{"id":27,"date":"2019-02-25T20:46:59","date_gmt":"2019-02-25T20:46:59","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.ryerson.ca\/dracula\/chapter\/dracula-3\/"},"modified":"2019-02-26T01:42:19","modified_gmt":"2019-02-26T01:42:19","slug":"3","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/chapter\/3\/","title":{"raw":"Chapter 3 - Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued","rendered":"Chapter 3 – Jonathan Harker’s Journal Continued"},"content":{"raw":"
\r\n\r\nWhen I found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feeling came\r\nover me. I rushed up and down the stairs, trying every door and\r\npeering out of every window I could find, but after a little the\r\nconviction of my helplessness overpowered all other feelings. When\r\nI look back after a few hours I think I must have been mad for the\r\ntime, for I behaved much as a rat does in a trap. When, however,\r\nthe conviction had come to me that I was helpless I sat down\r\nquietly, as quietly as I have ever done anything in my life, and\r\nbegan to think over what was best to be done. I am thinking still,\r\nand as yet have come to no definite conclusion. Of one thing only\r\nam I certain. That it is no use making my ideas known to the Count.\r\nHe knows well that I am imprisoned, and as he has done it himself,\r\nand has doubtless his own motives for it, he would only deceive me\r\nif I trusted him fully with the facts. So far as I can see, my only\r\nplan will be to keep my knowledge and my fears to myself, and my\r\neyes open. I am, I know, either being deceived, like a baby, by my\r\nown fears, or else I am in desperate straits, and if the latter be\r\nso, I need, and shall need, all my brains to get through.\r\n\r\nI had hardly come to this conclusion when I heard the great door\r\nbelow shut, and knew that the Count had returned. He did not come\r\nat once into the library, so I went cautiously to my own room and\r\nfound him making the bed. This was odd, but only confirmed what I\r\nhad all along thought, that there are no servants in the house.\r\nWhen later I saw him through the chink of the hinges of the door\r\nlaying the table in the dining room, I was assured of it. For if he\r\ndoes himself all these menial offices, surely it is proof that\r\nthere is no one else in the castle, it must have been the Count\r\nhimself who was the driver of the coach that brought me here. This\r\nis a terrible thought, for if so, what does it mean that he could\r\ncontrol the wolves, as he did, by only holding up his hand for\r\nsilence? How was it that all the people at Bistritz and on the\r\ncoach had some terrible fear for me? What meant the giving of the\r\ncrucifix, of the garlic, of the wild rose, of the mountain ash?\r\n\r\nBless that good, good woman who hung the crucifix round my neck!\r\nFor it is a comfort and a strength to me whenever I touch it. It is\r\nodd that a thing which I have been taught to regard with disfavour\r\nand as idolatrous should in a time of loneliness and trouble be of\r\nhelp. Is it that there is something in the essence of the thing\r\nitself, or that it is a medium, a tangible help, in conveying\r\nmemories of sympathy and comfort? Some time, if it may be, I must\r\nexamine this matter and try to make up my mind about it. In the\r\nmeantime I must find out all I can about Count Dracula, as it may\r\nhelp me to understand. Tonight he may talk of himself, if I turn\r\nthe conversation that way. I must be very careful, however, not to\r\nawake his suspicion.\r\n\r\nMidnight.\u2014I have had a long talk with the Count. I asked him a\r\nfew questions on Transylvania history, and he warmed up to the\r\nsubject wonderfully. In his speaking of things and people, and\r\nespecially of battles, he spoke as if he had been present at them\r\nall. This he afterwards explained by saying that to a Boyar the\r\npride of his house and name is his own pride, that their glory is\r\nhis glory, that their fate is his fate. Whenever he spoke of his\r\nhouse he always said \"we\", and spoke almost in the plural, like a\r\nking speaking. I wish I could put down all he said exactly as he\r\nsaid it, for to me it was most fascinating. It seemed to have in it\r\na whole history of the country. He grew excited as he spoke, and\r\nwalked about the room pulling his great white moustache and\r\ngrasping anything on which he laid his hands as though he would\r\ncrush it by main strength. One thing he said which I shall put down\r\nas nearly as I can, for it tells in its way the story of his\r\nrace.\r\n\r\n\"We Szekelys have a right to be proud, for in our veins flows\r\nthe blood of many brave races who fought as the lion fights, for\r\nlordship. Here, in the whirlpool of European races, the Ugric tribe\r\nbore down from Iceland the fighting spirit which Thor and Wodin\r\ngame them, which their Berserkers displayed to such fell intent on\r\nthe seaboards of Europe, aye, and of Asia and Africa too, till the\r\npeoples thought that the werewolves themselves had come. Here, too,\r\nwhen they came, they found the Huns, whose warlike fury had swept\r\nthe earth like a living flame, till the dying peoples held that in\r\ntheir veins ran the blood of those old witches, who, expelled from\r\nScythia had mated with the devils in the desert. Fools, fools! What\r\ndevil or what witch was ever so great as Attila, whose blood is in\r\nthese veins?\" He held up his arms. \"Is it a wonder that we were a\r\nconquering race, that we were proud, that when the Magyar, the\r\nLombard, the Avar, the Bulgar, or the Turk poured his thousands on\r\nour frontiers, we drove them back? Is it strange that when Arpad\r\nand his legions swept through the Hungarian fatherland he found us\r\nhere when he reached the frontier, that the Honfoglalas was\r\ncompleted there?And when the Hungarian flood swept eastward, the\r\nSzekelys were claimed as kindred by the victorious Magyars, and to\r\nus for centuries was trusted the guarding of the frontier of\r\nTurkeyland. Aye, and more than that, endless duty of the frontier\r\nguard, for as the Turks say, `water sleeps, and the enemy is\r\nsleepless.' Who more gladly than we throughout the Four Nations\r\nreceived the `bloody sword,' or at its warlike call flocked quicker\r\nto the standard of the King? When was redeemed that great shame of\r\nmy nation, the shame of Cassova, when the flags of the Wallach and\r\nthe Magyar went down beneath the Crescent?Who was it but one of my\r\nown race who as Voivode crossed the Danube and beat the Turk on his\r\nown ground? This was a Dracula indeed! Woe was it that his own\r\nunworthy brother, when he had fallen, sold his people to the Turk\r\nand brought the shame of slavery on them! Was it not this Dracula,\r\nindeed, who inspired that other of his race who in a later age\r\nagain and again brought his forces over the great river into\r\nTurkeyland, who, when he was beaten back, came again, and again,\r\nthough he had to come alone from the bloody field where his troops\r\nwere being slaughtered, since he knew that he alone could\r\nultimately triumph! They said that he thought only of himself. Bah!\r\nWhat good are peasants without a leader? Where ends the war without\r\na brain and heart to conduct it? Again, when, after the battle of\r\nMohacs, we threw off the Hungarian yoke, we of the Dracula blood\r\nwere amongst their leaders, for our spirit would not brook that we\r\nwere not free. Ah, young sir, the Szekelys, and the Dracula as\r\ntheir heart's blood, their brains, and their swords, can boast a\r\nrecord that mushroom growths like the Hapsburgs and the Romanoffs\r\ncan never reach. The warlike days are over. Blood is too precious a\r\nthing in these days of dishonourable peace, and the glories of the\r\ngreat races are as a tale that is told.\"\r\n\r\nIt was by this time close on morning, and we went to bed. (Mem.,\r\nthis diary seems horribly like the beginning of the \"Arabian\r\nNights,\" for everything has to break off at cockcrow, or like the\r\nghost of Hamlet's father.)\r\n\r\n12 May.\u2014Let me begin with facts, bare, meager facts, verified by\r\nbooks and figures, and of which there can be no doubt. I must not\r\nconfuse them with experiences which will have to rest on my own\r\nobservation, or my memory of them. Last evening when the Count came\r\nfrom his room he began by asking me questions on legal matters and\r\non the doing of certain kinds of business. I had spent the day\r\nwearily over books, and, simply to keep my mind occupied, went over\r\nsome of the matters I had been examined in at Lincoln's Inn. There\r\nwas a certain method in the Count's inquiries, so I shall try to\r\nput them down in sequence. The knowledge may somehow or some time\r\nbe useful to me.\r\n\r\nFirst, he asked if a man in England might have two solicitors or\r\nmore. I told him he might have a dozen if he wished, but that it\r\nwould not be wise to have more than one solicitor engaged in one\r\ntransaction, as only one could act at a time, and that to change\r\nwould be certain to militate against his interest. He seemed\r\nthoroughly to understand, and went on to ask if there would be any\r\npractical difficulty in having one man to attend, say, to banking,\r\nand another to look after shipping, in case local help were needed\r\nin a place far from the home of the banking solicitor. I asked to\r\nexplain more fully, so that I might not by any chance mislead him,\r\nso he said,\r\n\r\n\"I shall illustrate. Your friend and mine, Mr. Peter Hawkins,\r\nfrom under the shadow of your beautiful cathedral at Exeter, which\r\nis far from London, buys for me through your good self my place at\r\nLondon. Good! Now here let me say frankly, lest you should think it\r\nstrange that I have sought the services of one so far off from\r\nLondon instead of some one resident there, that my motive was that\r\nno local interest might be served save my wish only, and as one of\r\nLondon residence might, perhaps, have some purpose of himself or\r\nfriend to serve, I went thus afield to seek my agent, whose labours\r\nshould be only to my interest. Now, suppose I, who have much of\r\naffairs, wish to ship goods, say, to Newcastle, or Durham, or\r\nHarwich, or Dover, might it not be that it could with more ease be\r\ndone by consigning to one in these ports?\"\r\n\r\nI answered that certainly it would be most easy, but that we\r\nsolicitors had a system of agency one for the other, so that local\r\nwork could be done locally on instruction from any solicitor, so\r\nthat the client, simply placing himself in the hands of one man,\r\ncould have his wishes carried out by him without further\r\ntrouble.