Chapter 34 When I look at you
"Yes," said the vampire, looking at him without surprise. "I want to go on telling you." But as his eyes passed over the boy and returned to the window, he showed only faint interest in the boy, who seemed engaged in some silent inner struggle.
"But you said you didn't know about the visions, that you, a vampire . . . didn't know for certain whether . .
"I want to take things in order," said the vampire, "I want to go on telling you things as they happened.
"No, I don't know about the visions. To this day." And again he waited until the boy said.
"Yes, please, please go on."
"Well, I wanted to sell the plantations. I never wanted to see the house or the oratory again. I leased them finally to an agency which would work them for me and manage things so I need never go there, and I moved my mother and sister to one of the town houses in New Orleans. Of course, I did not escape my brother for a moment. I could think of nothing but his body rotting in the ground. He was buried in the St. Louis cemetery in New Orleans, and I did everything to avoid passing those gates; but still I thought of him constantly. . Drunk or sober, I saw his body rotting in the coin, and I couldn't bear it. Over and over I dreamed that he was at the head of the steps and I was holding his arm, talking kindly to him, urging him back into the bedroom, telling him gently that I did believe him, that he must pray for me to have faith. Meantime, the slaves on Pointe du Lac (that was my plantation) had begun to talk of seeing his ghost on the gallery, and the overseer couldn't keep order. People in society asked my sister offensive questions about the whole incident, and she became an hysteric. She wasn't really an hysteric. She simply thought she ought to react that way, so she did. I drank all the time and was at home as little as possible. I lived like a man who wanted to die but who had no courage to do it himself. I walked black streets and alleys alone; I passed out in cabarets. I backed out of two duels more from apathy than cowardice and truly wished to be murdered. And then I was attacked. It might have been anyone- and my invitation was open to sailors, thieves, maniacs, anyone. But it was a vampire. He caught me lust a few steps from my door one night and left me for dead, or so I thought."
. I spirited past the sleepy clerks, the long faces at the desk. \`I've searched for them the world
over, and I despise them!' She threw off her cape and walked into the center of the room. A volley of rain hit the French windows. I found myself turning up the lights one by one and lifting the candelabrum to the gas flames as if I were Lestat or Claudia. And then, seeking the puce velvet chair I'd envisioned in that cellar, I slipped down into it, exhausted. It seemed for the moment as if the room blazed about me; as my eyes fixed on a gilt-framed painting of pastel trees and serene waters, the vampire spell was broken. They couldn't touch us here, and yet I knew this to be a lie, a foolish lie.
" \`I am in danger, danger,' Claudia said with that smoldering wrath.
" But how can they know what we did to him? Besides, we are in danger! Do you think for a moment I don't acknowledge my own guilt! And if you wire the only one .
. : I reached out for her now as she drew near, but her fierce eyes settled on me and I let my hands drop back limp. \`Do you think I would leave you in danger?'
"She was smiling. For a moment I didn't believe my eyes. \`No, you would not, Louis. You would not. Danger holds you to me. . .
" \`Love holds me to you,' I said softly.
" \`Love?' she mused. \`What do you mean by love?' And then, as if she could see the pain in my face, she came close and put her hands on my cheek. She was cold, unsatisfied, as I was cold and unsatisfied, teased by that mortal boy but unsatisfied.
" \`That you take my love for granted always,' I said to her. \`That we are wed. . . ' But even as I said these words I felt my old conviction waver; I felt that torment I'd felt last night when she had taunted me about mortal passion. I turned away from her.
" \`You would leave me for Armand if he beckoned to you ....
" \`Never . . : I said to her.
" \`You would leave me, and he wants you as you want him. He's been waiting for you. . .
" \`Never. ' I rose now and made my way to that chest. The doors were locked, but
they would not keep those vampires out. Only we could keep them out by rising as early as the light would let us. I turned to her and told her to come. And she was at my side. I wanted to bury my face in her hair, I wanted to beg her forgiveness. Because, in truth, she was right; and yet I loved her, loved her as always. And now, as I drew her in close to me, she said \`Do you know what it was that he told me over and over without ever speaking a word; do you know what was the kernel of the trance he put me in so my eyes could only look at him, so that he pulled me as if my heart were on a string?'
" 'So you felt it . . : I whispered. \`So it was the same.'
" \`He rendered me powerless!' she said. I saw the image of her against those books above his desk, her limp neck, her dead hands.
" \`But what are you saying? That he spoke to you, that he '
" \`Without words!' she repeated. I could see the gaslights going dim, the candle flames too solid in their stillness. The rain beat on the panes. \`Do you know what he said that I should die!' she whispered. \`That I should let you go.'
"I shook my head, and yet in my monstrous heart I felt a surge of excitement. She spoke the truth as she believed it. There was a film in her eyes, glassy and silver. \`He draws life out of me into himself,' she said, her lovely lips trembling so, I couldn't bear it. I held her tight, but the tears stood in her eyes. \`Life out of the boy who is his slave, life out of me whom he would make his slave. He loves you. He loves you. He would have you, and he would not have me
stand in the way.'