Jonathan
Harker's Journal30 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 cockcrow, 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 iron-grey. 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 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! |