\r\n\r\n\"But,\" said he,\"I could be at liberty to direct myself. Is it\r\nnot so?\"\r\n\r\n\"Of course, \" I replied, and \"Such is often done by men of\r\nbusiness, who do not like the whole of their affairs to be known by\r\nany one person.\"\r\n\r\n\"Good!\" he said, and then went on to ask about the means of\r\nmaking consignments and the forms to be gone through, and of all\r\nsorts of difficulties which might arise, but by forethought could\r\nbe guarded against. I explained all these things to him to the best\r\nof my ability, and he certainly left me under the impression that\r\nhe would have made a wonderful solicitor, for there was nothing\r\nthat he did not think of or foresee. For a man who was never in the\r\ncountry, and who did not evidently do much in the way of business,\r\nhis knowledge and acumen were wonderful. When he had satisfied\r\nhimself on these points of which he had spoken, and I had verified\r\nall as well as I could by the books available, he suddenly stood up\r\nand said, \"Have you written since your first letter to our friend\r\nMr. Peter Hawkins, or to any other?\"\r\n\r\nIt was with some bitterness in my heart that I answered that I\r\nhad not, that as yet I had not seen any opportunity of sending\r\nletters to anybody.\r\n\r\n\"Then write now, my young friend,\" he said, laying a heavy hand\r\non my shoulder, \"write to our friend and to any other, and say, if\r\nit will please you, that you shall stay with me until a month from\r\nnow.\"\r\n\r\n\"Do you wish me to stay so long?\" I asked, for my heart grew\r\ncold at the thought.\r\n\r\n\"I desire it much, nay I will take no refusal. When your master,\r\nemployer, what you will, engaged that someone should come on his\r\nbehalf, it was understood that my needs only were to be consulted.\r\nI have not stinted. Is it not so?\"\r\n\r\nWhat could I do but bow acceptance? It was Mr. Hawkins'\r\ninterest, not mine, and I had to think of him, not myself, and\r\nbesides, while Count Dracula was speaking, there was that in his\r\neyes and in his bearing which made me remember that I was a\r\nprisoner, and that if I wished it I could have no choice. The Count\r\nsaw his victory in my bow, and his mastery in the trouble of my\r\nface, for he began at once to use them, but in his own smooth,\r\nresistless way.\r\n\r\n\"I pray you, my good young friend, that you will not discourse\r\nof things other than business in your letters. It will doubtless\r\nplease your friends to know that you are well, and that you look\r\nforward to getting home to them. Is it not so?\" As he spoke he\r\nhanded me three sheets of note paper and three envelopes. They were\r\nall of the thinnest foreign post, and looking at them, then at him,\r\nand noticing his quiet smile, with the sharp, canine teeth lying\r\nover the red underlip, I understood as well as if he had spoken\r\nthat I should be more careful what I wrote, for he would be able to\r\nread it. So I determined to write only formal notes now, but to\r\nwrite fully to Mr. Hawkins in secret, and also to Mina, for to her\r\nI could write shorthand, which would puzzle the Count, if he did\r\nsee it. When I had written my two letters I sat quiet, reading a\r\nbook whilst the Count wrote several notes, referring as he wrote\r\nthem to some books on his table. Then he took up my two and placed\r\nthem with his own, and put by his writing materials, after which,\r\nthe instant the door had closed behind him, I leaned over and\r\nlooked at the letters, which were face down on the table. I felt no\r\ncompunction in doing so for under the circumstances I felt that I\r\nshould protect myself in every way I could.\r\n\r\nOne of the letters was directed to Samuel F. Billington, No. 7,\r\nThe Crescent, Whitby, another to Herr Leutner, Varna. The third was\r\nto Coutts & Co., London, and the fourth to Herren Klopstock\r\n& Billreuth, bankers, Buda Pesth. The second and fourth were\r\nunsealed. I was just about to look at them when I saw the door\r\nhandle move. I sank back in my seat, having just had time to resume\r\nmy book before the Count, holding still another letter in his hand,\r\nentered the room. He took up the letters on the table and stamped\r\nthem carefully, and then turning to me, said,\r\n\r\n\"I trust you will forgive me, but I have much work to do in\r\nprivate this evening. You will, I hope, find all things as you\r\nwish.\" At the door he turned, and after a moment's pause said, \"Let\r\nme advise you, my dear young friend. Nay, let me warn you with all\r\nseriousness, that should you leave these rooms you will not by any\r\nchance go to sleep in any other part of the castle. It is old, and\r\nhas many memories, and there are bad dreams for those who sleep\r\nunwisely. Be warned! Should sleep now or ever overcome you, or be\r\nlike to do, then haste to your own chamber or to these rooms, for\r\nyour rest will then be safe. But if you be not careful in this\r\nrespect, then,\" He finished his speech in a gruesome way, for he\r\nmotioned with his hands as if he were washing them. I quite\r\nunderstood. My only doubt was as to whether any dream could be more\r\nterrible than the unnatural, horrible net of gloom and mystery\r\nwhich seemed closing around me.\r\n\r\nLater.\u2014I endorse the last words written, but this time there is\r\nno doubt in question. I shall not fear to sleep in any place where\r\nhe is not. I have placed the crucifix over the head of my bed, I\r\nimagine that my rest is thus freer from dreams, and there it shall\r\nremain.\r\n\r\nWhen he left me I went to my room. After a little while, not\r\nhearing any sound, I came out and went up the stone stair to where\r\nI could look out towards the South. There was some sense of freedom\r\nin the vast expanse, inaccessible though it was to me, as compared\r\nwith the narrow darkness of the courtyard. Looking out on this, I\r\nfelt that I was indeed in prison, and I seemed to want a breath of\r\nfresh air, though it were of the night. I am beginning to feel this\r\nnocturnal existence tell on me. It is destroying my nerve. I start\r\nat my own shadow, and am full of all sorts of horrible imaginings.\r\nGod knows that there is ground for my terrible fear in this\r\naccursed place!I looked out over the beautiful expanse, bathed in\r\nsoft yellow moonlight till it was almost as light as day. In the\r\nsoft light the distant hills became melted, and the shadows in the\r\nvalleys and gorges of velvety blackness. The mere beauty seemed to\r\ncheer me. There was peace and comfort in every breath I drew. As I\r\nleaned from the window my eye was caught by something moving a\r\nstorey below me, and somewhat to my left, where I imagined, from\r\nthe order of the rooms, that the windows of the Count's own room\r\nwould look out. The window at which I stood was tall and deep,\r\nstone-mullioned, and though weatherworn, was still complete. But it\r\nwas evidently many a day since the case had been there. I drew back\r\nbehind the stonework, and looked carefully out.\r\n\r\nWhat I saw was the Count's head coming out from the window. I\r\ndid not see the face, but I knew the man by the neck and the\r\nmovement of his back and arms. In any case I could not mistake the\r\nhands which I had had some many opportunities of studying. I was at\r\nfirst interested and somewhat amused, for it is wonderful how small\r\na matter will interest and amuse a man when he is a prisoner. But\r\nmy very feelings changed to repulsion and terror when I saw the\r\nwhole man slowly emerge from the window and begin to crawl down the\r\ncastle wall over the dreadful abyss, face down with his cloak\r\nspreading out around him like great wings. At first I could not\r\nbelieve my eyes. I thought it was some trick of the moonlight, some\r\nweird effect of shadow, but I kept looking, and it could be no\r\ndelusion. I saw the fingers and toes grasp the corners of the\r\nstones, worn clear of the mortar by the stress of years, and by\r\nthus using every projection and inequality move downwards with\r\nconsiderable speed, just as a lizard moves along a wall.\r\n\r\nWhat manner of man is this, or what manner of creature, is it in\r\nthe semblance of man? I feel the dread of this horrible place\r\noverpowering me. I am in fear, in awful fear, and there is no\r\nescape for me. I am encompassed about with terrors that I dare not\r\nthink of.\r\n\r\n15 May.\u2014Once more I have seen the count go out in his lizard\r\nfashion. He moved downwards in a sidelong way, some hundred feet\r\ndown, and a good deal to the left. He vanished into some hole or\r\nwindow. When his head had disappeared, I leaned out to try and see\r\nmore, but without avail. The distance was too great to allow a\r\nproper angle of sight. I knew he had left the castle now, and\r\nthought to use the opportunity to explore more than I had dared to\r\ndo as yet. I went back to the room, and taking a lamp, tried all\r\nthe doors. They were all locked, as I had expected, and the locks\r\nwere comparatively new. But I went down the stone stairs to the\r\nhall where I had entered originally. I found I could pull back the\r\nbolts easily enough and unhook the great chains. But the door was\r\nlocked, and the key was gone! That key must be in the Count's room.\r\nI must watch should his door be unlocked, so that I may get it and\r\nescape. I went on to make a thorough examination of the various\r\nstairs and passages, and to try the doors that opened from them.\r\nOne or two small rooms near the hall were open, but there was\r\nnothing to see in them except old furniture, dusty with age and\r\nmoth-eaten. At last, however, I found one door at the top of the\r\nstairway which, though it seemed locked, gave a little under\r\npressure. I tried it harder, and found that it was not really\r\nlocked, but that the resistance came from the fact that the hinges\r\nhad fallen somewhat, and the heavy door rested on the floor. Here\r\nwas an opportunity which I might not have again, so I exerted\r\nmyself, and with many efforts forced it back so that I could enter.\r\nI was now in a wing of the castle further to the right than the\r\nrooms I knew and a storey lower down. From the windows I could see\r\nthat the suite of rooms lay along to the south of the castle, the\r\nwindows of the end room looking out both west and south. On the\r\nlatter side, as well as to the former, there was a great precipice.