me.

Madame accompanied me to the library; and there the grave little doctor, with white hair and

spectacles, whom I mentioned before, was waiting to receive me.

I told him my story, and as I proceeded he grew graver and graver.

We were standing, he and I, in the recess of one of the windows, facing one another. When my

statement was over, he leaned with his shoulders against the wall, and with his eyes fixed on me

earnestly, with an interest in which was a dash of horror.

After a minute's reflection, he asked Madame if he could see my father. He was sent for

accordingly, and as he entered, smiling, he said:

"I dare say, doctor, you are going to tell me that I am an old fool for having brought you here; I

hope I am."

But his smile faded into shadow as the doctor, with a very grave face, beckoned him to him.

He and the doctor talked for some time in the same recess where I had just conferred with the

physician. It seemed an earnest and argumentative conversation. The room is very large, and I and

Madame stood together, burning with curiosity, at the further end. Not a word could we hear,

however, for they spoke in a very low tone, and the deep recess of the window quite concealed the

doctor from view, and very nearly my father, whose foot, arm, and shoulder only could we see; and

the voices were, I suppose, all the less audible for the sort of closet which the thick wall and

window formed.

After a time my father's face looked into the room; it was pale, thoughtful, and, I fancied, agitated.

"Laura, dear, come here for a moment. Madame, we shan't trouble you, the doctor says, at

present."

Accordingly I approached, for the first time a little alarmed; for, although I felt very weak, I did not

feel ill; and strength, one always fancies, is a thing that may be picked up when we please.

My father held out his hand to me, as I drew near, but he was looking at the doctor, and he said:

"It certainly is very odd; I don't understand it quite. Laura, come here, dear; now attend to Doctor

Spielsberg, and recollect yourself."

"You mentioned a sensation like that of two needles piercing the skin, somewhere about your neck,

on the night when you experienced your first horrible dream. Is there still any soreness?"

"None at all," I answered.

"Can you indicate with your finger about the point at which you think this occurred?" "Very little below my throat—here," I answered.

I wore a morning dress, which covered the place I pointed to.

"Now you can satisfy yourself," said the doctor. " You won't mind your papa's lowering your dress

a very little. It is necessary, to detect a symptom of the complaint under which you have been

suffering."

I acquiesced. It was only an inch or two below the edge of my collar.

"God bless me!—so it is," exclaimed my father, growing pale.

"You see it now with your own eyes," said the doctor, with a gloomy triumph.

"What is it?" I exclaimed, beginning to be frightened.

"Nothing, my dear young lady, but a small blue spot, about the size of the tip of your little finger;

and now," he continued, turning to papa, "the question is what is best to be done?"

"Is there any danger?" I urged, in great trepidation.

"I trust not, my dear," answered the doctor. "I don't see why you should not recover. I don't see why

you should not begin immediately to get better. That is the point at which the sense of

strangulation begins?"

"Yes," I answered.

"And—recollect as well as you can— the same point was a kind of centre of that thrill which you

described just now, like the current of a cold stream running against you?"

"It may have been; I think it was."

"Ay, you see?" he added, turning to my father. "Shall I say a word to Madame?"

"Certainly," said my father.

He called Madame to him, and said:

"I find my young friend here far from well. It won't be of any great consequence, I hope; but it will

be necessary that some steps be taken, which I will explain by-and-bye; but in the meantime,

Madame, you will be so good as not to let Miss Laura be alone for one moment. That is the only

direction I need give for the present. It is indispensable."

"We may rely upon your kindness, Madame, I know," added my father.

Madame satisfied him eagerly.

"And you, dear Laura, I know you will observe the doctor's direction."

"I shall have to ask your opinion upon another patient, whose symptoms slightly resemble those of

my daughter, that have just been detailed to you—very much milder in degree, but I believe quite

of the same sort. She is a young lady—our guest; but as you say you will be passing this way again

this evening, you can't do better than take your supper here, and you can then see her. She does not

come down till the afternoon."

"I thank you," said the doctor. "I shall be with you, then, at about seven this evening."

And then they repeated their directions to me and to Madame, and with this parting charge my

father left us, and walked out with the doctor; and I saw them pacing together up and down

between the road and the moat, on the grassy platform in front of the castle, evidently absorbed in

earnest conversation.

The doctor did not return. I saw him mount his horse there, take his leave, and ride away eastward

through the forest.

Nearly at the same time I saw the man arrive from Dranfeld with the letters, and dismount and

hand the bag to my father.

In the meantime, Madame and I were both busy, lost in conjecture as to the reasons of the singular

and earnest direction which the doctor and my father had concurred in imposing. Madame, as she

afterwards told me, was afraid the doctor apprehended a sudden seizure, and that, without prompt

assistance, I might either lose my life in a fit, or at least be seriously hurt.

This interpretation did not strike me; and I fancied, perhaps luckily for my nerves, that the

arrangement was prescribed simply to secure a companion, who would prevent my taking too

much exercise, or eating unripe fruit, or doing any of the fifty foolish things to which young people

are supposed to be prone.

About half-an-hour after my father came in—he had a letter in his hand—and said:

"This letter had been delayed; it is from General Spielsdorf. He might have been here yesterday, he

may not come till to-morrow, or he may be here today."

He put the open letter into my hand; but he did not look pleased, as he used when a guest,

especially one so much loved as the General, was coming. On the contrary, he looked as if he

wished him at the bottom of the Red Sea. There was plainly something on his mind which he did

not choose to divulge.

"Papa, darling, will you tell me this?" said I, suddenly laying my hand on his arm, and looking, I

am sure, imploringly in his face.

"Perhaps," he answered, smoothing my hair caressingly over my eyes.

"Does the doctor think me very ill?"

"No, dear; he thinks, if right steps are taken, you will be quite well again, at least, on the high road

to a complete recovery, in a day or two," he answered, a little drily. "I wish our good friend, the

General, had chosen any other time; that is, I wish you had been perfectly well to receive him."

"But do tell me, papa," I insisted, "what does he think is the matter with me?"

"Nothing; you must not plague me with questions," he answered, with more irritation than I ever

remember him to have displayed before; and seeing that I looked wounded, I suppose, he kissed

me, and added, "You shall know all about it in a day or two; that is, all that I know. In the

meantime you are not to trouble your head about it."

He turned and left the room, but came back before I had done wondering and puzzling over the

oddity of all this; it was merely to say that he was going to Karnstein, and had ordered the carriage

to be ready at twelve, and that I and Madame should accompany him; he was going to see the

priest who lived near those picturesque grounds, upon business, and as Carmilla had never seen

them, she could follow, when she came down, with Mademoiselle, who would bring materials for

what you call a pic-nic, which might be laid for us in the ruined castle.

