Vampire

The excursion steamer brought us from Constantinople to the shore of
the island of Prinkipo and we disembarked. The number of passengers
was not large. There was one Polish family, a father, a mother, a
daughter and her bridegroom, and then we two. Oh, yes, I must not
forget that when we were already on the wooden bridge which crosses
the Golden Horn to Constantinople, a Greek, a rather youthful man,
joined us. He was probably an artist, judging by the portfolio he
carried under his arm. Long black locks floated to his shoulders, his
face was pale, and his black eyes were deeply set in their sockets.
From the first moment he interested me, especially for his
obligingness and for his knowledge of local conditions. But he talked
too much, and I then turned away from him.