Girls in Contemporary Vampire Fiction

Agnieszka Stasiewicz-Bie■kowska
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PALGRAVE GOTHIC

Girls in
Contemporary
Vampire Fiction
Agnieszka Stasiewicz-Bieńkowska
 Palgrave Gothic

Series Editor
Clive Bloom, Middlesex University, London, UK
This series of Gothic books is the first to treat the genre in its many inter-
related, global and ‘extended’ cultural aspects to show how the taste for
the medieval and the sublime gave rise to a perverse taste for terror and
horror and how that taste became not only international (with a huge fan
base in places such as South Korea and Japan) but also the sensibility of
the modern age, changing our attitudes to such diverse areas as the nature
of the artist, the meaning of drug abuse and the concept of the self. The
series is accessible but scholarly, with referencing kept to a minimum and
theory contextualised where possible. All the books are readable by an
intelligent student or a knowledgeable general reader interested in the
subject.

Editorial Advisory Board

Dr. Ian Conrich, University of Vienna, Austria
Barry Forshaw, author/journalist, UK
Professor Gregg Kucich, University of Notre Dame, USA
Professor Gina Wisker, University of Brighton, UK
Dr. Catherine Wynne, University of Hull, UK
Dr. Alison Peirse, University of Yorkshire, UK
Dr. Sorcha Ní Fhlainn, Manchester Metropolitan University, UK
Professor William Hughes, University of Macau, China
Dr. Antonio Alcala Gonzalez, Tecnologico de Monterrey, Mexico
Dr. Marius Cris, an, West University of Timişoara, Romania
Dr. Manuel Aguirre, independent scholar, Spain

More information about this series at

http://www.palgrave.com/gp/series/14698
 Agnieszka Stasiewicz-Bieńkowska

Girls in Contemporary
Vampire Fiction
Agnieszka Stasiewicz-Bieńkowska
Institute of American Studies and Polish Diaspora
Jagiellonian University
Kraków, Poland

ISSN 2634-6214 ISSN 2634-6222 (electronic)

Palgrave Gothic
ISBN 978-3-030-71743-8 ISBN 978-3-030-71744-5 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-71744-5

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer
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For Andrzej, Alicja and Maja
—who make it all worthwhile
 Acknowledgements

I am extremely fortunate to be surrounded by many people and insti-

tutions that have offered their support and encouragement, contributing
in various ways to making this book a reality. My sincere thanks go to
the whole Palgrave team, particularly editors Clive Bloom, Allie Troy-
anos and Rachel Jacobe, for seeing the potential in this project, and
for providing me with invaluable editorial assistance. I also thank the
anonymous reviewers for their insightful feedback and helpful advice.
My home institution, the Institute of American Studies and Polish
Diaspora at Jagiellonian University in Kraków, generously granted me
a sabbatical leave to complete this project and provided funding for its
development, for which I am most grateful. I extend my warm appre-
ciation to my friends, colleagues and students from the Institute, who
continue to provide me with a vibrant and friendly academic community
that enables me to pursue my intellectual passions. Thank you for cheering
me on! My special thanks go to Professors Adam Walaszek, Radek
Rybkowski and Łukasz Kamieński for their continuing support, and to
Professor Garry Robson who proofread my manuscript with meticulous
care, asking the right questions and offering words of encouragement.
I gratefully acknowledge Griffith University, in particular the Grif-
fith Centre for Social and Cultural Research and the Griffith School of
Humanities, Languages and Social Sciences in Brisbane and Gold Coast,
for inviting me twice to Australia to present my research on vampires and
girlhood. My participation in the seminars and workshops Vampires and

vii
viii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Popular Culture (2014) and Vampiric Transformations (2018) would not

have been possible without GU’s generous financial and organisational
support. The illuminating presentations and lively discussions held during
these academic events have resulted in inspiring joint academic projects
and continue to generate new ones. I feel indebted to the organisers and
the participants for welcoming me into this rewarding academic adven-
ture. I owe special thanks to the contributors to the volume Hospitality,
Rape and Consent in Vampire Popular Culture: Letting the Wrong One In
(Palgrave Macmillan, 2017) and the special issue of Continuum: Journal
of Media & Cultural Studies, “Vampiric Transformations: The Popular
Politics of the (Post)Romantic Vampire” (forthcoming), and particularly
to Dr. Stephanie Green and Dr. David Baker from Griffith University,
outstanding scholars and great friends, who have co-edited these projects
with me. I am doubly indebted to Stephanie, who generously made time
to read sections of this manuscript at its early stages, sharing her exper-
tise and providing insightful suggestions along with the kindest words of
support. My heartfelt thanks to David Baker and Linda Middleton, for
having me in your home in Australia—I have many fond memories of
your warm hospitality and our time together. I also thank Professor Joli
Jensen, the author of Write No Matter What (The University of Chicago
Press, 2017). Although we have never met, her savvy advice on academic
writing has helped me through many a writing crisis.
Last, but certainly not least, I express my deepest gratitude to my
amazing family and friends for their love, encouragement and their
unshakeable faith in my ability to complete this project. I am forever
grateful to my wonderful parents, my brother Grzegorz, my family-in-
law, Basia, Anna, Iwona, Paula and Maciek who are always there for me—
quick to believe that things will turn out just fine. A very special thanks
to my grandmother Maria who wields a truly magical power to make me
carry on. My grandfather would have been proud to see this book come
into being.
Finally, my love and deepest appreciation go to Andrzej, my soul mate,
husband and best friend, and to Alicja and Maja, daughters extraordi-
naire. This book would never have happened without your loving support,
encouraging drawings, great sense of humour and infinite patience. Every
day with you is filled with love, joy, discoveries and adventures. You make
it all worthwhile.
 Contents

1 Vampire Fiction, Girls and Shame: Introduction 1

References 16
2 Writing (on) Girls’ Bodies: Vampires and Embodied
Girlhood 23
2.1 The Markings of the Vampiric Body 26
2.2 Such Hot Fangs! Vampirism and Beauty 32
2.3 You Don’t See Fat Vamps: The Meanings of Body Size 39
2.4 No One Mourns the Ugly: Beauty, Style and Belonging 46
2.5 Velvet! Platinum! Pearls! Vampire Girls as Consumers 53
2.6 The Magic of Makeover: Style as Oppression
and Resistance 58
2.7 Conclusion 64
References 67
3 A Love So Strong that It Aches: (Re-)Writing Vampire
Romance 75
3.1 Mates, Consorts, Oath-Bound Warriors: House
of Night and Polyandry 80
3.2 The Truest of True Loves: Soul Mates and Enchanted
Bonds 86
3.3 Tying the Knot: Love, Marriage and Power 92
3.4 The Lovely Bliss of Her Bite: Vampires and Same-Sex
Romance 97

ix
x CONTENTS

3.5 Conclusion 111

References 114
4 Pangs of Pleasure, Pangs of Guilt: Girls, Sexuality
and Desire 123
4.1 It Tasted like Liquid Desire: Virginity, Blood
Consumption and Sexual Awakening 127
4.2 Didn’t the Earth Move or the Planets Align? The Tales
of the “First Time” 138
4.3 A Bloodlust-Filled, Hornie Freak: Slut Shaming
and “Excessive” Desire 147
4.4 Blood Whoring, Female Virtue and Defensive Othering 152
4.5 Conclusion 158
References 162
5 Save Your Butt from Getting Raped: Girls, Vampires,
Violence 169
5.1 No Anger and No Condemnation: Vampires
and Romanticised Abuse 173
5.2 A Questioning Touch of Teeth: Violence and Consent
in House of Night and Vampire Academy 182
5.3 A Monster Abused Me: Narrating Rape
and Rape-Revenge 190
5.4 Black. Angry. Merciless: Girls’ Violence
and (Self-)Defence 196
5.5 Conclusion 202
References 207
6 Biting into Books: Supernatural Schoolgirls
and Academic Performance 215
6.1 Heaps of Awesome Classes: The Unique Education
of the House of Night 219
6.2 Slamming the Math Book Shut: Supernatural Girls
and STEM Education 224
6.3 Miss (Im)Perfect Schoolgirl: Girls and Academic
(Dis)Engagement 230
6.4 Too Smart? Academic Excellence and Popular
Femininity 238
6.5 Conclusion 246
References 249
 CONTENTS xi