At twelve o'clock, accordingly, I was ready, and not long after, my father, Madame and I set out

upon our projected drive.

Passing the drawbridge we turn to the right, and follow the road over the steep gothic bridge,

westward, to reach the deserted village and ruined castle of Karnstein.

No sylvan drive can be fancied prettier. The ground breaks into gentle hills and hollows, all

clothed with beautiful wood, totally destitute of the comparative formality which artificial planting

and early culture and pruning impart.

The irregularities of the ground often lead the road out of its course, and cause it to wind

beautifully round the sides of broken hollows and the steeper sides of the hills, among varieties of

ground almost inexhaustible.

Turning one of these points, we suddenly encountered our old friend, the General, riding towards

us, attended by a mounted servant. His portmanteaus were following in a hired waggon, such as we

term a cart.

The General dismounted as we pulled up, and, after the usual greetings, was easily persuaded to

accept the vacant seat in the carriage, and send his horse on with his servant to the schloss.

BEREAVED

It was about ten months since we had last seen him; but that time had sufficed to make an alteration

of years in his appearance. He had grown thinner; something of gloom and anxiety had taken the

place of that cordial serenity which used to characterise his features. His dark blue eyes, always

penetrating, now gleamed with a sterner light from under his shaggy grey eyebrows. It was not such

a change as grief alone usually induces, and angrier passions seemed to have had their share in

bringing it about.

We had not long resumed our drive, when the General began to talk, with his usual soldierly

directness, of the bereavement, as he termed it, which he had sustained in the death of his beloved

niece and ward; and he then broke . out in a tone of intense bitterness and fury, inveighing against

the "hellish arts " to which she had fallen a victim, and expressing, with more exasperation than

piety, his wonder that Heaven should tolerate so monstrous an indulgence of the lusts and

malignity of hell.

My father, who saw at once that something very extraordinary had befallen, asked him, if not too

painful to him, to detail the circumstances which he thought justified the strong terms in which he

expressed himself.

"I should tell you all with pleasure," said the General, "but you would not believe me."

"Why should I not?" he asked.

"Because," he answered testily, "you believe in nothing but what consists with your own prejudices

and illusions. I remember when I was like you, but I have learned better."

"Try me," said my father; "I am not such a dogmatist as you suppose. Besides which, I very well

know that you generally require proof for what you believe, and am, therefore, very strongly predisposed

to respect your conclusions."

"You are right in supposing that I have not been led lightly into a belief in the marvellous—for

what I have experienced is marvellous—and I have been forced by extraordinary evidence to credit

that which ran counter, diametrically, to all my theories. I have been made the dupe of a

preternatural conspiracy."

Notwithstanding his professions of confidence in the General's penetration, I saw my father, at this

point, glance at the General, with, as I thought, a marked suspicion of his sanity.

The General did not see it, luckily. He was looking gloomily and curiously into the glades and

vistas of the woods that were opening before us.

"You are going to the Ruins of Karnstein?" he said. "Yes, it is a lucky coincidence; do you know I

was going to ask you to bring me there to inspect them. I have a special object in exploring. There

is a ruined chapel, ain't there, with a great many tombs of that extinct family?"

"So there are—highly interesting," said my father. "I hope you are thinking of claiming the title

and estates?"

My father said this gaily, but the General did not recollect the laugh, or even the smile, which

courtesy exacts for a friend's joke; on the contrary, he looked grave and even fierce, ruminating on

a matter that stirred his anger and horror.

"Something very different," he said, gruffly. "I mean to unearth some of those fine people. I hope,

by God's blessing, to accomplish a pious sacrilege here, which will relieve our earth of certain

monsters, and enable honest people to sleep in their beds without being assailed by murderers. I

have strange things to tell you, my dear friend, such as I myself would have scouted as incredible a

few months since."

My father looked at him again, but this time not with a glance of suspicion—with an eye, rather, of

keen intelligence and alarm.

"The house of Karnstein," he said, "has been long extinct: a hundred years at least. My dear wife

was maternally descended from the Karnsteins. But the name and title have long ceased to exist.

The castle is a ruin; the very village is deserted; it is fifty years since the smoke of a chimney was

seen there; not a roof left."

"Quite true. I have heard a great deal about that since I last saw you; a great deal that will astonish

you. But I had better relate everything in the order in which it occurred," said the General. "You

saw my dear ward—my child, I may call her. No creature could have been more beautiful, and only

three months ago none more blooming."

"Yes, poor thing! when I saw her last she certainly was quite lovely," said my father. "I was grieved

and shocked more than I can tell you, my dear friend; I knew what a blow it was to you."

He took the General's hand, and they exchanged a kind pressure. Tears gathered in the old soldier's

eyes. He did not seek to conceal them. He said:

"We have been very old friends; I knew you would feel for me, childless as I am. She had become

an object of very near interest to me, and repaid my care by an affection that cheered my home and

made my life happy. That is all gone. The years that remain to me on earth may not be very long;

but by God's mercy I hope to accomplish a service to mankind before I die, and to subserve the

vengeance of Heaven upon the fiends who have murdered my poor child in the spring of her hopes

and beauty!"

"You said, just now, that you intended relating everything as it occurred," said my father. "Pray do;

I assure you that it is not mere curiosity that prompts me."

By this time we had reached the point at which the Drunstall road, by which the General had come,

diverges from the road which we were travelling to Karnstein.

"How far is it to the ruins?" inquired the General, looking anxiously forward.

"About half a league," answered my father. "Pray let us hear the story you were so good as to

promise."

THE STORY

"With all my heart," said the General, with an effort; and after a short pause in which to arrange his

subject, he commenced one of the strangest narratives I ever heard.

"My dear child was looking forward with great pleasure to the visit you had been so good as to

arrange for her to your charming daughter." Here he made me a gallant but melancholy bow. "In

the meantime we had an invitation to my old friend the Count Carlsfeld, whose schloss is about six

leagues to the other side of Karnstein. It was to attend the series of fêtes which, you remember,

were given by him in honour of his illustrious visitor, the Grand Duke Charles.",

"Yes; and very splendid, I believe, they were," said my father.

