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Varney the Vampire by Thomas Preskett Prest

T >> Thomas Preskett Prest >> Varney the Vampire




However, they left her with the assurances of their profound regard, and
then when they were gone, when the last guest had departed, and were no
longer visible to the eye of the countess, as she gazed from the
battlements, then her behaviour changed totally.

She descended from the battlements, and then with an imperious gesture
she gave her orders that all the gates of the castle should be closed,
and a watch set. All signs of mourning she ordered to be laid on one
side save her own, which she wore, and then she retired to her own
apartment, where she remained unseen.

Here the countess remained in profound meditation for nearly two days,
during which time the attendants believed she was praying for the
welfare of the soul of their deceased master, and they feared she would
starve herself to death if she remained any longer.

Just as they had assembled together for the purpose of either recalling
her from her vigils or breaking open the door, they were amazed to see
the countess open the room-door, and stand in the midst of them.

"What do you here?" she demanded, in a stern voice.

The servants were amazed and terrified at her contracted brow, and
forgot to answer the question she put to them.

"What do you do here?"

"We came, my lady, to see--see--if--if you were well."

"And why?"

"Because we hadn't seen your ladyship these two days, and we thought
that your grief was so excessive that we feared some harm might befall
you."

The countess's brows contracted for a few seconds, and she was about to
make a hasty reply, but she conquered the desire to do so, and merely
said,--

"I am not well, I am faint; but, had I been dying, I should not have
thanked you for interfering to prevent me; however, you acted for the
best, but do so no more. Now prepare me some food."

The servants, thus dismissed, repaired to their stations, but with such
a degree of alacrity, that they sufficiently showed how much they feared
their mistress.

The young count, who was only in his sixth year, knew little about the
loss he had sustained; but after a day or two's grief, there was an end
of his sorrow for the time.

That night there came to the castle-gate a man dressed in a black cloak,
attended by a servant. They were both mounted on good horses, and they
demanded to be admitted to the presence of the Countess de Hugo de
Verole.

The message was carried to the countess, who started, but said,--

"Admit the stranger."

Accordingly the stranger was admitted, and shown into the apartment
where the countess was sitting.

At a signal the servants retired, leaving the countess and the stranger
alone. It was some moments ere they spoke, and then the countess said in
a low tone,--

"You are come?"

"I am come."

"You cannot now, you see, perform your threat. My husband, the count,
caught a putrid disease, and he is no more."

"I cannot indeed do what I intended, inform your husband of your amours;
but I can do something as good, and which will give you as much
annoyance."

"Indeed."

"Aye, more, it will cause you to be hated. I can spread reports."

"You can."

"And these may ruin you."

"They may."

"What do you intend to do? Do you intend that I shall be an enemy or a
friend? I can be either, according to my will."

"What, do you desire to be either?" inquired the countess, with a
careless tone.

"If you refuse my terms, you can make me an implacable enemy, and if you
grant them, you can make me a useful friend and auxiliary," said the
stranger.

"What would you do if you were my enemy?" inquired the countess.

"It is hardly my place," said the stranger, "to furnish you with a
knowledge of my intentions, but I will say this much, that the bankrupt
Count of Morven is your lover."

"Well?"

"And in the second place, that you were the cause of the death of your
husband,"

"How dare you, sir--"

"I dare say so much, and I dare say, also, that the Count of Morven
bought the drug of me, and that he gave it to you, and that you gave it
to the count your husband."

"And what could you do if you were my friend?" inquired the countess, in
the same tone, and without emotion.

"I should abstain from doing all this; should be able to put any one
else out of your way for you, when you get rid of this Count of Morven,
as you assuredly will; for I know him too well not to be sure of that."

"Get rid of him!"

"Exactly, in the same manner you got rid of the old count."

"Then I accept your terms."

"It is agreed, then?"

"Yes, quite."

"Well, then, you must order me some rooms in a tower, where I can pursue
my studies in quiet."

"You will be seen--and noticed--all will be discovered."

"No, indeed, I will take care of that, I can so far disguise myself that
he will not recognise me, and you can give out I am a philosopher or
necromancer, or what you will; no one will come to me--they will be
terrified."

"Very well."

"And the gold?"

