Northanger Abbey and Angels and Dragons by Jane Austen, Vera Nazarian Page B

veiled question—nay, a secret request to claim your soul—you are in fact agreeing to her dark influence! Her query is a trick!’
    “Huh? What?” said Catherine, and then immediately pretended to cough into her palm.
    But the angels were satisfied she was at last paying attention to them.
    Isabella meanwhile watched her friend’s odd extended pause and coughing fit, with her smile frozen in place, and poised for her answer.
    Catherine was feeling a strange ringing sensation—very similar to her moment of metaphysical awakening several years ago when she first began to hear heavenly voices—only this time it was different, even more profound. It was as though an additional layer before her perception was stripped away, and suddenly Catherine could see in twice-as-sharp focus. The angels, in a cloud of fireflies, were fiercely bright as candles! And the charming young Miss Thorpe before her—
    Oh . . . Oh dear, thought Catherine, verily staring.
    Because the previously delightful Isabella now appeared very swarthy and strange and not at all charming. Instead of being a blooming beauty, somehow she was sallow, rather angular of feature, and there was an unhealthy greenish tint to her previously peach-perfect complexion. Isabella looked decidedly ghastly! And, as for her youthful vivacity, why she seemed dreadfully worn out, as though a thousand balls and seasons were behind her, and the ennui of the world settled under her eyes in ugly circles. Oh, and the cold! The dire bone-deep cold that was emanating from her in palpable waves!
    “Oh, yes, you see her as she is, at last! Her true visage has been revealed to you, and you are no longer deceived by her outer beauty. Indeed, the real Black Veil has been lifted."
    And then an angel added softly, “Behold! You are seeing her inside out , Catherine.”
    Catherine was stunned.
    In that moment, Isabella, who had been patiently waiting for her response but finding none forthcoming, gently prompted her friend, in what Catherine now heard as a sickly-sweet unnatural, grating voice: “What is it, my sweet? I said, are not you wild to know what is behind the black veil? ”
    And Catherine watched as Isabella’s eyes glowed yellow.
    “No!” blurted Catherine, and then amended, “that is, not wild, no; not at all, for I am still reading, and it is such a pleasure to discover for oneself, no spoiling surprises, please, my dear Isabella—”
    She could almost hear multiple angelic sighs of relief coming from all directions.
    “Well done, child, well done! Never agree directly to anything she asks of you, always, circumspectly deny!”
    For a moment it seemed that Isabella’s eyes flashed a frustrated spark of red, like distant hellfire, but oh-so-cold . . .
    Catherine proceeded to carry on somewhat, to disguise the strange turn of conversation and her own unnerved state. “ Udolpho is marvelous! Pray, excuse my excitement, of course, but I am very particular in these things. So, do not tell me—I would not be told upon any account. I know it must be a skeleton, I am sure it is Laurentina’s skeleton. Oh! I am delighted with the book! I should like to spend my whole life in reading it. I assure you, if it had not been to meet you, I would not have come away from it for all the world.”
    The demonic cold billowed about them and for once Catherine was so direly aware of it that her teeth were on the verge of chattering. But she braced them in a smile, and watched the angels come to surround her with a barrier of warming light that eased the wintry sensation.
    Isabella appeared mollified for the moment. “Dear creature! How much I am obliged to you; and when you have finished Udolpho, we will read The Italian together; and I have made out a list of ten or twelve more of the same kind for you.”
    “Have you, indeed! How glad I am! What are they all?”
    “I will read you their names directly; here they are, in my pocketbook. Castle of Wolfenbach, Clermont,