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taking a lamp, tried all the doors. They were all locked, as I had

expected, and the locks were comparatively new; but I went down the

stone stairs to the hall where I had entered originally. I found I could

pull back the bolts easily enough and unhook the great chains; but the

door was locked, and the key was gone! That key must be in the Count's

room; I must watch should his door be unlocked, so that I may get it and

escape. I went on to make a thorough examination of the various stairs

and passages, and to try the doors that opened from them. One or two

small rooms near the hall were open, but there was nothing to see in

them except old furniture, dusty with age and moth-eaten. At last,

however, I found one door at the top of the stairway which, though it

seemed to be locked, gave a little under pressure. I tried it harder,

and found that it was not really locked, but that the resistance came

from the fact that the hinges had fallen somewhat, and the heavy door

rested on the floor. Here was an opportunity which I might not have

again, so I exerted myself, and with many efforts forced it back so that

I could enter. I was now in a wing of the castle further to the right

than the rooms I knew and a storey lower down. From the windows I could

see that the suite of rooms lay along to the south of the castle, the

windows of the end room looking out both west and south. On the latter

side, as well as to the former, there was a great precipice. The castle

was built on the corner of a great rock, so that on three sides it was

quite impregnable, and great windows were placed here where sling, or

bow, or culverin could not reach, and consequently light and comfort,

impossible to a position which had to be guarded, were secured. To the

west was a great valley, and then, rising far away, great jagged

mountain fastnesses, rising peak on peak, the sheer rock studded with

mountain ash and thorn, whose roots clung in cracks and crevices and

crannies of the stone. This was evidently the portion of the castle

occupied by the ladies in bygone days, for the furniture had more air of

comfort than any I had seen. The windows were curtainless, and the

yellow moonlight, flooding in through the diamond panes, enabled one to

see even colours, whilst it softened the wealth of dust which lay over

all and disguised in some measure the ravages of time and the moth. My

lamp seemed to be of little effect in the brilliant moonlight, but I was

glad to have it with me, for there was a dread loneliness in the place

which chilled my heart and made my nerves tremble. Still, it was better

than living alone in the rooms which I had come to hate from the

presence of the Count, and after trying a little to school my nerves, I

found a soft quietude come over me. Here I am, sitting at a little oak

table where in old times possibly some fair lady sat to pen, with much

thought and many blushes, her ill-spelt love-letter, and writing in my

diary in shorthand all that has happened since I closed it last. It is

nineteenth century up-to-date with a vengeance. And yet, unless my

senses deceive me, the old centuries had, and have, powers of their own

which mere "modernity" cannot kill.

 

* * * * *

 

_Later: the Morning of 16 May._--God preserve my sanity, for to this I

am reduced. Safety and the assurance of safety are things of the past.

Whilst I live on here there is but one thing to hope for, that I may not

go mad, if, indeed, I be not mad already. If I be sane, then surely it

is maddening to think that of all the foul things that lurk in this

hateful place the Count is the least dreadful to me; that to him alone I

can look for safety, even though this be only whilst I can serve his

purpose. Great God! merciful God! Let me be calm, for out of that way

lies madness indeed. I begin to get new lights on certain things which

have puzzled me. Up to now I never quite knew what Shakespeare meant

when he made Hamlet say:--

 

"My tablets! quick, my tablets!

'Tis meet that I put it down," etc.,

 

for now, feeling as though my own brain were unhinged or as if the shock

had come which must end in its undoing, I turn to my diary for repose.

The habit of entering accurately must help to soothe me.

 

The Count's mysterious warning frightened me at the time; it frightens

me more now when I think of it, for in future he has a fearful hold upon

me. I shall fear to doubt what he may say!

