/Mina Harker’s Journal./
_1 November._--All day long we have travelled, and at a good speed.
The horses seem to know that they are being kindly treated, for they
go willingly their full stage at best speed. We have now had so many
changes and find the same thing so constantly that we are encouraged to
think that the journey will be an easy one. Dr. Van Helsing is laconic;
he tells the farmers that he is hurrying to Bistritz, and pays them
well to make the exchange of horses. We get hot soup, or coffee, or
tea; and off we go. It is a lovely country; full of beauties of all
imaginable kinds, and the people are brave, and strong, and simple, and
seem full of nice qualities. They are very, very superstitious. In the
first house where we stopped, when the woman who served us saw the scar
on my forehead, she crossed herself and put out two fingers towards me,
to keep off the evil eye. I believe they went to the trouble of putting
an extra amount of garlic into our food; and I can’t abide garlic.
Ever since then I have taken care not to take off my hat or veil, and
so have escaped their suspicions. We are travelling fast, and as we
have no driver with us to carry tales, we go ahead of scandal; but I
daresay that fear of the evil eye will follow hard behind us all the
way. The Professor seems tireless; all day he would not take any rest,
though he made me sleep for a long spell. At sunset time he hypnotized
me, and he says that I answered as usual “darkness, lapping water
and creaking wood;” so our enemy is still on the river. I am afraid
to think of Jonathan, but somehow I have now no fear for him, or for
myself. I write this whilst we wait in a farmhouse for the horses to be
got ready. Dr. Van Helsing is sleeping. Poor dear, he looks very tired
and old and grey, but his mouth is set as firmly as a conqueror’s; even
in his sleep he is instinct with resolution. When we have well started
I must make him rest whilst I drive. I shall tell him that we have days
before us, and he must not break down when most of all his strength
will be needed.... All is ready; we are off shortly.
_2 November, morning._--I was successful, and we took turns driving
all night; now the day is on us, bright though cold. There is a strange
heaviness in the air--I say heaviness for want of a better word; I mean
that it oppresses us both. It is very cold, and only our warm furs keep
us comfortable. At dawn Van Helsing hypnotised me; he says I answered
“darkness, creaking wood and roaring water,” so the river is changing
as they ascend. I do hope that my darling will not run any chance of
danger--more than need be; but we are in God’s hands.
_2 November, night._--All day long driving. The country gets wilder as
we go, and the great spurs of the Carpathians, which at Veresti seemed
so far from us and so low on the horizon, now seem to gather round us
and tower in front. We both seem in good spirits; I think we make an
effort each to cheer the other; in the doing so we cheer ourselves.
Dr. Van Helsing says that by morning we shall reach the Borgo Pass.
The houses are very few here now, and the Professor says that the last
horses we got will have to go on with us, as we may not be able to
change. He got two in addition to the two we changed, so that now we
have a rude four-in-hand. The dear horses are patient and good, and
they give us no trouble. We are not worried with other travellers, and
so even I can drive. We shall get to the Pass in daylight; we do not
want to arrive before. So we take it easy, and have each a long rest
in turn. Oh, what will to-morrow bring to us? We go to seek the place
where my poor darling suffered so much. God grant that we may be guided
aright, and that He will deign to watch over my husband and those dear
to us both, and who are in such deadly peril. As for me, I am not
worthy in His sight. Alas! I am unclean to His eyes, and shall be until
He may deign to let me stand forth in His sight as one of those who
have not incurred His wrath.
_Memorandum by Abraham Van Helsing._
_4 November._--This to my old and true friend John Seward, M.D.,
of Purfleet, London, in case I may not see him. It may explain. It
is morning, and I write by a fire which all the night I have kept
alive--Madam Mina aiding me. It is cold, cold; so cold that the grey
heavy sky is full of snow, which when it falls will settle for all
winter as the ground is hardening to receive it. It seems to have
affected Madam Mina; she has been so heavy of head all day that she
was not like herself. She sleeps, and sleeps, and sleeps! She, who
is usual so alert, have done literally nothing all the day; she even
have lost her appetite. She make no entry into her little diary, she
who write so faithful at every pause. Something whisper to me that all
is not well. However, to-night she is more _vif_. Her long sleep all
day have refresh and restore her, for now she is all sweet and bright
as ever. At sunset I try to hypnotise her, but alas! with no effect;
the power has grown less and less with each day, and to-night it fail
me altogether. Well, God’s will be done--whatever it may be, and
whithersoever it may lead!
