CHAPTER XXVI.

CATASTROPHE.
" THOSE seem to be good horses, and we change on the way," said Planard. "You give the men a Napoleon or two ; we must do it within three hours and a quarter. Now, come ; I'll lift him, upright, so as to place his feet in their proper berth, and you must keep them together, and draw the white shirt well down over them."
In another moment I was placed, as he described, sustained in Planard's arms, standing at the foot of the coffin, and so lowered backward, gradually, till I lay my length in it. Then the man, whom he called Planard, stretched my arms by my sides, and care- fully arranged the frills at my breast, and the folds of the shroud, and after that, taking his stand at the foot of the coffin, made a survey which seemed to satisfy him.
The Count, who was very methodical, took my
clothes, which had just been removed, folded them
rapidly together and locked them up, as I afterwards II
346 IN A GLASS DARKLY.
heard, in one of the three presses which opened by doors in the panel.
I now understood their frightful plan. This coffin had been prepared for me ; the funeral of St. Amand was a sham to mislead inquiry ; I had myself given the order at Pere la Chaise, signed it, and paid the fees for the interment of the fictitious Pierre de St. Amand, whose place I was to take, to lie in his coffin with his name on the plate above my breast, and with a ton of clay packed down upon me ; to waken from this catalepsy, after I had been for hours in the grave, there to perish by a death the most horrible that imagination can conceive.
If, hereafter, by any caprice of curiosity or sus- picion, the coffin should be exhumed, and the body it enclosed examined, no chemistry could detect a trace of poison, nor the most cautious examination the slightest mark of violence.
I had myself been at the utmost pains to mystify inquiry, should my disappearance excite surmises, and had even written to my few correspondents in England to tell them that they were not to look for a letter from me for three weeks at least.
In the moment of my guilty elation death had caught me, and there was no escape. I tried to pray to God in my unearthly panic, but only thoughts of terror, judgment, and eternal anguish, crossed the distraction of my immediate doom.
I must not try to recall what is indeed indescri- bable— the multiform horrors of my own thoughts. I will relate, simply, what befell, every detail of which remains sharp in my memory as if cut in steel.
" The undertaker's men are in thehall,"said the Count
THE DRAGON VOLANT. 347
" They must not come till this is fixed," answered Planard. " Be good enough to take hold of the lower part while I take this end." I was not left long to conjecture what was coming, for in a few seconds more something slid across, a few inches above my face, and entirely excluded the light, and muffled sound, so that nothing that was not very distinct reached my ears henceforward ; but very distinctly came the working of a turnscrew, and the crunching home of screws in succession. Than these vulgar sounds, no doom spoken in thunder could have been more tremendous.
The rest I must relate, not as it then reached my ears, which was too imperfectly and interruptedly to supply a connected narrative, but as it was after- wards told me by other people.
The coffin-lid being screwed down, the two gen- tlemen arranged the room, and adjusted the coffin so that it lay perfectly straight along the boards, the Count being specially anxious that there should be no appearance of hurry or disorder in the room, which might have suggested remark and conjecture.
When this was done, Doctor Planard said he would go to the hall to summon the men who were to carry the coffin out and place it in the hearse. The Count pulled on his black gloves, and held his white handkerchief in his hand, a very impressive chief-mourner. He stood a little behind the head of the coffin, awaiting the arrival of the persons who accompanied Planard, and whose fast steps he soon heard approaching.
Planard came first. He entered the room through the apartment in which the coffin had been originally
348 IN A GLASS DARKLY.
placed. His manner was changed; there was some- thing of a swagger in it.
" Monsieur le Comte," he said, as he strode through the door, followed by half-a-dozen persons. " I am sorry to have to announce to you a most unseason- able interruption. Here is Monsieur Carmaignac, a gentleman holding an office in the police department, who says that information to the effect that large quantities of smuggled English and other goods have been distributed in this neighbourhood, and that a portion of them is concealed in your house. I have ventured to assure him, of my own knowledge, that nothing can be more false than that information, and that you would be only too happy to throw open for his inspection, at a moment's notice, every room, closet, and cupboard in your house."
" Most assuredly," exclaimed the Count, with a stout voice, but a very white face. " Thank you, my good friend, for having anticipated me. I will place my house and keys at his disposal, for the purpose of his scrutiny, so soon as he is good enough to inform me of what specific contraband goods he comes in search."