 

When I had written in my diary and had fortunately replaced the book and

pen in my pocket I felt sleepy. The Count's warning came into my mind,

but I took a pleasure in disobeying it. The sense of sleep was upon me,

and with it the obstinacy which sleep brings as outrider. The soft

moonlight soothed, and the wide expanse without gave a sense of freedom

which refreshed me. I determined not to return to-night to the

gloom-haunted rooms, but to sleep here, where, of old, ladies had sat

and sung and lived sweet lives whilst their gentle breasts were sad for

their menfolk away in the midst of remorseless wars. I drew a great

couch out of its place near the corner, so that as I lay, I could look

at the lovely view to east and south, and unthinking of and uncaring for

the dust, composed myself for sleep. I suppose I must have fallen

asleep; I hope so, but I fear, for all that followed was startlingly

real--so real that now sitting here in the broad, full sunlight of the

morning, I cannot in the least believe that it was all sleep.

 

I was not alone. The room was the same, unchanged in any way since I

came into it; I could see along the floor, in the brilliant moonlight,

my own footsteps marked where I had disturbed the long accumulation of

dust. In the moonlight opposite me were three young women, ladies by

their dress and manner. I thought at the time that I must be dreaming

when I saw them, for, though the moonlight was behind them, they threw

no shadow on the floor. They came close to me, and looked at me for some

time, and then whispered together. Two were dark, and had high aquiline

noses, like the Count, and great dark, piercing eyes that seemed to be

almost red when contrasted with the pale yellow moon. The other was

fair, as fair as can be, with great wavy masses of golden hair and eyes

like pale sapphires. I seemed somehow to know her face, and to know it

in connection with some dreamy fear, but I could not recollect at the

moment how or where. All three had brilliant white teeth that shone like

pearls against the ruby of their voluptuous lips. There was something

about them that made me uneasy, some longing and at the same time some

deadly fear. I felt in my heart a wicked, burning desire that they would

kiss me with those red lips. It is not good to note this down, lest some

day it should meet Mina's eyes and cause her pain; but it is the truth.

They whispered together, and then they all three laughed--such a

silvery, musical laugh, but as hard as though the sound never could have

come through the softness of human lips. It was like the intolerable,

tingling sweetness of water-glasses when played on by a cunning hand.

The fair girl shook her head coquettishly, and the other two urged her

on. One said:--

 

"Go on! You are first, and we shall follow; yours is the right to

begin." The other added:--

 

"He is young and strong; there are kisses for us all." I lay quiet,

looking out under my eyelashes in an agony of delightful anticipation.

The fair girl advanced and bent over me till I could feel the movement

of her breath upon me. Sweet it was in one sense, honey-sweet, and sent

the same tingling through the nerves as her voice, but with a bitter

underlying the sweet, a bitter offensiveness, as one smells in blood.

 

I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw perfectly under

the lashes. The girl went on her knees, and bent over me, simply

gloating. There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both thrilling

and repulsive, and as she arched her neck she actually licked her lips

like an animal, till I could see in the moonlight the moisture shining

on the scarlet lips and on the red tongue as it lapped the white sharp

teeth. Lower and lower went her head as the lips went below the range of

my mouth and chin and seemed about to fasten on my throat. Then she

paused, and I could hear the churning sound of her tongue as it licked

her teeth and lips, and could feel the hot breath on my neck. Then the

skin of my throat began to tingle as one's flesh does when the hand that

is to tickle it approaches nearer--nearer. I could feel the soft,

shivering touch of the lips on the super-sensitive skin of my throat,

and the hard dents of two sharp teeth, just touching and pausing there.

I closed my eyes in a languorous ecstasy and waited--waited with beating

heart.

 

But at that instant, another sensation swept through me as quick as

lightning. I was conscious of the presence of the Count, and of his

being as if lapped in a storm of fury. As my eyes opened involuntarily I

saw his strong hand grasp the slender neck of the fair woman and with

giant's power draw it back, the blue eyes transformed with fury, the

white teeth champing with rage, and the fair cheeks blazing red with

passion. But the Count! Never did I imagine such wrath and fury, even to

the demons of the pit. His eyes were positively blazing. The red light

in them was lurid, as if the flames of hell-fire blazed behind them. His

face was deathly pale, and the lines of it were hard like drawn wires;

the thick eyebrows that met over the nose now seemed like a heaving bar

of white-hot metal. With a fierce sweep of his arm, he hurled the woman

from him, and then motioned to the others, as though he were beating

them back; it was the same imperious gesture that I had seen used to the

wolves. In a voice which, though low and almost in a whisper seemed to

cut through the air and then ring round the room he said:--

 

