CHAPTER IV
JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL--_continued_
I awoke in my own bed. If it be that I had not dreamt, the Count musthave carried me here. I tried to satisfy myself on the subject, butcould not arrive at any unquestionable result. To be sure, there werecertain small evidences, such as that my clothes were folded and laid byin a manner which was not my habit. My watch was still unwound, and I amrigorously accustomed to wind it the last thing before going to bed, andmany such details. But these things are no proof, for they may have beenevidences that my mind was not as usual, and, from some cause oranother, I had certainly been much upset. I must watch for proof. Of onething I am glad: if it was that the Count carried me here and undressedme, he must have been hurried in his task, for my pockets are intact. Iam sure this diary would have been a mystery to him which he would nothave brooked. He would have taken or destroyed it. As I look round thisroom, although it has been to me so full of fear, it is now a sort ofsanctuary, for nothing can be more dreadful than those awful women, whowere--who _are_--waiting to suck my blood.
* * * * *
_18 May._--I have been down to look at that room again in daylight, forI _must_ know the truth. When I got to the doorway at the top of thestairs I found it closed. It had been so forcibly driven against thejamb that part of the woodwork was splintered. I could see that the boltof the lock had not been shot, but the door is fastened from the inside.I fear it was no dream, and must act on this surmise.
* * * * *
_19 May._--I am surely in the toils. Last night the Count asked me inthe suavest tones to write three letters, one saying that my work herewas nearly done, and that I should start for home within a few days,another that I was starting on the next morning from the time of theletter, and the third that I had left the castle and arrived atBistritz. I would fain have rebelled, but felt that in the present stateof things it would be madness to quarrel openly with the Count whilst Iam so absolutely in his power; and to refuse would be to excite hissuspicion and to arouse his anger. He knows that I know too much, andthat I must not live, lest I be dangerous to him; my only chance is toprolong my opportunities. Something may occur which will give me achance to escape. I saw in his eyes something of that gathering wrathwhich was manifest when he hurled that fair woman from him. He explainedto me that posts were few and uncertain, and that my writing now wouldensure ease of mind to my friends; and he assured me with so muchimpressiveness that he would countermand the later letters, which wouldbe held over at Bistritz until due time in case chance would admit of myprolonging my stay, that to oppose him would have been to create newsuspicion. I therefore pretended to fall in with his views, and askedhim what dates I should put on the letters. He calculated a minute, andthen said:--
”The first should be June 12, the second June 19, and the third June29.”
I know now the span of my life. God help me!
* * * * *
_28 May._--There is a chance of escape, or at any rate of being able tosend word home. A band of Szgany have come to the castle, and areencamped in the courtyard. These Szgany are gipsies; I have notes ofthem in my book. They are peculiar to this part of the world, thoughallied to the ordinary gipsies all the world over. There are thousandsof them in Hungary and Transylvania, who are almost outside all law.They attach themselves as a rule to some great noble or _boyar_, andcall themselves by his name. They are fearless and without religion,save superstition, and they talk only their own varieties of the Romanytongue.
I shall write some letters home, and shall try to get them to have themposted. I have already spoken them through my window to beginacquaintanceship. They took their hats off and made obeisance and manysigns, which, however, I could not understand any more than I couldtheir spoken language....
* * * * *
I have written the letters. Mina's is in shorthand, and I simply ask Mr.Hawkins to communicate with her. To her I have explained my situation,but without the horrors which I may only surmise. It would shock andfrighten her to death were I to expose my heart to her. Should theletters not carry, then the Count shall not yet know my secret or theextent of my knowledge....
* * * * *
I have given the letters; I threw them through the bars of my windowwith a gold piece, and made what signs I could to have them posted. Theman who took them pressed them to his heart and bowed, and then put themin his cap. I could do no more. I stole back to the study, and began toread. As the Count did not come in, I have written here....
