however, that a relapse had taken place, the color disappeared from both
eyelid and cheek, leaving a wanness even more than that of marble; the
lips became doubly shrivelled and pinched up in the ghastly expression
of death; a repulsive clamminess and coldness overspread rapidly the
surface of the body; and all the usual rigorous stiffness immediately
supervened. I fell back with a shudder upon the couch from which I had
been so startlingly aroused, and again gave myself up to passionate
waking visions of Ligeia.
An hour thus elapsed, when--could it be possible?--I was a second time
aware of some vague sound issuing from the region of the bed. I
listened--in extremity of horror. The sound came again--it was a sigh.
Rushing to the corpse, I saw--distinctly saw--a tremor upon the lips. In
a minute afterward they relaxed, disclosing a bright line of the pearly
teeth. Amazement now struggled in my bosom with the profound awe which
had hitherto reigned there alone. I felt that my vision grew dim, that
my reason wandered, and it was only by a violent effort that I at length
succeeded in nerving myself to the task which duty thus once more had
pointed out. There was now a partial glow upon the forehead and upon
the cheek and throat, a perceptible warmth pervaded the whole frame,
there was even a slight pulsation at the heart. The lady _lived_; and
with redoubled ardor I betook myself to the task of restoration. I
chafed and bathed the temples and the hands and used every exertion
which experience and no little medical reading could suggest. But in
vain. Suddenly, the color fled, the pulsation ceased, the lips resumed
the expression of the dead, and, in an instant afterward, the whole body
took upon itself the icy chilliness, the livid hue, the intense
rigidity, the sunken outline, and all the loathsome peculiarities of
that which has been, for many days, a tenant of the tomb.
And again I sunk into visions of Ligeia--and again, (what marvel that I
shudder while I write?) _again_ there reached my ears a low sob from the
region of the ebony bed. But why should I minutely detail the
unspeakable horrors of that night? Why should I pause to relate how,
time after time, until near the period of the gray dawn, this hideous
drama of revivification was repeated; how each terrific relapse was only
into a sterner and apparently more irredeemable death; how each agony
wore the aspect of a struggle with some invisible foe; and how each
struggle was succeeded by I know not what of wild change in the personal
appearance of the corpse? Let me hurry to a conclusion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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