" The Count de St. Alyre will pardon me," answered Carmaignac, a little drily. " I am for- bidden by my instructions to make that disclosure ; and that I am instructed to make a general search, this warrant will sufficiently apprise Monsieur le Comte."
" Monsieur Carmaignac, may I hope," interposed Planard, "that you will permit the Count de St. Alyre to attend the funeral of his kinsman, who lies here, as you see — " (he pointed to the plate upon the
THE DRAGON VOLANT. 349
coffin) — "and to convey whom to Pere la Chaise, a hearse waits at this moment at the door."
" That, I regret to say, I cannot permit. My instructions are precise ; but the delay, I trust, will be but trifling. Monsieur le Comte will not suppose for a moment that I suspect him ; but we have a duty to perform, and I must act as if I did. When I am ordered to search, I search ; things are some- times hid in such bizarre places. I can't say, for instance, what that coffin may contain."
" The body of my kinsman, Monsieur Pierre de St. Amand," answered the Count, loftily.
" Oh ! then you've seen him ? "
"Seen him? Often, too often?" The Count was evidently a good deal moved.
" I mean the body ? "
The Count stole a quick glance at Planard.
" N — no, Monsieur — that is, I mean only for a moment." Another quick glance at Planard.
"But quite long enough, I fancy, to recognize him ? * insinuated that gentleman.
"Of course — of course ; instantly — perfectly. What ! Pierre de St. Amand ? Not know him at a glance ? No, no, poor fellow, I know him too well for that."
"The things I am in search of," said Monsieur Carmaignac, " would fit in a narrow compass — ser- vants are so ingenious sometimes. Let us raise the lid."
" Pardon me, Monsieur," said the Count, peremp- torily, advancing to the side of the coffin, and extending his arm across it, " I cannot permit that indignity — that desecration."
350 IN A GLASS DARKLY.
" There shall be none, sir, — simply the raising of the lid ; you shall remain in the room. If it should prove as we all hope, you shall have the pleasure of one other look, really the last, upon your beloved kinsman."
" But, sir, I can't."
* But, Monsieur, I must."
" But, besides, the thing, the turnscrew, broke when the last screw was turned ; and I give you my sacred honour there is nothing but the body in this coffin."
" Of course, Monsieur le Comte believes all that ; but he does not know so well as I the legerdemain in use among servants, who are accustomed to smug- gling. Here, Philippe, you must take off the lid of that coffin."
The Count protested ; but Philippe — a man with a bald head, and a smirched face, looking like a working blacksmith — placed on the floor a leather bag of tools, from which, having looked at the coffin, and picked with his nail at the screw-heads, he selected a turnscrew, and, with a few deft twirls at each of the screws, they stood up like little rows of mushrooms, and the lid was raised. I saw the light, of which I thought I had seen my last, once more ; but the axis of vision remained fixed. As I was reduced to the cataleptic state in a position nearly perpendicular, I continued looking straight before me, and thus my gaze was now fixed upon the ceiling. I saw the face of Carmaignac leaning over me with a curious frown. It seemed to me that there was no recognition in his eyes. Oh, Heaven ! that I could have uttered were it but one cry ! I saw
THE DRAGON VOLANT. 351
the dark, mean mask of the little Count staring down at me from the other side ; the face of the pseudo- Marquis also peering at me, but not so full in the line of vision ; there were other faces also.
" I see, I see," said Carmaignac, withdrawing. ■ Nothing of the kind there."
" You will be good enough to direct your man to re-adjust the lid of the coffin, and to fix the screws," said the Count, taking courage; "and — and — really the funeral must proceed. It is not fair to the people who have but moderate fees for night-work, to keep them hour after hour beyond the time."
" Count de St. Alyre, you shall go in a very few minutes. I will direct, just now, all about the coffin."
The Count looked toward the door, and there saw a gendarme ; and two or three more grave and stal- wart specimens of the same force were also in the room. The Count was very uncomfortably excited ; it was growing insupportable.
" As this gentleman makes a difficulty about my attending the obsequies of my kinsman, I will ask you, Planard, to accompany the funeral in my stead."
" In a few minutes," answered the incorrigible Carmaignac. " I must first trouble you for the key that opens that press."
He pointed direct at the press, in which the clothes had just been locked up.
