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   I brought it from Amsterdam It was an answer...
[05/05/2010 6:17 am]
I brought it from Amsterdam It was an answer that appalled the most sceptical of us, and we felt individually that in the presence of such earnest purpose as the Professor's, a purpose which could thus use the to him most sacred of things, it was impossible to distrustIn respectful silence we took the places assigned to us close round the tomb, but hidden from the sight of any one approachingI pitied the others, especially ArthurI had myself been apprenticed by my former visits to this watching horror, and yet I, who had up to an hour ago repudiated the proofs, felt my heart sink within meNever did tombs look so ghastly whiteNever did cypress, or yew, or juniper so seem the embodiment of funeral gloomNever did tree or grass wave or rustle so ominouslyNever did bough creak so mysteriously, and never did the far-away howling of dogs send such a woeful presage through the night There was a long spell of silence, big, aching, void, and then from the Professor a keen "S-s-s-s!" He pointed, and far down the avenue of yews we saw a white figure advance, a dim white figure, which held something dark at its breastThe figure stopped, and at the moment a ray of moonlight fell upon the masses of driving clouds, and showed in startling prominence a dark-haired woman, dressed in the cerements of the graveWe could not see the face, for it was bent down over what we saw to be a fair-haired childThere was a pause and a sharp little cry, such as a child gives in sleep, or a dog as it lies before the fire and dreamsWe were starting forward, but the Professor's warning hand, seen by us as he stood behind a yew tree, kept us backAnd then as we looked the white figure moved forwards againIt was now near enough for us to see clearly, and the moonlight still heldMy own heart grew cold as ice, and I could hear the gasp of Arthur, as we recognized the features of Lucy WestenraLucy Westenra, but yet how changedThe sweetness was turned to adamantine, heartless cruelty, and the purity to voluptuous wantonness Van Helsing stepped out, and obedient to his gesture, we all advanced tooThe four of us ranged in a line before the door of the tombVan Helsing raised his lantern and drew the slideBy the concentrated light that fell on Lucy's face we could see that the lips were crimson with fresh blood, and that the stream had trickled over her chin and stained the purity of her lawn death-robe We shuddered with horrorI could see by the tremulous light that even Van Helsing's iron nerve had failedArthur was next to me, and if I had not seized his arm and held him up, he would have fallen When Lucy, I call the thing that was before us Lucy because it bore her shape, saw us she drew back with an angry snarl, such as a cat gives when taken unawares, then her eyes ranged over usLucy's eyes in form and colour, but Lucy's eyes unclean and full of hell fire, instead of the pure, gentle orbs we knewAt that moment the remnant of my love passed into hate and loathingHad she then to be killed, I could have done it with savage delightAs she looked, her eyes blazed with unholy light, and the face became wreathed with a voluptuous smileOh, God, how it made me shudder to see it! With a careless motion, she flung to the ground, callous as a devil, the child that up to now she had clutched strenuously to her breast, growling over it as a dog growls over a boneThe child gave a sharp cry, and lay there moaningThere was a cold-bloodedness in the act which wrung a groan from ArthurWhen she advanced to him with outstretched arms and a wanton smile he fell back and hid his face in his hands She still advanced, however, and with a languorous, voluptuous grace, said, "Come to me, ArthurLeave these others and come to meMy arms are hungry for youCome, and we can rest togetherCome, my husband, come!" There was something diabolically sweet in her tones, something of the tinkling of glass when struck, which rang through the brains even of us who heard the words addressed to shop another

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