"Shall be forthcoming as soon as I can get it. The count has placed all
his gold in safe keeping, and all I can seize are the rents as they
become due."

"Very well; but let me have them. In the meantime you must provide for
me, as I have come here with the full intention of staying here, or in
some neighbouring town."

"Indeed!"

"Yes; and my servant must be discharged, as I want none here."

The countess called to an attendant and gave the necessary orders, and
afterwards remained some time with the stranger, who had thus so
unceremoniously thrust himself upon her, and insisted upon staying under
such strange and awful circumstances.

* * * * *

The Count of Morven came a few weeks after, and remained some days with
the countess. They were ceremonious and polite until they had a moment
to retire from before people, when the countess changed her cold disdain
to a cordial and familiar address.

"And now, my dear Morven," she exclaimed, as soon as they were
unobserved--"and now, my dear Morven, that we are not seen, tell me,
what have you been doing with yourself?"

"Why, I have been in some trouble. I never had gold that would stay by
me. You know my hand was always open."

"The old complaint again."

"No; but having come to the end of my store, I began to grow serious."

"Ah, Morven!' said the countess, reproachfully.

"Well, never mind; when my purse is low my spirits sink, as the mercury
does with the cold. You used to say my spirits were mercurial--I think
they were."

"Well, what did you do?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Was that what you were about to tell me?" inquired the countess.

"Oh, dear, no. You recollect the Italian quack of whom I bought the drug
you gave to the count, and which put an end to his days--he wanted more
money. Well, as I had no more to spare, I could spare no more to him,
and he turned vicious, and threatened. I threatened, too, and he knew I
was fully able and willing to perform any promise I might make to him on
that score. I endeavoured to catch him, as he had already began to set
people off on the suspicious and marvellous concerning me, and if I
could have come across him, I would have laid him very low indeed."

"And you could not find him?"

"No, I could not."

[Illustration]

"Well, then, I will tell you where he is at this present moment."

"You?"

"Yes, I."

"I can scarcely credit my senses at what you say," said Count Morven.
"My worthy doctor, you are little better than a candidate for divine
honours. But where is he?"

"Will you promise to be guided by me?" said the countess.

"If you make it a condition upon which you grant the information, I
must."

"Well, then, I take that as a promise."

"You may. Where--oh, where is he?"

"Remember your promise. Your doctor is at this moment in this castle."

"This castle?"

"Yes, this castle."

"Surely there must be some mistake; it is too much fortune at once."

"He came here for the same purpose he went to you."

"Indeed!"

"Yes, to get more money by extortion, and a promise to poison anybody I
liked."

"D--n! it is the offer he made to me, and he named you."

"He named you to me, and said I should be soon tired of you."

"You have caged him?"

"Oh, dear, no; he has a suite of apartments in the eastern tower, where
he passes for a philosopher, or a wizard, as people like best."

"How?"

"I have given him leave there."

"Indeed!"

"Yes; and what is more amazing is, that he is to aid me in poisoning you
when I have become tired of you."

"This is a riddle I cannot unravel; tell me the solution."

"Well, dear, listen,--he came to me and told me of something I already
knew, and demanded money and a residence for his convenience, and I have
granted him the asylum."

"You have?"

"I have."

"I see; I will give him an inch or two of my Andrea Ferrara."

"No--no."

"Do you countenance him?"

"For a time. Listen--we want men in the mines; my late husband sent very
few to them of late years, and therefore they are getting short of men
there."

"Aye, aye."

"The thing will be for you to feign ignorance of the man, and then you
will be able to get him seized, and placed in the mines, for such men as
he are dangerous, and carry poisoned weapons."

"Would he not be better out of the world at once; there would be no
escape, and no future contingencies?"

"No--no. I will have no more lives taken; and he will be made useful;
and, moreover, he will have time to reflect upon the mistake he had made
in threatening me."

"He was paid for the job, and he had no future claim. But what about the
child?"

"Oh, he may remain for some time longer here with us."

"It will be dangerous to do so," said the count; "he is now ten years
old, and there is no knowing what may be done for him by his relatives."

"They dare not enter the gates of this castle Morven."

"Well, well; but you know he might have travelled the same road as his
father, and all would be settled."