7 Conclusion 257
References 266

Index 269
 CHAPTER 1

Vampire Fiction, Girls and Shame:

Introduction

A lot has gone amiss with Zoey Redbird’s seventeenth birthday. Yet, when
she unwraps a gift from her grandmother, she is delighted to see a signed
copy of the first American edition of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Reverently
turning its leather-bound pages, the heroine confirms that “that spooky
old story” has long been her favourite novel (Chosen 30; Betrayed 170).
Intrigued, Zoey’s boyfriend Erik begins to read Dracula, but he soon
finds the plotline “a little old school, what with the vamps being monsters
and all” (Hunted 85), indicating that the contemporary vampire has little
in common with the Dracula archetype. This remark is not intended as a
commentary on the evolution of the vampire’s cultural image, although it
certainly could be read as such. Rather, it is of a personal nature, as both
Erik and Zoey, the protagonists of the House of Night series by P.C. and
Kristin Cast, are themselves young vampires.
In her study on teen vampire fiction, Mia Franck suggests that the
vampire phenomenon of today is no longer primarily about horror and
abjection. Instead, it is about “the reading girls” (2013, 211). The
figure of the vampire has long been recognised as holding a particular
fascination for young adult consumers. Scholars, librarians and readers
alike have pointed to the vampire genre’s ability to respond to young

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 1

Switzerland AG 2021
A. Stasiewicz-Bieńkowska, Girls in Contemporary Vampire Fiction,
Palgrave Gothic, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-71744-5_1
2 A. STASIEWICZ-BIEŃKOWSKA

people’s anxieties and hopes about growing up.1 Searching for power,
autonomy, control and belonging, struggling with unfamiliar yearnings
and bodily transformations, breaking rules and rebelling against social
conventions, the vampire can be read, as Byron and Deans propose, as
“[t]he adolescent in a nutshell” (2014, 89; cf. Smith and Moruzi 2020,
612).
The growing popularity of young adult (YA) vampire fiction in the
late twentieth century marked the beginning of the rise of teen Gothic
as a distinct and rich cultural category, with the spectacular success of
Joss Whedon’s TV show Buffy the Vampire Slayer (The WB, 1997–2001)
trailblazing the way for the teen vampire boom of the post-2000 era
(Byron and Deans 2014, 87; Ramos-García 2020).2 Popular vampire
novels for young readers were published throughout 1990s, granting
vampires a strong position on the young adult literary market; Annette
Curtis Klause’s The Silver Kiss (1990) or the first four instalments of
L. J. Smith’s prominent The Vampire Diaries series (1991–1992) are
notable examples of this trend. However, it is the new millennium that has
witnessed the unprecedented proliferation of the vampire figure in youth
popular culture; according to Michelle J. Smith and Kristine Moruzi, the
vampire has become the central supernatural character of Western young

1 See e.g. Dresser (1989), De Marco (1997, 26), Priester (2008, 68, 72), LeMaster
(2011, 104), Byron and Deans (2014, 89), Piatti-Farnell (2014, 6), and Wilhelm and
Smith (2014, 123–131). The term “genre” in this context, while useful, is more popular
than strictly academic, and should not be read as presenting diverse vampire fiction “as a
univocal form of writing” (Piatti-Farnell 2014, 11). Vampire stories often cross the bound-
aries between horror, romance, fantasy, detective fiction, comedy and more; a combination
that, as Piatti-Farnell proposes, contributes to their appeal (2014, 10–11; cf. George and
Hughes 2015, 5).
2 Many scholars have discussed young adult (YA) fiction as a genre that resists clear-cut
categorisations, appealing to various age cohorts and often crossing over to the adult
market (see e.g. Cart 2010; Cadden 2011; James 2009). As a socially constructed cate-
gory, the notion of “young adult” itself is open to various interpretations, ever-adapting
to the changing cultural, historical and political contexts. In this volume, YA fiction is
understood as cultural texts typically featuring protagonists in their late teens (16–19) and
marketed to high-school-age readers (while often appealing also to older consumers). For
the purpose of this study, I use the terms “young adult” (YA), “adolescent”, “youth”
and “teenage” interchangeably. I recognise that in other contexts the conflation of these
terms may be problematic or misleading (see e.g. Kokkola 2013, 10).
 1 VAMPIRE FICTION, GIRLS … 3

adult Gothic fiction, effectively gaining the upper hand over all the other
Gothic monsters and ab-humans (2020, 611–612).3
The tremendous commercial success of Stephenie Meyer’s vampire
saga Twilight (2005–2008), dramatised for the big screen in a series of
five blockbuster movies (2008–2012), has brought the narratives of girls
and vampires into the cultural spotlight.4 The Twilight books have sold
nearly 160 million copies worldwide, with the latest addition to the saga,
Midnight Sun, reaching one million copies within the first week after
its release (Milliot 2020). Inspiring frenzy among adolescent and adult
fans and anti-fans alike, and riveting both media and scholarly attention,
the cultural and commercial phenomenon of Twilight has kindled a new
interest in teen Gothic and paranormal romance, resulting in a rapid rise
in the numbers of vampire fiction marketed to young readers, especially to
girls (Byron and Deans 2014, 88; Franck 2013, 211; Smith and Moruzi
2018, 9; Ames 2010).
Yet, despite their mass-market appeal—or possibly for that very reason
for, as Sady Doyle observes, such popularity “rarely coincides with literary
acclaim” (2009, 31)—vampire stories marketed to adolescent women are
often marginalised, derided and condemned, provoking a sense of disdain,
unease and suspicion among critics and educators. Alarmed by their super-
natural and sexual content, individuals and organisations have called for
the removal of vampire books from public and school libraries.5 Although
rarely backed by scholarly evidence, voices of concern have been raised
about the dangers of vampire fiction and its presumed, if unspecified,

3 According to Smith and Moruzi, vampires feature in at least half of the YA Gothic
novels listed on Goodreads and the sites of major booksellers (2020, 611–612).
4 Except for the four original novels, the series encompasses three companion volumes:
The Twilight Saga: The Official Illustrated Guide (2011); Life and Death (2015)—the
reimagining of the original story grounded in the gender-swap of the central protagonists,
and the recently released Midnight Sun (2020)—the retelling of the first volume from
Edward’s point of view.
5 For instance, the entire House of Night series by P.C. and Kristin Cast and the Vampire
Academy series by Richelle Mead, including volumes to be yet written at the time, were
banned in 2009 from a school in Texas “for sexual content and nudity” (Doyle 2010, 4,
6). The House of Night series and other YA vampire books were further challenged at the
Austin Memorial Library in Cleveland, Texas (2014), where a local minister asked for the
“occultic and demonic room be shut down, and these books be purged from the shelves,
and that public funds would no longer be used to purchase such material” (Doyle 2015,
4). See also Doyle (2011).
4 A. STASIEWICZ-BIEŃKOWSKA