"Princely! But then his hospitalities are quite regal. He has Aladdin's lamp. The night from which

my sorrow dates was devoted to a magnificent masquerade. The grounds were thrown open, the

trees hung with coloured lamps. There was such a display of fireworks as Paris itself had never

witnessed. And such music—music, you know, is my weakness—such ravishing music! The finest

instrumental band, perhaps, in the world, and the finest singers who could be collected from all the

great operas in Europe. As you wandered through these fantastically illuminated grounds, the

moon-lighted chateau throwing a rosy light from its long rows of windows, you would suddenly

hear these ravishing voices stealing from the silence of some grove, or rising from boats upon the

lake. I felt myself, as I looked and listened, carried back into the romance and poetry of my early

youth.

"When the fireworks were ended, and the ball beginning, we returned to the noble suite of rooms

that were thrown open to the dancers. A masked ball, you know, is a beautiful sight; but so brilliant

a spectacle of the kind I never saw before.

"It was a very aristocratic assembly. I was myself almost the only 'nobody' present.

"My dear child was looking quite beautiful. She wore no mask. Her excitement and delight added

an unspeakable charm to her features, always lovely. I remarked a young lady, dressed

magnificently, but wearing a mask, who appeared to me to be observing my ward with

extraordinary interest. I had seen her, earlier in the evening, in the great hall, and again, for a few

minutes, walking near us, on the terrace under the castle windows, similarly employed. A lady,

also masked, richly and gravely dressed, and with a stately air, like a person of rank, accompanied

her as a chaperon. Had the young lady not worn a mask, I could, of course, have been much more

certain upon the question whether she was really watching my poor darling. I am now well assured

that she was.

"We were now in one of the salons. My poor dear child had been dancing, and was resting a little

in one of the chairs near the door; I was standing near. The two ladies I have mentioned had

approached, and the younger took the chair next my ward; while her companion stood beside me,

and for a little time addressed herself, in a low tone, to her charge.

Availing herself of the privilege of her mask, she turned to me, and in the tone of an old friend, and

calling me by my name, opened a conversation with me, which piqued my curiosity a good deal.

She referred to many scenes where she had met me—at Court, and at distinguished houses. She

alluded to little incidents which I had long ceased to think of, but which, I found, had only lain in

abeyance in my memory, for they instantly started into life at her touch.

"I became more and more curious to ascertain who she was, every moment. She parried my attempts to discover very adroitly and pleasantly. The knowledge she showed of many passages in

my life seemed to me all but unaccountable; and she appeared to take a not unnatural pleasure in

foiling my curiosity, and in seeing me flounder, in my eager perplexity, from one conjecture to

another.

"In the meantime the young lady, whom her mother called by the odd name of Millarca, when she

once or twice addressed her, had, with the same ease and grace, got into conversation with my

ward.

"She introduced herself by saying that her mother was a very old acquaintance of mine. She spoke

of the agreeable audacity which a mask rendered practicable; she talked like a friend; she admired

her dress, and insinuated very prettily her admiration of her beauty. She amused her with laughing

criticisms upon the people who crowded the ballroom, and laughed at my poor child's fun. She was

very witty and lively when she pleased, and after a time they had grown very good friends, and the

young stranger lowered her mask, displaying a remarkably beautiful face. I had never seen it

before, neither had my dear child. But though it was new to us, the features were so engaging, as

well as lovely, that it was impossible not to feel the attraction powerfully. My poor girl did so. I

never saw anyone more taken with another at first sight, unless, indeed, it was the stranger herself,

who seemed quite to have lost her heart to her.

"In the meantime, availing myself of the licence of a masquerade, I put not a few questions to the

elder lady.

"'You have puzzled me utterly,' I said, laughing. 'Is that not enough? won't you, now, consent to

stand on equal terms, and do me the kindness to remove your mask?'

"'Can any request be more unreasonable?' she replied. 'Ask a lady to yield an advantage! Beside,

how do you know you should recognise me? Years make changes.'

"'As you see,' I said, with a bow, and, I suppose, a rather melancholy little laugh.

"'As philosophers tell us,' she said; 'and how do you know that a sight of my face would help you?'

"'I should take chance for that,' I answered. 'It is vain trying to make yourself out an old woman;

your figure betrays you.'

"'Years, nevertheless, have passed since I saw you, rather since you saw me, for that is what I am

considering. Millarca, there, is my daughter; I cannot then be young, even in the opinion of people

whom time has taught to be indulgent, and I may not like to be compared with what you remember

me. You have no mask to remove. You can offer me nothing in exchange.'

"'My petition is to your pity, to remove it.'

"'And mine to yours, to let it staywhere it is,' she replied.

"'Well, then, at least you will tell me whether you are French or German; you speak both languages

so perfectly.'

"'I don't think I shall tell you that, General; you intend a surprise, and are meditating the particular

point of attack.'

"'At all events, you won't deny this' I said, 'that being honoured by your permission to converse, I

ought to know how to address you. Shall I say Madame la Comtesse?'

"She laughed, and she would, no doubt, have met me with another evasion—if, indeed, I can treat any occurrence in an interview every circumstance of which was pre-arranged, as I now believe,

with the profoundest cunning, as liable to be modified by accident.

"As to that,' she began; but she was interrupted, almost as she opened her lips, by a gentleman,

dressed in black, who looked particularly elegant and distinguished, with this drawback, that his

face was the most deadly pale I ever saw, except in death. He was in no masquerade—in the plain

evening dress of a gentleman; and he said, without a smile, but with a courtly and unusually low

bow:—

"Will Madame la Comtesse permit me to say a very few words which may interest her?'

"The lady turned quickly to him, and touched her lip in token of silence; she then said to me, 'Keep

my place for me, General; I shall return when I have said a few words.'

"And with this injunction, playfully given, she walked a little aside with the gentleman in black,

and talked for some minutes, apparently very earnestly. They then walked away slowly together in

the crowd, and I lost them for some minutes.

"I spent the interval in cudgelling my brains for a conjecture as to the identity of the lady who

seemed to remember me so kindly, and I was thinking of turning about and joining in the

conversation between my pretty ward and the Countess's daughter, and trying whether, by the time

she returned, I might not have a surprise in store for her, by having her name, title, chateau, and

estates at my fingers' ends. But at this moment she returned, accompanied by the pale man in black,

who said:

"'I shall return and inform Madame la Comtesse when her carriage is at the door.'

"He withdrew with a bow."

A PETITION

"'Then we are to lose Madame la Comtesse, but I hope only for a few hours,' I said, with a low

bow.

"It may be that only, or it may be a few weeks. It was very unlucky his speaking to me just now as

he did. Do you now know me?'

"I assured her I did not.