"How dare you touch him, any of you? How dare you cast eyes on him when

I had forbidden it? Back, I tell you all! This man belongs to me! Beware

how you meddle with him, or you'll have to deal with me." The fair girl,

with a laugh of ribald coquetry, turned to answer him:--

 

"You yourself never loved; you never love!" On this the other women

joined, and such a mirthless, hard, soulless laughter rang through the

room that it almost made me faint to hear; it seemed like the pleasure

of fiends. Then the Count turned, after looking at my face attentively,

and said in a soft whisper:--

 

"Yes, I too can love; you yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it

not so? Well, now I promise you that when I am done with him you shall

kiss him at your will. Now go! go! I must awaken him, for there is work

to be done."

 

"Are we to have nothing to-night?" said one of them, with a low laugh,

as she pointed to the bag which he had thrown upon the floor, and which

moved as though there were some living thing within it. For answer he

nodded his head. One of the women jumped forward and opened it. If my

ears did not deceive me there was a gasp and a low wail, as of a

half-smothered child. The women closed round, whilst I was aghast with

horror; but as I looked they disappeared, and with them the dreadful

bag. There was no door near them, and they could not have passed me

without my noticing. They simply seemed to fade into the rays of the

moonlight and pass out through the window, for I could see outside the

dim, shadowy forms for a moment before they entirely faded away.

 

Then the horror overcame me, and I sank down unconscious.

 

 

CHAPTER IV

 

JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL--_continued_

 

 

I awoke in my own bed. If it be that I had not dreamt, the Count must

have carried me here. I tried to satisfy myself on the subject, but

could not arrive at any unquestionable result. To be sure, there were

certain small evidences, such as that my clothes were folded and laid by

in a manner which was not my habit. My watch was still unwound, and I am

rigorously accustomed to wind it the last thing before going to bed, and

many such details. But these things are no proof, for they may have been

evidences that my mind was not as usual, and, from some cause or

another, I had certainly been much upset. I must watch for proof. Of one

thing I am glad: if it was that the Count carried me here and undressed

me, he must have been hurried in his task, for my pockets are intact. I

am sure this diary would have been a mystery to him which he would not

have brooked. He would have taken or destroyed it. As I look round this

room, although it has been to me so full of fear, it is now a sort of

sanctuary, for nothing can be more dreadful than those awful women, who

were--who _are_--waiting to suck my blood.

 

* * * * *

 

_18 May._--I have been down to look at that room again in daylight, for

I _must_ know the truth. When I got to the doorway at the top of the

stairs I found it closed. It had been so forcibly driven against the

jamb that part of the woodwork was splintered. I could see that the bolt

of 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 in

the suavest tones to write three letters, one saying that my work here

was 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 the

letter, and the third that I had left the castle and arrived at

Bistritz. I would fain have rebelled, but felt that in the present state

of things it would be madness to quarrel openly with the Count whilst I

am so absolutely in his power; and to refuse would be to excite his

suspicion and to arouse his anger. He knows that I know too much, and

that I must not live, lest I be dangerous to him; my only chance is to

prolong my opportunities. Something may occur which will give me a

chance to escape. I saw in his eyes something of that gathering wrath

which was manifest when he hurled that fair woman from him. He explained

to me that posts were few and uncertain, and that my writing now would

ensure ease of mind to my friends; and he assured me with so much

impressiveness that he would countermand the later letters, which would

be held over at Bistritz until due time in case chance would admit of my

prolonging my stay, that to oppose him would have been to create new

suspicion. I therefore pretended to fall in with his views, and asked

him what dates I should put on the letters. He calculated a minute, and

then said:--

 

"The first should be June 12, the second June 19, and the third June

29."

 

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 to

send word home. A band of Szgany have come to the castle, and are

encamped in the courtyard. These Szgany are gipsies; I have notes of

them in my book. They are peculiar to this part of the world, though

allied to the ordinary gipsies all the world over. There are thousands

of them in Hungary and Transylvania, who are almost outside all law.