\r\nThe castle was built on the corner of a great rock, so that on\r\nthree sides it was quite impregnable, and great windows were placed\r\nhere where sling, or bow, or culverin could not reach, and\r\nconsequently light and comfort, impossible to a position which had\r\nto be guarded, were secured. To the west was a great valley, and\r\nthen, rising far away, great jagged mountain fastnesses, rising\r\npeak on peak, the sheer rock studded with mountain ash and thorn,\r\nwhose roots clung in cracks and crevices and crannies of the stone.\r\nThis was evidently the portion of the castle occupied by the ladies\r\nin bygone days, for the furniture had more an air of comfort than\r\nany I had seen.\r\n\r\nThe windows were curtainless, and the yellow moonlight, flooding\r\nin through the diamond panes, enabled one to see even colours,\r\nwhilst it softened the wealth of dust which lay over all and\r\ndisguised in some measure the ravages of time and moth. My lamp\r\nseemed to be of little effect in the brilliant moonlight, but I was\r\nglad to have it with me, for there was a dread loneliness in the\r\nplace which chilled my heart and made my nerves tremble. Still, it\r\nwas better than living alone in the rooms which I had come to hate\r\nfrom the presence of the Count, and after trying a little to school\r\nmy nerves, I found a soft quietude come over me. Here I am, sitting\r\nat a little oak table where in old times possibly some fair lady\r\nsat to pen, with much thought and many blushes, her ill-spelt love\r\nletter, and writing in my diary in shorthand all that has happened\r\nsince I closed it last. It is the nineteenth century up-to-date\r\nwith a vengeance. And yet, unless my senses deceive me, the old\r\ncenturies had, and have, powers of their own which mere \"modernity\"\r\ncannot kill.\r\n\r\nLater: The morning of 16 May.\u2014God preserve my sanity, for to\r\nthis I am reduced. Safety and the assurance of safety are things of\r\nthe past. Whilst I live on here there is but one thing to hope for,\r\nthat I may not go mad, if, indeed, I be not mad already. If I be\r\nsane, then surely it is maddening to think that of all the foul\r\nthings that lurk in this hateful place the Count is the least\r\ndreadful to me, that to him alone I can look for safety, even\r\nthough this be only whilst I can serve his purpose. Great God!\r\nMerciful God, let me be calm, for out of that way lies madness\r\nindeed. I begin to get new lights on certain things which have\r\npuzzled me. Up to now I never quite knew what Shakespeare meant\r\nwhen he made Hamlet say, \"My tablets! Quick, my tablets! `tis meet\r\nthat I put it down,\" etc., For now, feeling as though my own brain\r\nwere unhinged or as if the shock had come which must end in its\r\nundoing, I turn to my diary for repose. The habit of entering\r\naccurately must help to soothe me.\r\n\r\nThe Count's mysterious warning frightened me at the time. It\r\nfrightens me more not when I think of it, for in the future he has\r\na fearful hold upon me. I shall fear to doubt what he may say!\r\n\r\nWhen I had written in my diary and had fortunately replaced the\r\nbook and pen in my pocket I felt sleepy. The Count's warning came\r\ninto my mind, but I took pleasure in disobeying it. The sense of\r\nsleep was upon me, and with it the obstinacy which sleep brings as\r\noutrider. The soft moonlight soothed, and the wide expanse without\r\ngave a sense of freedom which refreshed me. I determined not to\r\nreturn tonight to the gloom-haunted rooms, but to sleep here,\r\nwhere, of old, ladies had sat and sung and lived sweet lives whilst\r\ntheir gentle breasts were sad for their menfolk away in the midst\r\nof remorseless wars. I drew a great couch out of its place near the\r\ncorner, so that as I lay, I could look at the lovely view to east\r\nand south, and unthinking of and uncaring for the dust, composed\r\nmyself for sleep. I suppose I must have fallen asleep. I hope so,\r\nbut I fear, for all that followed was startlingly real, so real\r\nthat now sitting here in the broad, full sunlight of the morning, I\r\ncannot in the least believe that it was all sleep.\r\n\r\nI was not alone. The room was the same, unchanged in any way\r\nsince I came into it. I could see along the floor, in the brilliant\r\nmoonlight, my own footsteps marked where I had disturbed the long\r\naccumulation of dust. In the moonlight opposite me were three young\r\nwomen, ladies by their dress and manner. I thought at the time that\r\nI must be dreaming when I saw them, they threw no shadow on the\r\nfloor. They came close to me, and looked at me for some time, and\r\nthen whispered together. Two were dark, and had high aquiline\r\nnoses, like the Count, and great dark, piercing eyes, that seemed\r\nto be almost red when contrasted with the pale yellow moon. The\r\nother was fair, as fair as can be, with great masses of golden hair\r\nand eyes like pale sapphires. I seemed somehow to know her face,\r\nand to know it in connection with some dreamy fear, but I could not\r\nrecollect at the moment how or where. All three had brilliant white\r\nteeth that shone like pearls against the ruby of their voluptuous\r\nlips. There was something about them that made me uneasy, some\r\nlonging and at the same time some deadly fear. I felt in my heart a\r\nwicked, burning desire that they would kiss me with those red\r\nlips.It is not good to note this down, lest some day it should meet\r\nMina's eyes and cause her pain, but it is the truth. They whispered\r\ntogether, and then they all three laughed, such a silvery, musical\r\nlaugh, but as hard as though the sound never could have come\r\nthrough the softness of human lips. It was like the intolerable,\r\ntingling sweetness of waterglasses when played on by a cunning\r\nhand. The fair girl shook her head coquettishly, and the other two\r\nurged her on.\r\n\r\nOne said, \"Go on! You are first, and we shall follow. Yours' is\r\nthe right to begin.\"\r\n\r\nThe other added, \"He is young and strong. There are kisses for\r\nus all.\"\r\n\r\nI lay quiet, looking out from under my eyelashes in an agony of\r\ndelightful anticipation. The fair girl advanced and bent over me\r\ntill I could feel the movement of her breath upon me. Sweet it was\r\nin one sense, honey-sweet, and sent the same tingling through the\r\nnerves as her voice, but with a bitter underlying the sweet, a\r\nbitter offensiveness, as one smells in blood.\r\n\r\nI was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw\r\nperfectly under the lashes. The girl went on her knees, and bent\r\nover me, simply gloating. There was a deliberate voluptuousness\r\nwhich was both thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her neck\r\nshe actually licked her lips like an animal, till I could see in\r\nthe moonlight the moisture shining on the scarlet lips and on the\r\nred tongue as it lapped the white sharp teeth. Lower and lower went\r\nher head as the lips went below the range of my mouth and chin and\r\nseemed to fasten on my throat. Then she paused, and I could hear\r\nthe churning sound of her tongue as it licked her teeth and lips,\r\nand I could feel the hot breath on my neck. Then the skin of my\r\nthroat began to tingle as one's flesh does when the hand that is to\r\ntickle it approaches nearer, nearer. I could feel the soft,\r\nshivering touch of the lips on the super sensitive skin of my\r\nthroat, and the hard dents of two sharp teeth, just touching and\r\npausing there. I closed my eyes in languorous ecstasy and waited,\r\nwaited with beating heart.\r\n\r\nBut at that instant, another sensation swept through me as quick\r\nas lightning. I was conscious of the presence of the Count, and of\r\nhis being as if lapped in a storm of fury. As my eyes opened\r\ninvoluntarily I saw his strong hand grasp the slender neck of the\r\nfair woman and with giant's power draw it back, the blue eyes\r\ntransformed with fury, the white teeth champing with rage, and the\r\nfair cheeks blazing red with passion. But the Count! Never did I\r\nimagine such wrath and fury, even to the demons of the pit. His\r\neyes were positively blazing. The red light in them was lurid, as\r\nif the flames of hell fire blazed behind them. His face was deathly\r\npale, and the lines of it were hard like drawn wires. The thick\r\neyebrows that met over the nose now seemed like a heaving bar of\r\nwhite-hot metal. With a fierce sweep of his arm, he hurled the\r\nwoman from him, and then motioned to the others, as though he were\r\nbeating them back. It was the same imperious gesture that I had\r\nseen used to the wolves. In a voice which, though low and almost in\r\na whisper seemed to cut through the air and then ring in the room\r\nhe said,\r\n\r\n\"How dare you touch him, any of you? How dare you cast eyes on\r\nhim when I had forbidden it? Back, I tell you all! This man belongs\r\nto me! Beware how you meddle with him, or you'll have to deal with\r\nme.\"\r\n\r\nThe fair girl, with a laugh of ribald coquetry, turned to answer\r\nhim. \"You yourself never loved. You never love!\" On this the other\r\nwomen joined, and such a mirthless,hard, soulless laughter rang\r\nthrough the room that it almost made me faint to hear. It seemed\r\nlike the pleasure of fiends.\r\n\r\nThen the Count turned, after looking at my face attentively, and\r\nsaid in a soft whisper, \"Yes, I too can love. You yourselves can\r\ntell it from the past. Is it not so? Well, now I promise you that\r\nwhen I am done with him you shall kiss him at your will. Now go!\r\nGo! I must awaken him, for there is work to be done.\"\r\n\r\n\"Are we to have nothing tonight?\"said one of them, with a low\r\nlaugh, as she pointed to the bag which he had thrown upon the\r\nfloor, and which moved as though there were some living thing\r\nwithin it. For answer he nodded his head. One of the women jumped\r\nforward and opened it. If my ears did not deceive me there was a\r\ngasp and a low wail, as of a half smothered child. The women closed\r\nround, whilst I was aghast with horror. But as I looked, they\r\ndisappeared, and with them the dreadful bag. There was no door near\r\nthem, and they could not have passed me without my noticing. They\r\nsimply seemed to fade into the rays of the moonlight and pass out\r\nthrough the window, for I could see outside the dim, shadowy forms\r\nfor a moment before they entirely faded away.\r\n\r\nThen the horror overcame me, and I sank down unconscious.\r\n\r\n<\/div>","rendered":"
\n