"'You shall know me,' she said, 'but not at present. We are older and better friends than, perhaps,

you suspect. I cannot yet declare myself. I shall in three weeks pass your beautiful schloss, about

which I have been making enquiries. I shall then look in upon you for an hour or two, and renew a

friendship which I never think of without a thousand pleasant recollections. This moment a piece of

news has reached me like a thunderbolt. I must set out now, and travel by a devious route, nearly a

hundred miles, with all the dispatch I can possibly make. My perplexities multiply. I am only

deterred by the compulsory reserve I practise as to my name from making a very singular request

of you. My poor child has not quite recovered her strength. Her horse fell with her, at a hunt which

she had ridden out to witness, her nerves have not yet recovered the shock, and our physician says

that she must on no account exert herself for some time to come. We came here, in consequence,

by very easy stages—hardly six leagues a day. I must now travel day and night, on a mission of life

and death—a mission the critical and momentous nature of which I shall be able to explain to you

when we meet, as I hope we shall, in a few weeks, without the necessity of any concealment.'

"She went on to make her petition, and it was in the tone of a person from whom such a request

amounted to conferring, rather than seeking a favour. This was only in manner, and, as it seemed,

quite unconsciously. Than the terms in which it was expressed, nothing could be more deprecatory.

It was simply that I would consent to take charge of her daughter during her absence.

"This was, all things considered, a strange, not to say, an audacious request. She in some sort

disarmed me, by stating and admitting everything that could be urged against it, and throwing

herself entirely upon my chivalry. At the same moment, by a fatality that seems to have

predetermined all that happened, my poor child came to my side, and, in an undertone, besought

me to invite her new friend, Millarca, to pay us a visit. She had just been sounding her, and

thought, if her mamma would allow her, she would like it extremely.

"At another time I should have told her to wait a little, until, at least, we knew who they were. But I

had not a moment to think in. The two ladies assailed me together, and I must confess the refined

and beautiful face of the young lady, about which there was something extremely engaging, as

well as the elegance and fire of high birth, determined me; and, quite overpowered, I submitted,

and undertook, too easily, the care of the young lady, whom her mother called Millarca.

"The Countess beckoned to her daughter, who listened with grave attention while she told her, in

general terms, how suddenly and peremptorily she had been summoned, and also of the

arrangement she had made for her under my care, adding that I was one of her earliest and most

valued friends.

"I made, of course, such speeches as the case seemed to call for, and found myself, on reflection, in

a position which I did not half like.

"The gentleman in black returned, and very ceremoniously conducted the lady from the room.

"The demeanour of this gentleman was such as to impress me with the conviction that the Countess

was a lady of very much more importance than her modest title alone might have led me to

assume.

"Her last charge to me was that no attempt was to be made to learn more about her than I might

have already guessed, until her return. Our distinguished host, whose guest she was, knew her

reasons.

"'But here,' she said, 'neither I nor my daughter could safely remain for more than a day. I removed

my mask imprudently for a moment, about an hour ago, and, too late, I fancied you saw me. So I

resolved to seek an opportunity of talking a little to you. Had I found that you had seen me, I should

have thrown myself on your high sense of honour to keep my secret for some weeks. As it is, I am

satisfied that you did not see me; but if you now suspect or, on reflection, should suspect, who I

am, I commit myself, in like manner, entirely to your honour. My daughter will observe the same

secresy, and I well know that you will, from time to time, remind her, lest she should thoughtlessly

disclose it.'

"She whispered a few words to her daughter, kissed her hurriedly twice, and went away,

accompanied by the pale gentleman in black, and disappeared in the crowd.

"'In the next room,' said Millarca, 'there is a window that looks upon the hall door. I should like to

see the last of mamma, and to kiss my hand to her.'

"We assented, of course, and accompanied her to the window. We looked out, and saw a handsome

old-fashioned carriage, with a troop of couriers and footmen. We saw the slim figure of the pale

gentleman in black, as he held a thick velvet cloak, and placed it about her shoulders and threw the

hood over her head. She nodded to him, and just touched his hand with hers. He bowed low

repeatedly as the door closed, and the carriage began to move.

"'She is gone,' said Millarca, with a sigh.

"'She is gone,' I repeated to myself, for the first time—in the hurried moments that had elapsed

since my consent—reflecting upon the folly of my act.

"'She did not look up,' said the young lady, plaintively.

"'The Countess had taken off her mask, perhaps, and did not care to show her face,' I said; 'and she

could not know that you were in the window.'

"She sighed, and looked in my face. She was so beautiful that I relented. I was sorry I had for a

moment repented of my hospitality, and I determined to make her amends for the unavowed

churlishness of my reception.

"The young lady, replacing her mask, joined my ward in persuading me to return to the grounds,

where the concert was soon to be renewed. We did so, and walked up and down the terrace that lies

under the castle windows. Millarca became very intimate with us, and amused us with lively

descriptions and stories of most of the great people whom we saw upon the terrace. I liked her

more and more every minute. Her gossip, without being ill-natured, was extremely diverting to me,

who had been so long out of the great world. I thought what life she would give to our sometimes

lonely evenings at home.

"This ball was not over until the morning sun had almost reached the horizon. It pleased the Grand

Duke to dance till then, so loyal people could not go away, or think of bed.

"We had just got through a crowded saloon, when my ward asked me what had become of

Millarca. I thought she had been by her side, and she fancied she was by mine. The fact was, we

had lost her.

"All my efforts to find her were vain. I feared that she had mistaken, in the confusion of a

momentary separation from us, other people for her new friends, and had, possibly, pursued and

lost them in the extensive grounds which were thrown open to us.

"Now, in its full force, I recognised a new folly in my having undertaken the charge of a young

lady without so much as knowing her name; and fettered as I was by promises, of the reasons for

imposing which I knew nothing, I could not even point my inquiries by saying that the missing

young lady was the daughter of the Countess who had taken her departure a few hours before.

"Morning broke. It was clear daylight before I gave up my search. It was not till near two o'clock

next day that we heard anything of my missing charge.

"At about that time a servant knocked at my niece's door, to say that he had been earnestly

requested by a young lady, who appeared to be in great distress, to make out where she could find

the General Baron Spielsdorf and the young lady his daughter, in whose charge she had been left

by her mother.

"There could be no doubt, notwithstanding the slight inaccuracy, that our young friend had turned

up; and so she had. Would to heaven we had lost her!

"She told my poor child a story to account for her having failed to recover us for so long. Very late,

she said, she had got to the housekeeper's bedroom in despair of finding us, and had then fallen into

a deep sleep which, long as it was, had hardly sufficed to recruit her strength after the fatigues of

the ball.

"That day Millarca came home with us. I was only too happy, after all, to have secured so charming

a companion for my dear girl.