* * * * *
The Count has come. He sat down beside me, and said in his smoothestvoice as he opened two letters:--
”The Szgany has given me these, of which, though I know not whence theycome, I shall, of course, take care. See!”--he must have looked atit--”one is from you, and to my friend Peter Hawkins; the other”--herehe caught sight of the strange symbols as he opened the envelope, andthe dark look came into his face, and his eyes blazed wickedly--”theother is a vile thing, an outrage upon friendship and hospitality! It isnot signed. Well! so it cannot matter to us.” And he calmly held letterand envelope in the flame of the lamp till they were consumed. Then hewent on:--
”The letter to Hawkins--that I shall, of course, send on, since it isyours. Your letters are sacred to me. Your pardon, my friend, thatunknowingly I did break the seal. Will you not cover it again?” He heldout the letter to me, and with a courteous bow handed me a cleanenvelope. I could only redirect it and hand it to him in silence. Whenhe went out of the room I could hear the key turn softly. A minute laterI went over and tried it, and the door was locked.
When, an hour or two after, the Count came quietly into the room, hiscoming awakened me, for I had gone to sleep on the sofa. He was verycourteous and very cheery in his manner, and seeing that I had beensleeping, he said:--
”So, my friend, you are tired? Get to bed. There is the surest rest. Imay not have the pleasure to talk to-night, since there are many laboursto me; but you will sleep, I pray.” I passed to my room and went to bed,and, strange to say, slept without dreaming. Despair has its own calms.
* * * * *
_31 May._--This morning when I woke I thought I would provide myselfwith some paper and envelopes from my bag and keep them in my pocket, sothat I might write in case I should get an opportunity, but again asurprise, again a shock!
Every scrap of paper was gone, and with it all my notes, my memoranda,relating to railways and travel, my letter of credit, in fact all thatmight be useful to me were I once outside the castle. I sat and ponderedawhile, and then some thought occurred to me, and I made search of myportmanteau and in the wardrobe where I had placed my clothes.
The suit in which I had travelled was gone, and also my overcoat andrug; I could find no trace of them anywhere. This looked like some newscheme of villainy....
* * * * *
_17 June._--This morning, as I was sitting on the edge of my bedcudgelling my brains, I heard without a cracking of whips and poundingand scraping of horses' feet up the rocky path beyond the courtyard.With joy I hurried to the window, and saw drive into the yard two greatleiter-wagons, each drawn by eight sturdy horses, and at the head ofeach pair a Slovak, with his wide hat, great nail-studded belt, dirtysheepskin, and high boots. They had also their long staves in hand. Iran to the door, intending to descend and try and join them through themain hall, as I thought that way might be opened for them. Again ashock: my door was fastened on the outside.
Then I ran to the window and cried to them. They looked up at mestupidly and pointed, but just then the ”hetman” of the Szgany came out,and seeing them pointing to my window, said something, at which theylaughed. Henceforth no effort of mine, no piteous cry or agonisedentreaty, would make them even look at me. They resolutely turned away.The leiter-wagons contained great, square boxes, with handles of thickrope; these were evidently empty by the ease with which the Slovakshandled them, and by their resonance as they were roughly moved. Whenthey were all unloaded and packed in a great heap in one corner of theyard, the Slovaks were given some money by the Szgany, and spitting onit for luck, lazily went each to his horse's head. Shortly afterwards, Iheard the cracking of their whips die away in the distance.
* * * * *
_24 June, before morning._--Last night the Count left me early, andlocked himself into his own room. As soon as I dared I ran up thewinding stair, and looked out of the window, which opened south. Ithought I would watch for the Count, for there is something going on.The Szgany are quartered somewhere in the castle and are doing work ofsome kind. I know it, for now and then I hear a far-away muffled soundas of mattock and spade, and, whatever it is, it must be the end of someruthless villainy.
