The Delicate Dependency

There on the floor was a large Galapagos tortoise. To our further surprise, as it slowly moved through the door we saw that it was inlaid with guilt and completely encrusted with jewels. Every inch of the carapace of its back glimmered with rubies, emeralds, diamonds, topazes, opals, and pearls. Furthermore, attached to the bejeweled back was a golden tray sparklingly laden with cordial glasses and a decanter of an unknown liqueur.

As if following some secret stage direction the female onlookers were overcome with that most favorite Victorian feminine afflictions, the vapors, and one by one began to faint into carefully chosen arms and couches.

I gave a start. "A vampire Pope!"
"Yes."
"I don't believe it."
"Who cares?"

After their initial sympathy the newspapers soon realized it was the lurid details of the case that sold copy. The Times ran headlines like "Prominent Physician's Daughter Taken by Body Snatchers", and The Illustrated London News ran hideous lithographs of every possible atrocity that might be performed upon little Camille. They were stories for the "penny dreadfuls" and they made life nearly unbearable.