that night, except by giving their nightly concert. But
both Mr. Y---- and the colonel had to fight all the night long with a
vampire, which, besides being a flying fox of an unusual size, happened
to be a spirit, as we learned too late, to our great misfortune.

This is how it happened. Noiselessly hovering about the tower, the
vampire from time to time alighted on the sleepers, making them shudder
under the disgusting touch of his cold sticky wings. His intention
clearly was to get a nice suck of European blood. They were wakened by
his manipulations at least ten times, and each time frightened him away.
But, as soon as they were dozing again, the wretched bat was sure to
return and perch on their shoulders, heads, or legs. At last Mr. Y----,
losing patience, had recourse to strong measures; he caught him and
broke his neck.

Feeling perfectly innocent, the gentlemen mentioned the tragic end of
the troublesome flying fox to their host, and instantly drew down on
their heads all the thunder-clouds of heaven.

The yard was crowded with people. All the inhabitants of the house stood
sorrowfully drooping their heads, at the entrance of the tower. Our
host's old mother tore her hair in despair, and shrieked lamentations in
all the languages of India. What was the matter with them all? We were
at our wits' end. But when we learned the cause of all this, there was
no limit to our confusion.

By certain mysterious signs, known only to the family Brahman, it had
been decided ten years ago that the soul of our host's elder brother had
incarnated in this blood-thirsty vampire-bat. This fact was stated as
being beyond any doubt. For nine years the late Patarah Prabhu existed
under this new shape, carrying out the laws of metempsychosis. He spent
the hours between sunrise and the sunset in an old pipal-tree before the
tower, hanging with his head downwards. But at night he visited the
old tower and gave fierce chase to the insects that sought rest in
this out-of-the-way corner. And so nine years were spent in this happy
existence, divided between sleep, food, and the gradual redemption of
old sins committed in the shape of a Patarah Prabhu. And now? Now his
listless body lay in the dust at the entrance of his favorite tower,
and his wings were half devoured by the rats. The poor old woman, his
mother, was mad with sorrow, and cast, through her tears, reproachful,
angry looks at Mr. Y----, who, in his new capacity of a heartless