Carmilla

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 would 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 farther 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?"