THE WOOD-MAN

"THERE soon, however, appeared some drawbacks. In the first place, Millarca complained of

extreme languor—the weakness that remained after her late illness—and she never emerged from

her room till the afternoon was pretty far advanced. In the next place, it was accidentally

discovered, although she always locked her door on the inside, and never disturbed the key from its

place till she admitted the maid to assist at her toilet, that she was undoubtedly sometimes absent

from her room in the very early morning, and at various times later in the day, before she wished it

to be understood that she was stirring. She was repeatedly seen from the windows of the schloss, in

the first faint grey of the morning, walking through the trees, in an easterly direction, and looking

like a person in a trance. This convinced me that, she walked in her sleep. But this hypothesis did

not solve the puzzle. How did she pass out from her room, leaving the door locked on the inside?

How did she escape from the house without unbarring door or window?

"In the midst of my perplexities, an anxiety of a far more urgent kind presented itself.

"My dear child began to lose her looks and health, and that in a manner so mysterious, and even

horrible, that I became thoroughly frightened.

"She was at first visited by appalling dreams; then, as she fancied, by a spectre, sometimes

resembling Millarca, sometimes in the shape of a beast, indistinctly seen, walking round the foot of

her bed, from side to side. Lastly came sensations. One, not unpleasant, but very peculiar, she said,

resembled the flow of an icy stream against her breast. At a later time, she felt something like a pair

of large needles pierce her, a little below the throat, with a very sharp pain. A few nights after,

followed a gradual and convulsive sense of strangulation; then came unconsciousness."

I could hear distinctly every word the kind old General was saying, because by this time we were

driving upon the short grass that spreads on either side of the road as you approach the roofless

village which had not shown the smoke of a chimney for more than half a century.

You may guess how strangely I felt as I heard my own symptoms so exactly described in those

which had been experienced by the poor girl who, but for the catastrophe which followed, would

have been at that moment a visitor at my father's chateau. You may suppose, also, how I felt as I

heard him detail habits and mysterious peculiarities which were, in fact, those of our beautiful

guest, Carmilla!

A vista opened in the forest; we were on a sudden under the chimneys and gables of the ruined

village, and the towers and battlements of the dismantled castle, round which gigantic trees are

grouped, overhung us from a slight eminence.

In a frightened dream I got down from the carriage, and in silence, for we had each abundant

matter for thinking; we soon mounted the ascent, and were among the spacious chambers, winding

stairs, and dark corridors of the castle.

"And this was once the palatial residence of the Karnsteins!" said the old General at length, as from

a great window he looked out across the village, and saw the wide, undulating expanse of forest.

"It was a bad family, and here its bloodstained annals were written," he continued.

"It is hard that they should, after death, continue to plague the human race with their atrocious

lusts. That is the chapel of the Karnsteins, down there."

He pointed down to the grey walls of the gothic building, partly visible through the foliage, a little

way down the steep.

"And I hear the axe of a woodman," he added, "busy among the trees that surround it; he possibly

may give us the information of which I am in search, and point out the grave of Mircalla, Countess

of Karnstein. These rustics preserve the local traditions of great families, whose stories die out

among the rich and titled so soon as the families themselves become extinct."

"We have a portrait, at home, of Mircalla, the Countess Karnstein; should you like to see it?" asked

my father.

"Time enough, dear friend," replied the General. "I believe that I have seen the original; and one

motive which has led me to you earlier than I at first intended, was to explore the chapel which we

are now approaching."

"What! see the Countess Mircalla," exclaimed my father; "why, she has been dead more than a

century!"

"Not so dead as you fancy, I am told," answered the General.

"I confess, General, you puzzle me utterly," replied my father, looking at him, I fancied, for a

moment with a return of the suspicion I detected before. But although there was anger and

detestation, at times, in the old General's manner, there was nothing flighty.

"There remains to me," he said, as we passed under the heavy arch of the gothic church—for its

dimensions would have justified its being so styled—" but one object which can interest me during

the few years that remain to me on earth, and that is to wreak on her the vengeance which, I thank

God, may still be accomplished by a mortal arm."

"What vengeance can you mean?" asked my father, in increasing amazement.

"I mean, to decapitate the monster," he answered, with a fierce flush, and a stamp that echoed

mournfully through the hollow ruin, and his clenched hand was at the same moment raised, as if it

grasped the handle of an axe, while he shook it ferociously in the air.

"What?" exclaimed my father, more than ever bewildered.

"To strike her head off."

"Cut her head off!"

"Aye, with a hatchet, with a spade, or with anything that can cleave through her murderous throat.

You shall hear," he answered, trembling with rage. And hurrying forward he said:

"That beam will answer for a seat; your dear child is fatigued; let her be seated, and I will, in a few

sentences, close my dreadful story."

The squared block of wood, which lay on the grass-grown pavement of the chapel, formed a bench

on which I was very glad to seat myself, and in the meantime the General called to the woodman,

who had been removing some boughs which leaned upon the old walls; and, axe in hand, the hardy

old fellow stood before us.

He could not tell us anything of these monuments; but there was an old man, he said, a ranger of

this forest, at present sojourning in the house of the priest, about two miles away, who could point

out every monument of the old Karnstein family; and, for a trifle, he undertook to bring him back with him, if we would lend him one of our horses, in little more than half-an-hour.

"Have you been long employed about this forest?" asked my father of the old man.

"I have been a woodman here," he answered in his patois, "under the forester, all my days; so has

my father before me, and so on, as many generations as I can count up. I could show you the very

house in the village here, in which my ancestors lived."

"How came the village to be deserted?" asked the General.

"It was troubled by revenants, sir; several were tracked to their graves, there detected by the usual

tests, and extinguished in the usual way, by decapitation, by the stake, and by burning; but not until

many of the villagers were killed.

"But after all these proceedings according to law," he continued—"so many graves opened, and so

many vampires deprived of their horrible animation—the village was not relieved. But a Moravian

nobleman, who happened to be travelling this way, heard how matters were, and being skilled—as

many people are in his country—in such affairs, he offered to deliver the village from its

tormentor. He did so thus: There being a bright moon that night, he ascended, shortly after sunset,

the towers of the chapel here, from whence he could distinctly see the churchyard beneath him;

you can see it from that window. From this point he watched until he saw the vampire come out of

his grave, and place near it the linen clothes in which he had been folded, and then glide away

towards the village to plague its inhabitants.

"The stranger, having seen all this, came down from the steeple, took the linen wrappings of the

vampire, and carried them up to the top of the tower, which he again mounted. When the vampire

returned from his prowlings and missed his clothes, he cried furiously to the Moravian, whom he

saw at the summit of the tower, and who, in reply, beckoned him to ascend and take them.