power to encourage unsuspecting adolescent girls to delve “deeper and

deeper into the black hole” of vampire obsession (Basu 2018, 964).6
In “Skamlig flickläsning” (“Shameful Girl-reading”), Franck observes
that girl vampire fiction is inextricably connected to shame (2013, 208–
210). An interfusion of urban fantasy, the Gothic, horror, paranormal
romance, chick lit and serialised school story, these narratives have been
both dismissed as a quintessence of “low-status literature” (Franck 2013,
208), and condemned as a “threat to the definition of horror genres”
(Bode 2010, 711). These objections are often at least partly rooted in
age- and gender-related bias; as Doyle observes in relation to Twilight, the
condescending evaluation of girl vampire fiction “is just as much about
the fans as it is about the books” (2009, 31; cf. Franck 2013, 208–210;
Bode 2010, 716). In their respective journalistic and scholarly analyses of
the critical reception of Meyer’s saga, Doyle (2009) and Lisa Bode (2010)
point to the popular understanding of teen girl culture texts as holding
little aesthetic or educative value—a trend that mirrors the persistent
perception of fiction written specifically for women as substandard and
inferior (Franck 2013, 210; D’Amico 2016, viii). In “Transitional Tastes”,
Bode documents the interlacing discourses of the denigration and senti-
mentalisation of teen girls and girl culture (2010), while Doyle identifies
“the very girliness that has made [Twilight ] such a success” as one of the
reasons behind the harsh criticism of the saga—a backlash that “should
matter to feminists, even if the series makes them shudder” (2009, 31–
32). In this light, it is hardly unanticipated that some adolescent women
report a sense of shame over their investment in vampire fiction, aware
that their reading preferences may be ridiculed or stigmatised (Franck
2013, 208; Wilhelm and Smith 2014, 138).
This widespread disapproval of “the vampire for girls” and the percep-
tion of its mass teen female fandom as displaying questionable cultural
tastes indicate, as Bode contends, the reviewers’ failure to imagine “the
adolescent girl mode of engagement [with the text] as rational, mindful or
critical” (2010, 713; cf. Doyle 2009, 31). It further ignores the cultural
power of popular vampire fiction which—with all its fantastic premises—
remains relatable to the experiences of the contemporary girl, engaging
with her hopes and concerns and participating in the larger discourses
on girlhood. Allie, an adolescent informant in Wilhelm and Smith’s study

6 Basu’s text on the alleged negative impact of vampire fiction on girl fans in India and
Western countries can serve as an example of such a trend.
 1 VAMPIRE FICTION, GIRLS … 5

on the allure of teen vampire books, concludes: “Most of what I read

in school I cannot relate to. … But I am so interested in entering into
Twilight because it is about me right now” (2014, 123). She further
comments on the critique of vampire fiction for girls:

“What makes good literature? Who gets to decide? Twilight has a female
fan base. Is that why it is not regarded highly by critics? It is meant to be
something for women to enjoy. And I enjoy it. Isn’t that good enough? I
just want to stand up and say that it is good enough! (Wilhelm and Smith
2014, 139)

This volume offers a critical analysis of the representations of girls and girl-
hood in the twenty-first-century vampire fiction marketed to adolescent
female readership. With the powerful allure of the vampire in contem-
porary popular and youth cultures and the figure of the girl continuing
to rivet both public and scholarly attention, these representations offer
intriguing possibilities to explore the complexities of growing up a girl
in the Western culture of today.7 In Monstrous Bodies: Feminine Power
in Young Adult Horror Fiction, June Pulliam identifies YA horror as
“uniquely able to examine the challenges facing young women” and to
interrogate the gender positions and roles that girls are encouraged to
adopt (2014, 11). A mirror held up to the complex and often contradic-
tory cultural beliefs about women, vampire stories have been recognised
as particularly revealing of social and cultural gendered hierarchies, rules
and regulations (Anyiwo 2016, 173; Hobson 2016, 3; Wisker 2016).
Women in vampire texts have long been narrated as either helpless
prey and a “motivating force for the vampire hunters”, or sexualised
monstresses that abjure traditional gender roles and embody the trans-
gression of socially sanctioned notions of femininity (Hobson 2016, 3;
Anyiwo 2016, 173). Today, vampire fiction for teen female readership
is often seen as aligning with conservative and patriarchal discourses.
However, it can also offer radical imageries of young female power, a
celebration of girl agency and sexuality, depictions of girls as agents of
social and political change and as a force to undermine the cultural

7 Although the scope of this project does not allow for a systematic study of fans’
interactions with vampire fiction, on several occasions I do look at fans’ reviews and
discussion fora in order to shed light on the meanings produced by their engagement
with the text, particularly in relation to more controversial topics (all readers’ comments
are quoted as they originally appear online).
6 A. STASIEWICZ-BIEŃKOWSKA

prohibitions inflicted on women; and even the texts that are deemed
conservative are not void of moments of resistance and emancipatory
possibilities. Engaging with the scholarship from a number of critical
frameworks and utilising a variety of perspectives originating in cultural
and literary studies, sociology, feminism, gender and queer studies, and
the interdisciplinary research on girlhood and on the vampire, this volume
considers the figure of the girl in YA vampire fiction as a terrain for nego-
tiating a myriad of competing ideologies of girlhood, and as reflecting the
changing expectations surrounding girls in the Western world.

∗ ∗ ∗

A horrifying revenant skulking through the folktales across the

centuries, continents and cultures, rising from the dead to brutalise, kill
and infect, the vampire has since spread onto the pages of countless books
and graphic novels, colonised big and small screen productions, haunted
theatre stages, lurked in commercials, infiltrated classrooms, entered the
toy industry and frequented fancy-dress parties. These bloodsucking crea-
tures have come to populate texts for adults, adolescents and children
alike, straying away from their folkloric forbearers and, as numerous
scholars have observed, endlessly morphing and reincarnating into fresh
forms and personas, in order to guarantee ever anew their relevance to the
dynamics of socio-cultural, political and economic realities.8 A creature
of unprecedented “polymorphic resilience” (LeMaster 2011, 103), an
inexhaustible reservoir of metaphors and allegories, a vehicle for cultural
angsts and desires and a lens through which to unravel social preoccupa-
tions and change, the vampire has been read, among other examples, as a
vector of non-normative sexual and gender expressions, horrors of conta-
gion and foreign invasion, dread of environmental apocalypse, digital
surveillance and science gone awry; but also as a celebration of differ-
ence and non-normative identity, freedom, emancipation and a radical
critique of socio-economic and political inequities. In short, as Piatti-
Farnell concludes, the vampire is “a highly interpretative metaphor for
human existence” (2014, 64).
As a cultural phenomenon of undying appeal, vampire fiction has long
been a vibrant, dynamic and profitable area of cultural production, an

8 See e.g. Auerbach (1995), Williamson (2005), Ní Fhlainn (2019), George and Hughes
(2015, 7, 15) and Butler (2016, 193).
 1 VAMPIRE FICTION, GIRLS … 7

object of fascination to millions of fans worldwide, and a terrain of

systematic academic critique. Grounded in a variety of disciplines and
fields, a vast body of scholarly literature has been developed around
the cultural texts featuring bloodsucking creatures—examining vampire
lore in historical perspective; looking at the vampire figure through the
discourses of race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, postcolonialism, postmod-
ernism, transnationalism, posthumanism, globalisation or environmental
studies; focusing on thematic threads such as blood, memory, hospitality,
rape and power; analysing in depth a particular vampire production; or
studying the real-life communities of vampire fans or even self-identified
vampires.9
Until fairly recently, however, young adult fiction has been largely
excluded from “the vampire canon” (Dudek 2018, 17). Debra Dudek
points to the edited collection Open Graves, Open Minds: Representations
of Vampires and the Undead from the Enlightenment to the Present Day
(2013) as one of the first to have explicitly recognised the lasting value of
YA vampire texts in the transformation of the genre and the development
of the figure of the sympathetic vampire (2018, 17). In the introduction
to the volume, Sam George and Bill Hughes point to “a stylistic compe-
tence and ingenuity and a certain daring” in some of the vampire stories,
emphasising that these qualities can be often found in the texts for young
readers (2015, 6).10 Several years earlier, Deborah Wilson Overstreet
published Not Your Mother’s Vampire: Vampires in Young Adult Fiction
(2006)—a study of over twenty YA vampire novels released mostly in
the 1990s, which considers the representations of both the bloodsucking
characters and the humans who are linked to them.11 Vampires in the

