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Carmilla
In
Styria
,
we
,
though
by
no
means
magnificent
people
,
inhabit
a
castle
,
or
schloss
.
A
small
income
,
in
that
part
of
the
world
,
goes
a
great
way
.
Eight
or
nine
hundred
a
year
does
wonders
.
Scantily
enough
ours
would
have
answered
among
wealthy
people
at
home
.
My
father
is
English
,
and
I
bear
an
English
name
,
although
I
never
saw
England
.
But
here
,
in
this
lonely
and
primitive
place
,
where
everything
is
so
marvelously
cheap
,
I
really
do
n't
see
how
ever
so
much
more
money
would
at
all
materially
add
to
our
comforts
,
or
even
luxuries
.
My
father
was
in
the
Austrian
service
,
and
retired
upon
a
pension
and
his
patrimony
,
and
purchased
this
feudal
residence
,
and
the
small
estate
on
which
it
stands
,
a
bargain
.
Nothing
can
be
more
picturesque
or
solitary
.
It
stands
on
a
slight
eminence
in
a
forest
.
The
road
,
very
old
and
narrow
,
passes
in
front
of
its
drawbridge
,
never
raised
in
my
time
,
and
its
moat
,
stocked
with
perch
,
and
sailed
over
by
many
swans
,
and
floating
on
its
surface
white
fleets
of
water
lilies
.
Over
all
this
the
schloss
shows
its
many-windowed
front
;
its
towers
,
and
its
Gothic
chapel
.
The
forest
opens
in
an
irregular
and
very
picturesque
glade
before
its
gate
,
and
at
the
right
a
steep
Gothic
bridge
carries
the
road
over
a
stream
that
winds
in
deep
shadow
through
the
wood
.
I
have
said
that
this
is
a
very
lonely
place
.
Judge
whether
I
say
truth
.
Looking
from
the
hall
door
towards
the
road
,
the
forest
in
which
our
castle
stands
extends
fifteen
miles
to
the
right
,
and
twelve
to
the
left
.
The
nearest
inhabited
village
is
about
seven
of
your
English
miles
to
the
left
.
The
nearest
inhabited
schloss
of
any
historic
associations
,
is
that
of
old
General
Spielsdorf
,
nearly
twenty
miles
away
to
the
right
.
I
have
said
"
the
nearest
inhabited
village
,
"
because
there
is
,
only
three
miles
westward
,
that
is
to
say
in
the
direction
of
General
Spielsdorf
's
schloss
,
a
ruined
village
,
with
its
quaint
little
church
,
now
roofless
,
in
the
aisle
of
which
are
the
moldering
tombs
of
the
proud
family
of
Karnstein
,
now
extinct
,
who
once
owned
the
equally
desolate
chateau
which
,
in
the
thick
of
the
forest
,
overlooks
the
silent
ruins
of
the
town
.
Respecting
the
cause
of
the
desertion
of
this
striking
and
melancholy
spot
,
there
is
a
legend
which
I
shall
relate
to
you
another
time
.
I
must
tell
you
now
,
how
very
small
is
the
party
who
constitute
the
inhabitants
of
our
castle
.
I
do
n't
include
servants
,
or
those
dependents
who
occupy
rooms
in
the
buildings
attached
to
the
schloss
.
Listen
,
and
wonder
!
My
father
,
who
is
the
kindest
man
on
earth
,
but
growing
old
;
and
I
,
at
the
date
of
my
story
,
only
nineteen
.
Eight
years
have
passed
since
then
.
I
and
my
father
constituted
the
family
at
the
schloss
.
My
mother
,
a
Styrian
lady
,
died
in
my
infancy
,
but
I
had
a
good-natured
governess
,
who
had
been
with
me
from
,
I
might
almost
say
,
my
infancy
.
I
could
not
remember
the
time
when
her
fat
,
benignant
face
was
not
a
familiar
picture
in
my
memory
.