Whereupon the vampire, accepting his invitation, began to climb the steeple, and so soon as he had

reached the battlements, the Moravian, with a stroke of his sword, clove his skull in twain, hurling

him down to the churchyard, whither, descending by the winding stairs, the stranger followed and

cut his head off, and next day delivered it and the body to the villagers, who duly impaled and

burnt them.

"This Moravian nobleman had authority from the then head of the family to remove the tomb of

Mircalla, Countess Karnstein, which he did effectually, so that in a little while its site was quite

forgotten."

"Can you point out where it stood?" asked the General, eagerly.

The forester shook his head and smiled.

"Not a soul living could tell you that now," he said; "besides, they say her body was removed; but

no one is sure of that either."

Having thus spoken, as time pressed, he dropped his axe and departed, leaving us to hear the

remainder of the General's strange story.

THE MEETING

"MY beloved child," he resumed, was now growing rapidly worse. The physician who attended her

had failed to produce the slightest impression upon her disease, for such I then supposed it to be.

He saw my alarm, and suggested a consultation. I called in an abler physician, from Gratz. Several

days elapsed before he arrived. He was a good and pious, as well as a learned man. Having seen

my poor ward together, they withdrew to my library to confer and discuss. I, from the adjoining

room, where I awaited their summons, heard these two gentlemen's voices raised in something

sharper than a strictly philosophical discussion. I knocked at the door and entered. I found the old

physician from Gratz maintaining his theory. His rival was combatting it with undisguised ridicule,

accompanied with bursts of laughter. This unseemly manifestation subsided and the altercation

ended on my entrance.

"'Sir,' said my first physician, 'my learned brother seems to think that you want a conjuror, and not

a doctor.'

"'Pardon me,' said the old physician from Gratz, looking displeased, 'I shall state my own view of

the case in my own way another time. I grieve, Monsieur le Général, that by my skill and science I

can be of no use. Before I go I shall do myself the honour to suggest something to you.'

"He seemed thoughtful, and sat down at a table and began to write. Profoundly disappointed, I

made my bow, and as I turned to go, the other doctor pointed over his shoulder to his companion

who was writing, and then, with a shrug, significantly touched his forehead.

"This consultation, then, left me precisely where I was. I walked out into the grounds, all but

distracted. The doctor from Gratz, in ten or fifteen minutes, overtook me. He apologised for having

followed me, but said that he could not conscientiously take his leave without a few words more.

He told me that he could not be mistaken; no natural disease exhibited the same symptoms; and

that death was already very near. There remained, however, a day, or possibly two, of life. If the

fatal seizure were at once arrested, with great care and skill her strength might possibly return. But

all hung now upon the confines of the irrevocable. One more assault might extinguish the last

spark of vitality which is, every moment, ready to die.

"'And what is the nature of the seizure you speak of?' I entreated.

"'I have stated all fully in this note, which I place in your hands upon the distinct condition that you

send for the nearest clergyman, and open my letter in his presence, and on no account read it till he

is with you; you would despise it else, and it is a matter of life and death. Should the priest fail you,

then, indeed, you may read it.'

"He asked me, before taking his leave finally, whether I would wish to see a man curiously learned

upon the very subject, which, after I had read his letter, would probably interest me above all

others, and he urged me earnestly to invite him to visit him there; and so took his leave.

"The ecclesiastic was absent, and I read the letter by myself. At another time, or in another case, it

might have excited my ridicule. But into what quackeries will not people rush for a last chance,

where all accustomed means have failed, and the life of a beloved object is at stake?

"Nothing, you will say, could be more absurd than the learned man's letter. It was monstrous

enough to have consigned him to a madhouse. He said that the patient was suffering from the visits

of a vampire! The punctures which she described as having occurred near the throat, were, he

insisted, the insertion of those two long, thin, and sharp teeth which, it is well known, are peculiar to vampires; and there could be no doubt, he added, as to the well-defined presence of the small

livid mark which all concurred in describing as that induced by the demon's lips, and every

symptom described by the sufferer was in exact conformity with those recorded in every case of a

similar visitation.

"Being myself wholly sceptical as to the existence of any such portent as the vampire, the

supernatural theory of the good doctor furnished, in my opinion, but another instance of learning

and intelligence oddly associated with some one hallucination. I was so miserable, however, that,

rather than try nothing, I acted upon the instructions of the letter.

"I concealed myself in the dark dressing-room, that opened upon the poor patient's room, in which

a candle was burning, and watched there till she was fast asleep. I stood at the door, peeping

through the small crevice, my sword laid on the table beside me, as my directions prescribed, until,

a little after one, I saw a large black object, very ill-defined, crawl, as it seemed to me, over the foot

of the bed, and swiftly spread itself up to the poor girl's throat, where it swelled, in a moment, into

a great, palpitating mass.

"For a few moments I had stood petrified. I now sprang forward, with my sword in my hand. The

black creature suddenly contracted toward the foot of the bed, glided over it, and, standing on the

floor about a yard below the foot of the bed, with a glare of skulking ferocity and horror fixed on

me, I saw Millarca. Speculating I know not what, I struck at her instantly with my sword; but I saw

her standing near the door, unscathed. Horrified, I pursued, and struck again. She was gone; and

my sword flew to shivers against the door.

"I can't describe to you all that passed on that horrible night. The whole house was up and stirring.

The spectre Millarca was gone. But her victim was sinking fast, and before the morning dawned,

she died."

The old General was agitated. We did not speak to him. My father walked to some little distance,

and began reading the inscriptions on the tombstones; and thus occupied, he strolled into the door

of a side-chapel to prosecute his researches. The General leaned against the wall, dried his eyes,

and sighed heavily. I was relieved on hearing the voices of Carmilla and Madame, who were at that

moment approaching. The voices died away.

In this solitude, having just listened to so strange a story, connected, as it was, with the great and

titled dead, whose monuments were mouldering among the dust and ivy round us, and every

incident of which bore so awfully upon my own mysterious case—in this haunted spot, darkened

by the towering foliage that rose on every side, dense and high above its noiseless walls—a horror

began to steal over me, and my heart sank as I thought that my friends were, after all, not about to

enter and disturb this triste and ominous scene.

The old General's eyes were fixed on the ground, as he leaned with his hand upon the basement of

a shattered monument.

Under a narrow, arched doorway, surmounted by one of those demoniacal grotesques in which the

cynical and ghastly fancy of old Gothic carving delights, I saw very gladly the beautiful face and

figure of Carmilla enter the shadowy chapel.

