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,
for 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 sauvest 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 ma
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 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 to 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 of talk tonight,
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 papers 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 crackling 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 agonized 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 crackling of their
whips die away in the distance.
24 June.--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 moats
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
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
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 the 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, gloom,
and fear?
25 June.--No man knows till
he has suffered from the night
how sweet and 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
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! 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 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 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 know
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 ajar, 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 a search 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 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, I threw myself panting
upon the bed and tried to think.
29 June.--Today 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 along
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 could look as he said,"Tomorrow,
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. Tomorrow 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 I asked
him pointblank, "Why may I not
go tonight?"
"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 than
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
the last chance I cried out, "Shut
the door! I shall wait till morning." And
I 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! Tonight is mine.
Tomorrow 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? Tomorrow!
Tomorrow! Lord, help me, and
those to whom I am dear!
30 June.--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 the door
and ran down 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 threw 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 the 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 restored. For the white
hair and moustache were changed
to dark irongrey. 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
down 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 war 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 upon me, with all their
blaze of basilisk horror. The
sight seemed to paralyze 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,
blood-stained 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 was a
sound of hammering. It is the
box being nailed down. Now I
can hear the heavy feet tramping
again along the hall, with with
many other idle feet coming behind
them.
The door is shut, the chains
rattle. There is a grinding of
the key in the lock. I can hear
the key withdrawn, 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 horrible 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 the 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 those monsters,
and the precipice is steep and
high. At its foot a man may sleep,
as a man. Goodbye, all. Mina! |