Carmilla

Over the sward and low grounds a thin film of mist was stealing like

smoke, marking the distances with a transparent veil; and here and there

we could see the river faintly flashing in the moonlight.

No softer, sweeter scene could be imagined. The news I had just heard

made it melancholy; but nothing could disturb its character of profound

serenity, and the enchanted glory and vagueness of the prospect.

My father, who enjoyed the picturesque, and I, stood looking in silence

over the expanse beneath us. The two good governesses, standing a little

way behind us, discoursed upon the scene, and were eloquent upon

the moon.

Madame Perrodon was fat, middle-aged, and romantic, and talked and

sighed poetically. Mademoiselle De Lafontaine--in right of her father

who was a German, assumed to be psychological, metaphysical, and

something of a mystic--now declared that when the moon shone with a

light so intense it was well known that it indicated a special spiritual

activity. The effect of the full moon in such a state of brilliancy was

manifold. It acted on dreams, it acted on lunacy, it acted on nervous

people, it had marvelous physical influences connected with life.

Mademoiselle related that her cousin, who was mate of a merchant ship,

having taken a nap on deck on such a night, lying on his back, with his

face full in the light on the moon, had wakened, after a dream of an old

woman clawing him by the cheek, with his features horribly drawn to one

side; and his countenance had never quite recovered its equilibrium.

"The moon, this night," she said, "is full of idyllic and magnetic

influence--and see, when you look behind you at the front of the schloss

how all its windows flash and twinkle with that silvery splendor, as if

unseen hands had lighted up the rooms to receive fairy guests."

There are indolent styles of the spirits in which, indisposed to talk

ourselves, the talk of others is pleasant to our listless ears; and I

gazed on, pleased with the tinkle of the ladies' conversation.

"I have got into one of my moping moods tonight," said my father, after

a silence, and quoting Shakespeare, whom, by way of keeping up our

English, he used to read aloud, he said: "'In truth I know not why I am so sad.

It wearies me: you say it wearies you;

But how I got it--came by it.' "I forget the rest. But I feel as if some great misfortune were hanging

over us. I suppose the poor General's afflicted letter has had something

to do with it."

At this moment the unwonted sound of carriage wheels and many hoofs upon

the road, arrested our attention.

They seemed to be approaching from the high ground overlooking the

bridge, and very soon the equipage emerged from that point. Two horsemen

first crossed the bridge, then came a carriage drawn by four horses, and

two men rode behind.