The Macabre Megapack. Lafcadio HearnЧитать онлайн книгу.
that the strange, cold look—the soulless look, as she called it—of the Baron, filled her with a secret dread whenever she saw him.
“It was not long, however, before they became quite accustomed to the corpse-like paleness of my friend, and he won greatly upon their regard when some time afterwards, at the imminent hazard of his life, he rescued me from robbers, who fell upon me while I was riding over the mountain. I had given myself up for lost, after ineffectual resistance, when Arthur suddenly sprang from behind a rock, and drawing his weapon, soon put the robbers to flight. From this day, both Ursula and her daughter treated him with confidence; and he occasionally bantered me by saying he had turned me out of my place in the heart of the charming Nazarena.
“I had never cherished any feeling stronger than friendship for the sweet girl; and could readily forgive the preference she now showed to my friend. But I feared for her; the more so as I was not pleased with the Baron’s demeanor towards her or the principles he avowed. The regard I felt for him, however, and gratitude towards the preserver of my life, prevented me from expressing my displeasure openly. I was silent, though I knew his views with regard to women were unbecoming a nobleman and a Scot! Bitterly have I since rued that unworthy silence.
“To be brief—the fair Nazarena fled from the house of her mother. Vain was the search of the wretched parent the next day for her lost child; and heart-rending was the question—‘Who was the betrayer?’ Alas! I knew but too well—yet dared not name him!
“After three days, some peasants discovered the corpse of a female in the neighboring wood. It was Nazarena. On the neck of the helpless girl was a small puncture, scarcely visible indeed; but there was otherwise no wound on the body. A fine stiletto lay on the ground near her. I shuddered with horror when her eyes fell on this instrument of death. I knew it instantly: it was the weapon Arthur wore constantly about his person. I communicated my knowledge to the authorities; officers were dispatched to arrest the criminal; but he had disappeared. I have never heard aught of him.”
“Heaven guard you, young man!” exclaimed the aged nurse of Malvine; “your friend was a Vampyre!”
“A Vampyre!” repeated Edgar, “and what is that, I pray?”
“Holy Maria!” cried the nurse, lifting up both her hands; “the man is a Scot, and knows not what a Vampyre is!”
“P’shaw! Nursery fables!” cried Sir Aubrey, half vexed, half laughing.
“A Vampyre,” continued the old woman, forgetting respect in her interest, “is a dead person, who, on account of his sins, can find no repose in the grave, but is bound to the service of witches and sorcerers. Every year, on Walpurgis night, he is forced to attend the Witches’ Sabbath, and swear a fearful oath to deliver to them a guiltless victim before the month is at an end. He marks out some tender maiden or tender youth as his victim, whom he kills and sucks the blood. If he fails to fulfill the oath, he falls himself a prey—and the witches deliver him to Satan as his forever and ever!”
“Strange,” Edgar muttered. “It was in May that the terrible event occurred of which I spoke.”
“Yes—yes!” cried the nurse eagerly; “I am not so mistaken!” And turning to her young mistress she besought her to sing the legend of the Vampyre which she had once learned of a wandering harper.
Malvine was ever ready to gratify her favorite attendant, who had been, in truth, a mother to her; and when her harp was brought, sang after a prelude—
The Legend
I.
Mother—behold
The pale man there—
With haughty air,
And look so cold!
“—Child—child beware
The pale man there!
Turn thee away
Or thou’rt his prey!
Ah! Many a maiden, young and fair,
Hath fallen his victim, in the snare!
Hath drunken death
From his poisonous breath:
List—list, my child! A Vampyre he!
Heaven keep his demon glance from thee!”
II.
What, mother, doth the pale man there?
With look so full of dark despair?
“Child, child! Those fearful glances shun:
Foul deeds of evil hath he done!
Such is his doom!
Though long since dead,
He cannot rest within the tomb!
Forth he has fled,
to wander round—
A living corpse o’er hallowed ground!
From house to house he takes his way,
A fair bride seeking for his prey:
His chosen bride was lost for aye!”
III.
He smiles on me—
The pale man—see!
And kind his look, those sad and wild!
—“Still look’st there!—alas, my child!
Haste—haste—the danger fly—
The mother’s warning is in vain;
The pale man’s spells the maid enchain;
At midnight, fast she flies
By the light of those fierce eyes—
Now she herself—so runs the tale—
Wanders o’er earth, a Vampyre pale.
* * * *
The following day was spent by Edgar hunting in the forest. His mind was disquieted; not by the struggle to overcome his unhappy love; for so hopeless he deemed it, that no room was left for conflict. But the wild stories of the nurse strangely affected him. Could it then be so? Was it true, that the man he had once loved as a friend, whom he now saw execrated as the betrayer of innocence, was that fearful being she had described? He was inclined to reject so monstrous a belief—though nurtured in the faith of those marvelous tales, long since exploded in the light of civilization and reason.
He met with no success in the sport, but continued to wander on, till the shades of twilight began to fall upon the forest. Then he returned, listlessly, on the way homeward. Suddenly a wild animal, which he took for a doe, bounded from the shelter of some bushes near him, and shot away. Edgar followed the game, now losing sight of her, now catching a glimpse as she sprang through the dense foliage, darting among the branches like an arrow in flight. At length he was forced to give up the pursuit, exhausted with running and clambering. He was in a wild part of the forest, surrounded as it seemed with rocks, the tall bare peaks of which were touched with silver by the moon, just then appearing above the horizon.
Edgar was endeavoring to find the shortest way to the castle, when he was startled by the sound of a man’s voice, as if groaning in pain, and entreating help. Following the sound, he saw a man lying on the ground, and weltering in his blood. The sufferer perceived him, as it appeared, for he redoubled his cries for assistance.
Edgar raised him from the ground, and tried to staunch the blood that still flowed freely from a deep wound in the breast. His humane efforts were in part successful; the wounded man drew a deep breath, opened his eyes, and fixed them upon the youth.
Edgar stared back in sudden horror. “Arthur!” he exclaimed.
“Is it you, Edgar?” asked the sufferer, faintly. “Then all is well. I saved your life—you will not abandon me?”
“Nazarena!”