When I found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feeling came
\nover me. I rushed up and down the stairs, trying every door and
\npeering out of every window I could find, but after a little the
\nconviction of my helplessness overpowered all other feelings. When
\nI look back after a few hours I think I must have been mad for the
\ntime, for I behaved much as a rat does in a trap. When, however,
\nthe conviction had come to me that I was helpless I sat down
\nquietly, as quietly as I have ever done anything in my life, and
\nbegan to think over what was best to be done. I am thinking still,
\nand as yet have come to no definite conclusion. Of one thing only
\nam I certain. That it is no use making my ideas known to the Count.
\nHe knows well that I am imprisoned, and as he has done it himself,
\nand has doubtless his own motives for it, he would only deceive me
\nif I trusted him fully with the facts. So far as I can see, my only
\nplan will be to keep my knowledge and my fears to myself, and my
\neyes open. I am, I know, either being deceived, like a baby, by my
\nown fears, or else I am in desperate straits, and if the latter be
\nso, I need, and shall need, all my brains to get through.<\/p>\n

I had hardly come to this conclusion when I heard the great door
\nbelow shut, and knew that the Count had returned. He did not come
\nat once into the library, so I went cautiously to my own room and
\nfound him making the bed. This was odd, but only confirmed what I
\nhad all along thought, that there are no servants in the house.
\nWhen later I saw him through the chink of the hinges of the door
\nlaying the table in the dining room, I was assured of it. For if he
\ndoes himself all these menial offices, surely it is proof that
\nthere is no one else in the castle, it must have been the Count
\nhimself who was the driver of the coach that brought me here. This
\nis a terrible thought, for if so, what does it mean that he could
\ncontrol the wolves, as he did, by only holding up his hand for
\nsilence? How was it that all the people at Bistritz and on the
\ncoach had some terrible fear for me? What meant the giving of the
\ncrucifix, of the garlic, of the wild rose, of the mountain ash?<\/p>\n