"No more lives, as I told you; but we can easily secure him some other
way, and we shall be equally as free from him and them."

"That is enough--there are dungeons, I know, in this castle, and he can
be kept there safe enough."

"He can; but that is not what I propose. We can put him into the mines
and confine him as a lunatic."

"Excellent!"

"You see, we must make those mines more productive somehow or other;
they would be so, but the count would not hear of it; he said it was so
inhuman, they were so destructive of life."

"Paha! what were the mines intended for if not for use?"

"Exactly--I often said so, but he always put a negative to it."

"We'll make use of an affirmative, my dear countess, and see what will
be the result in a change of policy. By the way, when will our marriage
be celebrated?"

"Not for some months."

"How, so long? I am impatient."

"You must restrain your impatience--but we must have the boy settled
first, and the count will have been dead a longer time then, and we
shall not give so much scandal to the weak-minded fools that were his
friends, for it will be dangerous to have so many events happen about
the same period."

"You shall act as you think proper--but the first thing to be done will
be, to get this cunning doctor quietly out of the way."

"Yes."

"I must contrive to have him seized, and carried to the mines."

"Beneath the tower in which he lives is a trap-door and a vault, from
which, by means of another trap and vault, is a long subterranean
passage that leads to a door that opens into one end of the mines; near
this end live several men whom you must give some reward to, and they
will, by concert, seize him, and set him to work."

"And if he will not work?"

"Why, they will scourge him in such a manner, that he would be afraid
even of a threat of a repetition of the same treatment."

"That will do. But I think the worthy doctor will split himself with
rage and malice, he will be like a caged tiger."

"But he will be denuded of his teeth and claws," replied the countess,
smiling "therefore he will have leisure to repent of having threatened
his employers."

* * * * *

Some weeks passed over, and the Count of Morven contrived to become
acquainted with the doctor. They appeared to be utter strangers to each
other, though each knew the other; the doctor having disguised himself,
he believed the disguise impenetrable and therefore sat at ease.

"Worthy doctor," said the count to him, one day; "you have, no doubt, in
your studies, become acquainted with many of the secrets of science."

"I have, my lord count; I may say there are few that are not known to
Father Aldrovani. I have spent many years in research."

"Indeed!"

"Yes; the midnight lamp has burned till the glorious sun has reached the
horizon, and brings back the day, and yet have I been found beside my
books."

"'Tis well; men like you should well know the value of the purest and
most valuable metals the earth produces?"

"I know of but one--that is gold!"

"'Tis what I mean."

"But 'tis hard to procure from the bowels of the earth--from the heart
of these mountains by which we are surrounded."

"Yes, that is true. But know you not the owners of this castle and
territory possess these mines and work them?"

"I believe they do; but I thought they had discontinued working them
some years."

"Oh, no! that was given out to deceive the government, who claimed so
much out of its products."

"Oh! ah! aye, I see now."

"And ever since they have been working it privately, and storing bars of
gold up in the vaults of this--"

"Here, in this castle?"

"Yes; beneath this very tower--it being the least frequented--the
strongest, and perfectly inaccessible from all sides, save the
castle--it was placed there for the safest deposit."

"I see; and there is much gold deposited in the vaults?"

"I believe there is an immense quantity in the vaults."

"And what is your motive for telling me of this hoard of the precious
metal?"

"Why, doctor, I thought that you or I could use a few bars; and that, if
we acted in concert, we might be able to take away, at various times,
and secrete, in some place or other, enough to make us rich men for all
our lives."

"I should like to see this gold before I said anything about it,"
replied the doctor, thoughtfully.

"As you please; do you find a lamp that will not go out by the sudden
draughts of air, or have the means of relighting it, and I will
accompany you."

"When?"

"This very night, good doctor, when you shall see such a golden harvest
you never yet hoped for, or even believed in."

"To-night be it, then," replied the doctor. "I will have a lamp that
will answer our purpose, and some other matters."

"Do, good doctor," and the count left the philosopher's cell.

* * * * *

"The plan takes," said the count to the countess, "give me the keys, and
the worthy man will be in safety before daylight."

"Is he not suspicious?"

"Not at all."

* * * * *

That night, about an hour before midnight,--the Count Morven stole
towards the philosopher's room. He tapped at the door.

