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Carmilla

I wakened with a shriek, possessed with the one idea that Carmilla was being
murdered. I remember springing from my bed, and my next recollection is that of
standing on the lobby, crying for help.
Madame and Mademoiselle came scurrying out of their rooms in alarm; a lamp
burned always on the lobby, and seeing me, they soon learned the cause of my
terror.
I insisted on our knocking at Carmilla’s door. Our knocking was unanswered. It
soon became a pounding and an uproar. We shrieked her name, but all was
vain.
We all grew frightened, for the door was locked. We hurried back, in panic, to my
room. There we rang the bell long and furiously. If my father’s room had been at
that side of the house, we would have called him up at once to our aid. But, alas!
he was quite out of hearing, and to reach him involved an excursion for which we
none of us had courage.
Servants, however, soon came running up the stairs; I had got on my dressing-
gown and slippers meanwhile, and my companions were already similarly
furnished. Recognising the voices of the servants on the lobby, we sallied out
together; and having renewed, as fruitlessly, our summons at Carmilla’s door, I
ordered the men to force the lock. They did so, and we stood, holding our lights
aloft, in the doorway, and so stared into the room.
We called her by name; but there was still no reply. We looked round the room.
Everything was undisturbed. It was exactly in the state in which I had left it on
bidding her good night. But Carmilla was gone.
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