Bless that good, good woman who hung the crucifix round my neck!
\nFor it is a comfort and a strength to me whenever I touch it. It is
\nodd that a thing which I have been taught to regard with disfavour
\nand as idolatrous should in a time of loneliness and trouble be of
\nhelp. Is it that there is something in the essence of the thing
\nitself, or that it is a medium, a tangible help, in conveying
\nmemories of sympathy and comfort? Some time, if it may be, I must
\nexamine this matter and try to make up my mind about it. In the
\nmeantime I must find out all I can about Count Dracula, as it may
\nhelp me to understand. Tonight he may talk of himself, if I turn
\nthe conversation that way. I must be very careful, however, not to
\nawake his suspicion.<\/p>\n

Midnight.\u2014I have had a long talk with the Count. I asked him a
\nfew questions on Transylvania history, and he warmed up to the
\nsubject wonderfully. In his speaking of things and people, and
\nespecially of battles, he spoke as if he had been present at them
\nall. This he afterwards explained by saying that to a Boyar the
\npride of his house and name is his own pride, that their glory is
\nhis glory, that their fate is his fate. Whenever he spoke of his
\nhouse he always said “we”, and spoke almost in the plural, like a
\nking speaking. I wish I could put down all he said exactly as he
\nsaid it, for to me it was most fascinating. It seemed to have in it
\na whole history of the country. He grew excited as he spoke, and
\nwalked about the room pulling his great white moustache and
\ngrasping anything on which he laid his hands as though he would
\ncrush it by main strength. One thing he said which I shall put down
\nas nearly as I can, for it tells in its way the story of his
\nrace.<\/p>\n

“We Szekelys have a right to be proud, for in our veins flows
\nthe blood of many brave races who fought as the lion fights, for
\nlordship. Here, in the whirlpool of European races, the Ugric tribe
\nbore down from Iceland the fighting spirit which Thor and Wodin
\ngame them, which their Berserkers displayed to such fell intent on
\nthe seaboards of Europe, aye, and of Asia and Africa too, till the
\npeoples thought that the werewolves themselves had come. Here, too,
\nwhen they came, they found the Huns, whose warlike fury had swept
\nthe earth like a living flame, till the dying peoples held that in
\ntheir veins ran the blood of those old witches, who, expelled from
\nScythia had mated with the devils in the desert. Fools, fools! What
\ndevil or what witch was ever so great as Attila, whose blood is in
\nthese veins?” He held up his arms. “Is it a wonder that we were a
\nconquering race, that we were proud, that when the Magyar, the
\nLombard, the Avar, the Bulgar, or the Turk poured his thousands on
\nour frontiers, we drove them back? Is it strange that when Arpad
\nand his legions swept through the Hungarian fatherland he found us
\nhere when he reached the frontier, that the Honfoglalas was
\ncompleted there?And when the Hungarian flood swept eastward, the
\nSzekelys were claimed as kindred by the victorious Magyars, and to
\nus for centuries was trusted the guarding of the frontier of
\nTurkeyland. Aye, and more than that, endless duty of the frontier
\nguard, for as the Turks say, `water sleeps, and the enemy is
\nsleepless.’ Who more gladly than we throughout the Four Nations
\nreceived the `bloody sword,’ or at its warlike call flocked quicker
\nto the standard of the King? When was redeemed that great shame of
\nmy nation, the shame of Cassova, when the flags of the Wallach and
\nthe Magyar went down beneath the Crescent?Who was it but one of my
\nown race who as Voivode crossed the Danube and beat the Turk on his
\nown ground? This was a Dracula indeed! Woe was it that his own
\nunworthy brother, when he had fallen, sold his people to the Turk
\nand brought the shame of slavery on them! Was it not this Dracula,
\nindeed, who inspired that other of his race who in a later age
\nagain and again brought his forces over the great river into
\nTurkeyland, who, when he was beaten back, came again, and again,
\nthough he had to come alone from the bloody field where his troops
\nwere being slaughtered, since he knew that he alone could
\nultimately triumph! They said that he thought only of himself. Bah!
\nWhat good are peasants without a leader? Where ends the war without
\na brain and heart to conduct it? Again, when, after the battle of
\nMohacs, we threw off the Hungarian yoke, we of the Dracula blood
\nwere amongst their leaders, for our spirit would not brook that we
\nwere not free. Ah, young sir, the Szekelys, and the Dracula as
\ntheir heart’s blood, their brains, and their swords, can boast a
\nrecord that mushroom growths like the Hapsburgs and the Romanoffs
\ncan never reach. The warlike days are over. Blood is too precious a
\nthing in these days of dishonourable peace, and the glories of the
\ngreat races are as a tale that is told.”<\/p>\n