" I — I have no objection," said the Count — " none, of course ; only they have not been used for an age. I'll direct some one to look for the key."
" If you have not got it about you, it is quite un- necessary. Philippe, try your skeleton-keys with that press. I want it opened. Whose clothes are
35* IN A GLASS DARKLY.
these ? " inquired Carmaignac, when, the press having been opened, he took out the suit that had been placed there scarcely two minutes since.
" I can't say," answered the Count. " I know nothing of the contents of that press. A roguish servant, named Lablais, whom I dismissed about a year ago, had the key. I have not seen it open for ten years or more. The clothes are probably his."
" Here are visiting cards, see, and here a marked pocket-handkerchief — * R. B.' upon it. He must have stolen them from a person named Beckett — R. Beckett. 'Mr. Beckett, Berkley Square,' the card says ; and, my faith ! here's a watch and a bunch of seals ; one of them with the initials ' R. B.' upon it. That servant, Lablais, must have been a consummate rogue ! "
" So he was ; you are right, sir."
" It strikes me that he possibly stole these clothes," continued Carmaignac, " from the man in the coffin, who, in that case, would be Monsieur Beckett, and not Monsieur de St. Amand. For, wonderful to relate, Monsieur, the watch is still going 1 That man in the coffin, I believe is not dead, but simply drugged. And for having robbed and intended to murder him, I arrest you, Nicolas de la Marque, Count de St. Alyre."
In another moment the old villain was a prisoner. I heard his discordant voice break quaveringly into sudden vehemence and volubility ; now croaking — now shrieking, as he oscillated between protests, threats, and impious appeals to the God who will "judge the secrets of men ! " And thus lying and raving, he was removed from the room, and placed
THE DRAGON VOLANT. 353
in the same coach with his beautiful and abandoned accomplice, already arrested ; and, with two gen- darmes sitting beside them, they were immediately driving at a rapid pace towards the Conciergerie.
There were now added to the general chorus two voices, very different in quality ; one was that of the gasconading Colonel Gaillarde, who had with difficulty been kept in the background up to this ; the other was that of my jolly friend Whistlewick, who had come to identify me.
I shall tell you, just now, how this project against my property and life, so ingenious and monstrous, was exploded. I must first say a word about myself. I was placed in a hot bath, under the direction of Planard, as consummate a villain as any of the gang, but now thoroughly in the interests of the prosecu- tion. Thence I was laid in a warm bed, the window of the room being open. These simple measures restored me in about three hours ; I should otherwise, probably, have continued under the spell for nearly seven.
The practices of these nefarious conspirators had been carried on with consummate skill and secrecy. Their dupes were led, as I was, to be themselves auxiliary to the mystery which made their own destruction both safe and certain.
A search was, of course, instituted. Graves were opened in Pere la Chaise. The bodies exhumed had lain there too long, and were too much decomposed to be recognized. One only was identified. The notice for the burial, in this particular case, had been signed, the order given, and the fees paid, by Gabriel Gaillarde, who was known to the official clerk, who
M2
354 /W A GLASS DARKLY.
had to transact with him this little funereal business. The very trick that had been arranged for me, had been successfully practised in his case. The person for whom the grave had been ordered, was purely fictitious ; and Gabriel Gaillarde himself filled the coffin, on the cover of which that false name was inscribed as well as upon a tomb-stone over the grave. Possibly, the same honour, under my pseu- donym, may have been intended for me.
The identification was curious. This Gabriel Gaillarde had had a bad fall from a runaway horse, about five years before his mysterious disappearance. He had lost an eye and some teeth, in this accident, besides sustaining a fracture of the right leg, imme- diately above the ankle. He had kept the injuries to his face as profound a secret as he could. The result was, that the glass eye which had done duty for the one he had lost, remained in the socket, slightly dis- placed, of course, but recognizable by the " artist " who had supplied it.
More pointedly recognizable were the teeth, pecu- liar in workmanship, which one of the ablest dentists in Paris had himself adapted to the chasms, the cast of which, owing to peculiarities in the accident, he happened to have preserved. This cast precisely fitted the gold plate found in the mouth of the skull. The mark, also, above the ankle, in the bone, where it had re-united, corresponded exactly with the place where the fracture had knit in the limb of Gabriel Gaillarde.
