DR SEWARD'S DIARY-cont.
It was just
a quarter before twelve o'clock
when we got into
the churchyard over the low wall.
The night was dark with occasional
gleams of moonlight between the
dents of the heavy clouds that
scudded across the sky. We all
kept somehow close together,
with Van Helsing slightly in
front as he led the way. When
we had come close to the tomb
I looked well at Arthur, for
I feared the proximity to a place
laden with so sorrowful a memory
would upset him, but he bore
himself well. I took it that
the very mystery of the proceeding
was in some way a counteractant
to his grief. The Professor unlocked
the door, and seeing a natural
hesitation amongst us for various
reasons, solved the difficulty
by entering first himself. The
rest of us followed, and he closed
the door. He then lit a dark
lantern and pointed to a coffin.
Arthur stepped forward hesitatingly.
Van Helsing said to me, "You
were with me here yesterday.
Was the body of Miss Lucy in
that coffin?"
"It was."
The Professor
turned to the rest saying, "You
hear, and yet there is no one
who does not
believe with me.'
He took his screwdriver and
again took off the lid of the
coffin. Arthur looked on, very
pale but silent. When the lid
was removed he stepped forward.
He evidently did not know that
there was a leaden coffin, or
at any rate, had not thought
of it. When he saw the rent in
the lead, the blood rushed to
his face for an instant, but
as quickly fell away again, so
that he remained of a ghastly
whiteness. He was still silent.
Van Helsing forced back the leaden
flange, and we all looked in
and recoiled.
The coffin was empty!
For several
minutes no one spoke a word.
The silence was
broken by Quincey Morris, "Professor,
I answered for you. Your word
is all I want. I wouldn't ask
such a thing ordinarily, I wouldn't
so dishonor you as to imply a
doubt, but this is a mystery
that goes beyond any honor or
dishonor. Is this your doing?"
"I swear to
you by all that I hold sacred
that I have not
removed or touched her. What
happened was this. Two nights
ago my friend Seward and I came
here, with good purpose, believe
me. I opened that coffin, which
was then sealed up, and we found
it as now, empty. We then waited,
and saw something white come
through the trees. The next day
we came here in daytime and she
lay there. Did she not, friend
John?
"Yes."
"That night we were just in
time. One more so small child
was missing, and we find it,
thank God,unharmed amongst the
graves. Yesterday I came here
before sundown, for at sundown
the Un-Dead can move. I waited
here all night till the sun rose,
but I saw nothing. It was most
probable that it was because
I had laid over the clamps of
those doors garlic, which the
Un-Dead cannot bear, and other
things which they shun. Last
night there was no exodus, so
tonight before the sundown I
took away my garlic and other
things. And so it is we find
this coffin empty. But bear with
me. So far there is much that
is strange. Wait you with me
outside, unseen and unheard,
and things much stranger are
yet to be. So," here he shut
the dark slide of his lantern,"now
to the outside." He opened the
door, and we filed out, he coming
last and locking the door behind
him.
Oh! But it seemed fresh and
pure in the night air after the
terror of that vault. How sweet
it was to see the clouds race
by, and the passing gleams of
the moonlight between the scudding
clouds crossing and passing,
like the gladness and sorrow
of a man's life. How sweet it
was to breathe the fresh air,
that had no taint of death and
decay. How humanizing to see
the red lighting of the sky beyond
the hill, and to hear far away
the muffled roar that marks the
life of a great city. Each in
his own way was solemn and overcome.
Arthur was silent, and was, I
could see, striving to grasp
the purpose and the inner meaning
of the mystery. I was myself
tolerably patient, and half inclined
again to throw aside doubt and
to accept Van Helsing's conclusions.
Quincey Morris was phlegmatic
in the way of a man who accepts
all things, and accepts them
in the spirit of cool bravery,
with hazard of all he has at
stake. Not being able to smoke,
he cut himself a good-sized plug
of tobacco and began to chew.
As to Van Helsing, he was employed
in a definite way. First he took
from his bag a mass of what looked
like thin, wafer-like biscuit,
which was carefully rolled up
in a white napkin. Next he took
out a double handful of some
whitish stuff, like dough or
putty. He crumbled the wafer
up fine and worked it into the
mass between his hands. This
he then took, and rolling it
into thin strips, began to lay
them into the crevices between
the door and its setting in the
tomb. I was somewhat puzzled
at this, and being close, asked
him what it was that he was doing.