It was by this time close on morning, and we went to bed. (Mem.,
\nthis diary seems horribly like the beginning of the “Arabian
\nNights,” for everything has to break off at cockcrow, or like the
\nghost of Hamlet’s father.)<\/p>\n

12 May.\u2014Let me begin with facts, bare, meager facts, verified by
\nbooks and figures, and of which there can be no doubt. I must not
\nconfuse them with experiences which will have to rest on my own
\nobservation, or my memory of them. Last evening when the Count came
\nfrom his room he began by asking me questions on legal matters and
\non the doing of certain kinds of business. I had spent the day
\nwearily over books, and, simply to keep my mind occupied, went over
\nsome of the matters I had been examined in at Lincoln’s Inn. There
\nwas a certain method in the Count’s inquiries, so I shall try to
\nput them down in sequence. The knowledge may somehow or some time
\nbe useful to me.<\/p>\n

First, he asked if a man in England might have two solicitors or
\nmore. I told him he might have a dozen if he wished, but that it
\nwould not be wise to have more than one solicitor engaged in one
\ntransaction, as only one could act at a time, and that to change
\nwould be certain to militate against his interest. He seemed
\nthoroughly to understand, and went on to ask if there would be any
\npractical difficulty in having one man to attend, say, to banking,
\nand another to look after shipping, in case local help were needed
\nin a place far from the home of the banking solicitor. I asked to
\nexplain more fully, so that I might not by any chance mislead him,
\nso he said,<\/p>\n

“I shall illustrate. Your friend and mine, Mr. Peter Hawkins,
\nfrom under the shadow of your beautiful cathedral at Exeter, which
\nis far from London, buys for me through your good self my place at
\nLondon. Good! Now here let me say frankly, lest you should think it
\nstrange that I have sought the services of one so far off from
\nLondon instead of some one resident there, that my motive was that
\nno local interest might be served save my wish only, and as one of
\nLondon residence might, perhaps, have some purpose of himself or
\nfriend to serve, I went thus afield to seek my agent, whose labours
\nshould be only to my interest. Now, suppose I, who have much of
\naffairs, wish to ship goods, say, to Newcastle, or Durham, or
\nHarwich, or Dover, might it not be that it could with more ease be
\ndone by consigning to one in these ports?”<\/p>\n

I answered that certainly it would be most easy, but that we
\nsolicitors had a system of agency one for the other, so that local
\nwork could be done locally on instruction from any solicitor, so
\nthat the client, simply placing himself in the hands of one man,
\ncould have his wishes carried out by him without further
\ntrouble.<\/p>\n

“But,” said he,”I could be at liberty to direct myself. Is it
\nnot so?”<\/p>\n

“Of course, ” I replied, and “Such is often done by men of
\nbusiness, who do not like the whole of their affairs to be known by
\nany one person.”<\/p>\n

“Good!” he said, and then went on to ask about the means of
\nmaking consignments and the forms to be gone through, and of all
\nsorts of difficulties which might arise, but by forethought could
\nbe guarded against. I explained all these things to him to the best
\nof my ability, and he certainly left me under the impression that
\nhe would have made a wonderful solicitor, for there was nothing
\nthat he did not think of or foresee. For a man who was never in the
\ncountry, and who did not evidently do much in the way of business,
\nhis knowledge and acumen were wonderful. When he had satisfied
\nhimself on these points of which he had spoken, and I had verified
\nall as well as I could by the books available, he suddenly stood up
\nand said, “Have you written since your first letter to our friend
\nMr. Peter Hawkins, or to any other?”<\/p>\n

It was with some bitterness in my heart that I answered that I
\nhad not, that as yet I had not seen any opportunity of sending
\nletters to anybody.<\/p>\n

“Then write now, my young friend,” he said, laying a heavy hand
\non my shoulder, “write to our friend and to any other, and say, if
\nit will please you, that you shall stay with me until a month from
\nnow.”<\/p>\n

“Do you wish me to stay so long?” I asked, for my heart grew
\ncold at the thought.<\/p>\n

“I desire it much, nay I will take no refusal. When your master,
\nemployer, what you will, engaged that someone should come on his
\nbehalf, it was understood that my needs only were to be consulted.
\nI have not stinted. Is it not so?”<\/p>\n

What could I do but bow acceptance? It was Mr. Hawkins’
\ninterest, not mine, and I had to think of him, not myself, and
\nbesides, while Count Dracula was speaking, there was that in his
\neyes and in his bearing which made me remember that I was a
\nprisoner, and that if I wished it I could have no choice. The Count
\nsaw his victory in my bow, and his mastery in the trouble of my
\nface, for he began at once to use them, but in his own smooth,
\nresistless way.<\/p>\n

“I pray you, my good young friend, that you will not discourse
\nof things other than business in your letters. It will doubtless
\nplease your friends to know that you are well, and that you look
\nforward to getting home to them. Is it not so?” As he spoke he
\nhanded me three sheets of note paper and three envelopes. They were
\nall of the thinnest foreign post, and looking at them, then at him,
\nand noticing his quiet smile, with the sharp, canine teeth lying
\nover the red underlip, I understood as well as if he had spoken
\nthat I should be more careful what I wrote, for he would be able to
\nread it. So I determined to write only formal notes now, but to
\nwrite fully to Mr. Hawkins in secret, and also to Mina, for to her
\nI could write shorthand, which would puzzle the Count, if he did
\nsee it. When I had written my two letters I sat quiet, reading a
\nbook whilst the Count wrote several notes, referring as he wrote
\nthem to some books on his table. Then he took up my two and placed
\nthem with his own, and put by his writing materials, after which,
\nthe instant the door had closed behind him, I leaned over and
\nlooked at the letters, which were face down on the table. I felt no
\ncompunction in doing so for under the circumstances I felt that I
\nshould protect myself in every way I could.<\/p>\n

One of the letters was directed to Samuel F. Billington, No. 7,
\nThe Crescent, Whitby, another to Herr Leutner, Varna. The third was
\nto Coutts & Co., London, and the fourth to Herren Klopstock
\n& Billreuth, bankers, Buda Pesth. The second and fourth were
\nunsealed. I was just about to look at them when I saw the door
\nhandle move. I sank back in my seat, having just had time to resume
\nmy book before the Count, holding still another letter in his hand,
\nentered the room. He took up the letters on the table and stamped
\nthem carefully, and then turning to me, said,<\/p>\n

“I trust you will forgive me, but I have much work to do in
\nprivate this evening. You will, I hope, find all things as you
\nwish.” At the door he turned, and after a moment’s pause said, “Let
\nme advise you, my dear young friend. Nay, let me warn you with all
\nseriousness, that should you leave these rooms you will not by any
\nchance go to sleep in any other part of the castle. It is old, and
\nhas many memories, and there are bad dreams for those who sleep
\nunwisely. Be warned! Should sleep now or ever overcome you, or be
\nlike to do, then haste to your own chamber or to these rooms, for
\nyour rest will then be safe. But if you be not careful in this
\nrespect, then,” He finished his speech in a gruesome way, for he
\nmotioned with his hands as if he were washing them. I quite
\nunderstood. My only doubt was as to whether any dream could be more
\nterrible than the unnatural, horrible net of gloom and mystery
\nwhich seemed closing around me.<\/p>\n