9 A systematic review of vampire scholarship lies beyond the scope of this volume;
however, some recent examples of the trends specified above include Dunn and Housel
(2010), Khair and Höglund (2013), Bacon and Bronk (2013), Stephanou (2014),
Browning (2015), Baker et al. (2017), and Ní Fhlainn (2019).
10 It is noteworthy that, in addition to the chapters on Meyer’s Twilight , L.J. Smith’s
The Vampire Diaries , and Whedon’s Buffy, Open Graves, Open Minds includes other YA
vampire texts, like Daniel Waters’s Generation Dead and Marcus Sedgwick’s My Swordhand
Is Singing.
11 For instance, Wilson Overstreet looks into the ways in which vampires in YA novels
relate to folkloric conventions and adult vampire texts, or studies the depictions of human
vampire hunters. However, as only two of the volume’s chapters are devoted to these
representations (with others encompassing introductory information on vampire fiction,
a detailed examination of a non-literary vampire text—Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or a
8 A. STASIEWICZ-BIEŃKOWSKA

cultural productions addressed primarily to children and pre-adolescents

are the focus of Simon Bacon and Katarzyna Bronk’s original edited
collection Growing Up with Vampires: Essays on the Undead in Chil-
dren’s Media (2018), with several chapters foregrounding the interplays
between vampirism and femininity.12 Vampires have been welcomed into
lesson plans, with such volumes as Buffy in the Classroom (Kreider and
Winchell 2014) or The Vampire Goes to College (Nevárez 2014), which
discuss vampire stories as vehicles for teaching feminism, film production,
Shakespeare and more; and invited onto the psychotherapist’s couch, with
scholars contemplating the usefulness of vampire fiction in the counselling
procedures for female teenagers.13
Girls and girlhood have been central to a rapidly increasing number
of studies of popular culture and YA narratives, with recent scholarship
including such diverse examples as books considering young female trans-
formations and rebellion in YA dystopian fiction (see e.g. Day et al. 2016;
Hentges 2018), the replications and revisions of the fairy-tale and mytho-
logical archetypes in teen series and fantasy texts (Bellas 2017; Blackford
2012, both works including Twilight ), and the presence of various femi-
nist currents in the narratives for teens and tweens (Seelinger Trites
2018). However, with the exception of such international cross-market
hits as Twilight, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and, to a lesser extent, Kevin
Williamson and Julie Plec’s The Vampire Diaries (The CW 2009–2017;
based on the books by L. J. Smith), little research has to date addressed
the portrayals of young femininity in vampire texts marketed to adolescent
girls, in particular vampire literature.14 June Pulliam’s compelling analysis

summary of the chosen novels and annotated bibliography), many aspects of the analysed
fiction are necessarily dealt with in a cursory manner or left out of the study.
12 In the first chapter of the volume, Andrew M. Boylan traces the presence of the
vampire in Western European and North American children’s media throughout history
(2018). See also Palmer (2013), chapter 14, for an overview of the American literary,
cinematic and televised vampire narratives for children.
13 Considering Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire, Paul E. Priester elucidates the
ways in which the vampire figure can be read by a teenage girl as a metaphor and a
warning against drug abuse; or how the contemporary vampires’ agony over their moral
choices can reflect an adolescent’s decision to become a vegetarian (2008, 71). See also
Schlozman (2000), for the use of Buffy in adolescent therapy.
14 The sheer amount of scholarly works considering these three texts, particularly Buffy
and Twilight, renders a comprehensive survey both difficult and superfluous for the
purposes of this volume; some of these works are referred to in the relevant chapters.
 1 VAMPIRE FICTION, GIRLS … 9

of femininity and power in YA horror focuses on the figure of the super-

natural girl in ghost, werewolf and witch fiction, excluding vampire stories
as largely featuring human heroines (2014, 19). Lorna Piatti-Farnell’s
(2014) seminal study examines the figure of the vampire in contemporary
literature, and Gina Wisker includes vampire texts in her astute analysis
of contemporary Gothic fiction authored by women (2016). Neither,
however, investigate specifically the figure of the girl and, with the excep-
tion of the cross-market Twilight, both tap into the texts marketed to an
adult readership.
This volume explores the narratives of girlhood in vampire fiction
addressed to adolescent women, with the primary focus on four best-
selling twenty-first-century vampire series—House of Night (2007–2014)
and House of Night: Other World (2017–2020) by P. C. and Kristin
Cast, and Vampire Academy (2007–2010) and Bloodlines (2011–2015)
by Richelle Mead. The sheer abundance of the contemporary vampire
books for girls has made the selection a challenging endeavour, rendering
numerous exclusions inescapable. My focus on literary works is grounded
in Piatti-Farnell’s identification of literature as the “original venue for
vampiric representations” and the primary vehicle for the popularisation
of the bloodsucking character within Western culture (2014, 2). While

