s. And the Count would fain have
persuaded himself that some deceptive dream-image, or (inasmuch as his
cloak, wet with dew, was a proof, if any had been needed, that he had
really been to the burying-ground in the night) some soul-deceiving
phantom had been the cause of his deathly horror. He did not wait for
Aurelia's waking, but left the room, dressed, and got on to a horse.
His ride, in the exquisite morning, amid sweet-scented trees and
shrubs, whence the happy songs of the newly-awakened birds greeted him,
drove from his memory for a time the terrible images of the night. He
went back to the Castle comforted and gladdened in heart.

But when he and the Countess sate down alone together at table, and,
the dishes being brought and handed, she rose to hurry away, with
loathing, at the sight of the food as usual, the terrible conviction
that what he had seen was true, was reality, impressed itself
irresistibly on his mind. In the wildest fury he rose from his seat,
crying--

"Accursed misbirth of hell! I understand your hatred of the food of
mankind. You get your sustenance out of the burying-ground, damnable
creature that you are!"

As soon as those words had passed his lips, the Countess flew at him,
uttering a sound between a snarl and a howl, and bit him on the breast
with the fury of a hyena. He dashed her from him on to the ground,
raving fiercely as she was, and she gave up the ghost in the most
terrible convulsions.

The Count became a maniac.

"Well," said Lothair, after there had been a few minutes of silence
amongst the friends, "you have certainly kept your word, my
incomparable Cyprianus, most thoroughly and magnificently. In
comparison with this story of yours, vampirism is the merest children's
tale--a funny Christmas story, to be laughed at. Oh, truly, everything
in it is fearfully interesting, and so highly seasoned with
asaf[oe]tida that an unnaturally excited palate, which has lost its
relish for healthy, natural food, might immensely enjoy it."

"And yet," said Theodore, "our friend has discreetly thrown a veil
over a great many things, and has passed so rapidly over others,
that his story has merely caused us a passing feeling of the eery and
shuddery--for which we are duly grateful to him. I remember very well
having read this story in an old book, where everything was told with
the most prolix enumeration of all the details; and the old woman's
atrocities in particular were set forth i