Later.\u2014I endorse the last words written, but this time there is
\nno doubt in question. I shall not fear to sleep in any place where
\nhe is not. I have placed the crucifix over the head of my bed, I
\nimagine that my rest is thus freer from dreams, and there it shall
\nremain.<\/p>\n

When he left me I went to my room. After a little while, not
\nhearing any sound, I came out and went up the stone stair to where
\nI could look out towards the South. There was some sense of freedom
\nin the vast expanse, inaccessible though it was to me, as compared
\nwith the narrow darkness of the courtyard. Looking out on this, I
\nfelt that I was indeed in prison, and I seemed to want a breath of
\nfresh air, though it were of the night. I am beginning to feel this
\nnocturnal existence tell on me. It is destroying my nerve. I start
\nat my own shadow, and am full of all sorts of horrible imaginings.
\nGod knows that there is ground for my terrible fear in this
\naccursed place!I looked out over the beautiful expanse, bathed in
\nsoft yellow moonlight till it was almost as light as day. In the
\nsoft light the distant hills became melted, and the shadows in the
\nvalleys and gorges of velvety blackness. The mere beauty seemed to
\ncheer me. There was peace and comfort in every breath I drew. As I
\nleaned from the window my eye was caught by something moving a
\nstorey below me, and somewhat to my left, where I imagined, from
\nthe order of the rooms, that the windows of the Count’s own room
\nwould look out. The window at which I stood was tall and deep,
\nstone-mullioned, and though weatherworn, was still complete. But it
\nwas evidently many a day since the case had been there. I drew back
\nbehind the stonework, and looked carefully out.<\/p>\n

What I saw was the Count’s head coming out from the window. I
\ndid not see the face, but I knew the man by the neck and the
\nmovement of his back and arms. In any case I could not mistake the
\nhands which I had had some many opportunities of studying. I was at
\nfirst interested and somewhat amused, for it is wonderful how small
\na matter will interest and amuse a man when he is a prisoner. But
\nmy very feelings changed to repulsion and terror when I saw the
\nwhole man slowly emerge from the window and begin to crawl down the
\ncastle wall over the dreadful abyss, face down with his cloak
\nspreading out around him like great wings. At first I could not
\nbelieve my eyes. I thought it was some trick of the moonlight, some
\nweird effect of shadow, but I kept looking, and it could be no
\ndelusion. I saw the fingers and toes grasp the corners of the
\nstones, worn clear of the mortar by the stress of years, and by
\nthus using every projection and inequality move downwards with
\nconsiderable speed, just as a lizard moves along a wall.<\/p>\n

What manner of man is this, or what manner of creature, is it in
\nthe semblance of man? I feel the dread of this horrible place
\noverpowering me. I am in fear, in awful fear, and there is no
\nescape for me. I am encompassed about with terrors that I dare not
\nthink of.<\/p>\n

15 May.\u2014Once more I have seen the count go out in his lizard
\nfashion. He moved downwards in a sidelong way, some hundred feet
\ndown, and a good deal to the left. He vanished into some hole or
\nwindow. When his head had disappeared, I leaned out to try and see
\nmore, but without avail. The distance was too great to allow a
\nproper angle of sight. I knew he had left the castle now, and
\nthought to use the opportunity to explore more than I had dared to
\ndo as yet. I went back to the room, and taking a lamp, tried all
\nthe doors. They were all locked, as I had expected, and the locks
\nwere comparatively new. But I went down the stone stairs to the
\nhall where I had entered originally. I found I could pull back the
\nbolts easily enough and unhook the great chains. But the door was
\nlocked, and the key was gone! That key must be in the Count’s room.
\nI must watch should his door be unlocked, so that I may get it and
\nescape. I went on to make a thorough examination of the various
\nstairs and passages, and to try the doors that opened from them.
\nOne or two small rooms near the hall were open, but there was
\nnothing to see in them except old furniture, dusty with age and
\nmoth-eaten. At last, however, I found one door at the top of the
\nstairway which, though it seemed locked, gave a little under
\npressure. I tried it harder, and found that it was not really
\nlocked, but that the resistance came from the fact that the hinges
\nhad fallen somewhat, and the heavy door rested on the floor. Here
\nwas an opportunity which I might not have again, so I exerted
\nmyself, and with many efforts forced it back so that I could enter.
\nI was now in a wing of the castle further to the right than the
\nrooms I knew and a storey lower down. From the windows I could see
\nthat the suite of rooms lay along to the south of the castle, the
\nwindows of the end room looking out both west and south. On the
\nlatter side, as well as to the former, there was a great precipice.
\nThe castle was built on the corner of a great rock, so that on
\nthree sides it was quite impregnable, and great windows were placed
\nhere where sling, or bow, or culverin could not reach, and
\nconsequently light and comfort, impossible to a position which had
\nto be guarded, were secured. To the west was a great valley, and
\nthen, rising far away, great jagged mountain fastnesses, rising
\npeak on peak, the sheer rock studded with mountain ash and thorn,
\nwhose roots clung in cracks and crevices and crannies of the stone.
\nThis was evidently the portion of the castle occupied by the ladies
\nin bygone days, for the furniture had more an air of comfort than
\nany I had seen.<\/p>\n

The windows were curtainless, and the yellow moonlight, flooding
\nin through the diamond panes, enabled one to see even colours,
\nwhilst it softened the wealth of dust which lay over all and
\ndisguised in some measure the ravages of time and moth. My lamp
\nseemed to be of little effect in the brilliant moonlight, but I was
\nglad to have it with me, for there was a dread loneliness in the
\nplace which chilled my heart and made my nerves tremble. Still, it
\nwas better than living alone in the rooms which I had come to hate
\nfrom the presence of the Count, and after trying a little to school
\nmy nerves, I found a soft quietude come over me. Here I am, sitting
\nat a little oak table where in old times possibly some fair lady
\nsat to pen, with much thought and many blushes, her ill-spelt love
\nletter, and writing in my diary in shorthand all that has happened
\nsince I closed it last. It is the nineteenth century up-to-date
\nwith a vengeance. And yet, unless my senses deceive me, the old
\ncenturies had, and have, powers of their own which mere “modernity”
\ncannot kill.<\/p>\n

Later: The morning of 16 May.\u2014God preserve my sanity, for to
\nthis I am reduced. Safety and the assurance of safety are things of
\nthe past. Whilst I live on here there is but one thing to hope for,
\nthat I may not go mad, if, indeed, I be not mad already. If I be
\nsane, then surely it is maddening to think that of all the foul
\nthings that lurk in this hateful place the Count is the least
\ndreadful to me, that to him alone I can look for safety, even
\nthough this be only whilst I can serve his purpose. Great God!
\nMerciful God, let me be calm, for out of that way lies madness
\nindeed. I begin to get new lights on certain things which have
\npuzzled me. Up to now I never quite knew what Shakespeare meant
\nwhen he made Hamlet say, “My tablets! Quick, my tablets! `tis meet
\nthat I put it down,” etc., For now, feeling as though my own brain
\nwere unhinged or as if the shock had come which must end in its
\nundoing, I turn to my diary for repose. The habit of entering
\naccurately must help to soothe me.<\/p>\n