Arthur and Quincey drew near
also, as they too were curious.
He answered, "I
am closing the tomb so that
the Un-Dead
may not enter."
"And is that
stuff you have there going
to do it?"
"It Is."
"What is that which you are
using?" This time the question
was by Arthur. Van Helsing reverently
lifted his hat as he answered.
"The Host.
I brought it from Amsterdam.
I have an Indulgence."
It was an answer that appalled
the most sceptical of us, and
we felt individually that in
the presence of such earnest
purpose as the Professor's, a
purpose which could thus use
the to him most sacred of things,
it was impossible to distrust.
In respectful silence we took
the places assigned to us close
round the tomb, but hidden from
the sight of any one approaching.
I pitied the others, especially
Arthur. I had myself been apprenticed
by my former visits to this watching
horror, and yet I, who had up
to an hour ago repudiated the
proofs, felt my heart sink within
me. Never did tombs look so ghastly
white. Never did cypress, or
yew, or juniper so seem the embodiment
of funeral gloom. Never did tree
or grass wave or rustle so ominously.
Never did bough creak so mysteriously,
and never did the far-away howling
of dogs send such a woeful presage
through the night.
There was a
long spell of silence, big,
aching, void, and then from
the Professor a keen "S-s-s-s!" He
pointed, and far down the avenue
of yews we saw a white figure
advance, a dim white figure,
which held something dark at
its breast. The figure stopped,
and at the moment a ray of moonlight
fell upon the masses of driving
clouds, and showed in startling
prominence a dark-haired woman,
dressed in the cerements of the
grave. We could not see the face,
for it was bent down over what
we saw to be a fair-haired child.
There was a pause and a sharp
little cry, such as a child gives
in sleep, or a dog as it lies
before the fire and dreams. We
were starting forward, but the
Professor's warning hand, seen
by us as he stood behind a yew
tree, kept us back. And then
as we looked the white figure
moved forwards again. It was
now near enough for us to see
clearly, and the moonlight still
held. My own heart grew cold
as ice, and I could hear the
gasp of Arthur, as we recognized
the features of Lucy Westenra.
Lucy Westenra, but yet how changed.
The sweetness was turned to adamantine,
heartless cruelty, and the purity
to voluptuous wantonness.
Van Helsing stepped out, and
obedient to his gesture, we all
advanced too. The four of us
ranged in a line before the door
of the tomb. Van Helsing raised
his lantern and drew the slide.
By the concentrated light that
fell on Lucy's face we could
see that the lips were crimson
with fresh blood, and that the
stream had trickled over her
chin and stained the purity of
her lawn death robe.
We shuddered with horror. I
could see by the tremulous light
that even Van Helsing's iron
nerve had failed. Arthur was
next to me, and if I had not
seized his arm and held him up,
he would have fallen.
When Lucy, I call the thing
that was before us Lucy because
it bore her shape, saw us she
drew back with an angry snarl,
such as a cat gives when taken
unawares, then her eyes ranged
over us. Lucy's eyes in form
and color, but Lucy's eyes unclean
and full of hell fire, instead
of the pure, gentle orbs we knew.
At that moment the remnant of
my love passed into hate and
loathing. Had she then to be
killed, I could have done it
with savage delight. As she looked,
her eyes blazed with unholy light,
and the face became wreathed
with a voluptuous smile. Oh,
God, how it made me shudder to
see it! With a careless motion,
she flung to the ground, callous
as a devil, the child that up
to now she had clutched strenuously
to her breast, growling over
it as a dog growls over a bone.
The child gave a sharp cry, and
lay there moaning. There was
a cold-bloodedness in the act
which wrung a groan from Arthur.
When she advanced to him with
outstretched arms and a wanton
smile he fell back and hid his
face in his hands.
She still advanced,
however, and with a languorous,
voluptuous
grace, said, "Come to me, Arthur.
Leave these others and come to
me. My arms are hungry for you.
Come, and we can rest together.
Come, my husband, come!"
There was something diabolically
sweet in her tones, something
of the tinkling of glass when
struck, which rang through the
brains even of us who heard the
words addressed to another.