I had been at the window somewhat less than half an hour, when I sawsomething coming out of the Count's window. I drew back and watchedcarefully, and saw the whole man emerge. It was a new shock to me tofind that he had on the suit of clothes which I had worn whilsttravelling here, and slung over his shoulder the terrible bag which Ihad seen the women take away. There could be no doubt as to his quest,and in my garb, too! This, then, is his new scheme of evil: that he willallow others to see me, as they think, so that he may both leaveevidence that I have been seen in the towns or villages posting my ownletters, and that any wickedness which he may do shall by the localpeople be attributed to me.
It makes me rage to think that this can go on, and whilst I am shut uphere, a veritable prisoner, but without that protection of the law whichis even a criminal's right and consolation.
I thought I would watch for the Count's return, and for a long time satdoggedly at the window. Then I began to notice that there were somequaint little specks floating in the rays of the moonlight. They werelike the tiniest grains of dust, and they whirled round and gathered inclusters in a nebulous sort of way. I watched them with a sense ofsoothing, and a sort of calm stole over me. I leaned back in theembrasure in a more comfortable position, so that I could enjoy morefully the aerial gambolling.
Something made me start up, a low, piteous howling of dogs somewhere farbelow in the valley, which was hidden from my sight. Louder it seemed toring in my ears, and the floating motes of dust to take new shapes tothe sound as they danced in the moonlight. I felt myself struggling toawake to some call of my instincts; nay, my very soul was struggling,and my half-remembered sensibilities were striving to answer the call. Iwas becoming hypnotised! Quicker and quicker danced the dust; themoonbeams seemed to quiver as they went by me into the mass of gloombeyond. More and more they gathered till they seemed to take dim phantomshapes. And then I started, broad awake and in full possession of mysenses, and ran screaming from the place. The phantom shapes, which werebecoming gradually materialised from the moonbeams, were those of thethree ghostly women to whom I was doomed. I fled, and felt somewhatsafer in my own room, where there was no moonlight and where the lampwas burning brightly.
When a couple of hours had passed I heard something stirring in theCount's room, something like a sharp wail quickly suppressed; and thenthere was silence, deep, awful silence, which chilled me. With abeating heart, I tried the door; but I was locked in my prison, andcould do nothing. I sat down and simply cried.
As I sat I heard a sound in the courtyard without--the agonised cry of awoman. I rushed to the window, and throwing it up, peered out betweenthe bars. There, indeed, was a woman with dishevelled hair, holding herhands over her heart as one distressed with running. She was leaningagainst a corner of the gateway. When she saw my face at the window shethrew herself forward, and shouted in a voice laden with menace:--
”Monster, give me my child!”
She threw herself on her knees, and raising up her hands, cried the samewords in tones which wrung my heart. Then she tore her hair and beat herbreast, and abandoned herself to all the violences of extravagantemotion. Finally, she threw herself forward, and, though I could not seeher, I could hear the beating of her naked hands against the door.
Somewhere high overhead, probably on the tower, I heard the voice of theCount calling in his harsh, metallic whisper. His call seemed to beanswered from far and wide by the howling of wolves. Before many minuteshad passed a pack of them poured, like a pent-up dam when liberated,through the wide entrance into the courtyard.
There was no cry from the woman, and the howling of the wolves was butshort. Before long they streamed away singly, licking their lips.
I could not pity her, for I knew now what had become of her child, andshe was better dead.
What shall I do? what can I do? How can I escape from this dreadfulthing of night and gloom and fear?
* * * * *
_25 June, morning._--No man knows till he has suffered from the nighthow sweet and how dear to his heart and eye the morning can be. When thesun grew so high this morning that it struck the top of the greatgateway opposite my window, the high spot which it touched seemed to meas if the dove from the ark had lighted there. My fear fell from me asif it had been a vaporous garment which dissolved in the warmth. I musttake action of some sort whilst the courage of the day is upon me. Lastnight one of my post-dated letters went to post, the first of that fatalseries which is to blot out the very traces of my existence from theearth.
Let me not think of it. Action!