The scholarship on Buffy and Twilight encompasses a myriad of diverse approaches

and thematic focuses, including the representations of gender, race, religion, sexuality,
and power, the series’ interplays with various philosophical and mythological currents,
musical trends and historical narratives, or their critical reception and fan engage-
ment (see e.g. Iatropoulos and Woodall III 2017; South 2003; Housel and Wisnewski
2009; Reagin 2011; Preston Leonard 2011; Stuller 2013). A significant number of
academic books, journals and conferences are entirely devoted to Meyer’s or Whedon’s
universes (see e.g. Anatol 2011; Click et al. 2010; Wilson 2011; Morey 2016); Slayage:
The Journal of Whedon Studies (previously: Slayage: The Online International Journal
of Buffy Studies ), https://www.whedonstudies.tv/slayage-the-journal-of-whedon-studies.
html; Levine and Parks (2007); Wilcox (2005); see also Macnaughtan (2011), for a
detailed bibliography of both primary sources and scholarship related to Buffy and its
spin-off Angel. The Vampire Diaries have been analysed, among others, by Rikke Schubart
in Mastering Fear (2018, chap. 5) and in the edited collection Gender in the Vampire
Narrative (2016), which includes DuRocher’s study on vampiric masculinity and Nicol’s
analysis of the show’s depictions of girlhood; the focus of this unique book, however, is
on broader gender issues examined through the lens of vampirism, without any particular
emphasis placed on girls or girl fiction. See also Dudek (2018), a volume that focuses on
all three of these highly popular texts, and studies their representations of vampire–human
romantic relationships; and Łuksza (2015), which compares Twilight, The Vampire Diaries
and Charlaine Harris’s The Southern Vampire Mysteries in relation to their gender politics
and female empowerment.
Another random document with
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 CHAPTER III
NIOBE
“Good evening, Mamma.” Paule called her Mamma when she
wished to show her child’s love the most.
Madame Guibert came in, stooping a little, wrapped in an old and
well-worn fur cloak. The lamp-shade prevented her noticing how pale
her daughter was as she kissed her. She came nearer to the fire.
“Oh, how good it is to be at home again! And how one loves
these old houses! Do you remember, Paule, how sad we were when
we thought we should have to leave Le Maupas?” She warmed her
wrinkled hands at the flames. Paule came up behind her and took off
her bonnet.
“Keep your cloak on, Mother dear, for a few minutes. You were
very cold, weren’t you?”
Madame Guibert turned to look at her daughter. She smiled at
her, and the smile under her grey hair, on a face whose cheeks were
still young, whose blue eyes were trusting and clear, was as sweet
as the last roses of the year, which still bloom under the snow.
“Dear child, to look at you warms me more than do these logs
that you have put on the fire for me.”
The girl knelt down to take the kettle off the fire.
“You are going to have some boiling hot grog.”
As she got up, her mother had time to notice in the light how pale
she was.
“But you are the one who should be looked after, Paule. You are
quite white. You are ill, and you never told me.”
The old lady got up at once.
 “Oh, it isn’t serious, Mother dear. You must not worry. Perhaps I
took a slight chill waiting for you on the balcony. I will go to bed
directly after supper.” And to calm the motherly fears she had the
courage to repeat laughingly: “It is nothing at all, Mother, I assure
you.” She was thinking that the dining-room lamp would show her
face too clearly and suggested: “Suppose we have our supper here
before the fire! This room is more comfortable.”
“But the table is laid already.”
“It can soon be changed. You will see.”
“Very well, dear. You are icy cold. And in Trélaz’s open carriage
one is exposed to the worst of the weather.”
As her daughter went out, after having poured out a few
spoonfuls of rum into the glass, she added:
“Tell Marie to take down one or two bottles of wine to Trélaz. He
deserves them.”
According to the old Savoy custom, the farmer’s family lived in
the basement of the house.
Paule had just finished clearing the table in the dining-room when
the servant came back with a terrified face.
“Miss Paule, poor Miss Paule! What is this I hear?”
The girl looked her full in the face.
“M. Marcel!” continued Marie.
“Oh!” cried Paule in a hoarse voice, “be quiet! We will tell my
mother to-morrow. It is soon enough.”
Old Marie checked her tears.
“It was Baron who told them downstairs. They knew about it in
the village. Madame must not be told. It would give her such a
shock! She must be prepared.” And admiring her young mistress’s
strength, she said: “You are brave, that you are! You are like him!”
With an unsteady hand she waited at the table, her red eyes
hidden by her spectacles.
 “Marie is following my example,” said Madame Guibert. “She is
ageing.” And she tried in vain to brighten the conversation.
“You have eaten nothing, Paule. You are ill. Do go to bed. I will
warm it for you and make you some tea. It is my turn to look after
you.”
“No, thank you. I really don’t want anything. Marie will give me a
hot bottle. And you must go to bed early too. Good night, Mamma,
dear little Mamma!”
She kissed her mother passionately and went into her room. She
was quite exhausted and her courage was gone. She tore off her
clothes, unfastened her long hair with a single movement, blew out
her candle, and winding herself in her blankets gave way madly to
the grief which she had kept back so long. In the darkness her mood
changed by turns from despair to revolt, from revolt to resignation
and at last to submission and deep pity.
She mourned for her brother, for her mother, and for herself.
Turned to the wall and lost in her misery, her face hidden in her
handkerchief, she forgot that time was passing and did not hear her
mother come to bed.
Madame Guibert slept in the next room. She opened the door
gently so as not to awaken her daughter, and yet to be able to hear
her in the night if she were not well. Then, as she did every night
before undressing, she knelt on her prie-Dieu and said her prayers.
As she did every night, she gathered together her dear dead ones
and the lying scattered all over the world to beg for them God’s
loving care. More particularly she prayed over Paule’s uncertain
future and Marcel’s sorrow-stricken heart. A slight deafness and the
absorption of her thoughts cut her off from all around her. When she
was in bed, she seemed to hear a faint sigh. She listened in vain and
reassured herself.
“Paule is asleep,” she thought. “She was pale this evening. Dear
little girl. May God keep her and give her happiness! ... Old Marie
must have taken cold as well. She had such red eyes and shaking
hands. I told her to drink some tea to-night with a little rum in it. It is
the rum she likes best!”
Suddenly she sat up. This time she was not mistaken. That stifled
sob came from Paule’s bedroom. And listening attentively she made
out at last the sound of weeping and despair. Her bosom wrung with
a horrible fear, she got out of bed. She was no longer uneasy about
her daughter’s health. She understood now this sadness that had
made itself felt at Le Maupas all the evening. A calamity had come
upon the home, a calamity that they all knew about except herself,
something that was terrible, since they had kept it from her. She
guessed at the dim and dread presence of her old acquaintance,
Death. Whom had it claimed from her now, whom had it struck? ...
While she was walking bare-footed, feeling her way in the darkness,
she counted the absent ones—Marguerite, Étienne, François,
Marcel. Marcel—it was Marcel!
She passed through the half-open door, touched Paule’s bed,
and bending towards her she called:
“Paule, tell me, what is the matter?”
She dared ask no more.
The girl, suddenly roused in a paroxysm of sorrow, gave a cry of
distress which told her secret: “Mamma!”
“It is Marcel, is it not?” said Madame Guibert breathlessly. “You
have bad news about Marcel!”
“Mother, Mother,” murmured Paule.
“He is ill, very ill?”
“Yes, Mother dear, he is ill.” And Paule, half raising herself in bed,
put her arms round her mother’s neck. Gently but firmly Madame
Guibert pushed her away.
“He is dead?”
“Oh!” cried the girl. “Wait till to-morrow, Mother. We shall have
news. Be strong, Mother. We don’t know.”
 “You have had something, a letter, a telegram. Show them to me.
I must see them.”
“Mother dearest, do not torture yourself so,” entreated Paule in
broken tones which were in themselves an admission.
“He is dead! He is dead!” cried Madame Guibert. Her voice was
like a funeral dirge. Seated on the edge of the bed, icy cold, she felt
hope and life fly from her rent heart. Vainly she turned towards God,
her supreme comfort in times of sorrow. Her tearlessness was more
terrible than her weeping. She moaned aloud:
“Oh, this time it is too much. I cannot bear it! No, I am not
resigned. O God! I have always bowed to Your will. With my soul
crushed I blessed You. Now my strength is waning. I am only a poor
weak old woman, and I have suffered already more than was
needed to try me. I can bear no more—I cannot—Marcel, my
Marcel!”
“Mother, Mother!” repeated Paule, as she strained her to her
heart.