As for Arthur, he seemed under
a spell, moving his hands from
his face, he opened wide his
arms. She was leaping for them,
when Van Helsing sprang forward
and held between them his little
golden crucifix. She recoiled
from it, and, with a suddenly
distorted face, full of rage,
dashed past him as if to enter
the tomb.
When within a foot or two of
the door, however,she stopped,
as if arrested by some irresistible
force. Then she turned, and her
face was shown in the clear burst
of moonlight and by the lamp,
which had now no quiver from
Van Helsing's nerves. Never did
I see such baffled malice on
a face, and never, I trust, shall
such ever be seen again by mortal
eyes. The beautiful color became
livid, the eyes seemed to throw
out sparks of hell fire, the
brows were wrinkled as though
the folds of flesh were the coils
of Medusa's snakes, and the lovely,
blood-stained mouth grew to an
open square, as in the passion
masks of the Greeks and Japanese.
If ever a face meant death, if
looks could kill, we saw it at
that moment.
And so for full half a minute,
which seemed an eternity, se
remained between the lifted crucifix
and the sacred closing of her
means of entry.
Van Helsing
broke the silence by asking
Arthur, "Answer me,
oh my friend! Am I to proceed
in my work?"
"Do as you will, friend. Do
as you will. There can be no
horror like this ever any more." And
he groaned in spirit.
Quincey and I simultaneously
moved towards him, and took his
arms. We could hear the click
of the closing lantern as Van
Helsing held it down. Coming
close to the tomb, he began to
remove from the chinks some of
the sacred emblem which he had
placed there. We all looked on
with horrified amazement as we
saw, when he stood back, the
woman, with a corporeal body
as real at that moment as our
own, pass through the interstice
where scarce a knife blade could
have gone. We all felt a glad
sense of relief when we saw the
Professor calmly restoring the
strings of putty to the edges
of the door.
When this was
done, he lifted the child and
said, "Come now,
my friends. We can do no more
till tomorrow. There is a funeral
at noon, so here we shall all
come before long after that.
The friends of the dead will
all be gone by two, and when
the sexton locks the gate we
shall remain. Then there is more
to do, but not like this of tonight.
As for this little one, he is
not much harmed, and by tomorrow
night he shall be well. We shall
leave him where the police will
find him, as on the other night,
and then to home."
Coming close
to Arthur, he said, "My friend
Arthur, you have had a sore
trial, but after,
when you look back, you will
see how it was necessary. You
are now in the bitter waters,
my child. By this time tomorrow
you will, please God, have passed
them, and have drunk of the sweet
waters. So do not mourn over-much.
Till then I shall not ask you
to forgive me."
Arthur and Quincey came home
with me, and we tried to cheer
each other on the way. We had
left behind the child in safety,
and were tired. So we all slept
with more or less reality of
sleep.
29 September, night.--A little
before twelve o'clock we three,
Arthur, Quincey Morris, and myself,
called for the Professor. It
was odd to notice that by common
consent we had all put on black
clothes. Of course, Arthur wore
black, for he was in deep mourning,
but the rest of us wore it by
instinct. We got to the graveyard
by half-past one, and strolled
about, keeping out of official
observation, so that when the
gravediggers had completed their
task and the sexton under the
belief that every one had gone,
had locked the gate, we had the
place all to ourselves. Van Helsing,
instead of his little black bag,
had with him a long leather one,something
like a cricketing bag. It was
manifestly of fair weight.
When we were
alone and had heard the last
of the footsteps
die out up the road, we silently,
and as if by ordered intention,
followed the Professor to the
tomb. He unlocked the door, and
we entered, closing it behind
us. Then he took from his bag
the lantern, which he lit, and
also two wax candles, which,
when lighted, he stuck by melting
their own ends, on other coffins,
so that they might give light
sufficient to work by. When he
again lifted the lid off Lucy's
coffin we all looked, Arthur
trembling like an aspen, and
saw that the corpse lay there
in all its death beauty. But
there was no love in my own heart,
nothing but loathing for the
foul Thing which had taken Lucy's
shape without her soul. I could
see even Arthur's face grow hard
as he looked. Presently he said
to Van Helsing, "Is this really
Lucy's body, or only a demon
in her shape?"
"It is her
body, and yet not it. But wait
a while, and you
shall see her as she was, and
is."
