Carmilla

It would be vain my attempting to tell you the horror with which, even

now, I recall the occurrence of that night. It was no such transitory

terror as a dream leaves behind it. It seemed to deepen by time, and

communicated itself to the room and the very furniture that had

encompassed the apparition.

I could not bear next day to be alone for a moment. I should have told

papa, but for two opposite reasons. At one time I thought he would laugh

at my story, and I could not bear its being treated as a jest; and at

another I thought he might fancy that I had been attacked by the

mysterious complaint which had invaded our neighborhood. I had myself no

misgiving of the kind, and as he had been rather an invalid for some

time, I was afraid of alarming him.

I was comfortable enough with my good-natured companions, Madame

Perrodon, and the vivacious Mademoiselle Lafontaine. They both perceived

that I was out of spirits and nervous, and at length I told them what

lay so heavy at my heart.

Mademoiselle laughed, but I fancied that Madame Perrodon looked anxious.

"By-the-by," said Mademoiselle, laughing, "the long lime tree walk,

behind Carmilla's bedroom window, is haunted!"

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Madame, who probably thought the theme rather

inopportune, "and who tells that story, my dear?"

"Martin says that he came up twice, when the old yard gate was being

repaired, before sunrise, and twice saw the same female figure walking

down the lime tree avenue."

"So he well might, as long as there are cows to milk in the river

fields," said Madame.

"I daresay; but Martin chooses to be frightened, and never did I see

fool more frightened."

"You must not say a word about it to Carmilla, because she can see down

that walk from her room window," I interposed, "and she is, if possible,

a greater coward than I."

Carmilla came down rather later than usual that day.

"I was so frightened last night," she said, so soon as were together,

"and I am sure I should have seen something dreadful if it had not been

for that charm I bought from the poor little hunchback whom I called

such hard names. I had a dream of something black coming round my bed,

and I awoke in a perfect horror, and I really thought, for some seconds,

I saw a dark figure near the chimney-piece, but I felt under my pillow

for my charm, and the moment my fingers touched it, the figure

disappeared, and I felt quite certain, only that I had it by me, that

something frightful would have made its appearance, and, perhaps,

throttled me, as it did those poor people we heard of.

"Well, listen to me," I began, and recounted my adventure, at the

recital of which she appeared horrified.