She felt her mother shiver as she stood there motionless in the
darkness, like a tree uprooted in the night. Then she got up, struck a
match, and with her arms around the unhappy broken woman she
led her into her room. There she wanted to help her into bed. But her
mother, who till then had allowed herself to be cared for unresisting,
drew herself up.
“No, no, I want to stand,” she said.
Paule had to dress her quickly before dressing herself. Then she
took her into the drawing-room, where she succeeded in reviving the
fire, which was almost out. She made a big blaze and put the kettle
again on the logs. Silent and desolate she walked up and down the
room.
She had placed her mother near the fire in an armchair, a blanket
over her knees. Stricken to the inmost depths of a mother’s heart,
Madame Guibert sat without a movement, without a gesture, without
a tear, in a state of prostration more alarming than loud despair. She
complained no more—nor did she pray, she looked straight ahead,
seeing nothing and making no sound. Crushed by fate, she seemed
completely numbed. She could no longer feel her wounded heart
beating in her breast. She let herself sink into the abyss of her
misery like a drowning man in a fathomless sea.
Patiently Paule waited till the pent-up tears should at last break
this dreadful silence, as a stream bursts the dam that is barring its
way. But the silence and immobility continued. She came up to her
Mother and vainly tried to make her drink some tea. She knelt in
front of her, took her hands, and cried:
“Mamma, Mamma, speak to me of Marcel. Speak to me, I beg of
you!”
She received no reply. She began to be afraid. She felt herself in
a solitude of death.
“Mamma, am I not your daughter, your last child, your little
Paule?” she sobbed in despair.
Madame Guibert seemed to wake from her lethargy. She saw the
sorrowful face turned up towards her in anguish. A long shiver shook
her body. She was conquered, she held out her arms to her
daughter, and leaning against her she wept. It was she who in her
weakness begged for help.
For a long time the two women remained thus, mingling their
tears and their grief, knowing the sad sweetness of loving each other
in suffering.
When the mother was able to speak, it was to thank the Almighty.
“Paule, my dear Paule, what did I say a few minutes ago? God is
good. He might afflict me still more. He gave you to me in my
distress to help me. And I refused to bow myself before Him. O God,
Thy Will is cruel, and yet may Thy Name be praised!”
Finding her courage again she asked to see the fatal telegram.
She read it through several times and discussed it with Paule.
“He is indeed dead.... But he is living again ... he is with God.”
 “Yes,” said the girl. “He died a conqueror—He was shot in the
forehead.”
They were silent. They both saw Marcel’s beautiful forehead
covered with blood, that high forehead which was the temple of such
proud thoughts.
As she lowered her eyes towards Paule Madame Guibert was
filled with pity for her.
“Go and rest, dear. To-morrow you will need all your strength—to
help me.”
“Oh, no,” said Paule, “I shall not leave you.”
“Then will you pray? Let us pray for him.” And the two women
sank on their knees.
For a long time they called down divine blessings on their
beloved dead. Paule was quite worn out and had to sit down while
her mother, sustained by superhuman will, continued to pray. The
tears ran down her cheeks; she no longer tried to keep them back.
“My God,” she begged, “accept the offering of our sorrow and
misery. When You died on the Cross Your Mother was with You. I
was not near my son. Give me strength to bear this trial. Not for me,
my God, but for the duty which remains for me to fulfil, for my sons,
for her, too, whom You have not spared. She is very young to have
so much suffering. I am inured to sorrow; but protect her, be
merciful....”
As she turned towards Paule she saw her pale face, which had
fallen back in the low chair. The girl, for all her courage, had fallen
asleep in the midst of her tears. Her swollen eyelids were still wet.
Madame Guibert rose and went to sit beside her. Raising the dear
head tenderly, she placed it on her knees. The beautiful black hair
streamed round her peaceful face and accentuated its whiteness.
Thus the tired girl rested, watched over by her mother.
The latter gazed fixedly at these motionless features, but saw
them not. She saw her son down there outstretched upon the sand,
his forehead pierced. He seemed even taller than he had been in the
pride of life. Softly she called to him in a low voice:
“My son, my darling son! Now you are at rest. You have been a
good son and a brave man. There was nothing in your heart that was
not noble. You can see us, can you not? You see us trembling and
broken. Protect us from on high, protect Paule. I am already on my
way to the grave, to join you and your father. The earth is waiting for
me—I feel it, and you are calling me. I shall soon be with you for
ever.” And as she thought of her own death she uttered this cry in
her heart: “Oh, my God, who will be left to close my eyes if thus
Thou takest them all away from me?”
She touched Paule’s body as it pressed against her. She
enfolded her in her arms, and holding her jealously, lifting up her wet
eyes, but not stirring, she continued to pray like a marble Niobe
entreating Fate to spare her last child.
The first lights of dawn appeared. Then morning came, one of
those winter days whose cold light makes the snow shiver. The old
woman was still praying. From God she drew unconquerable
strength. Singled out by sorrow, she must drain the cup of bitterness
to its very dregs.
When Paule awoke she saw her mother, pale and frozen, smiling
faintly at her. She could not get her to rest nor even to take any food.
More stooped than ever and ten years older, Madame Guibert sat
down at her desk and began to write in a firm hand to her absent
daughter and sons that they might take their own share in the recent
sorrow.
 CHAPTER IV
THE PAGEANTRY OF DEATH
The chief occupation of the Mayor of Cognin in the morning was
to read his paper. With the exception of the workmen from the
neighboring factories, who came in the early morning to the inn and
stood at the bar to drink their small glass of white wine by the
wavering light of a candle, he saw few customers till mid-day. Seated
astride a chair, his back to the fire, he provided himself for the day
with the political news in the Lyons Republican and Le Progrès. Thus
after luncheon he was able to retail to the electors both wine and
news.
When on the morning of February 26th he unfolded the papers,
he was horrified to see this great headline across the page:
“Victory at Timmimun. Death of Commander Guibert.” It had
never occurred to him that the death of a fellow-townsman of his
could cause such a stir. With a red face, and vaguely uneasy about
his own responsibility, he began to read slowly the grim official story
that the journalist had adorned with several pompous phrases.
“The War Office has forwarded to us a telegram announcing a
victory in the Touât region, at Timmimun. We would herald it with joy
as a fresh triumph of our army, had it not cost us a precious life, that
of the conqueror himself, Commander Guibert. Our political
preoccupations must not be permitted to distract our attention from
the spectacle of these far-off struggles, where French blood is being
shed so heroically. It was in the spring of last year that, after the
taking of In Salah and the occupation of the Gourara district by the
column under Colonel Ménestrel, a little garrison was stationed in
this southern village. Not far away from this place, the sanguinary
battles of Sahela and El Metarfa were fought, where the second
battalion of the Saharan Rifles repulsed the marauding Berabers and
Doui-Menias and where Captain Jacques and Lieutenant Depardieu
met their glorious death. When last winter General Lervières, chief-
in-command in Algiers, was ordered to occupy the Gourara country
by force and to proceed to establish himself in the Touât, he left at
Timmimun camp a garrison of one hundred fifty men, amply
provisioned, under Commander Guibert, assisted by Captain Berlier.
“Commander Guibert, who had just returned to France with the
Moureau-Jamy expedition insisted on rejoining his battalion in the
extreme south. In spite of the two years which were consumed in
crossing Africa, he refused leave and hastened to his post. On the
night of the 17-18th of February last, a party of Berabers, estimated
to be about one thousand strong, succeeded in approaching
Timmimun. The terror inspired by this tribe is such and their mobility
so great that they can cross an immense stretch of country without
the native regiments having the slightest knowledge of their
movements. At daybreak or even before dawn, they opened their
attack on the camp.
“A sentry, firing half a dozen shots as he fell back, gave the
alarm. The Berabers jumping over the tumbledown walls penetrated
to the inner court. In the meantime the garrison assembled in haste
under the orders of their chief and soon the Berabers were put to
flight, leaving three hundred dead on the ground. But our losses
were cruel. Ten were dead, including the officer in command, a
commissariat officer, and a sergeant, and more than thirty wounded.
Commander Guibert was killed at the end of the skirmish by a bullet
