meet again." Her head fell back, but she still held me
encircled. A furious gust of wind forced in the window and
swept into the room: the last leaflet of the white rose
quivered for a minute on its stalk and then fell, and
floated through the open casement, bearing with it the soul
of Clarimonde. The lamp went out, and I sank in a swoon.

He wakes in his own room, and hears from his ancient _gouvernante_ that
the same strange escort which carried him off has brought him back.
Soon afterwards his friend Serapion comes to visit him, not altogether
to his delight, for he, rightly suspects the father of some knowledge of
his secret. Serapion announces to him, as a matter of general news, that
the courtesan Clarimonde is dead, and mentions that strange rumours have
been current respecting her--some declaring her to be a species of
vampire, and her lovers to have all perished mysteriously. As he says
this he watches Romuald, who cannot altogether conceal his thoughts.
Thereat Serapion--

"My son," said he, "it is my duty to warn you that your feet
are on the brink of an abyss; take heed of falling. Satan's
hands reach far, and the grave is not always a faithful
gaoler. Clarimonde's tombstone should be sealed with a
triple seal, for it is not, say they, the first time she has
died. May God watch over you." Saying this, Serapion slowly
went out, and I saw him no more. I soon recovered
completely, and returned to my usual occupations; and though
I never forgot the memory of Clarimonde and the words of the
father, nothing extraordinary for a time occurred to confirm
in any way his ill-omened forebodings, so that I began to
believe that his apprehensions and my own terror were
unfounded. But one night I had a dream. Scarcely had I
fallen asleep when I heard my bed-curtains drawn, the rings
grating sharply on the rods. I raised myself abruptly on my
elbow and saw before me the shadowy figure of a woman. At
once I recognised Clarimonde. She carried in her hand a
small lamp of the shape of those which are placed in tombs,
and the light of it gave to her tapering fingers a rosy
transparency which, with gradually fainter tints, prolonged
itself till it was lost in the milky whiteness of her naked
arm. The only garment she had on was the linen shroud which
covered her on her death-bed, and she t