Carmilla eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 101 pages of information about Carmilla.

She confessed that she had experienced a similar shock on seeing me, and precisely the same faint antipathy that had mingled with my admiration of her.  We now laughed together over our momentary horrors.


Her Habits—­A Saunter

I told you that I was charmed with her in most particulars.

There were some that did not please me so well.

She was above the middle height of women.  I shall begin by describing her.

She was slender, and wonderfully graceful.  Except that her movements were languid—­very languid—­indeed, there was nothing in her appearance to indicate an invalid.  Her complexion was rich and brilliant; her features were small and beautifully formed; her eyes large, dark, and lustrous; her hair was quite wonderful, I never saw hair so magnificently thick and long when it was down about her shoulders; I have often placed my hands under it, and laughed with wonder at its weight.  It was exquisitely fine and soft, and in color a rich very dark brown, with something of gold.  I loved to let it down, tumbling with its own weight, as, in her room, she lay back in her chair talking in her sweet low voice, I used to fold and braid it, and spread it out and play with it.  Heavens!  If I had but known all!

I said there were particulars which did not please me.  I have told you that her confidence won me the first night I saw her; but I found that she exercised with respect to herself, her mother, her history, everything in fact connected with her life, plans, and people, an ever wakeful reserve.  I dare say I was unreasonable, perhaps I was wrong; I dare say I ought to have respected the solemn injunction laid upon my father by the stately lady in black velvet.  But curiosity is a restless and unscrupulous passion, and no one girl can endure, with patience, that hers should be baffled by another.  What harm could it do anyone to tell me what I so ardently desired to know?  Had she no trust in my good sense or honor?  Why would she not believe me when I assured her, so solemnly, that I would not divulge one syllable of what she told me to any mortal breathing.

There was a coldness, it seemed to me, beyond her years, in her smiling melancholy persistent refusal to afford me the least ray of light.

I cannot say we quarreled upon this point, for she would not quarrel upon any.  It was, of course, very unfair of me to press her, very ill-bred, but I really could not help it; and I might just as well have let it alone.

What she did tell me amounted, in my unconscionable estimation—­to nothing.

It was all summed up in three very vague disclosures: 

First—­Her name was Carmilla.

Second—­Her family was very ancient and noble.

Third—­Her home lay in the direction of the west.

She would not tell me the name of her family, nor their armorial bearings, nor the name of their estate, nor even that of the country they lived in.

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Carmilla from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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