passing through his forehead just as the Berabers were fleeing in
disorder. Commander Guibert was the youngest chief of battalion in
our entire French Army. Captain at twenty-eight and decorated with
the Legion of Honour for his brilliant services in the Madagascan
campaign, especially at the battle of Andriba, he had taken part in
the Moureau expedition, which had just crossed the Sahara. The
victor of Rabah, he had been made commander and officer of the
Legion of Honour on his return. He was only thirty-two. Born in the
town of Cognin near Chambéry (Savoy), he belonged to one of the
most respected families of our neighborhood. Called to the highest
military destinies, he leaves a glorious memory behind. Savoy is
proud of him and cannot fail to honor his memory worthily.”
“Great Heavens!” cried the Mayor as he finished reading this. He
verified the name of the paper, fearing he might have lighted on
some wretched opposition rag.
The Conservative Nouvelliste and the Radical-Socialist Progrès,
which he just skimmed, gave exactly the same account; the first
adding several criticisms on the carelessness of the intelligence
department in Algiers, the second accompanying it with some
humanitarian remarks on the uselessness of colonial expeditions.
But all, whatever their political opinions might be, united in honoring
the worth of Commander Guibert, praised his splendid career, and
deplored his loss.
“That confounded schoolmaster!” cried the Mayor of Cognin.
He took up his hat and was going out. On the doorstep he
stopped short. An officer on horseback in full uniform, wearing gold
epaulettes, stopped in front of the Café National.
“Can you direct me to Madame Guibert’s house, please?”
A few countryfolk, drawn by curiosity, grouped themselves round
the rider.
“Keep along the high road as far as the Vimines road. Then
follow the path through the oakwood. After the wood turn to the left
and that is Le Maupas.”
“Thank you,” said the officer, and he was already giving rein to
his horse when the Mayor called out:
“You are going to visit the lady like that?”
The aide-de-camp glared scornfully at this red-faced individual,
and spurring his horse replied between his teeth, “Naturally.”
“Good,” answered the innkeeper, to please the women who were
listening to him. And he grew scarlet.
He had no appetite for his meal, and before putting into effect the
plan that was maturing in his mind, he sent his daughters to look for
assistance. As he was drinking a glass of brandy to encourage
himself, he saw through the window a landau and pair driving up to
the town hall. A few moments later he was called by a message from
the prefect. Quickly putting on the frock-coat which served for all
ceremonious occasions he rushed across to the municipal building.
One of the doors of the carriage opened. He saw a black uniform
with silver lace and he heard these haughty words uttered by a
beardless youth (for the date of the elections was still some time
away):
“Are you the Mayor of Cognin?”
Hat in hand, Simon answered “Yes, sir.”
“I represent the prefect. I am on my way to Madame Guibert, to
whom I carry the condolences of the government on the occasion of
the heroic death of the Commander. You have carefully broken the
news to her, I think, as the official telegram ordered you. You
managed the whole affair tactfully, I suppose?”
“Yes, Monsieur Deputy-Prefect,” stammered the Mayor, ashamed
and trembling.
“I am a councillor of the Prefecture. I wish you to do your duty by
being present at the memorial service with all your councillors. The
government of the Republic knows how to honor its loyal servants.”
Simon stammered his assent.
“That is all, Monsieur Mayor. I shall not require you any more.”
And the young messenger from the prefecture, proud of his own
important rôle and the dignity with which he filled it, departed behind
his two horses, with the haughty, weary air of an old general who has
just reviewed his brigade.
Randon and Détraz, at the summons of the Mayor, sped over to
the inn together. The whole village already knew what was
happening at Le Maupas.
“We are in for it!” cried Détraz furiously on his arrival. The day
before, during all the discussion, he had not opened his lips.
 “I told you so,” remarked old Randon, who insisted on reminding
them of his sagacity.
“And so did I,” said the Mayor, not to be outdone. “It is the fault of
the schoolmaster and of Pitet.”
Détraz, who had no idea of politeness, said rude things about the
Mayor.
“So you,” he said, “are not the master here then. What do you do
at the town hall? Why, you are as limp as a rag. The schoolmaster
leads you by the nose, like the smallest boy in his class.”
“I!” roared Simon. “I let myself be led by the nose! Just come and
see if the schoolmaster is master or not!”
Followed by his two councillors, the Mayor still gesticulating,
burst into the municipal school. Before Maillard, the sly and
wheedling, however, he felt all his zeal grow cold. But Détraz had
already pushed himself to the front.
“Aha!” he cried, “you have made a nice mess of it, you dirty,
shameless wretch! Here are the prefect and the general sending
deputations. And the corporation in the dead man’s town sends a
policeman, just as if it was serving a writ. With your devil of a brain
you’ll have a fine score to pay!” And he spat on the ground as a sign
of contempt.
“I am not answerable to you for anything,” murmured the
schoolmaster with a dignified air.
“Yes, you are. And what about you, Mayor? Have you nothing to
say?”
In his rage he had no respect for anyone. Simon was obliged to
intervene.
“You gave us bad advice, Mr. Professor,” he said.
“That’s certain,” added Randon.
“You need not have asked my advice.”
 “Who asked your advice?” retorted Détraz, in a fresh access of
fury. “You mixed yourself up in our affairs only to bring them to ruin,
you poisonous ruffian. That’s what you are, a poisonous ruffian!” So
pleased was he with the expression that he repeated it.
Randon took him by the arm and tried to calm him and lead him
away. But it is the way of the ignorant—as it is of women—to
introduce irrelevant arguments into a quarrel. Détraz wheeled round
again on the schoolmaster to shout:
“Besides, you steal the public money!”
“I steal?” protested Maillard.
“Yes, you exact private fees for the right of cutting firewood, for
receiving affidavits, for everything, in fact. We’ll see the last of you,
or I’ll have your skin.” In his rage, he showed the instinctive hatred of
the primitive nature for knowledge and of the taxpayer for the official.
The two enemies fell upon each other. The Mayor held Maillard
back and Randon restrained his colleague.
“Listen to me,” begged the old man, “listen to me.”
There was a pause while he made a suggestion, which met with
the approval of both the Mayor and Détraz and brought the
discussion to an end.
“To make up for what you have done, Maillard, you must take
your pupils to the memorial service.”
And the Mayor, anxious to take the credit of the victory to himself,
added:
“And you must hoist the flag on the town hall at once, at half
mast.”
He departed with an important air, still escorted by his two
councillors.
“Now,” said Randon, “let us go up to Le Maupas.”
Simon applauded heartily.
 “Yes, yes,” he cried. “The General sent an officer and the prefect
a young gentleman with silver lace on his trousers. The Mayor will be
represented in person with two members of the council, as it should
be. That will impress them.”
As they passed through the village they noticed Pitet, the Red, in
a field. He was looking very humble, and avoided their eyes. Détraz
called out to him, without managing to attract his attention.
“He is a coward,” said the Mayor, full of courage himself.
“We know what we know,” said Randon mysteriously.
“Yes, we know,” Détraz put in, with greater frankness. “If it hadn’t
been for the Doctor, he would have been in prison, and now he
foams with rage against him. We must certainly get rid of him at the
town hall.”
The snow reflected the cold sunshine. The white mountain
glittered in the raw daylight. Under the pale sky the outlines of all
things were mingled in one uniform and immaculate whiteness.
The prefectoral landau was returning to Chambéry when it met
the improvised delegation from Cognin. With an important air the
Mayor made a sign to the coachman to stop. Hat in hand, he
approached the door, which was opened immediately.
“Mr. Councillor, we have a favor to ask of you.”
“What is it?” replied the young man brusquely. Not having been
received at Le Maupas he came back in a bad temper. The general’s
aide-de-camp had been introduced to Madame Guibert.
“All the fathers of families here complain of the schoolmaster—
without exception—”
“Why?”
“He teaches badly, he thrashes the pupils, he hatches plots
against the country.”
The young man assumed a thoughtful air and with the gesture of
a minister dismissing an audience he replied briefly, “I will see to it.”
 Continuing his walk the Mayor rubbed his hands together and
said to his supporters: “I’ve cooked Maillard’s goose for him.”
In the course of the next few days the leading newspapers gave
the story of Timmimun in full detail and, without regard to their
political views, paid homage to Commander Guibert, whose short
career had touched all hearts. The press of Savoy went further still,