It has always been at night-time that I have been molested orthreatened, or in some way in danger or in fear. I have not yet seen theCount in the daylight. Can it be that he sleeps when others wake, thathe 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 gonewhy may not another body go? I have seen him myself crawl from hiswindow. Why should not I imitate him, and go in by his window? Thechances are desperate, but my need is more desperate still. I shall riskit. At the worst it can only be death; and a man's death is not acalf's, and the dreaded Hereafter may still be open to me. God help mein my task! Good-bye, Mina, if I fail; good-bye, my faithful friend andsecond father; good-bye, all, and last of all Mina!
* * * * *
_Same day, later._--I have made the effort, and God, helping me, havecome safely back to this room. I must put down every detail in order. Iwent whilst my courage was fresh straight to the window on the southside, and at once got outside on the narrow ledge of stone which runsaround 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. Itook off my boots, and ventured out on the desperate way. I looked downonce, so as to make sure that a sudden glimpse of the awful depth wouldnot overcome me, but after that kept my eyes away from it. I knew prettywell the direction and distance of the Count's window, and made for itas well as I could, having regard to the opportunities available. I didnot feel dizzy--I suppose I was too excited--and the time seemedridiculously short till I found myself standing on the window-sill andtrying to raise up the sash. I was filled with agitation, however, whenI bent down and slid feet foremost in through the window. Then I lookedaround for the Count, but, with surprise and gladness, made a discovery.The room was empty! It was barely furnished with odd things, whichseemed to have never been used; the furniture was something the samestyle as that in the south rooms, and was covered with dust. I lookedfor the key, but it was not in the lock, and I could not find itanywhere. The only thing I found was a great heap of gold in onecorner--gold of all kinds, Roman, and British, and Austrian, andHungarian, and Greek and Turkish money, covered with a film of dust, asthough it had lain long in the ground. None of it that I noticed wasless 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 Icould not find the key of the room or the key of the outer door, whichwas the main object of my search, I must make further examination, orall my efforts would be in vain. It was open, and led through a stonepassage to a circular stairway, which went steeply down. I descended,minding carefully where I went, for the stairs were dark, being only litby loopholes in the heavy masonry. At the bottom there was a dark,tunnel-like passage, through which came a deathly, sickly odour, theodour of old earth newly turned. As I went through the passage the smellgrew closer and heavier. At last I pulled open a heavy door which stoodajar, and found myself in an old, ruined chapel, which had evidentlybeen used as a graveyard. The roof was broken, and in two places weresteps leading to vaults, but the ground had recently been dug over, andthe earth placed in great wooden boxes, manifestly those which had beenbrought by the Slovaks. There was nobody about, and I made search forany further outlet, but there was none. Then I went over every inch ofthe ground, so as not to lose a chance. I went down even into thevaults, where the dim light struggled, although to do so was a dread tomy very soul. Into two of these I went, but saw nothing except fragmentsof old coffins and piles of dust; in the third, however, I made adiscovery.
There, in one of the great boxes, of which there were fifty in all, on apile of newly dug earth, lay the Count! He was either dead or asleep, Icould not say which--for the eyes were open and stony, but without theglassiness of death--and the cheeks had the warmth of life through alltheir pallor; the lips were as red as ever. But there was no sign ofmovement, 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 lainthere 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 sawthe 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, andleaving the Count's room by the window, crawled again up the castlewall. Regaining my room, I threw myself panting upon the bed and triedto think....
* * * * *
_29 June._--To-day is the date of my last letter, and the Count hastaken steps to prove that it was genuine, for again I saw him leave thecastle 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 mightdestroy him; but I fear that no weapon wrought alone by man's hand wouldhave any effect on him. I dared not wait to see him return, for I fearedto see those weird sisters. I came back to the library, and read theretill I fell asleep.
