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Gradually she noticed a stone wall painted in the background in one corner There was a castle behind it How lovely to walk through the forest towards it, to go through the carefully painted wooden gate Pass into another realotten, so

Then quite abruptly she saw that the gate was painted over an actual opening in the wall!

She sat forward She could see the sea, which she had not seen, laboring behind the heavy steamer She knelt down in front of it and touched it A wooden door Immediately she took the screwdriver and tried to pry it open No luck She worked on one edge and then the other But she was only scarring the picture to no avail She sat back on her heels and studied it A painted gate covering a wooden door And there was a worn spot right where the painted handle was Yes! She reached out and gave the worn spot a little jab The door sprang open It was as simple as that

She lifted her flashlight A cos there A small white leather-bound book! A rosary, it looked like, and a doll, a very old porcelain doll

For aherself to touch these objects It was like desecrating a tomb And there was a faint scent there as of perfu, was she? No, her head hurt too much for this to be a dream She reached into the compartment, and removed the doll first

The body was crude by modern standards, yet the wooden limbs ell jointed and for into bits and pieces But the porcelain head was lovely, the large blue paperweight eyes perfect, the wig of flowing blond hair still intact

"Claudia," she whispered

Her voice made her conscious of the silence No traffic now at this hour Only the old boards creaking And the soft soothing flicker of an oil lamp on a nearby table And then that harpsichord fro Chopin now, the Minute Waltz, with the sa down at the doll in her lap She wanted to brush its hair, fix its sash

The climactic events of Intervieith the Vampire caht by the deadly light of the rising sun in a brick-lined airshaft from which she couldn't escape Jesse felt a dull shock, and the rapid silent beat of her heart against her throat Claudia gone, while the others continued Lestat, Louis, Armand

Then with a start, she realized she was looking at the other things inside the compartment She reached for the book

A diary! The pages were fragile, spotted But the old-fashioned sepia script was still readable, especially now that the oil lahtness to it She could translate the French effortlessly The first entry was September 21, 1836:

This is my birthday present from Louis Use as I like, he tells me But perhaps I should like to copy into it those occasional poems which strike my fancy, and read these to him now and then?

I do not understand entirely what is meant by birthday Was I born into this world on the list of Septes human to become this?

My gentlemen parents are forever reluctant to illuminate such simple matters One would think it bad taste to dwell on such subjects Louis looks puzzled, thenpaper And Lestat, he smiles and plays a little Mozart for : "It was the day you were born to us "

Of course, he gave me a doll as usual, the replica of me, which as alears a duplicate of my newest dress To France he sends for these dolls, he wants me to know And what should I do with it? Play with it as if I were really a child?