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It did not hurt me then It did not shakeall things as figments in a series of unconnected dreams Very likely, I could not allow

Only now do I pray it was she, uess very ho that ht tellcourtesan

Did so her out into the Venetian night, fall under her spell so that he deserted his Dark Ways, andthe horrid fire, as we know he did, seek her out for sustaining blood and bring her over into immortality to assist him in his recovery?

I cannot bring myself to ask Marius this question Perhaps you will And perhaps I prefer to hope that it was she, and not to hear denials that render it less likely

I had to tell you this I had to tell you I think it was Bianca

Let me return now to the Paris of the 18705-so New World va so sadly the answers to the terrible questions of e are here, and for what purpose

How sad for Louis that he should put those questions to me How sad for me

Who could have scoffed more coldly than I at the whole idea of a redeht who, once having been hu on hu, clever humanism of the Renaissance, the dark recrudescence of asceticism in the Roman Coven and the bleak cynicism of the Romantic era

What did I have to tell this sweet-faced vaer and brasher Lestat, except that in the world Louis would find enough beauty to sustain hie to exist, if indeed it was his choice to go on living, without looking to iive him an artificial or short-lived peace

I never imparted to Louissecret, however, that as of the year 1870, having existed for so the Undead, I knew of no blood drinker older than myself

The very avowal broughtsense of loneliness, and when I looked into Louis's tortured face, when I followed his slih the clutter and nineteenth-century Paris, I knew that this black-clad dark-haired gentleman, so lean, so finely sculpted, so sensitive in all his linea embodiment of the misery I felt

He race of one hurace of centuries Aiven hi black frock coat, and fine waistcoat of white silk, his high priestly-looking collar and frills of im the Theatre des Vae for a very good reason), I wandered the world with hie

Time eventually destroyed our love for one another Tientle intimacy Tireeably shared

One other horrible inescapable and unforgettable ingredient went into our destruction Ah, I don't want to speak of it, but who a to let me be silent on the matter of Claudia, the child va destroyed?

Claudia Who a the modern audience who reads these tales as palatable fiction does not have in olden-curled child vaht in New Orleans, the child vampire whose mind and soul became as immense as that of an immortal woman while her body remained that of a precious all too perfect painted bisque French bebe doll?