Dracula
gateway opposite my window, the high spot which it touched seemed to me
as if the dove from the ark had lighted there. My fear fell from me as
if it had been a vaporous garment which dissolved in the warmth. I must
take action of some sort whilst the courage of the day is upon me. Last
night one of my post-dated letters went to post, the first of that fatal
series which is to blot out the very traces of my existence from the
earth.
Let me not think of it. Action!
It has always been at night-time that I have been molested or
threatened, or in some way in danger or in fear. I have not yet seen the
Count in the daylight. Can it be that he sleeps when others wake, that
he may be awake whilst they sleep? If I could only get into his room!
But there is no possible way. The door is always locked, no way for me.
Yes, there is a way, if one dares to take it. Where his body has gone
why may not another body go? I have seen him myself crawl from his
window. Why should not I imitate him, and go in by his window? The
chances are desperate, but my need is more desperate still. I shall risk
it. At the worst it can only be death; and a man’s death is not a
calf’s, and the dreaded Hereafter may still be open to me. God help me
in my task! Good-bye, Mina, if I fail; good-bye, my faithful friend and
second father; good-bye, all, and last of all Mina!
* * * * *
_Same day, later._--I have made the effort, and God, helping me, have
come safely back to this room. I must put down every detail in order. I
went whilst my courage was fresh straight to the window on the south
side, and at once got outside on the narrow ledge of stone which runs
around the building on this side. The stones are big and roughly cut,
and the mortar has by process of time been washed away between them. I
took off my boots, and ventured out on the desperate way. I looked down
once, so as to make sure that a sudden glimpse of the awful depth would
not overcome me, but after that kept my eyes away from it. I knew pretty
well the direction and distance of the Count’s window, and made for it
as well as I could, having regard to the opportunities available. I did
not feel dizzy--I suppose I was too excited--and the time seemed
ridiculously short till I found myself standing on the window-sill and
trying to raise up the sash. I was filled with agitation, however, when
I bent down and slid feet foremost in through the window. Then I looked
around for the Count, but, with surprise and gladness, made a discovery.
The room was empty! It was barely furnished with odd things, which
seemed to have never been used; the furniture was something the same
style as that in the south rooms, and was covered with dust. I looked
for the key, but it was not in the lock, and I could not find it
anywhere. The only thing I found was a great heap of gold in one
corner--gold of all kinds, Roman, and British, and Austrian, and
Hungarian, and Greek and Turkish money, covered with a film of dust, as
though it had lain long in the ground. None of it that I noticed was
less than three hundred years old. There were also chains and ornaments,
some jewelled, but all of them old and stained.
At one corner of the room was a heavy door. I tried it, for, since I
could not find the key of the room or the key of the outer door, which
was the main object of my search, I must make further examination, or
all my efforts would be in vain. It was open, and led through a stone
passage to a circular stairway, which went steeply down. I descended,
minding carefully where I went, for the stairs were dark, being only lit
by loopholes in the heavy masonry. At the bottom there was a dark,
tunnel-like passage, through which came a deathly, sickly odour, the
odour of old earth newly turned. As I went through the passage the smell
grew closer and heavier. At last I pulled open a heavy door which stood
ajar, and found myself in an old, ruined chapel, which had evidently
been used as a graveyard. The roof was broken, and in two places were
steps leading to vaults, but the ground had recently been dug over, and
the earth placed in great wooden boxes, manifestly those which had been
brought by the Slovaks. There was nobody about, and I made search for
any further outlet, but there was none. Then I went over every inch of
the ground, so as not to lose a chance. I went down even into the
vaults, where the dim light struggled, although to do so was a dread to
my very soul. Into two of these I went, but saw nothing except fragments
of old coffins and piles of dust; in the third, however, I made a
discovery.
There, in one of the great boxes, of which there were fifty in all, on a
pile of newly dug earth, lay the Count! He was either dead or asleep, I
could not say which--for the eyes were open and stony, but without the
glassiness of death--and the cheeks had the warmth of life through all
their pallor; the lips were as red as ever. But there was no sign of
movement, no pulse, no breath, no beating of the heart. I bent over him,
and tried to find any sign of life, but in vain. He could not have lain
there long, for the earthy smell would have passed away in a few hours.
By the side of the box was its cover, pierced with holes here and there.
I thought he might have the keys on him, but when I went to search I saw
the dead eyes, and in them, dead though they were, such a look of hate,
though unconscious of me or my presence, that I fled from the place, and
leaving the Count’s room by the window, crawled again up the castle
wall. Regaining my room, I threw myself panting upon the bed and tried
to think....
* * * * *
_29 June._--To-day is the date of my last letter, and the Count has
taken steps to prove that it was genuine, for again I saw him leave the
castle by the same window, and in my clothes. As he went down the wall,
lizard fashion, I wished I had a gun or some lethal weapon, that I might
destroy him; but I fear that no weapon wrought alone by man’s hand would
have any effect on him. I dared not wait to see him return, for I feared
to see those weird sisters. I came back to the library, and read there
till I fell asleep.
