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 rigourously 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 wakened 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 a while, 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 of Slovak, with his 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; may, 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 thrall 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 vapourous garment which dissolved
in the warmth. I must take action of some sort whilst the courage of
the day is upon me. Last night one of my post-dated letters went to
post, the first of that fatal series which is to blot out the very
traces of my existence from the earth.
  Let me not think of it. Action!
  It has always been at night-time that I have been molested or
threatened, or in some way in danger or in fear. I have not yet seen
the Count in the daylight. Can it be that he sleeps when others
wake, that he may be awake whilst they sleep? if I could only get into
his room! But there is no possible way. The door is always locked,
no way for me.
  Yes, there is a way, if one dares to take it. Where his body has
gone why may not another body go? I have seen him myself crawl from
his window? Why should not I imitate him, and go in by his window? The
chances are desperate, but my need is more desperate still. I shall
risk it. At the worst it can only be death; and a man's death is not a
calf's, and the dreaded Hereafter may still be open to me. God help me
in my task! Good-bye. Mina, if I fail; good-bye, my faithful friend
and second father; good-bye, all, and last of all Mina!

  Same day, later.- I have made the effort, and, God helping me,
have come safely back to this room. I must put down every detail in
order. I went whilst my courage was fresh straight to the window on
the south side, and at once got outside on the narrow ledge of stone
which runs round the building on this side. The stones are big and
roughly cut, and the mortar has by process of time been washed away
between them. I took off my boots, and ventured out on the desperate
way. I looked down once, so as to make sure that a sudden glimpse of
the awful depth would not overcome me, but after that kept my eyes
away from it. I knew pretty well the direction and distance of the
Count's window, and made for it as well as I could, having regard to
the opportunities available. I did not feel dizzy- I suppose I was too
excited- and the time seemed ridiculously short till I found myself
standing on the window-sill and trying to raise up the sash. I was
filled with agitation, however, when I bent down and slid feet
foremost in through the window. Then I looked around for the Count,
but, with surprise and gladness, made a discovery. The room was empty!
It was barely furnished with odd things, which seemed to have never
been used; the furniture was something the same style as that in the
south rooms, and was covered with dust. I looked for the key, but it
was not in the lock, and I could not find it anywhere. The only
thing I found was a great heap of gold in one corner- gold of all
kinds, Roman, and British, and Austrian, and Hungarian, and Greek
and Turkish money, covered with a film of dust, as though it had
lain long in the ground. None of it that I noticed was less than three
hundred years old. There were also chains and ornaments, some
jewelled, but all of them old and stained.
  At one corner of the room was a heavy door. I tried it, for, since I
could not find the key of the room or the key of the outer door, which
was the main object of my search, I must make further examination,
or all my efforts would be in vain. It was open, and led through a
stone passage to a circular stairway, which went steeply down. I
descended, minding carefully where I went, for the stairs were dark,
being only lit by loopholes in the heavy masonry. At the bottom
there was a dark, tunnel-like passage, through which came a deathly,
sickly odour, the odour of old earth newly turned. As I went through
the passage the smell grew closer and heavier. At last I pulled open a
heavy door which stood a jar, and found myself in an old, ruined
chapel, which had evidently been used as a graveyard. The roof was
broken, and in two places were steps leading to vaults, but the ground
had recently been dug over, and the earth placed in great wooden
boxes, manifestly those which had been brought by the Slovaks. There
was nobody about, and I made search for any further outlet, but
there was none. Then I went over every inch of the ground, so as not
to lose a chance. I went down even into the vaults, where the dim
light struggled, although to do so was a dread to my very soul. Into
two of these I went, but saw nothing except fragments of old coffins
and piles of dust; in the third, however, I made a discovery.
  There, in one of the great boxes, of which there were fifty in
all, on a pile of newly dug earth, lay the Count! He was either dead
or asleep, I could not say which- for the eyes were open and stony,
but without the glassiness of death- and the cheeks had the warmth
of life through all their pallor, the lips were as red as ever. But
there was no sign of movement, no pulse, no breath, no beating of
the heart. I bent over him, and tried to find any sign of life, but in
vain. He could not have lain there long, for the earthy smell would
have passed away in a few hours. By the side of the box was its cover,
pierced with holes here and there. I thought he might have the keys on
him, but when I went to search I saw the dead eyes, and in them,
dead though they were, such a look of hate, though unconscious of me
or my presence, that I fled from the place, and leaving the Count's
room by the window, crawled again up the castle wall. Regaining my
room chamber, I threw myself panting upon the bed and tried to
think...