"Enter," said the philosopher.

The count entered, and saw the philosopher seated, and by him a lamp of
peculiar construction, and incased in gauze wire, and a cloak.

"Are you ready?" inquired the count.

"Quite," he replied.

"Is that your lamp?"

"It is."

"Follow me, then, and hold the lamp tolerably high, as the way is
strange, and the steps steep."

"Lead on."

"You have made up your mind, I dare say, as to what share of the
undertaking you will accept of with me."

"And what if I will not?" said the philosopher, coolly.

"It falls to the ground, and I return the keys to their place."

"I dare say I shall not refuse, if you have not deceived me as to the
quantity and purity of the metal they have stored up."

"I am no judge of these metals, doctor. I am no assayest; but I believe
you will find what I have to show you will far exceed your expectations
on that head."

"'Tis well: proceed."

They had now got to the first vault, in which stood the first door, and,
with some difficulty, they opened the vault door.

"It has not been opened for some time," said the philosopher.

"I dare say not, they seldom used to go here, from what I can learn,
though it is kept a great secret."

"And we can keep it so, likewise."

"True."

They now entered the vault, and came to the second door, which opened
into a kind of flight of steps, cut out of the solid rock, and then
along a passage cut out of the mountain, of some kind of stone, but not
so hard as the rock itself.

"You see," said the count, "what care has been taken to isolate the
place, and detach it from the castle, so that it should not be dependent
upon the possessor of the castle. This is the last door but one, and now
prepare yourself for a surprise, doctor, this will be an extraordinary
one."

So saying, the count opened the door, and stepped on one side, when the
doctor approached the place, and was immediately thrust forward by the
count and he rolled down some steps into the mine, and was immediately
seized by some of the miners, who had been stationed there for that
purpose, and carried to a distant part of the mine, there to work for
the remainder of his life.

The count, seeing all secure, refastened the doors, and returned to the
castle. A few weeks after this the body of a youth, mangled and
disfigured, was brought to the castle, which the countess said was her
son's body.

The count had immediately secured the real heir, and thrust him into the
mines, there to pass a life of labour and hopeless misery.

* * * * *

There was a high feast held. The castle gates were thrown open, and
everybody who came were entertained without question.

This was on the occasion of the count's and countess's marriage. It
seemed many months after the death of her son, whom she affected to
mourn for a long time.

However, the marriage took place, and in all magnificence and splendour.
The countess again appeared arrayed in splendour and beauty: she was
proud and haughty, and the count was imperious.

In the mean time, the young Count de Hugo de Verole was confined in the
mines, and the doctor with him.

By a strange coincidence, the doctor and the young count became
companions, and the former, meditating projects of revenge, educated the
young count as well as he was able for several years in the mines, and
cherished in the young man a spirit of revenge. They finally escaped
together, and proceeded to Leyden, where the doctor had friends, and
where he placed his pupil at the university, and thus made him a most
efficient means of revenge, because the education of the count gave him
a means of appreciating the splendour and rank he had been deprived of.
He, therefore, determined to remain at Leyden until he was of age, and
then apply to his father's friends, and then to his sovereign, to
dispossess and punish them both for their double crime.

The count and countess lived on in a state of regal splendour. The
immense revenue of his territory, and the treasure the late count had
amassed, as well as the revenue that the mines brought in, would have
supported a much larger expenditure than even their tastes disposed them
to enjoy.

They had heard nothing of the escape of the doctor and the young count.
Indeed, those who knew of it held their peace and said nothing about it,
for they feared the consequences of their negligence. The first
intimation they received was at the hands of a state messenger,
summoning them to deliver up the castle revenues and treasure of the
late count.

This was astounding to them, and they refused to do so, but were soon
after seized upon by a regiment of cuirassiers sent to take them, and
they were accused of the crime of murder at the instance of the doctor.

They were arraigned and found guilty, and, as they were of the patrician
order, their execution was delayed, and they were committed to exile.
This was done out of favour to the young count, who did not wish to have
his family name tainted by a public execution, or their being confined
like convicts.

The count and countess quitted Hungary, and settled in Italy, where they
lived upon the remains of the Count of Morven's property, shorn of all
their splendour but enough to keep them from being compelled to do any
menial office.