The Colonel, his younger brother, had been furious about the disappearance of Gabriel, and still more so about that of his money, which he had long
THE DRAGON VOLANT. 355
regarded as his proper keepsake, whenever death should remove his brother from the vexations of living. He had suspected for a long time, for certain adroitly discovered reasons, that the Count de St. Alyre and the beautiful lady, his companion, countess, or whatever else she was, had pigeoned him. To this suspicion were added some others of a still darker kind ; but in their first shape, rather the exagger- ated reflections of his fury, ready to believe anything, than well-defined conjectures.
At length an accident had placed the Colonel very nearly upon the right scent ; a chance, possibly lucky for himself, had apprised the scoundrel Planard that the conspirators — himself among the number — were in danger. The result was that he made terms for himself, became an informer, and concerted with the police this visit made to the Chateau de la Carque, at the critical moment when every measure had been completed that was necessary to construct a perfect case against his guilty accomplices.
I need not describe the minute industry or fore- thought with which the police agents collected all the details necessary to support the case. They had brought an able physician, who, even had Planard failed, would have supplied the necessary medical evidence.
My trip to Paris, you will believe, had not turned out quite so agreeably as I had anticipated. I was the principal witness for the prosecution in this caust cdebre, with all the agremens that attend that envi- able position. Having had an escape, as my friend Whistlewick said, " with a squeak " for my life, I innocently fancied that I should have been an object of considerable interest to Parisian society ; but, a
356 IN A GLASS DARKLY,
good deal to my mortification, I discovered that I was the object of a good-natured but contemptuous merriment. I was a balourd, a henet, un dne, and figured even in caricatures. I became a sort of public character, a dignity,
tl Unto which I was not born,"
and from which I fled as soon as I conveniently could, without even paying my friend, the Marquis d'Har- monville, a visit at his hospitable chateau.
The Marquis escaped scot-free. His accomplice, the Count, was executed. The fair Eugenie, under extenuating circumstances — consisting, so far as I could discover of her good looks — got off for six years' imprisonment.
Colonel Gaillarde recovered some of his brother's money, out of the not very affluent estate of the Count and soi-disant Countess. This, and the execution of the Count, put him in high good humour. So far from insisting on a hostile meeting, he shook me very graciously by the hand, told me that he looked upon the wound on his head, in- flicted by the knob of my stick, as having been received in an honourable, though irregular duel, in which he had no disadvantage or unfairness to com- plain of.
I think I have only two additional details to mention. The bricks discovered in the room with the coffin, had been packed in it, in straw, to supply the weight of a dead body, and to prevent the sus- picions and contradictions that might have been excited by the arrival of an empty coffin at the chateau.
Secondly, the Countess's magnificent brilliants were examined by a lapidary, and pronounced to be
THE DRAGON VOLANT. 357
worth about five pounds to a tragedy queen, who happened to be in want of a suite of paste.
The Countess had figured some years before as one of the cleverest actresses on the minor stage of Paris, where she had been picked up by the Count, and used as his principal accomplice.
She it was who, admirably disguised, had rifled my papers in the carriage on my memorable night- journey to Paris. She also had figured as the inter- preting magician of the palanquin at the ball at Versailles. So far as I was affected by that elaborate mystification it was intended to re-animate my in- terest, which, they feared, might flag in the beautiful Countess. It had its design and action upon other intended victims also ; but of them there is, at present, no need to speak. The introduction of a real corpse — procured from a person who supplied the Parisian anatomists — involved no real danger, while it height- ened the mystery and kept the prophet alive in the gossip of the town and in the thoughts of the noodles with whom he had conferred.
I divided the remainder of the summer and autumn between Switzerland and Italy.
As the well-worn phrase goes, I was a sadder if not a wiser man. A great deal of the horrible im- pression left upon my mind was due, of course, to the mere action of nerves and brain. But serious feelings of another and deeper kind remained. My after life was ultimately formed by the shock I had then received. Those impressions led me — but not till after many years — to happier though not less serious thoughts ; and I have deep reason to be thankful to the all-merciful Ruler of events, for an early and terrible lesson in the ways of sin.
CARMILLA
PROLOGUE.
UPON a paper attached to the Narrative which follows, Doctor Hesselius has written a rather elaborate note, which he accompanies with a reference to his Essay on the strange subject which the MS. illuminates.