  29 June.- To-day is the date of my last letter, and the Count has
taken steps to prove that it was genuine, for again I saw him leave
the castle by the same window, and in my clothes. As he went down
the wall, lizard fashion, I wished I had a gun or some lethal
weapon, that I might destroy him; but I fear that no weapon wrought
alone by man's hand would have any effect on him. I dared not wait
to see him return, for I feared to see those weird sisters. I came
back to the library, and read there till I fell asleep.
  I was awakened by the Count, who looked at me as grimly as a man can
look as he said:-
  "To-morrow, my friend, we must part. You return to your beautiful
England, I to some work which may have such an end that we may never
meet. Your letter home has been despatched; to-morrow I shall not be
here, but all shall be ready for your journey. In the morning come the
Szgany, who have some labours of their own here, and also come some
Slovaks. When they have gone, my carriage shall come for you, and
shall bear you to the Borgo Pass to meet the diligence from Bukovina
to Bistritz. But I am in hopes that I shall see more of you at
Castle Dracula." I suspected him, and determined to test his
sincerity. Sincerity! it seems like a profanation of the word to write
it in connection with such a monster, so asked him point-blank:-
  "Why may I not go to-night?"
  "Because, dear sir, my coachman and horses are away on a mission."
  "But I would walk with pleasure. I want to get away at once." He
smiled, such a soft, smooth, diabolical smile that I knew there was
some trick behind his smoothness. He said:-
  "And your baggage?"
  "I do not care about it. I can send for it some other time."
  The Count stood up, and said, with a sweet courtesy which made me
rub my eyes, it seemed so real:-
  "You English have a saying which is close to my heart, for its
spirit is that which rules our boyars: 'Welcome the coming; speed
the parting guest.' Come with me, my dear young friend. Not an hour
shall you wait in my house against your will, though sad am I at
your going, and that you so suddenly desire it. Come!" With a
stately gravity, he, with the lamp, preceded me down the stairs and
along the hall. Suddenly he stopped.
  "Hark!"
  Close at hand came the howling of many wolves. It was almost as if
the sound sprang up at the rising of his hand, just as the music of
a great orchestra seems to leap under the baton of the conductor.
After a pause of a moment, he proceeded, in his stately way, to the
door, drew back the ponderous bolts, unhooked the heavy chains, and
began to draw it open.
  To my intense astonishment I saw that it was unlocked.
Suspiciously I looked all round, but could see no key of any kind.
  As the door began to open, the howling of the wolves without grew
louder and angrier, their red jaws, with champing teeth, and their
blunt-clawed feet as they leaped, came in through the opening door.
I knew then that to struggle at the moment against the Count was
useless. With such allies as these at his command, I could do nothing.
But still the door continued slowly to open, and only the Count's body
stood in the gap. Suddenly it struck me that this might be the
moment and means of my doom; I was to be given to the wolves, and at
my own instigation. There was a diabolical wickedness in the idea
great enough for the Count, and as a last chance I cried out:-
  "Shut the door; I shall wait till morning!" and covered my face with
my hands to hide my tears of bitter disappointment. With one sweep
of his powerful arm, the Count threw the door shut, and the great
bolts clanged and echoed through the hall as they shot back into their
places.
  In silence we returned to the library, and after a minute or two I
went to my own room. The last I saw of Count Dracula was his kissing
his hand to me; with a red light of triumph in his eyes, and with a
smile that Judas in hell might be proud of.
  When I was in my room and about to lie down, I thought I heard a
whispering at my door. I went to it softly and listened. Unless my
ears deceived me, I heard the voice of the Count:-
  "Back, back, to your own place! Your time is not yet come. Wait!
Have patience! To-night is mine. To-morrow night is yours!" There
was a low, sweet ripple of laughter, and in a rage I threw open the
door, and saw without the three terrible women licking their lips.
As I appeared they all joined in a horrible laugh, and ran away.
  I came back to my room and threw myself on my knees. It is then so
near the end? To-morrow! to-morrow! Lord, help me, and those to whom I
am dear!

  30 June, morning.- These may be the last words I ever write in
this diary. I slept till just before the dawn, and when I woke threw
myself on my knees, for I determined that if Death came he should find
me ready.
