Of
a mortal pallor, strongly relieved by the shadows of the alcove, his face,
streaming with a cold sweat, announced the last stage of consumption; his
closed eyelids were so swollen and injected with blood, that they appeared
like two reddish lobes in the middle of this visage of cadaverous lividity.
"One more attack like the last, and all is over," said Polidori, in a low
tone, and, retiring from the bed, he commenced walking slowly up and down
the room.
"Just now," he resumed, "during the attack which nearly proved fatal, I
thought myself in a dream, as I heard him describe all the monstrous
hallucinations which I crossed his brain. His sense of hearing was of a
sensibility so incredibly painful that, although I spoke to him as low as
possible, yet it seemed to him, he said, that his head was a bell, and that
an enormous clapper of brass, set in motion by the least sound, struck
against it from time to time with a deafening and horrid noise."
Polidori again drew near the bed, and remained in a contemplative attitude.
The tempest raged without; it soon burst forth in violent gusts of wind and
rain, which shook all the windows of the dilapidated mansion.
Notwithstanding his audacious wickedness, Polidori was superstitious; dark
presentiments agitated him; he felt an indefinable uneasiness; the howlings
of the storm, which alone disturbed the mournful silence of the night,
inspired him with an alarm against which he struggled in vain.
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