Interview with the Vampire (The Vampire Chronicles, #1)

by Anne Rice

And now he bounded over the sill, brushing me aside, and grabbed the mother’s stinking body from the bed and made to dance with her.’

‘ “I like to do it,” he said. “I enjoy it.”

There were supper parties in the hotels, and the planter families were lodged in town in great numbers and we passed through them like a nightmare.

“She’s our daughter,”

What a picture he made of her, the infant death, he called her.

And I thought of what I always felt when I heard him coming, a vague anxiety, a vague need.

The thing lay still.

Her lips were red, her looks were free, Her locks were yellow as gold: Her skin was as white as leprosy, The Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she, Who thicks man’s blood with cold.

I had perceived certain changes in her which made me at once aware she was Lestat’s daughter as well as my own.

I wanted to forget him, and yet it seemed I thought of him always. It was as if the empty nights were made for thinking of him.

“Théâtre des Vampires,”

Her beauty was heartbreaking.

And again came that thought: I have wronged Lestat, I have hated him for all the wrong reasons.

“You would leave me for Armand if he beckoned to you….”

He loves you. He loves you. He would have you, and he would not have me stand in the way.”

She rose now, gently lifting that abundance of dark taffeta, and the three small mirrors emptied at once.

You haven’t tears enough for what you’ve done to me.

I allowed myself to forget how totally I had fallen in love with Lestat’s iridescent eyes, that I’d sold my soul for a many-colored and luminescent thing, thinking that a highly reflective surface conveyed the power to walk on water.

‘And after a long interval he said, “I want you. I want you more than anything in the world.”

“That passivity in me has been the core of it all, the real evil. That weakness, that refusal to compromise a fractured and stupid morality, that awful pride!

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