vampire chronicles | Page 3

then he started as if awakened from deep
thought, and he floundered, as if he could not find the right words. "Ali . he didn't want to
be a priest?" the boy asked. The vampire studied him as if trying to discern the meaning
of his expression. Then he said:
"I meant that I was wrong about myself, a bout my not denying him anything." His eyes
moved over the far wall and fixed on the panes of the window. "He began to see visions."
"Real visions?" the boy asked, but again there wa s hesitation, as if he were thinking of
something else.
"I didn't think so," the vampire answered. It happened when he was fifteen. He was very
handsome then. He had the smoothest skin and the largest blue eyes. He was robust, not
thin as I am now and was then . . . but his eyes . . . it was as if when I looked into his eyes
I was standing alone on the edge of the wo rld . . . on a windswept ocean beach. There
was nothing but the soft roar of the waves. Well," he said, his eyes still fixed on the
window panes, "he began to see visions. He onl y hinted at this at first, and he stopped
taking his meals altogether. He lived in the oratory. At any hour of day or night, I could

find him on the bare flagstones kneeling before the altar. And the oratory itself was
neglected. He stopped tending the candles or ch anging the altar cloths or even sweeping
out the leaves. One night I became really alar med when I stood in the rose arbor watching
him for one solid hour, during which he never moved from his knees and never once
lowered his arms, which he held outstretched in the form of a cross. The slaves all
thought he was mad." The vampire raised his ey ebrows in wonder. "I was convinced that
he was only. . . overzealous. That in his love for God, he had perhaps gone too far. Then
he told me about the visions. Both St. Dominic and the Blessed Virgin Mary had come to
him in the oratory. They had told him he was to sell all our property in Louisiana,
everything we owned, and use the money to do God's work in France. My brother was to
be a great religious leader, to return the country to its form er fervor, to turn the tide
against atheism and the Revolution. Of course , he had no money of his own. I was to sell
the plantations and our town houses in New Orleans and give the money to him."
Again the vampire stopped. And the boy sat moti onless regarding him, astonished. "Ali . .
. excuse me," he whispered. "What did you say? Did you sell the plantations?"
"No," said the vampire, his face calm as it had b een from the start. "I laughed at him. And
he . . . he became incensed. He insisted his command came from the Virgin herself. Who
was I to disregard it? Who indeed?" he asked so ftly, as if he were thinking of this again.
"Who indeed? And the more he tried to convince me, the more I laughed. It was
nonsense, I told him, the product of an immature and even morbid mind. The oratory was
a mistake, I said to him; I would have it torn down at once. He would go to school in
New Orleans and get such inane notions out of his head. I don't remember all that I said.
But I remember the feeling. Behind all this contemptuous dismissal on my part was a
smoldering anger and a disappointment. I was bi tterly disappointed. I didn't believe him
at all."
"But that's understandable," said the boy quickly when the vampire paused, his
expression of astonishment softening. "I mean, would anyone have believed him?"
"Is it so understandable?" The vampire looke d at the boy. "I think perhaps it was vicious
egotism. Let me explain. I loved my brother, as I told you, and at times I believed him to
be a living saint. I encouraged him in his pr ayer and meditations, as I said, and I was
willing to give him up to the priesthood. And if someone had told me of a saint in Arles
or Lourdes who saw visions, I would have beli eved it. I was a Catholic; I believed in
saints. I lit tapers before their marble statues in churches; I knew their pictures, their
symbols, their