This mysterious subject he treats, in that Essay, with his usual learning and acumen, and with remark- able directness and condensation. It will form but one volume of the series of that extraordinary man's collected papeis.
As I publish the case, in this volume, simply to interest the " laity," I shall forestal the intelligent lady, who relates it, in nothing ; and, after due con- sideration, I have determined, therefore, to abstain from presenting any prdcis of the learned Doctor's reasoning, or extract from his statement on a subject which he describes as " involving, not improbably,
CARMILLA. 359
some of the profoundest arcana of our dual existence, and its intermediates."
I was anxious, on discovering this paper, to re- open the correspondence commenced by Doctor Hesselius, so many years before, with a person so clever and careful as his informant seems to have been. Much to my regret, however, I found that she had died in the interval.
She, probably, could have added little to the Narrative which she communicates in the following pages, with, so far as I can pronounce, such a conscientious particularity.
CHAPTER t
AN EARLV FRIGHT.
IN Styria, we, though by no means magnificent people, inhabit a castle, or schloss. A small income, in that part of the world, goes a great way. Eight or nine hundred a year does wonders. Scantily enough ours would have answered among wealthy people at home. My father is English, and I bear an English name, although I never saw England. But here, in this lonely and primitive place, where every- thing is so marvellously cheap, I really don't see how ever so much more money would at all materially add to our comforts, or even luxuries.
My father was in the Austrian service, and retired upon a pension and his patrimony, and purchased this feudal residence, and the small estate on which it stands, a bargain.
Nothing can be more picturesque or solitary. It stands on a slight eminence in a forest. The road, very old and narrow, passes in front of its drawbridge, never raised in my time, and its moat, stocked with
CARMILLA. 361
perch, and sailed over by many swans, and floating on its surface white fleets of water-lilies.
Over all this the schloss shows its many-windowed front ; its towers, and its Gothic chapel.
The forest opens in an irregular and very picturesque glade before its gate, and at the right a steep Gothic bridge carries the road over a stream that winds in deep shadow through the wood.
I have said that this is a very lonely place. Judge whether I say truth. Looking from the hall door towards the road, the forest in which our castle stands extends fifteen miles to the right, and twelve to the left. The nearest inhabited village is about seven of your English miles to the left. The nearest inhabited schloss of any historic associations, is that of old General Spielsdorf, nearly twenty miles away to the right.
I have said " the nearest inhabited 'village," because there is, only three miles westward, that is to say in the direction of General Spielsdorfs schloss, a ruined village, with its quaint little church, now roofless, in the aisle of which are the mouldering tombs of the proud family of Karnstein, now extinct, who once owned the equally-desolate chateau which, in the thick of the forest, overlooks the silent ruins of the town.
Respecting the cause of the desertion of this striking and melancholy spot, there is a legend which I shall relate to you another time.
I must tell you now, how very small is the party who constitute the inhabitants of our castle. I don't include servants, or those dependants who occupy rooms in the buildings attached to the schloss.
362 IN A GLASS DARKLY.
Listen, and wonder ! My father, who is the kindest man on earth, but growing old ; and I, at the date of my story, only nineteen. Eight years have passed since then. I and my father constituted the family at the schloss. My mother, a Styrian lady, died in my infancy, but I had a good-natured governess, who had been with me from, I might almost say, my infancy. I could not remember the time when her fat, benignant face was not a familiar picture in my memory. This was Madame Perrodon, a native of Berne, whose care and good nature in part supplied to me the loss of my mother, whom I do not even remember, so early I lost her. She made a third at our little dinner party. There was a fourth, Made- moiselle De Lafontaine, a lady such as you term, I believe, a " finishing governess." She spoke French and German, Madame Perrodon French and broken English, to which my father and I added English, which, partly to prevent its becoming a lost language among us, and partly from patriotic motives, we spoke every day. The consequence was a Babel, at which strangers used to laugh, and which I shall make no attempt to reproduce in this narrative. And there were two or three young lady friends besides, pretty nearly of my own age, who were occasional visitors, for longer or shorter terms ; and these visit I sometimes returned.
These were our regular social resources ; but of course there were chance visits from " neighbours " of only five or six leagues' distance. My life was, not- withstanding, rather a solitary one, I can assure you.
My gouvernantes had just so much control over me as you might conjecture such sage persons would
CARMILLA. 363
have in the case of a rather spoiled girl, whose only parent allowed her pretty nearly her own way in everything.