The Count’s mysterious warning frightened me at the time. It
\nfrightens me more not when I think of it, for in the future he has
\na fearful hold upon me. I shall fear to doubt what he may say!<\/p>\n

When I had written in my diary and had fortunately replaced the
\nbook and pen in my pocket I felt sleepy. The Count’s warning came
\ninto my mind, but I took pleasure in disobeying it. The sense of
\nsleep was upon me, and with it the obstinacy which sleep brings as
\noutrider. The soft moonlight soothed, and the wide expanse without
\ngave a sense of freedom which refreshed me. I determined not to
\nreturn tonight to the gloom-haunted rooms, but to sleep here,
\nwhere, of old, ladies had sat and sung and lived sweet lives whilst
\ntheir gentle breasts were sad for their menfolk away in the midst
\nof remorseless wars. I drew a great couch out of its place near the
\ncorner, so that as I lay, I could look at the lovely view to east
\nand south, and unthinking of and uncaring for the dust, composed
\nmyself for sleep. I suppose I must have fallen asleep. I hope so,
\nbut I fear, for all that followed was startlingly real, so real
\nthat now sitting here in the broad, full sunlight of the morning, I
\ncannot in the least believe that it was all sleep.<\/p>\n

I was not alone. The room was the same, unchanged in any way
\nsince I came into it. I could see along the floor, in the brilliant
\nmoonlight, my own footsteps marked where I had disturbed the long
\naccumulation of dust. In the moonlight opposite me were three young
\nwomen, ladies by their dress and manner. I thought at the time that
\nI must be dreaming when I saw them, they threw no shadow on the
\nfloor. They came close to me, and looked at me for some time, and
\nthen whispered together. Two were dark, and had high aquiline
\nnoses, like the Count, and great dark, piercing eyes, that seemed
\nto be almost red when contrasted with the pale yellow moon. The
\nother was fair, as fair as can be, with great masses of golden hair
\nand eyes like pale sapphires. I seemed somehow to know her face,
\nand to know it in connection with some dreamy fear, but I could not
\nrecollect at the moment how or where. All three had brilliant white
\nteeth that shone like pearls against the ruby of their voluptuous
\nlips. There was something about them that made me uneasy, some
\nlonging and at the same time some deadly fear. I felt in my heart a
\nwicked, burning desire that they would kiss me with those red
\nlips.It is not good to note this down, lest some day it should meet
\nMina’s eyes and cause her pain, but it is the truth. They whispered
\ntogether, and then they all three laughed, such a silvery, musical
\nlaugh, but as hard as though the sound never could have come
\nthrough the softness of human lips. It was like the intolerable,
\ntingling sweetness of waterglasses when played on by a cunning
\nhand. The fair girl shook her head coquettishly, and the other two
\nurged her on.<\/p>\n

One said, “Go on! You are first, and we shall follow. Yours’ is
\nthe right to begin.”<\/p>\n

The other added, “He is young and strong. There are kisses for
\nus all.”<\/p>\n

I lay quiet, looking out from under my eyelashes in an agony of
\ndelightful anticipation. The fair girl advanced and bent over me
\ntill I could feel the movement of her breath upon me. Sweet it was
\nin one sense, honey-sweet, and sent the same tingling through the
\nnerves as her voice, but with a bitter underlying the sweet, a
\nbitter offensiveness, as one smells in blood.<\/p>\n

I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw
\nperfectly under the lashes. The girl went on her knees, and bent
\nover me, simply gloating. There was a deliberate voluptuousness
\nwhich was both thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her neck
\nshe actually licked her lips like an animal, till I could see in
\nthe moonlight the moisture shining on the scarlet lips and on the
\nred tongue as it lapped the white sharp teeth. Lower and lower went
\nher head as the lips went below the range of my mouth and chin and
\nseemed to fasten on my throat. Then she paused, and I could hear
\nthe churning sound of her tongue as it licked her teeth and lips,
\nand I could feel the hot breath on my neck. Then the skin of my
\nthroat began to tingle as one’s flesh does when the hand that is to
\ntickle it approaches nearer, nearer. I could feel the soft,
\nshivering touch of the lips on the super sensitive skin of my
\nthroat, and the hard dents of two sharp teeth, just touching and
\npausing there. I closed my eyes in languorous ecstasy and waited,
\nwaited with beating heart.<\/p>\n

But at that instant, another sensation swept through me as quick
\nas lightning. I was conscious of the presence of the Count, and of
\nhis being as if lapped in a storm of fury. As my eyes opened
\ninvoluntarily I saw his strong hand grasp the slender neck of the
\nfair woman and with giant’s power draw it back, the blue eyes
\ntransformed with fury, the white teeth champing with rage, and the
\nfair cheeks blazing red with passion. But the Count! Never did I
\nimagine such wrath and fury, even to the demons of the pit. His
\neyes were positively blazing. The red light in them was lurid, as
\nif the flames of hell fire blazed behind them. His face was deathly
\npale, and the lines of it were hard like drawn wires. The thick
\neyebrows that met over the nose now seemed like a heaving bar of
\nwhite-hot metal. With a fierce sweep of his arm, he hurled the
\nwoman from him, and then motioned to the others, as though he were
\nbeating them back. It was the same imperious gesture that I had
\nseen used to the wolves. In a voice which, though low and almost in
\na whisper seemed to cut through the air and then ring in the room
\nhe said,<\/p>\n

“How dare you touch him, any of you? How dare you cast eyes on
\nhim when I had forbidden it? Back, I tell you all! This man belongs
\nto me! Beware how you meddle with him, or you’ll have to deal with
\nme.”<\/p>\n

The fair girl, with a laugh of ribald coquetry, turned to answer
\nhim. “You yourself never loved. You never love!” On this the other
\nwomen joined, and such a mirthless,hard, soulless laughter rang
\nthrough the room that it almost made me faint to hear. It seemed
\nlike the pleasure of fiends.<\/p>\n

Then the Count turned, after looking at my face attentively, and
\nsaid in a soft whisper, “Yes, I too can love. You yourselves can
\ntell it from the past. Is it not so? Well, now I promise you that
\nwhen I am done with him you shall kiss him at your will. Now go!
\nGo! I must awaken him, for there is work to be done.”<\/p>\n

“Are we to have nothing tonight?”said one of them, with a low
\nlaugh, as she pointed to the bag which he had thrown upon the
\nfloor, and which moved as though there were some living thing
\nwithin it. For answer he nodded his head. One of the women jumped
\nforward and opened it. If my ears did not deceive me there was a
\ngasp and a low wail, as of a half smothered child. The women closed
\nround, whilst I was aghast with horror. But as I looked, they
\ndisappeared, and with them the dreadful bag. There was no door near
\nthem, and they could not have passed me without my noticing. They
\nsimply seemed to fade into the rays of the moonlight and pass out
\nthrough the window, for I could see outside the dim, shadowy forms
\nfor a moment before they entirely faded away.<\/p>\n

Then the horror overcame me, and I sank down unconscious.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"menu_order":3,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-27","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry"],"part":3,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/27","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/27\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":90,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/27\/revisions\/90"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/3"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/27\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=27"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=27"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=27"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=27"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}