Кармилла
The Woodman
"Iconfess,General,youpuzzlemeutterly,"repliedmyfather,lookingathim,Ifancied,foramomentwithareturnofthesuspicionIdetectedbefore.Butalthoughtherewasangeranddetestation,attimes,intheoldGeneral’smanner,therewasnothingflighty.
"Thereremainstome,"hesaid,aswepassedundertheheavyarchoftheGothicchurch—foritsdimensionswouldhavejustifieditsbeingsostyled—"butoneobjectwhichcaninterestmeduringthefewyearsthatremaintomeonearth,andthatistowreakonherthevengeancewhich,IthankGod,maystillbeaccomplishedbyamortalarm."
"Whatvengeancecanyoumean?"askedmyfather,inincreasingamazement.
"Imean,todecapitatethemonster,"heanswered,withafierceflush,andastampthatechoedmournfullythroughthehollowruin,andhisclenchedhandwasatthesamemomentraised,asifitgraspedthehandleofanaxe,whileheshookitferociouslyintheair.
"What?"exclaimedmyfather,morethaneverbewildered.
"Tostrikeherheadoff."
"Cutherheadoff!"
"Aye,withahatchet,withaspade,orwithanythingthatcancleavethroughhermurderousthroat.Youshallhear,"heanswered,tremblingwithrage.Andhurryingforwardhesaid:
"Thatbeamwillanswerforaseat;yourdearchildisfatigued;letherbeseated,andIwill,inafewsentences,closemydreadfulstory."