They attach themselves as a rule to some great noble or _boyar_, and

call themselves by his name. They are fearless and without religion,

save superstition, and they talk only their own varieties of the Romany

tongue.

 

I shall write some letters home, and shall try to get them to have them

posted. I have already spoken them through my window to begin

acquaintanceship. They took their hats off and made obeisance and many

signs, which, however, I could not understand any more than I could

their 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 and

frighten her to death were I to expose my heart to her. Should the

letters not carry, then the Count shall not yet know my secret or the

extent of my knowledge....

 

* * * * *

 

I have given the letters; I threw them through the bars of my window

with a gold piece, and made what signs I could to have them posted. The

man who took them pressed them to his heart and bowed, and then put them

in his cap. I could do no more. I stole back to the study, and began to

read. As the Count did not come in, I have written here....

 

* * * * *

 

The Count has come. He sat down beside me, and said in his smoothest

voice as he opened two letters:--

 

"The Szgany has given me these, of which, though I know not whence they

come, I shall, of course, take care. See!"--he must have looked at

it--"one is from you, and to my friend Peter Hawkins; the other"--here

he caught sight of the strange symbols as he opened the envelope, and

the dark look came into his face, and his eyes blazed wickedly--"the

other is a vile thing, an outrage upon friendship and hospitality! It is

not signed. Well! so it cannot matter to us." And he calmly held letter

and envelope in the flame of the lamp till they were consumed. Then he

went on:--

 

"The letter to Hawkins--that I shall, of course, send on, since it is

yours. Your letters are sacred to me. Your pardon, my friend, that

unknowingly I did break the seal. Will you not cover it again?" He held

out the letter to me, and with a courteous bow handed me a clean

envelope. I could only redirect it and hand it to him in silence. When

he went out of the room I could hear the key turn softly. A minute later

I went over and tried it, and the door was locked.

 

When, an hour or two after, the Count came quietly into the room, his

coming awakened me, for I had gone to sleep on the sofa. He was very

courteous and very cheery in his manner, and seeing that I had been

sleeping, he said:--

 

"So, my friend, you are tired? Get to bed. There is the surest rest. I

may not have the pleasure to talk to-night, since there are many labours

to 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 myself

with some paper and envelopes from my bag and keep them in my pocket, so

that I might write in case I should get an opportunity, but again a

surprise, 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 that

might be useful to me were I once outside the castle. I sat and pondered

awhile, and then some thought occurred to me, and I made search of my

portmanteau and in the wardrobe where I had placed my clothes.

 

The suit in which I had travelled was gone, and also my overcoat and

rug; I could find no trace of them anywhere. This looked like some new

scheme of villainy....

 

* * * * *

 

_17 June._--This morning, as I was sitting on the edge of my bed

cudgelling my brains, I heard without a cracking of whips and pounding

and 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 great

leiter-wagons, each drawn by eight sturdy horses, and at the head of

each pair a Slovak, with his wide hat, great nail-studded belt, dirty

sheepskin, and high boots. They had also their long staves in hand. I

ran to the door, intending to descend and try and join them through the

main hall, as I thought that way might be opened for them. Again a

shock: my door was fastened on the outside.

 

Then I ran to the window and cried to them. They looked up at me

stupidly and pointed, but just then the "hetman" of the Szgany came out,

and seeing them pointing to my window, said something, at which they

laughed. Henceforth no effort of mine, no piteous cry or agonised

entreaty, would make them even look at me. They resolutely turned away.

The leiter-wagons contained great, square boxes, with handles of thick

rope; these were evidently empty by the ease with which the Slovaks

handled them, and by their resonance as they were roughly moved. When

they were all unloaded and packed in a great heap in one corner of the

yard, the Slovaks were given some money by the Szgany, and spitting on

it for luck, lazily went each to his horse's head. Shortly afterwards, I

heard the cracking of their whips die away in the distance.

 

* * * * *

 

_24 June, before morning._--Last night the Count left me early, and

locked himself into his own room. As soon as I dared I ran up the

winding stair, and looked out of the window, which opened south. I

thought I would watch for the Count, for there is something going on.