The young count took possession of his patrimony and his treasure at
last, such as was left by his mother and her paramour.

The doctor continued to hide his crime from the young count, and the
perpetrators denying all knowledge of it, he escaped; but he returned to
his native place, Leyden, with a reward for his services from the young
count.

Flora rose from her perusal of the manuscript, which here ended, and
even as she did so, she heard a footstep approaching her chamber door.




CHAPTER XX.

THE DREADFUL MISTAKE.--THE TERRIFIC INTERVIEW IN THE CHAMBER.--THE
ATTACK OF THE VAMPYRE.


[Illustration]

The footstep which Flora, upon the close of the tale she had been
reading, heard approaching her apartment, came rapidly along the
corridor.

"It is Henry, returned to conduct me to an interview with Charles's
uncle," she said. "I wonder, now, what manner of man he is. He should in
some respects resemble Charles; and if he do so, I shall bestow upon him
some affection for that alone."

Tap--tap came upon the chamber door. Flora was not at all alarmed now,
as she had been when Henry brought her the manuscript. From some strange
action of the nervous system, she felt quite confident, and resolved to
brave everything. But then she felt quite sure that it was Henry, and
before the knocking had taken her by surprise.

"Come in," she said, in a cheerful voice. "Come in."

The door opened with wonderful swiftness--a figure stepped into the
room, and then closed it as rapidly, and stood against it. Flora tried
to scream, but her tongue refused its office; a confused whirl of
sensations passed through her brain--she trembled, and an icy coldness
came over her. It was Sir Francis Varney, the vampyre!

He had drawn up his tall, gaunt frame to its full height, and crossed
his arms upon his breast; there was a hideous smile upon his sallow
countenance, and his voice was deep and sepulchral, as he said,--

"Flora Bannerworth, hear that which I have to say, and hear it calmly.
You need have nothing to fear. Make an alarm--scream, or shout for help,
and, by the hell beneath us, you are lost!"

There was a death-like, cold, passionless manner about the utterance of
these words, as if they were spoken mechanically, and came from no human
lips.

Flora heard them, and yet scarcely comprehended them; she stepped slowly
back till she reached a chair, and there she held for support. The only
part of the address of Varney that thoroughly reached her ears, was that
if she gave any alarm some dreadful consequences were to ensue. But it
was not on account of these words that she really gave no alarm; it was
because she was utterly unable to do so.

"Answer me," said Varney. "Promise that you will hear that which I have
to say. In so promising you commit yourself to no evil, and you shall
hear that which shall give you much peace."

It was in vain she tried to speak; her lips moved, but she uttered no
sound.

"You are terrified," said Varney, "and yet I know not why. I do not come
to do you harm, although harm have you done me. Girl, I come to rescue
you from a thraldom of the soul under which you now labour."

There was a pause of some moments' duration, and then, faintly, Flora
managed to say,--

"Help! help! Oh, help me, Heaven!"

Varney made a gesture of impatience, as he said,--

"Heaven works no special matters now. Flora Bannerworth, if you have as
much intellect as your nobility and beauty would warrant the world in
supposing, you will listen to me."

"I--I hear," said Flora, as she still, dragging the chair with her,
increased the distance between them.

"'Tis well. You are now more composed."

She fixed her eyes upon the face of Varney with a shudder. There could
be no mistake. It was the same which, with the strange, glassy looking
eyes, had glared upon her on that awful night of the storm when she was
visited by the vampyre. And Varney returned that gaze unflinchingly
There was a hideous and strange contortion of his face now as he said,--

"You are beautiful. The most cunning statuary might well model some rare
work of art from those rounded limbs, that were surely made to bewitch
the gazer. Your skin rivals the driven snow--what a face of loveliness,
and what a form of enchantment."

She did not speak, but a thought came across her mind, which at once
crimsoned her cheek--she knew she had fainted on the first visit of the
vampyre, and now he, with a hideous reverence, praised beauties which he
might have cast his demoniac eyes over at such a time.

"You understand me," he said. "Well, let that pass. I am something
allied to humanity yet."

"Speak your errand," gasped Flora, "or come what may, I scream for help
to those who will not be slow to render it."

"I know it."

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