style="font-size:15px;"> 19 May. – I am surely in the toils.[56] Last night the Count asked me 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, and the third that I had left the castle and arrived at Bistritz. It is madness to quarrel openly with the Count while I am so absolutely in his power. To refuse is 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. I am waiting for a chance to escape.
I asked him: what dates must I put on the letters? He calculated a minute, and then said, “The first letter must 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 to send word home. A band of gypsies[57] have come to the castle, and are encamped in the courtyard. There are thousands of them in Hungary and Transylvania, who are almost outside all law. They are fearless and without religion.
I shall write some letters home, and shall give them to the gypsies. I have already spoken to them through my window. They took their hats off and made many signs, which, however, I could not understand.
I have written the letters. Mina’s letter is in shorthand. I have given the letters; I threw them through the bars of my window with a gold piece. The gypsy man who took them pressed them to his heart and bowed, and then put them in his cap. I could do no more.
The Count has come. He sat down beside me, and said in his smoothest voice as he opened two letters, “The gypsies have given me these letters. I do not know not whence they come, but I shall, of course, take care. See! One is from you, and to my friend Peter Hawkins. The other is not signed. Well!” And he calmly held letter and envelope in the flame of the lamp.
Then he went on, “I shall send, of course, the letter to Hawkins. Your letters are sacred to me.”
When he went out of the room I heard the key. The door was locked.
An hour or two after, the Count came quietly into the room. He was very courteous and very cheery, and he said, “So, my friend, you are tired? Get to bed.”
I passed to my room and went to bed, and slept without dreaming.
31 May. – This morning when I woke I decided to take some paper and envelopes from my bag and keep them in my pocket. But again a surprise, again a shock!
Every paper was gone, and with it all my notes, my memoranda, my letter of credit, in fact all that can be useful to me.
Moreover: the suit in which I had travelled was gone, and also my overcoat and rug…
17 June. – This morning the gypsies brought great, square boxes, with handles of thick rope. The boxes were packed in a great heap in one corner of the yard.
24 June, before morning. – Last night the Count left me early, and locked himself into his own room. Something is going on.
The gypsies are in the castle and are doing some work with the boxes.
When I watched from the window, it was a new shock to me. The Count put on my suit and slung over his shoulder the terrible bag! This, then, is his new scheme of evil: that he will allow others to see me, as they think.
In a couple of hours I heard something in the Count’s room, something like a sharp wail; and then there was silence, deep, awful silence, which chilled me. I tried the door; but I was locked in my prison, and could do nothing. I sat down and simply cried.
I heard a sound in the courtyard – the agonized cry of a woman. I rushed to the window, and peered out between the bars. There, indeed, was a woman. She was holding her hands over her heart. She was leaning against a corner of the gateway. When she saw my face at the window, she threw herself forward, and shouted, “Monster, give me my child!”
She threw herself on her knees, and raising up her hands, cried the same words. Then she threw herself forward. Her naked hands were beating against the door.
Somewhere I heard the voice of the Count, his harsh, metallic whisper. Suddenly the wolves appeared… There was no cry from the woman. The wolves went away, licking their lips.
What shall I do? What can I do? How can I escape from this dreadful castle of night and gloom and fear?
25 June, morning. – I must take action. Last night one of my letters went to post, the first of that fatal series. Action! I have not yet seen the Count in the daylight. Does he sleep when others wake? I want to get into his room! But there is no possible way. The door is always locked, no way for me.
Yes, there is a way! He crawled from his window. Why can’t I imitate him? I shall risk it. God help me in my task! Goodbye, Mina, if I fail; goodbye, my faithful friend and second father; goodbye, all, and last of all Mina!
Same day, later. – I have made the effort, and have come safely back to this room. I got outside on the narrow ledge of stone which runs around the building. The stones are big and roughly cut. I took off my boots, I knew pretty well the direction and distance of the Count’s window. I did not feel dizzy – I suppose I was too excited – and the time seemed ridiculously short. I was filled with agitation.
I bent down and slid in through the window. Then I looked around for the Count, but, with surprise and gladness, made a discovery. The room was empty! The furniture 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. There were also chains and ornaments, all of them old and stained.
At one corner of the room was a heavy door. I tried it. It was open, and led through a stone passage to a circular stairway. I descended. At the bottom there was a dark, tunnel-like passage, through which came a deathly, sickly odour. At last I pulled open a heavy door, and found myself in an old, ruined chapel, which was used as a graveyard. There were great wooden boxes, those which the gypsies had brought. In two of these boxes I saw nothing except fragments of old coffins and piles of dust; in the third, however, I made a discovery.
There lay the Count! He was either dead or asleep – for his eyes were open and stony. I fled from the place, and left the Count’s room by the window, crawled again up the castle wall. In my room, I tried to think…
29 June. – Today is the date of my last letter. I came to the library, and read there till I fell asleep.
I was awakened by the Count. He said, “Tomorrow, my friend, we must part. You return to your beautiful England, I – to some work. We may never meet. In the morning my carriage will come for you, and will bring you to the Borgo Pass to meet the diligence from Bukovina to Bistritz. But I hope to see you again at Castle Dracula.”
“Why may I not go tonight?”
“Because, dear sir, my coachman and horses are away.”
“But I can walk with pleasure. I want to get away at once.”
He smiled, a soft, smooth, diabolical smile. He said, “And your baggage?”
“I do not care about
in the toils – в западне
a band of gypsies – цыганский табор
