Carmilla
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 demeanor 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 would have thrown myself on your high sense of honor to keep
my secret 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 honor. My daughter will
observe the same secrecy, 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 recognized 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.”
XIII.
The Woodman
“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 specter, 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