I was awakened by the Count, who looked at me as grimly as a man canlook as he said:--
”To-morrow, my friend, we must part. You return to your beautifulEngland, I to some work which may have such an end that we may nevermeet. Your letter home has been despatched; to-morrow I shall not behere, but all shall be ready for your journey. In the morning come theSzgany, who have some labours of their own here, and also come someSlovaks. When they have gone, my carriage shall come for you, and shallbear you to the Borgo Pass to meet the diligence from Bukovina toBistritz. But I am in hopes that I shall see more of you at CastleDracula.” I suspected him, and determined to test his sincerity.Sincerity! It seems like a profanation of the word to write it inconnection 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 trickbehind 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 myeyes, it seemed so real:--
”You English have a saying which is close to my heart, for its spirit isthat which rules our _boyars_: 'Welcome the coming; speed the partingguest.' Come with me, my dear young friend. Not an hour shall you waitin my house against your will, though sad am I at your going, and thatyou so suddenly desire it. Come!” With a stately gravity, he, with thelamp, preceded me down the stairs and along the hall. Suddenly hestopped.
”Hark!”
Close at hand came the howling of many wolves. It was almost as if thesound sprang up at the rising of his hand, just as the music of a greatorchestra seems to leap under the baton of the conductor. After a pauseof a moment, he proceeded, in his stately way, to the door, drew backthe ponderous bolts, unhooked the heavy chains, and began to draw itopen.
To my intense astonishment I saw that it was unlocked. Suspiciously, Ilooked all round, but could see no key of any kind.
As the door began to open, the howling of the wolves without grew louderand angrier; their red jaws, with champing teeth, and their blunt-clawedfeet as they leaped, came in through the opening door. I knew then thatto struggle at the moment against the Count was useless. With suchallies as these at his command, I could do nothing. But still the doorcontinued 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 mydoom; I was to be given to the wolves, and at my own instigation. Therewas a diabolical wickedness in the idea great enough for the Count, andas a last chance I cried out:--
”Shut the door; I shall wait till morning!” and covered my face with myhands to hide my tears of bitter disappointment. With one sweep of hispowerful arm, the Count threw the door shut, and the great bolts clangedand 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 wentto my own room. The last I saw of Count Dracula was his kissing his handto me; with a red light of triumph in his eyes, and with a smile thatJudas in hell might be proud of.
When I was in my room and about to lie down, I thought I heard awhispering at my door. I went to it softly and listened. Unless my earsdeceived me, I heard the voice of the Count:--
”Back, back, to your own place! Your time is not yet come. Wait! Havepatience! 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 sawwithout the three terrible women licking their lips. As I appeared theyall joined in a horrible laugh, and ran away.
I came back to my room and threw myself on my knees. It is then so nearthe end? To-morrow! to-morrow! Lord, help me, and those to whom I amdear!
* * * * *
_30 June, morning._--These may be the last words I ever write in thisdiary. I slept till just before the dawn, and when I woke threw myselfon my knees, for I determined that if Death came he should find meready.
At last I felt that subtle change in the air, and knew that the morninghad 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 seenthat the door was unlocked, and now escape was before me. With handsthat trembled with eagerness, I unhooked the chains and drew back themassive bolts.
But the door would not move. Despair seized me. I pulled, and pulled, atthe door, and shook it till, massive as it was, it rattled in itscasement. I could see the bolt shot. It had been locked after I left theCount.
Then a wild desire took me to obtain that key at any risk, and Idetermined then and there to scale the wall again and gain the Count'sroom. He might kill me, but death now seemed the happier choice ofevils. Without a pause I rushed up to the east window, and scrambleddown the wall, as before, into the Count's room. It was empty, but thatwas as I expected. I could not see a key anywhere, but the heap of goldremained. I went through the door in the corner and down the windingstair and along the dark passage to the old chapel. I knew now wellenough where to find the monster I sought.