I was just about to rise and speak, and nodded smiling, in answer to her peculiarly engaging smile;

when with a cry, the old man by my side caught up the woodman's hatchet, and started forward.

On seeing him a brutalised change came over her features. It was an instantaneous and horrible

transformation, as she made a crouching step backwards. Before I could utter a scream, he struck at

her with all his force, but she dived under his blow, and unscathed, caught him in her tiny grasp by

the wrist. He struggled for a moment to release his arm, but his hand opened, the axe fell to the ground, and the girl was gone.

He staggered against the wall. His grey hair stood upon his head, and a moisture shone over his

face, as if he were at the point of death.

The frightful scene had passed in a moment. The first thing I recollect after, is Madame standing

before me, and impatiently repeating again and again, the question, "Where is Mademoiselle

Carmilla?"

I answered at length, "I don't know —I can't tell—she went there," and I pointed to the door

through which Madame had just entered; "only a minute or two since."

"But I have been standing there, in the passage, ever since Mademoiselle Carmilla entered; and she

did not return."

She then began to call "Carmilla," through every door and passage and from the windows, but no

answer came.

"She called herself Carmilla?" asked the General, still agitated.

"Carmilla, yes," I answered.

"Aye," he said; "that is Millarca. That is the same person who long ago was called Mircalla,

Countess Karnstein. Depart from this accursed ground, my poor child, as quickly as you can. Drive

to the clergyman's house, and stay there till we come. Begone! May you never behold Carmilla

more; you will not find her here."

ORDEAL AND EXECUTION

As he spoke one of the strangest looking men I ever beheld, entered the chapel at the door through

which Carmilla had made her entrance and her exit. He was tall, narrow-chested, stooping, with

high shoulders, and dressed in black. His face was brown and dried in with deep furrows; he wore

an oddly-shaped hat with a broad leaf. His hair, long and grizzled, hung on his shoulders. He wore

a pair of gold spectacles, and walked slowly, with an odd shambling gait, with his face sometimes

turned up to the sky, and sometimes bowed down toward the ground, seemed to wear a perpetual

smile; his long thin arms were swinging, and his lank hands, in old black gloves ever so much too

wide for them, waving and gesticulating in utter abstraction.

"The very man!" exclaimed the General, advancing with manifest delight. " My dear Baron, how

happy I am to see you, I had no hope of meeting you so soon." He signed to my father, who had by

this time returned, and leading the fantastic old gentleman, whom he called the Baron to meet him.

He introduced him formally, and they at once entered into earnest conversation. The stranger took

a roll of paper from his pocket, and spread it on the worn surface of a tomb that stood by. He had a

pencil case in his fingers, with which he traced imaginary lines from point to point on the paper,

which from their often glancing from it, together, at certain points of the building, I concluded to be

a plan of the chapel. He accompanied, what I may term, his lecture, with occasional readings from

a dirty little book, whose yellow leaves were closely written over.

They sauntered together down the side aisle, opposite to the spot where I was standing, conversing

as they went; then they begun measuring distances by paces, and finally they all stood together,

facing a piece of the side- wall, which they began to examine with great minuteness; pulling off the

ivy that clung over it, and rapping the plaster with the ends of their sticks, scraping here, and

knocking there. At length they ascertained the existence of a broad marble tablet, with letters

carved in relief upon it.

With the assistance of the woodman, who soon returned, a monumental inscription, and carved

escutcheon, were disclosed. They proved to be those of the long lost monument of Mircalla,

Countess Karnstein.

The old General, though not I fear given to the praying mood, raised his hands and eyes to heaven,

in mute thanksgiving for some moments.

"To-morrow," I heard him say; "the commissioner will be here, and the Inquisition will be held

according to law."

Then turning to the old man with the gold spectacles, whom I have described, he shook him

warmly by both hands and said:

"Baron, how can I thank you? How can we all thank you? You will have delivered this region from

a plague that has scourged its inhabitants for more than a century. The horrible enemy, thank God,

is at last tracked."

My father led the stranger aside, and the General followed. I knew that he had led them out of

hearing, that he might relate my case, and I saw them glance often quickly at me, as the discussion

proceeded.

My father came to me, kissed me again and again, and leading me from the chapel, said:

"It is time to return, but before we go home, we must add to our party the good priest, who lives but a little way from this; and persuade him to accompany us to the schloss."

In this quest we were successful: and I was glad, being unspeakably fatigued when we reached

home. But my satisfaction was changed to dismay, on discovering that there were no tidings of

Carmilla. Of the scene that had occurred in the ruined chapel, no explanation was offered to me,

and it was clear that it was a secret which my father for the present determined to keep from me.

The sinister absence of Carmilla made the remembrance of the scene more horrible to me. The

arrangements for that night were singular. Two servants, and Madame were to sit up in my room

that night; and the ecclesiastic with my father kept watch in the adjoining dressing-room.

The priest had performed certain solemn rites that night, the purport of which I did not understand

any more than I comprehended the reason of this extraordinary precaution taken for my safety

during sleep.

I saw all clearly a few days later.

The disappearance of Carmilla was followed by the discontinuance of my nightly sufferings.

You have heard, no doubt, of the appalling superstition that prevails in Upper and Lower Styria, in

Moravia, Silisia, in Turkish Servia, in Poland, even in Russia; the superstition, so we must call it,

of the Vampire.

If human testimony, taken with every care and solemnity, judicially, before commissions

innumerable, each consisting of many members, all chosen for integrity and intelligence, and

constituting reports more voluminous perhaps than exist upon any one other class of cases, is

worth anything, it is difficult to deny, or even to doubt the existence of such a phenomenon as the

Vampire.

For my part I have heard no theory by which to explain what I myself have witnessed and

experienced, other than that supplied by the ancient and well-attested belief of the country.

The next day the formal proceedings took place in the Chapel of Karnstein. The grave of the

Countess Mircalla was opened; and the General and my father recognised each his perfidious and

beautiful guest, in the face now disclosed to view. The features, though a hundred and fifty years

had passed since her funeral, were tinted with the warmth of life. Her eyes were open; no

cadaverous smell exhaled from the coffin. The two medical men, one officially present, the other

on the part of the promoter of the inquiry, attested the marvellous fact, that there was a faint but

appreciable respiration, and a corresponding action of the heart. The limbs were perfectly flexible,

the flesh elastic; and the leaden coffin floated with blood, in which to a depth of seven inches, the

body lay immersed. Here then, were all the admitted signs and proofs of vampirism. The body,

therefore, in accordance with the ancient practice, was raised, and a sharp stake driven through the

heart of the vampire, who uttered a piercing shriek at the moment, in all respects such as might

escape from a living person in the last agony. Then the head was struck off, and a torrent of blood

flowed from the severed neck. The body and head were next placed on a pile of wood, and reduced

to ashes, which were thrown upon the river and borne away, and that territory has never since been

plagued by the visits of a vampire.