and, not content with eulogies, vied with one another in the
prominence which they gave to his portrait and his biography. In their
solitude at Le Maupas the two crushed women received the
innumerable testimonies of sympathy which came to them from all
parts of France, from the State, from Marcel’s brother officers, known
and unknown. They leaned on each other so as to be able to bear
their sorrow, and found no consolation but in prayer and in their
mutual affection. Only the visits of Madame Saudet, the mother of
Madame Étienne Guibert were of any comfort. She understood what
to say to those who have suffered separations.
In a swift revolution of sympathy, the world of society, which had
not heeded the Guiberts in their honorable ruin, decided to fall in with
public opinion. Madame Dulaurens could not stay quiet on this
occasion. She induced Mademoiselle de Songeon, Honorary
President of the White Cross of Savoy, to take the initiative in
organising a funeral service, which was to be celebrated with great
ceremony in Chambéry Cathedral. The idea was to monopolize the
dead hero and to call attention to his origin in the most befitting
manner. The authorities were to be invited to the ceremony. Their
presence would enhance the prestige of it, whereas their absence
could only embitter the campaign of the Opposition Press. So there
was no doubt what would happen.
When everything was prepared, the collections made, the
invitations sent out, Mademoiselle de Songeon and Madame
Dulaurens were officially delegated to go to Le Maupas to ask the
family’s permission. Madame de Marthenay accompanied her
mother. She wished to present her condolences to Madame Guibert
and to Paule, and had not dared to make the journey alone.
 It was the beginning of March. The snow was melting in the
desolate, muddy fields and in the sunken roads. Under the lowering
sky, surrounded by black, bare trees swaying sadly to and fro, the
old country house wore a melancholy and abandoned air.
“I should hate to be buried alive here all the year round,” said
Madame Dulaurens to Mademoiselle de Songeon as the carriage
drove up the deserted avenue.
“The Church is too far away,” answered the pious old maid.
She did not think that God is everywhere. In spite of her age, she
persisted in travelling to meet Him in specially comfortable places.
Old Marie, seeing the carriage, did not refuse to allow the ladies
to enter, despite her strict orders. She ran to announce the visitors
as fast as her legs could carry her.
“I ordered you not to receive anyone,” said Madame Guibert
sadly. And turning to Paule she said: “I have no longer the courage
to face people. Why does Madame Dulaurens come to disturb our
sorrow? We have nothing in common. What does she want?”
“Mother dear, I don’t know,” said Paule, and she rose to depart.
“You will help me to receive her?”
“No, Mother, I don’t want to meet her.”
Madame Guibert looked at her daughter, whose pale and
quivering but decided face clearly showed her thoughts.
“Paule,” she entreated, “do not desert me. I am so shy and
awkward, you know. The evil that people do is more quickly forgotten
than the good. If she reminded me of the past I should not know
what to answer. Stay with me, Paule.”
The girl hesitated no more and made a sign to the servant to
show the ladies in.
“I will stay,” she said.
Mademoiselle de Songeon, little versed in diplomacy, allowed
Madame Dulaurens to speak first.
 “You have been cruelly afflicted,” began that lady, going towards
Madame Guibert, who was obliged to lean against the fireplace in
order to rise from her chair.
Then she shook hands with Paule, whose unfriendly eyes she felt
firmly upon her. She would have preferred her not to be there.
“Yes,” said Marcel’s mother. “God is testing us.”
Thus at once she gave the interview a religious and serious tone.
Mademoiselle de Songeon tossed her head and looked upward, as if
she alone had the necessary authority to call upon the divine
intervention.
“What a consolation you have in your sorrow,” went on Madame
Dulaurens. “These unanimous testimonies to the Commander’s
heroism, this consensus of sympathy and regret.... In these
democratic days merit is no longer sufficiently honored. It is
sometimes death alone which gives to it its true reward, and in face
of this irreparable loss one reproaches oneself bitterly for having
known it too late.”
The mention of her son touched Madame Guibert’s heart at once.
“She is excusing herself now for having sent Marcel away,” she
thought. “She knows now what a mistake she made and regrets it.
But Madame de Marthenay ought not to have come. Her presence is
painful to us.”
She looked at the speaker, and her candid glance lighted up her
wasted face as a ray of sunlight illumines the leafless woods in
winter. Paule was on her guard. She was quite aware, however, that
Madame Dulaurens was entirely unconscious of offence.
The latter, after a short pause, explained the reason of her visit.
“It must seem quite natural to you, therefore, that we should want
to pay homage to this beloved memory. The whole of Savoy shares
your grief, but specially the élite of the country, to which the
Commander belonged, both because of his family and his splendid
personal worth.”
 She took breath, and finding that she was speaking well, she
glanced rapidly at her audience. Mademoiselle de Songeon showed
her entire agreement by nodding her long head. Alice, absorbed in
her thoughts and attentively listening, was looking at the grief-
stricken faces of Madame Guibert and the friend of her girlhood. Her
sorrow oppressed her so much that she laid her hands on her
breast. Suppressed sobs were almost choking her. She would like to
have opened her heart to these poor women but she did not dare.
She tried to take Paule’s fingers gently in her own; she was sitting
quite near her. But the girl drew her hand away firmly. She had
forgotten nothing.
Again Madame Dulaurens’s high pitched voice made itself heard
in the silence of the drawing-room.
“The patronesses of the White Cross of Savoy, in fact all the
ladies of that society, have unanimously agreed to ask for the
celebration of a funeral service at Chambéry. The Archbishop will
officiate. He has promised us; we have the word of the vicar-general.
More than fifty priests will be present. The prefect and the military
authorities will be invited, and we have no doubt that they will be
represented. It will be worthy, you may be sure, of the illustrious
dead, in its ceremony and grandeur.”
Madame Guibert had listened without interrupting, and she
answered simply:
“I thank you very much and I beg you to thank these ladies from
me for their good intentions. We celebrated a service at Cognin
according to our means. Our friends came in spite of the cold and
the long distances. The general commanding here came in person.
A great many officers would like to have accompanied him. We do
not wish to have any other outward demonstrations. But I thank you.”
“Yes, Madame. I understand your feelings. Families do not
willingly bear the intrusion of strangers in their mourning. But this is a
special case. The death of Commander Guibert is a public
misfortune. France is wounded by the death of your son. His life and
his death do honor to Savoy. You cannot wonder that Savoy should
publicly show him her great gratitude. The family resources are
necessarily limited. Let us act. Do not deprive us of this pleasure.” ...
And checking the inappropriate word as she uttered it, she corrected
herself: “This melancholy pleasure, I would say, which is given us by
intercession for the dead. Services and priests are prayers in
themselves. Can so excellent Christians as you refuse those that we
offer up for you? Have you the heart to prevent our sharing your
sorrow with you?”
“The Church approves of ceremony and worship,” said
Mademoiselle de Songeon, whose religion was luxurious and
aristocratic.
Alice had noticed an enlarged photograph of Marcel, and at this
moment saw only the man whom she had loved so unworthily.
Madame Guibert still hesitated, not about her answer, but about
the words of the answer, which she wished to make as polite and
delicate as she could. Madame Dulaurens had come to offer to
supplement the simple funeral services at Cognin, devoid of all
ostentation and parade, with a ceremony far less humble, one
brilliant indeed and worldly. Wealth was visiting poverty and desiring
to extend its patronage to it. Paule understood well, and indignantly
glanced at her mother with those dark eyes of flashing light. But
Madame Guibert had seen in this offer only respect for the memory
of her son, and although she was resolved to negative any idea of a
proceeding which she considered useless, she tried to avoid words
which might cause the slightest offence.
Fearing her mother’s shyness and misled by her hesitation, the
girl forestalled her boldly:
“We are much touched, Madame Dulaurens, by your offer. We
value it as it should be valued and we regret having to decline this
honor. My brother’s memory has received suitable recognition. We
do not wish any more public testimony than what we have already
received. God does not measure His blessings by the magnitude of
the ceremonies.”
As if she attached no importance whatever to Paule’s declaration,
Madame Dulaurens made as though to turn towards Madame