Dracula / Дракула. Брэм Стокер

[8] and his legions swept through the Hungarian fatherland, he found us here when he reached the frontier and Honfoglalas was crushed there? And when the Hungarian flood moved eastward, the victorious Magyars recognizd the Szekelys as kindred and trusted us to guard the frontier of Turkey-land. When was redeemed that great shame of my nation, the shame of Kosovo, when the flags of the Wallach[9] and the Magyar went down beneath the Turkish Crescent? It was one of my own nation, a Dracula! He crossed the Danube and beat the Turk on his own ground! It was a great woe that his own unworthy brother, when he had fallen, sold his people to the Turk and brought the shame of slavery on them! But, in a later age, another Dracula again and again brought his troops over the great river into Turkey-land. When he was beaten back, he came again, and again, and again. Though he had to come alone from the bloody field where his troops were being killed, he knew that he alone could ultimately triumph! They said that he thought only of himself. But what good are peasants without a leader, without a leading brain and heart? Again, when we threw off the Hungarian yoke, we of the Dracula blood were among their leaders, for our free spirit cannot stand any oppression. Ah, young sir, the Szekelys – and the Dracula as their heart's blood, their brains, and their swords – can boast about such ancient family that mushroom growths like the Hapsburgs and the Romanoffs can never reach. The days of war are over. Blood is too precious a thing in these days of dishonourable peace, and the glories of the great tribes are no more than an old tale.”

      It was nearly morning, and we went to bed. (This diary seems horribly like the beginning of the “Arabian Nights”, for everything has to break off at cockcrow or like the ghost of Hamlet's Father.)

      12 May. Last evening when the Count came from his room, he began asking me questions on legal matters and on the doing of certain kinds of business in England. I answered his questions to the best of my ability, and my impression from his comments was that his knowledge of legal matters and understanding of business were nearly professional. At the end of that conversation the Count suddenly asked me if I had written to Mr. Hawkins since my first letter. I answered that I had not seen any opportunity of sending letters to anybody as yet.

      “Then write now, my young friend,” he said, “write to our friend Mr. Peter Hawkins and to any other and say that you will stay with me for a month from now.”

      My heart grew cold at the thought that I would stay at the castle so long, but I had to think of my employer Mr. Hawkins's interest, not mine and besides, while Count Dracula was speaking, I saw in his eyes that I was a prisoner and could have no choice. The Count saw his victory in the expression of my face, for he said: “I ask you, my good young friend, to write only about business in your letters. It will doubtless please your friends to know that you are well, and that you look forward to getting home to them. Is it not so?” As he spoke he handed me three sheets of notepaper and three envelopes. I understood by the expression of his face that I should be careful what I wrote, for he would be able to read it. So I decided to write only formal notes now, but to write fully to Mr. Hawkins in secret, and also to Mina, for to her I could write in shorthand. It would puzzle the Count, if he saw it. When I had written my two letters I sat quietly, reading a book while the Count wrote several letters. Then he took up my two letters, put them with his own on the table, and left the room. I had time to look at the addresses of his four letters. One of the letters was addressed to Samuel F. Billington, No. 7, The Crescent, Whitby, another to Herr Leutner, Varna; the third was to Coutts & Co., London, and the fourth to Herren Klopstock & Billreuth, bankers, Buda-Pesth. The second and fourth were unsealed. I had no opportunity to look at them because the Count, with another letter in his hand, entered the room. He took up the letters on the table and stamped them carefully. Then he turned to me and said: “I hope you will forgive me, but I have much work to do in private this evening. You will, I hope, find all things as you wish.” At the door he turned, and after a moment's pause said: “My dear young friend, please, do not go to sleep in any other part of the castle. It is old, and has many memories, and there are bad dreams for those who sleep unwisely. Be warned! If you feel sleepy, hurry to your own bedroom or to these rooms, for your rest will then be safe.

      But if you are not careful, then…” He finished his speech with the movement of his hands as if he were washing them. I quite understood. I only doubted that any dream could be more terrible than the unnatural, horrible net of gloom and mystery which was closing around me.

      Later. I think that I will not fear to sleep in any place where he is not. I have put the crucifix over the head of my bed – I think that my rest is thus freer from dreams.

      When he left me I went to my room. But in a little while I came out and went up the stone stair to where I could look out towards the South. I wanted some fresh air. I looked out over the beautiful view in soft yellow moonlight. This beauty cheered me; there was peace and comfort in the nihgt air. I leaned from the window and suddenly saw that something was moving on a storey below me. I drew a little back from the window and looked carefully out.

      As I watched, the Count emerged from the window and began to crawl down the castle wall over that dreadful precipice, face down, and his cloak was spreading out around him like great wings. His fingers and toes grasped at the corners of the stones, and he moved quickly just as a lizard moves along a wall.

      I am in awful fear of this horrible place; there is no escape for me; there are horrors around me that I dare not think of…

      15 May. The Count went out in his lizard manner again. I knew that he had left the castle now, and decided to use the opportunity to explore more than I had dared to do as yet. I went back to my room and took a lamp. I tried all the doors on my way. They were all locked, as I had expected. Then I went down the stone stairs to the hall where I had entered on arrival. I pulled back the bolts easily enough and unhooked the great chains, but the door was locked, and the key was gone! That key must be in the Count's room. I must watch for the chance when his door is unlocked, so that I may get it and escape. I continued to examine the various stairs and passages and to try the doors that opened from them. At last I found one door at the top of the stairway that was not really locked. The hinges had fallen somewhat, and the heavy door rested on the floor. Here was an opportunity which I might not have again, so, with many efforts, I forced it back and entered. From the windows I could see that the suite of rooms lay along to the south of the castle; the windows of the end room looked out both west and south. On both sides there was a great precipice. The castle was built on the corner of a great rock, so that on three sides it was quite impregnable. This was evidently the portion of the castle occupied by the ladies in old times, for the furniture was more comfortable here. I had come to hate those rooms where I met with the Count. So here I am sitting at a little oak table where in old times possibly some fair lady sat and wrote her ill-spelt love-letter, and writing in my diary in shorthand all that has happened since I closed it last. It is nineteenth century now. But I feel that the old centuries had, and have, powers of their own which mere “modernity” cannot kill.

      Later: the Morning of 16 May. When I had written in my diary and had fortunately put the book and pen in my pocket, I felt sleepy. The Count's warning came into my mind, but the soft moonlight soothed, and the view of the wide expanse from the windows gave a sense of freedom which refreshed me. I decided not to return to-night to the gloomy rooms, but to sleep here, where, of old, ladies had sat and sung and lived sweet lives while their gentle hearts were sad for their menfolk away in the midst of remorseless wars. I drew a great couch out of its place near the corner, so that as I lay, I could look at the lovely view to east and south. I suppose I fell asleep; I hope so. But all that followed was so frighteningly real that now, in the broad, full sunlight of the morning, I cannot believe that it was

9

Wallach – валахи, общее название предков восточнороманских народов (румын, молдаван и др.).