of them.
  "But when I heard this now from Armand it was as if the veil that protected me were 
thin and transparent, and though it still hung between me and the world of feeling, I 
perceived through it Lestat, and that I wanted to see him again. And with that spurring 
me on, we returned to New Orleans.
  "It was late spring of this year. And as soon as I emerged from the railway station, I 
knew that I had indeed come home. It was as if the very air were perfumed and peculiar 
there, and I felt an extraordinary ease walking on those warm, flat pavements, under 
those familiar oaks, and listening to the ceaseless vibrant living sounds of the night.
  "Of course, New Orleans was changed. But far from lamenting those changes, I was 
grateful for what seemed still the same. I could find in the uptown Garden District, 
which had been in my time the Faubourg St: Marie, one of the stately old mansions that 
dated back to those times, so removed from the quiet brick street that, walking out in 
the moonlight under its magnolia trees, I knew the same sweetness and peace I'd known in 
the old days; not only in the dark, narrow streets of the Vieux Carre but in the 
wilderness of Pointe du Lac. There were the honeysuckle and the roses, and the glimpse of 
Corinthian columns against the stars; and outside the gate were dreamy streets, other 
mansions . . . it was a citadel of grace.
  "In the Rue Royale, where I took Armand past tourists and antique shops and the 
bright-lit entrances of fashionable restaurants, I was astonished to discover
  the town house where Lestat and Claudia and I had made our home, the facade little 
changed by fresh plaster and whatever repairs had been done within. Its two French 
windows still opened onto the small balconies over the shop below, and I could see in the 
soft brilliance of the electric chandeliers an elegant wallpaper that would not have been 
unfamiliar in those days before the war. I had a strong sense of Lestat there, more of a 
sense of him than of Claudia, and I felt certain, though he was nowhere near this town 
house, that I'd find him in New Orleans.
  "And I felt something else; it was a sadness that came over me then, after Armand had 
gone on his way. But this sadness was not painful, nor was it passionate. It was 
something rich, however, and almost sweet, like the fragrance of the jasmine and the 
roses that crowded the old courtyard garden which I saw through the iron gates. And this 
sadness gave a subtle satisfaction and held me a long time in that spot; arid it held me 
to the city; and it didn't really leave me that night when I went away.
  "I wonder now what might have come of this sadness, what it might have engendered in me 
that could have become stronger than itself. But I jump ahead of my story.
  "Because shortly after that I saw a vampire in New Orleans, a sleek white-faced young 
man walking alone on the broad sidewalks of St. Charles Avenue in the early hours before 
dawn. And I was at once convinced that if Lestat still lived here that vampire might know 
him and might even lead me to him. Of course, the vampire didn't see me. I had long ago 
learned to spot my own kind in large cities without their having a chance to see me. 
Armand, in his brief visits with vampires in London and Rome, had learned that the 
burning of the Theatre des Vampires was known throughout the world, and that both of us 
were considered outcasts. Battles over this meant nothing to me, and I have avoided them 
to this day. But I began to watch for this vampire in New Orleans and to follow him, 
though often he led me merely to theaters or other pastimes in which I had no interest. 
But one night, finally, things changed.
  "It was a very warts evening, and I could tell as soon as I saw him on St. Charles that 
he had someplace to go. He was not only walking fast, but he seemed a little distressed. 
And when he turned off St. Charles finally on a narrow street which became at once shabby 
and dark, I felt sure he was headed for something that would interest me.
  "But then he entered one side of a small wooden duplex and brought death to a woman 
there. This he did very fast, without a trace of pleasure; and after he was finished, he 
gathered her child up from the bassinet, wrapped it gently in a blue wool blanket, and 
came out again into the street.
  "Only a block or two after that, he stopped before a vine-covered iron fence that 
enclosed a large overgrown yard. I could see an old house beyond the trees, dark, the 
paint peeling, the ornate iron railings of its long upper and lower galleries caked with 
orange rust. It seemed a doomed house, stranded here among the numerous small wooden 
houses, its high empty windows looking out on what must have been a dismal clutter of low 
roofs, a comer grocery, and a small adjacent bar.. But the broad, dark grounds protected 
the house somewhat from these things, and I had to move along the fence quite a few feet 
before I finally spotted a faint glimmer in one of the lower windows through the thick 
branches of the trees. The vampire had gone through the gate. I could hear the baby 
wailing, and then nothing. And I followed, easily mounting the old fence and dropping 
down into the garden and coming up quietly onto the long front porch.
  "It was an amazing sight I saw when I crept up to one of the long, floor-length 
windows. For despite the heat of this breezeless evening when the gallery, even with its 
warped and broken boards, might have been the only tolerable place for human or vampire, 
a fire blazed in the grate of the parlor and all its windows were shut, and the young 
vampire sat by that fire talking to another vampire who hovered very near it, his 
slippered feet right up against the hot grate, his trembling fingers pulling over and 
over at the lapels of his shabby blue robe. And, though a frayed electric cord dangled 
from a plaster wreath of roses in the ceiling, only an oil lamp added its dim light to 
the fire, an oil lamp which stood by the wailing child on a nearby table.
  "My eyes widened as I studied this stooped and shivering vampire whose rich blond hair 
hung down in loose waves covering his face. I longed to wipe away the dust on the window 
glass which would not let me be certain of what I suspected. `You all leave me!' he 
whined now in a thin, high-pitched voice.
  " `You can't keep us with you! said the stiff young vampire sharply. He sat with his 
legs crossed, his arms folded on his narrow chest, his eyes looking around the dusty, 
empty room disdainfully. `Oh, hush!' he said to the baby, who let out a sharp cry. `Stop 
it, stop it.'
  " `The wood, the wood,' said the blond vampire feebly, and, as he motioned to the other 
to hand him the fuel by his chair, I saw clearly, unmistakably, the profile of Lestat, 
that smooth skin now devoid of even the faintest trace of his old scars.
  " `If you'd just go out,' said the other angrily, heaving the chunk of wood into the 
blaze. `If you'd just hunt something other than these miserable animals . . . :And he 
looked about himself in disgust. I saw then, in the shadows, the small furry bodies of 
several cats, lying helter-skelter in the dust. A most remarkable thing, because a 
vampire can no more endure to be near his dead victims than any mammal can remain near 
any place where he has left his waste. 'Do you know that it's summer?' demanded the young 
one. Lestat merely rubbed his hands. The baby's howling cued off, yet the young vampire 
added, `Get on with it, take it so you'll be warm.'
  " `You might have brought me something else!' said Lestat bitterly. And, as he looked 
at the baby, I saw his eyes squinting against the dull light of the smoky lamp. I felt a 
shock of recognition at those eyes, even at the expression beneath the shadow of the deep 
wave of his yellow hair. And yet to hear that whining voice, to see that bent and 
quivering back! Almost without thinking I rapped hard on the glass. The young vampire was 
up at once affecting a hard, vicious expression; but I merely motioned for him to turn 
the latch. And Lestat, clutching his bathrobe to his throat, rose from the chair.