  At last I felt that subtle change in the air, and knew that the
morning had come. Then came the welcome cock-crow, and I felt that I
was safe. With a glad heart, I opened my door and ran down to the
hall. I had seen that the door was unlocked, and now escape was before
me. With hands that trembled with eagerness, I unhooked the chains and
drew back the massive bolts.
  But the door would not move. Despair seized me. I pulled, and
pulled, at the door, and shook it till, massive as it was, it
rattled in its casement. I could see the bolt shot. it had been locked
after I left the Count.
  Then a wild desire took me to obtain that key at any risk, and I
determined then and there to scale the wall again and gain the Count's
room. He might kill me, but death now seemed the happier choice of
evils. Without a pause I rushed up to the east window, and scrambled
down the wall, as before, into the Count's room. It was empty, but
that was as I expected. I could not see a key anywhere, but the heap
of gold remained. I went through the door in the corner and down the
winding stair and along the dark passage to the old chapel. I knew now
well enough where to find the monster I sought.
  The great box was in the same place, close against the wall, but the
lid was laid on it, not fastened down, but with the nails ready in
their places to be hammered home. I knew I must reach the body for the
key, so I raised the lid, and laid it back against the wall; and
then I saw something which filled my very soul with horror. There
lay the Count, but looking as if his youth had been half renewed,
for the white hair and moustache were changed to dark iron-grey; the
cheeks were fuller, and the white skin seemed ruby-red underneath; the
mouth was redder than ever, for on the lips were gouts of fresh blood,
which trickled from the corners of the mouth and ran over the chin and
neck. Even the deep, burning eyes seemed set amongst swollen flesh,
for the lids and pouches underneath were bloated. It seemed as if
the whole awful creature were simply gorged with blood. He lay like
a filthy leech, exhausted with his repletion. I shuddered as I bent
over to touch him, and every sense in me revolted at the contact;
but I had to search, or I was lost. The coming night might see my
own body a banquet in a similar way to those horrid three. I felt
all over the body, but no sign could I find of the key. Then I stopped
and looked at the Count. There was a mocking smile on the bloated face
which seemed to drive me mad. This was the being I was helping to
transfer to London, where, perhaps, for centuries to come he might,
amongst its teeming millions, satiate his lust for blood, and create a
new and ever-widening circle of semi-demons to batten on the helpless.
The very thought drove me mad. A terrible desire came upon me to 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 the cases,
and lifting it high struck, with the edge downward, at the hateful
face. But as I did so the head turned, and the eyes fell full upon me,
with all their blaze of basilisk horror. The sight seemed to
paralyse 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 my hand across the box, and as I pulled it away the flange of the
blade caught the edge of the lid, which fell over again, and hid the
horrid thing from my sight. The last glimpse I had was of the
bloated face, bloodstained and fixed with a grin of malice which would
have held its own in the nethermost hell.
  I thought and thought what should be my next move, but my brain
seemed on fire, and I waited with a despairing feeling growing over
me. As I waited I heard in the distance a gipsy song sung by merry
voices coming closer, and through their song the rolling of heavy
wheels and the cracking of whips; the Szgany and the Slovaks of whom
the Count had spoken were coming. With a last look around and at the
box which contained the vile body, I ran from the place and gained the
Count's room, determined to rush out at the moment the door should
be opened. With strained ears, I listened, and heard downstairs the
grinding of the key in the great lock and the falling back of the
heavy door. There must have been some other means of entry, or some
one had a key for one of the locked doors. Then there came the sound
of many feet tramping and dying away in some passage which sent up a
clanging echo. I turned to run 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 the door to the winding stair blew to with
a shock that set the dust from the lintels flying. When I ran to
push it open, I found that it was hopelessly fast. I was again a
prisoner, and the net of doom was closing round me more closely.
  As I write there is in the passage below a sound of many tramping
feet and the crash of weights being set down heavily, doubtless the
boxes, with their freight of earth. There is a sound of hammering;
it is the box being nailed down. Now I can hear the heavy feet
tramping again along the hall, with many other idle feet coming behind
them.
  The door is shut, and the chains rattle; there is a grinding of
the key in the lock; I can hear the key withdraw: then another door
opens and shuts; 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 the distance.
  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 wall farther than I have yet attempted. I shall take some of
the gold with me, 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! away
from this cursed spot, from this cursed land, where the devil and
his children still walk with earthly feet!
  At least God's mercy is better than that of these monsters, and
the precipice is steep and high. At its foot a man may sleep- as a
man. Good-bye, all! Mina!
  back to 'Dracula'
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