The Szgany are quartered somewhere in the castle and are doing work of

some kind. I know it, for now and then I hear a far-away muffled sound

as of mattock and spade, and, whatever it is, it must be the end of some

ruthless villainy.

 

I had been at the window somewhat less than half an hour, when I saw

something coming out of the Count's window. I drew back and watched

carefully, and saw the whole man emerge. It was a new shock to me to

find that he had on the suit of clothes which I had worn whilst

travelling here, and slung over his shoulder the terrible bag which I

had 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 will

allow others to see me, as they think, so that he may both leave

evidence that I have been seen in the towns or villages posting my own

letters, and that any wickedness which he may do shall by the local

people be attributed to me.

 

It makes me rage to think that this can go on, and whilst I am shut up

here, a veritable prisoner, but without that protection of the law which

is even a criminal's right and consolation.

 

I thought I would watch for the Count's return, and for a long time sat

doggedly at the window. Then I began to notice that there were some

quaint little specks floating in the rays of the moonlight. They were

like the tiniest grains of dust, and they whirled round and gathered in

clusters in a nebulous sort of way. I watched them with a sense of

soothing, and a sort of calm stole over me. I leaned back in the

embrasure in a more comfortable position, so that I could enjoy more

fully the aerial gambolling.

 

Something made me start up, a low, piteous howling of dogs somewhere far

below in the valley, which was hidden from my sight. Louder it seemed to

ring in my ears, and the floating motes of dust to take new shapes to

the sound as they danced in the moonlight. I felt myself struggling to

awake to some call of my instincts; nay, my very soul was struggling,

and my half-remembered sensibilities were striving to answer the call. I

was becoming hypnotised! Quicker and quicker danced the dust; the

moonbeams seemed to quiver as they went by me into the mass of gloom

beyond. More and more they gathered till they seemed to take dim phantom

shapes. And then I started, broad awake and in full possession of my

senses, and ran screaming from the place. The phantom shapes, which were

becoming gradually materialised from the moonbeams, were those of the

three ghostly women to whom I was doomed. I fled, and felt somewhat

safer in my own room, where there was no moonlight and where the lamp

was burning brightly.

 

When a couple of hours had passed I heard something stirring in the

Count's room, something like a sharp wail quickly suppressed; and then

there was silence, deep, awful silence, which chilled me. With a

beating heart, I tried the door; but I was locked in my prison, and

could do nothing. I sat down and simply cried.

 

As I sat I heard a sound in the courtyard without--the agonised cry of a

woman. I rushed to the window, and throwing it up, peered out between

the bars. There, indeed, was a woman with dishevelled hair, holding her

hands over her heart as one distressed with running. She was leaning

against a corner of the gateway. When she saw my face at the window she

threw 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 same

words in tones which wrung my heart. Then she tore her hair and beat her

breast, and abandoned herself to all the violences of extravagant

emotion. Finally, she threw herself forward, and, though I could not see

her, I could hear the beating of her naked hands against the door.

 

Somewhere high overhead, probably on the tower, I heard the voice of the

Count calling in his harsh, metallic whisper. His call seemed to be

answered from far and wide by the howling of wolves. Before many minutes

had 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 but

short. Before long they streamed away singly, licking their lips.

 

I could not pity her, for I knew now what had become of her child, and

she was better dead.

 

What shall I do? what can I do? How can I escape from this dreadful

thing of night and gloom and fear?

 

* * * * *

 

_25 June, morning._--No man knows till he has suffered from the night

how sweet and how dear to his heart and eye the morning can be. When the

sun grew so high this morning that it struck the top of the great

gateway opposite my window, the high spot which it touched seemed to me

as if the dove from the ark had lighted there. My fear fell from me as

if it had been a vaporous garment which dissolved in the warmth. I must

take action of some sort whilst the courage of the day is upon me. Last

night one of my post-dated letters went to post, the first of that fatal

series which is to blot out the very traces of my existence from the

earth.

 

Let me not think of it. Action!

 

It has always been at night-time that I have been molested or