The first occurrence in my existence, which pro- duced a terrible impression upon my mind, which, in fact, never has been effaced, was one of the very earliest incidents of my life which I can recollect. Some people will think it so trifling that it should not be recorded here. You will see, however, by-and-by, why I mention it. The nursery, as it was called, though I had it all to myself, was a large room in the upper story of the castle, with a steep oak roof. I can't have been more than six years old, when one night I awoke, and looking round the room from my bed, failed to see the nursery-maid. Neither was my nurse there ; and I thought myself alone. I was not frightened, for I was one of those happy children who are studiously kept in ignorance of ghost stories, of fairy talcs, and of all such lore as makes us cover up our heads when the door creaks suddenly, or the flicker of an expiring candle makes the shadow of a bed-post dance upon the wall, nearer to our faces. I was vexed and insulted at finding myself, as I con- ceived, neglected, and I began to whimper, prepara- tory to a hearty bout of roaring ; when to my surprise, I saw a solemn, but very pretty face looking at me from the side of the bed. It was that of a young lady who was kneeling, with her hands under the coverlet. I looked at her with a kind of pleased wonder, and ceased whimpering. She caressed me with her hands, and lay down beside me on the bed, and drew me towards her, smiling ; I felt immediately delightfully soothed, and fell asleep again. I was
364 IN A GLASS DARKL Y.
wakened by a sensation as if two needles ran into my breast very deep at the same moment, and I cried loudly. The lady started back, with her eyes fixed on me, and then slipped down upon the floor, and, as I thought, hid herself under the bed.
I was now for the first time frightened, and I yelled with all my might and main. Nurse, nursery- maid, housekeeper, all came running in, and hearing my story, they made light of it, soothing me all they could meanwhile. But, child as I was, I could perceive that their faces were pale with an unwonted look of anxiety, and I saw them look under the bed, and about the room, and peep under tables and pluck open cupboards ; and the housekeeper whispered to the nurse : " Lay your hand along that hollow in the bed ; some one did lie there, so sure as you did not ; the place is still warm."
I remember the nursery-maid petting me, and all three examining my chest, where I told them I felt the puncture, and pronouncing that there was no sign visible that any such thing had happened to me.
The housekeeper and the two other servants who were in charge of the nursery, remained sitting up all night ; and from that time a servant always sat up in the nursery until I was about fourteen.
I was very nervous for a long time after this. A doctor was called in, he was pallid and elderly. How well I remember his long saturnine face, slightly pitted with small-pox, and his chestnut wig. For a good while, every second day, he came and gave me medicine, which of course I hated.
The morning after I saw this apparition I was in
CARMILLA. 365
a state of terror, and could not bear to be left alone, daylight though it was, for a moment.
I remember my father coming up and standing at the bedside, and talking cheerfully, and asking the nurse a number of questions, and laughing very heartily at one of the answers ; and patting me on the shoulder, and kissing me, and telling me not to be frightened, that it was nothing but a dream and could not hurt me.
But I was not comforted, for I knew the visit of the strange woman was not a dream ; and I was awfully frightened.
I was a little consoled by the nursery-maid's assuring me that it was she who had come and looked at me, and lain down beside me in the bed, and that I must have been half-dreaming not to have known her face. But this, though supported by the nurse, did not quite satisfy me.
I remember, in the course of that day, a venerable old man, in a black cassock, coming into the room with the nurse and housekeeper, and talking a little to them, and very kindly to me ; his face was very sweet and gentle, and he told me they were going to pray, and joined my hands together, and desired me to say, softly, while they were praying, " Lord, hear all good prayers for us, for Jesus' sake." I think these were the very words, for I often repeated them to myself, and my nurse used for years to make me say them in my prayers.
I remember so well the thoughtful sweet face of that white-haired old man, in his black cassock, as he stood in that rude, lofty, brown room, with the clumsy furniture of a fashion three hundred years old, about
366 IN A GLASS DARKLY.
him, and the scanty light entering its shadowy atmosphere through the small lattice. He kneeled, and the three women with him, and he prayed aloud with an earnest quavering voice for, what appeared to me, a long time. I forget all my life preceding that event, and for some time after it is all obscure also ; but the scenes I have just described stand out vivid as the isolated pictures of the phantasmagoria sur- rounded by darkness.