My father has a copy of the report of the Imperial Commission, with the signatures of all who were

present at these proceedings, attached in verification of the statement. It is from this official paper

that I have summarized my account of this last shocking scene.

CONCLUSION

I write all this you suppose with composure. But far from it; I cannot think of it without agitation.

Nothing but your earnest desire so repeatedly expressed, could have induced me to sit down to a

task that has unstrung my nerves for months to come, and reinduced a shadow of the unspeakable

horror which years after my deliverance continued to make my days and nights dreadful, and

solitude insupportably terrific.

Let me add a word or two about that quaint Baron Vordenburg, to whose curious lore we were

indebted for the discovery of the Countess Mircalla's grave.

He had taken up his abode in Gratz, where, living upon a mere pittance, which was all that

remained to him of the once princely estates of his family, in Upper Styria, he devoted himself to

the minute and laborious investigation of the marvellously authenticated tradition of Vampirism.

He had at his fingers' ends all the great and little works upon the subject. "Magia Posthuma,"

"Phlegon de Mirabilibus," " Augustinus de curâ pro Mortuis,"

"Philosophicæ et Christianæ Cogitationes de Vampiris," by John Christofer Herenberg; and a

thousand others, among which I remember only a few of those which he lent to my father. He had a

voluminous digest of all the judicial cases, from which he had extracted a system of principles that

appear to govern—some always, and others occasionally only—the condition of the vampire. I may

mention, in passing, that the deadly pallor attributed to that sort of revenants, is a mere

melodramatic fiction. They present, in the grave, and when they show themselves in human

society, the appearance of healthy life. When disclosed to light in their coffins, the exhibit all the

symptoms that are enumerated as those which proved the vampire-life of the long- dead Countess

Karnstein.

How they escape from their graves and return to them for certain hours every day, without

displacing the clay or leaving any trace of disturbance in the state of the coffin or the cerements,

has always been admitted to be utterly inexplicable. The amphibious existence of the vampire is

sustained by daily renewed slumber in the grave. Its horrible lust for living blood supplies the

vigour of its waking existence. The vampire is prone to be fascinated with an engrossing

vehemence, resembling the passion of love, by particular persons. In pursuit of these it will

exercise inexhaustible patience and stratagem, for access to a particular object may be obstructed in

a hundred ways. It will never desist until it has satiated its passion, and drained the very life of its

coveted victim. But it will, in these cases, husband and protract its murderous enjoyment with the

refinement of an epicure, and heighten it by the gradual approaches of an artful courtship. In these

cases it seems to yearn for something like sympathy and consent. In ordinary ones it goes direct to

its object, overpowers with violence, and strangles and exhausts often at a single feast.

The vampire is, apparently, subject, in certain situations, to special conditions. In the particular

instance of which I have given you a relation, Mircalla seemed to be limited to a name which, if not

her real one, should at least reproduce, without the omission or addition of a single letter, those, as

we say, anagrammatically, which compose it. Carmiila did this; so did Millarca.

My father related to the Baron Vordenburg, who remained with us for two or three weeks after the

expulsion of Carmiila, the story about the Moravian nobleman and the vampire at Karnstein

churchyard, and then he asked the Baron how he had discovered the exact position of the longconcealed

tomb of the Countess Millarca? The Baron's grotesque features puckered up into a

mysterious smile; he looked down, still smiling on his worn spectaclecase and fumbled with it.

Then looking up, he said: "I have many journals, and other papers, written by that remarkable man; the most curious among

them is one treating of the visit of which you speak, to Karnstein. The tradition, of course,

discolours' and distorts a little. He might have been termed a Moravian nobleman, for he had

changed his abode to that territory, and was, beside, a noble. But he was, in truth, a native of Upper

Styria. It is enough to say that in very early youth he had been a passionate and favoured lover of

the beautiful Mircalla, Countess Karnstein. Her early death plunged him into inconsolable grief. It

is the nature of vampires to increase and multiply, but according to an ascertained and ghostly law.

"Assume, at starting, a territory perfectly free from that pest. How does it begin, and how does it

multiply itself? I will tell you. A person, more or less wicked, puts an end to himself. A suicide,

under certain circumstances, becomes a vampire. That spectre visits living people in their slumbers;

they die, and almost invariably, in the grave, develope into vampires. This happened in the case of

the beautiful Mircalla, who was haunted by one of those demons. My ancestor, Vordenburg, whose

title I still bear, soon discovered this, and in the course of the studies to which he devoted himself,

learned a great deal more.

"Among other things, he concluded that suspicion of vampirism would probably fall, sooner or

later, upon the dead Countess, who in life had been his idol. He conceived a horror, be she what

she might, of her remains being profaned by the outrage of a posthumous execution. He has left a

curious paper to prove that the vampire, on its expulsion from its amphibious existence, is

projected into a far more horrible life; and he resolved to save his once beloved Mircalla from this.

"He adopted the stratagem of a journey here, a pretended removal of her remains, and a real

obliteration of her monument. When age had stolen upon him, and from the vale of years he looked

back on the scenes he was leaving, he considered, in a different spirit, what he had done, and a

horror took possession of him. He made the tracings and notes which have guided me to the very

spot, and drew up a confession of the deception that he had practised. If he had intended any

further action in this matter, death prevented him; and the hand of a remote descendant has, too late

for many, directed the pursuit to the lair of the beast."

We talked a little more, and among other things he said was this:

"One sign of the vampire is the power of the hand. The slender hand of Mircalla closed like a vice

of steel on the General's wrist when he raised the hatchet to strike. But its power is not confined to

its grasp; it leaves a numbness in the limb it seizes, which is slowly, if ever, recovered from."

The following Spring my father took me a tour through Italy. We remained away for more than a

year. It was long before the terror of recent events subsided; and to this hour the image of Carmilla

returns to memory with ambiguous alternations—sometimes the playful, languid, beautiful girl;

sometimes the writhing fiend I saw in the ruined church; and often from a reverie I have started,

fancying I heard the light step of Carmilla at the drawing-room door.

#gothic #vampires #vampire #goth #gothic literature #litterature #carmilla 1872 #edward wishes he had carmillas swagger #carmilla > dracula #carmilla part 2 #lesbians #gothic lesbians #victorian gothic #lesbian vampires

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