She seemed like a nightmare
of Lucy as she lay there, the
pointed teeth, the blood stained,
voluptuous mouth, which made
one shudder to see, the whole
carnal and unspirited appearance,
seeming like a devilish mockery
of Lucy's sweet purity. Van Helsing,
with his usual methodicalness,
began taking the various contents
from his bag and placing them
ready for use. First he took
out a soldering iron and some
plumbing solder, and then small
oil lamp, which gave out, when
lit in a corner of the tomb,
gas which burned at a fierce
heat with a blue flame, then
his operating knives, which he
placed to hand, and last a round
wooden stake, some two and a
half or three inches thick and
about three feet long. One end
of it was hardened by charring
in the fire, and was sharpened
to a fine point. With this stake
came a heavy hammer, such as
in households is used in the
coal cellar for breaking the
lumps. To me, a doctor's preperations
for work of any kind are stimulating
and bracing, but the effect of
these things on both Arthur and
Quincey was to cause them a sort
of consternation. They both,
however, kept their courage,
and remained silent and quiet.
When all was
ready, Van Helsing said,"Before
we do anything, let me tell
you this. It is out
of the lore and experience of
the ancients and of all those
who have studied the powers of
the Un-Dead. When they become
such, there comes with the change
the curse of immortality. They
cannot die, but must go on age
after age adding new victims
and multiplying the evils of
the world. For all that die from
the preying of the Un-dead become
themselves Un-dead, and prey
on their kind. And so the circle
goes on ever widening, like as
the ripples from a stone thrown
in the water. Friend Arthur,
if you had met that kiss which
you know of before poor Lucy
die, or again, last night when
you open your arms to her, you
would in time, when you had died,
have become nosferatu, as they
call it in Eastern europe, and
would for all time make more
of those Un-Deads that so have
filled us with horror. The career
of this so unhappy dear lady
is but just begun. Those children
whose blood she sucked are not
as yet so much the worse, but
if she lives on, Un-Dead, more
and more they lose their blood
and by her power over them they
come to her, and so she draw
their blood with that so wicked
mouth. But if she die in truth,
then all cease. The tiny wounds
of the throats disappear, and
they go back to their play unknowing
ever of what has been. But of
the most blessed of all, when
this now Un-Dead be made to rest
as true dead, then the soul of
the poor lady whom we love shall
again be free. Instead of working
wickedness by night and growing
more debased in the assimilating
of it by day, she shall take
her place with the other Angels.
So that, my friend, it will be
a blessed hand for her that shall
strike the blow that sets her
free. To this I am willing, but
is there none amongst us who
has a better right? Will it be
no joy to think of hereafter
in the silence of the night when
sleep is not, `It was my hand
that sent her to the stars. It
was the hand of him that loved
her best, the hand that of all
she would herself have chosen,
had it been to her to choose?'
Tell me if there be such a one
amongst us?"
We all looked
at Arthur. He saw too, what
we all did, the
infinite kindness which suggested
that his should be the hand which
would restore Lucy to us as a
holy, and not an unholy, memory.
He stepped forward and said bravely,
though his hand trembled, and
his face was as pale as snow, "My
true friend, from the bottom
of my broken heart I thank you.
Tell me what I am to do, and
I shall not falter!"
Van Helsing
laid a hand on his shoulder,
and said,"Brave
lad! A moment's courage, and
it is done. This stake must be
driven through her. It well be
a fearful ordeal, be not deceived
in that, but it will be only
a short time, and you will then
rejoice more than your pain was
great. From this grim tomb you
will emerge as though you tread
on air. But you must not falter
when once you have begun. Only
think that we, your true friends,
are round you, and that we pray
for you all the time."
"Go on,"said Arthur hoarsely."Tell
me what I am to do."
"Take this stake in your left
hand, ready to place to the point
over the heart, and the hammer
in your right. Then when we begin
our prayer for the dead, I shall
read him, I have here the book,
and the others shall follow,
strike in God's name, that so
all may be well with the dead
that we love and that the Un-Dead
pass away." Arthur took the stake
and the hammer, and when once
his mind was set on action his
hands never trembled nor even
quivered. Van Helsing opened
his missal and began to read,
and Quincey and I followed as
well as we could.
Arthur placed the point over
the heart, and as I looked I
could see its dint in the white
flesh. Then he struck with all
his might.