The great box was in the same place, close against the wall, but the lidwas laid on it, not fastened down, but with the nails ready in theirplaces to be hammered home. I knew I must reach the body for the key, soI raised the lid, and laid it back against the wall; and then I sawsomething which filled my very soul with horror. There lay the Count,but looking as if his youth had been half renewed, for the white hairand moustache were changed to dark iron-grey; the cheeks were fuller,and the white skin seemed ruby-red underneath; the mouth was redder thanever, for on the lips were gouts of fresh blood, which trickled from thecorners of the mouth and ran over the chin and neck. Even the deep,burning eyes seemed set amongst swollen flesh, for the lids and pouchesunderneath were bloated. It seemed as if the whole awful creature weresimply gorged with blood. He lay like a filthy leech, exhausted with hisrepletion. I shuddered as I bent over to touch him, and every sense inme revolted at the contact; but I had to search, or I was lost. Thecoming night might see my own body a banquet in a similar way to thosehorrid three. I felt all over the body, but no sign could I find of thekey. Then I stopped and looked at the Count. There was a mocking smileon the bloated face which seemed to drive me mad. This was the being Iwas helping to transfer to London, where, perhaps, for centuries to comehe might, amongst its teeming millions, satiate his lust for blood, andcreate a new and ever-widening circle of semi-demons to batten on thehelpless. The very thought drove me mad. A terrible desire came upon meto rid the world of such a monster. There was no lethal weapon at hand,but I seized a shovel which the workmen had been using to fill thecases, and lifting it high, struck, with the edge downward, at thehateful face. But as I did so the head turned, and the eyes fell fullupon me, with all their blaze of basilisk horror. The sight seemed toparalyse me, and the shovel turned in my hand and glanced from the face,merely making a deep gash above the forehead. The shovel fell from myhand across the box, and as I pulled it away the flange of the bladecaught the edge of the lid which fell over again, and hid the horridthing from my sight. The last glimpse I had was of the bloated face,blood-stained and fixed with a grin of malice which would have held itsown in the nethermost hell.
I thought and thought what should be my next move, but my brain seemedon fire, and I waited with a despairing feeling growing over me. As Iwaited I heard in the distance a gipsy song sung by merry voices comingcloser, and through their song the rolling of heavy wheels and thecracking of whips; the Szgany and the Slovaks of whom the Count hadspoken were coming. With a last look around and at the box whichcontained the vile body, I ran from the place and gained the Count'sroom, determined to rush out at the moment the door should be opened.With strained ears, I listened, and heard downstairs the grinding of thekey in the great lock and the falling back of the heavy door. There musthave been some other means of entry, or some one had a key for one ofthe locked doors. Then there came the sound of many feet tramping anddying away in some passage which sent up a clanging echo. I turned torun down again towards the vault, where I might find the new entrance;but at the moment there seemed to come a violent puff of wind, and thedoor to the winding stair blew to with a shock that set the dust fromthe lintels flying. When I ran to push it open, I found that it washopelessly fast. I was again a prisoner, and the net of doom was closinground me more closely.
As I write there is in the passage below a sound of many tramping feetand the crash of weights being set down heavily, doubtless the boxes,with their freight of earth. There is a sound of hammering; it is thebox being nailed down. Now I can hear the heavy feet tramping againalong the hall, with many other idle feet coming behind them.
The door is shut, and the chains rattle; there is a grinding of the keyin the lock; I can hear the key withdraw: then another door opens andshuts; I hear the creaking of lock and bolt.
Hark! in the courtyard and down the rocky way the roll of heavy wheels,the crack of whips, and the chorus of the Szgany as they pass into thedistance.
I am alone in the castle with those awful women. Faugh! Mina is a woman,and there is nought in common. They are devils of the Pit!
I shall not remain alone with them; I shall try to scale the castle wallfarther than I have yet attempted. I shall take some of the gold withme, lest I want it later. I may find a way from this dreadful place.
And then away for home! away to the quickest and nearest train! awayfrom this cursed spot, from this cursed land, where the devil and hischildren still walk with earthly feet!
At least God's mercy is better than that of these monsters, and theprecipice is steep and high. At its foot a man may sleep--as a man.Good-bye, all! Mina!