I was awakened by the Count, who looked at me as grimly as a man can
look as he said:--
“To-morrow, my friend, we must part. You return to your beautiful
England, I to some work which may have such an end that we may never
meet. Your letter home has been despatched; to-morrow I shall not be
here, but all shall be ready for your journey. In the morning come the
Szgany, who have some labours of their own here, and also come some
Slovaks. When they have gone, my carriage shall come for you, and shall
bear you to the Borgo Pass to meet the diligence from Bukovina to
Bistritz. But I am in hopes that I shall see more of you at Castle
Dracula.” I suspected him, and determined to test his sincerity.
Sincerity! It seems like a profanation of the word to write it in
connection with such a monster, so asked him point-blank:--
“Why may I not go to-night?”
“Because, dear sir, my coachman and horses are away on a mission.”
“But I would walk with pleasure. I want to get away at once.” He smiled,
such a soft, smooth, diabolical smile that I knew there was some trick
behind his smoothness. He said:--
“And your baggage?”
“I do not care about it. I can send for it some other time.”
The Count stood up, and said, with a sweet courtesy which made me rub my
eyes, it seemed so real:--
“You English have a saying which is close to my heart, for its spirit is
that which rules our _boyars_: ‘Welcome the coming; speed the parting
guest.’ Come with me, my dear young friend. Not an hour shall you wait
in my house against your will, though sad am I at your going, and that
you so suddenly desire it. Come!” With a stately gravity, he, with the
lamp, preceded me down the stairs and along the hall. Suddenly he
stopped.
“Hark!”
Close at hand came the howling of many wolves. It was almost as if the
sound sprang up at the rising of his hand, just as the music of a great
orchestra seems to leap under the bâton of the conductor. After a pause
of a moment, he proceeded, in his stately way, to the door, drew back
the ponderous bolts, unhooked the heavy chains, and began to draw it
open.
To my intense astonishment I saw that it was unlocked. Suspiciously, I
looked all round, but could see no key of any kind.
As the door began to open, the howling of the wolves without grew louder
and angrier; their red jaws, with champing teeth, and their blunt-clawed
feet as they leaped, came in through the opening door. I knew then that
to struggle at the moment against the Count was useless. With such
allies as these at his command, I could do nothing. But still the door
continued slowly to open, and only the Count’s body stood in the gap.
Suddenly it struck me that this might be the moment and means of my
doom; I was to be given to the wolves, and at my own instigation. There
was a diabolical wickedness in the idea great enough for the Count, and
as a last chance I cried out:--
“Shut the door; I shall wait till morning!” and covered my face with my
hands to hide my tears of bitter disappointment. With one sweep of his
powerful arm, the Count threw the door shut, and the great bolts clanged
and echoed through the hall as they shot back into their places.
In silence we returned to the library, and after a minute or two I went
to my own room. The last I saw of Count Dracula was his kissing his hand
to me; with a red light of triumph in his eyes, and with a smile that
Judas in hell might be proud of.
When I was in my room and about to lie down, I thought I heard a
whispering at my door. I went to it softly and listened. Unless my ears
deceived me, I heard the voice of the Count:--
“Back, back, to your own place! Your time is not yet come. Wait! Have
patience! To-night is mine. To-morrow night is yours!” There was a low,
sweet ripple of laughter, and in a rage I threw open the door, and saw
without the three terrible women licking their lips. As I appeared they
all joined in a horrible laugh, and ran away.
I came back to my room and threw myself on my knees. It is then so near
the end? To-morrow! to-morrow! Lord, help me, and those to whom I am
dear!
* * * * *
_30 June, morning._--These may be the last words I ever write in this
diary. I slept till just before the dawn, and when I woke threw myself
on my knees, for I determined that if Death came he should find me
ready.
At last I felt that subtle change in the air, and knew that the morning
had come. Then came the welcome cock-crow, and I felt that I was safe.
With a glad heart, I opened my door and ran down to the hall. I had seen
that the door was unlocked, and now escape was before me. With hands
that trembled with eagerness, I unhooked the chains and drew back the
massive bolts.
But the door would not move. Despair seized me. I pulled, and pulled, at
the door, and shook it till, massive as it was, it rattled in its
casement. I could see the bolt shot. It had been locked after I left the
Count.
Then a wild desire took me to obtain that key at any risk, and I
determined then and there to scale the wall again and gain the Count’s
room. He might kill me, but death now seemed the happier choice of
evils. Without a pause I rushed up to the east window, and scrambled
down the wall, as before, into the Count’s room. It was empty, but that
was as I expected. I could not see a key anywhere, but the heap of gold
remained. I went through the door in the corner and down the winding
stair and along the dark passage to the old chapel. I knew now well
enough where to find the monster I sought.