The thing in the coffin writhed,
and a hideous, bloodcurdling
screech came from the opened
red lips. The body shook and
quivered and twisted in wild
contortions. The sharp white
champed together till the lips
were cut, and the mouth was smeared
with a crimson foam. But Arthur
never faltered. He looked like
a figure of Thor as his untrembling
arm rose and fell, driving deeper
and deeper the mercybearing stake,
whilst the blood from the pierced
heart welled and spurted up around
it. His face was set, and high
duty seemed to shine through
it. The sight of it gave us courage
so that our voices seemed to
ring through the little vault.
And then the writhing and quivering
of the body became less, and
the teeth seemed to champ, and
the face to quiver. Finally it
lay still. The terrible task
was over.
The hammer fell from Arthur's
hand. He reeled and would have
fallen had we not caught him.
The great drops of sweat sprang
from his forehead, and his breath
came in broken gasps. It had
indeed been an awful strain on
him, and had he not been forced
to his task by more than human
considerations he could never
have gone through with it. For
a few minutes we were so taken
up with him that we did not look
towards the coffin. When we did,
however, a murmur of startled
surprise ran from one to the
other of us. We gazed so eagerly
that Arthur rose, for he had
been seated on the ground, and
came and looked too, and then
a glad strange light broke over
his face and dispelled altogether
the gloom of horror that lay
upon it.
There, in the coffin lay no
longer the foul Thing that we
has so dreaded and grown to hate
that the work of her destruction
was yielded as a privilege to
the one best entitled to it,
but Lucy as we had seen her in
life, with her face of unequalled
sweetness and purity. True that
there were there, as we had seen
them in life, the traces of care
and pain and waste. But these
were all dear to us, for they
marked her truth to what we knew.
One and all we felt that the
holy calm that lay like sunshine
over the wasted face and form
was only an earthly token and
symbol of the calm that was to
reign for ever.
Van Helsing
came and laid his hand on Arthur's
shoulder, and
said to him, "And now, Arthur
my friend, dear lad, am I not
forgiven?"
The reaction
of the terrible strain came
as he took the old
man's hand in his, and raising
it to his lips, pressed it, and
said, "Forgiven! God bless you
that you have given my dear one
her soul again, and me peace." He
put his hands on the Professor's
shoulder, and laying his head
on his breast, cried for a while
silently, whilst we stood unmoving.
When he raised
his head Van Helsing said to
him, "And now,
my child, you may kiss her. Kiss
her dead lips if you will, as
she would have you to, if for
her to choose. For she is not
a grinning devil now, not any
more a foul Thing for all eternity.
No longer she is the devil's
Un-Dead. She is God's true dead,
whose soul is with Him!"
Arthur bent and kissed her,
and then we sent him and Quincey
out of the tomb. The Professor
and I sawed the top off the stake,
leaving the point of it in the
body. Then we cut off the head
and filled the mouth with garlic.
We soldered up the leaden coffin,
screwed on the coffin lid, and
gathering up our belongings,
came away. When the Professor
locked the door he gave the key
to Arthur.
Outside the air was sweet,
the sun shone, and the birds
sang, and it seemed as if all
nature were tuned to a different
pitch. There was gladness and
mirth and peace everywhere, for
we were at rest ourselves on
one account, and we were glad,
though it was with a tempered
joy.
Before we moved
away Van Helsing said,"Now,
my friends, one step or our
work is done, one the
most harrowing to ourselves.
But there remains a greater task,
to find out the author of all
this or sorrow and to stamp him
out. I have clues which we can
follow, but it is a long task,
and a difficult one, and there
is danger in it, and pain. Shall
you not all help me? We have
learned to believe, all of us,
is it not so? And since so, do
we not see our duty? Yes! And
do we not promise to go on to
the bitter end?"
Each in turn,
we took his hand, and the promise
was made. Then
said the Professor as we moved
off, "Two nights hence you shall
meet with me and dine together
at seven of the clock with friend
John. I shall entreat two others,
two that you know not as yet,
and I shall be ready to all our
work show and our plans unfold.
Friend John, you come with me
home, for I have much to consult
you about, and you can help me.
Tonight I leave for Amsterdam,
but shall return tomorrow night.
And then begins our great quest.
But first I shall have much to
say, so that you may know what
to do and to dread. Then our
promise shall be made to each
other anew. For there is a terrible
task before us, and once our
feet are on the ploughshare we
must not draw back." |