Лігейя

           Istirrednot—butgazedupontheapparition. Therewasamaddisorderinmythoughts—atumultunappeasable. Couldit,indeed,bethelivingRowenawhoconfrontedme? CoulditindeedbeRowenaatall—thefair-haired,theblue-eyedLadyRowenaTrevanionofTremaine? Why,whyshouldIdoubtit? Thebandagelayheavilyaboutthemouth—butthenmightitnotbethemouthofthebreathingLadyofTremaine? Andthecheeks—thereweretherosesasinhernoonoflife—yes,thesemightindeedbethefaircheeksofthelivingLadyofTremaine. Andthechin,withitsdimples,asinhealth,mightitnotbehers? —buthadshethengrowntallersincehermalady? Whatinexpressiblemadnessseizedmewiththatthought? Onebound,andIhadreachedherfeet! Shrinkingfrommytouch,sheletfallfromherhead,unloosened,theghastlycerementswhichhadconfinedit,andtherestreamedforth,intotherushingatmosphereofthechamber,hugemassesoflonganddishevelledhair; itwasblackerthantheravenwingsofthemidnight! Andnowslowlyopenedtheeyesofthefigurewhichstoodbeforeme. "Herethen,atleast,"Ishriekedaloud,"canInever—canIneverbemistaken —thesearethefull,andtheblack,andthewildeyes—ofmylostlove—ofthelady—oftheLADYLigeia."