Dracula. Bram Stoker

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 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, I threw myself panting upon the bed and

      tried to think..

      46 Dracula

      2Q 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 wea-

      pon 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 la-

      bours 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 froir Bukovina to Bis-

      tritz. 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 al-

      most as if the sound sprang up at the rising of his hand, just

      Jonathan Marker’s Journal 47

      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. Sus-

      piciously, 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 instiga-

      tion. 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