Now to the historical, for as Madam Mina write not in her stenography,
I must, in my cumbrous old fashion, that so each day of us may not go
unrecorded.
We got to the Borgo Pass just after sunrise yesterday morning. When I
saw the signs of the dawn I got ready for the hypnotism. We stopped our
carriage, and got down so that there might be no disturbance. I made a
couch with furs, and Madam Mina, lying down, yield herself as usual,
but more slow and more short time than ever, to the hypnotic sleep. As
before, came the answer: “darkness and the swirling of water.” Then
she woke, bright and radiant, and we go on our way and soon reach the
Pass. At this time and place she become all on fire with zeal; some new
guiding power be in her manifested, for she point to a road and say:--
“This is the way.”
“How know you it?” I ask.
“Of course I know it,” she answer, and with a pause, add: “Have not my
Jonathan travel it and wrote of his travel?”
At first I think somewhat strange, but soon I see that there be only
one such by-road. It is used but little, and very different from the
coach road from Bukovina to Bistritz, which is more wide and hard, and
more of use.
So we came down this road; when we meet other ways--not always were we
sure that they were roads at all, for they be neglect and light snow
have fallen--the horses know and they only. I give rein to them, and
they go on so patient. By-and-by we find all the things which Jonathan
have note in that wonderful diary of him. Then we go on for long, long
hours and hours. At the first, I tell Madam Mina to sleep; she try, and
she succeed. She sleep all the time; till at the last, I feel myself
to suspicious grow, and attempt to wake her. But she sleep on, and I
may not wake her though I try. I do not wish to try too hard lest I
harm her; for I know that she have suffer much, and sleep at times be
all--in--all to her. I think I drowse myself, for all of sudden I feel
guilt, as though I have done something; I find myself bolt up, with the
reins in my hand, and the good horses go along jog, jog, just as ever.
I look down and find Madam Mina still sleep. It is now not far off
sunset time, and over the snow the light of the sun flow in big yellow
flood, so that we throw great long shadow on where the mountain rise so
steep. For we are going up, and up; and all is oh! so wild and rocky,
as though it were the end of the world.
Then I arouse Madam Mina. This time she wake with not much trouble, and
then I try to put her to hypnotic sleep. But she sleep not, being as
though I were not. Still I try and try, till all at once I find her and
myself in dark; so I look round, and find that the sun have gone down.
Madam Mina laugh, and I turn and look at her. She is now quite awake,
and look so well as I never saw her since that night at Carfax when
we first enter the Count’s house. I am amaze, and not at ease then;
but she is so bright and tender and thoughtful for me that I forget
all fear. I light a fire, for we have brought supply of wood with us,
and she prepare food while I undo the horses and set them, tethered in
shelter, to feed. Then when I return to the fire she have my supper
ready. I go to help her; but she smile, and tell me that she have eat
already--that she was so hungry that she would not wait. I like it not,
and I have grave doubts; but I fear to affright her, and so I am silent
of it. She help me and I eat alone; and then we wrap in fur and lie
beside the fire, and I tell her to sleep while I watch. But presently
I forget all of watching; and when I sudden remember that I watch,
I find her lying quiet, but awake, and looking at me with so bright
eyes. Once, twice more the same occur, and I get much sleep till before
morning. When I wake I try to hypnotise her; but alas! though she shut
her eyes obedient, she may not sleep. The sun rise up, and up, and up;
and then sleep come to her too late, but so heavy that she will not
wake. I have to lift her up and place her sleeping in the carriage when
I have harnessed the horses and made all ready. Madam still sleep,
and sleep; and she look in her sleep more healthy and more redder than
before. And I like it not. And I am afraid, afraid, afraid!--I am
afraid of all things--even to think; but I must go on my way. The stake
we play for is life and death, or more than these, and we must not
flinch.
_5 November, morning._--Let me be accurate in everything, for though
you and I have seen some strange things together, you may at the first
think that I, Van Helsing, am mad--that the many horrors and the so
long strain on nerves has at the last turn my brain.
All yesterday we travel, ever getting closer to the mountains, and
moving into a more and more wild and desert land. There are great,
frowning precipices and much falling water, and Nature seemed to have
held sometime her carnival. Madam Mina still sleep and sleep; and
though I did have hunger and appeased it, I could not waken her--even
for food. I began to fear that the fatal spell of the place was upon
her, tainted as she is with that Vampire baptism. “Well,” said I to
myself, “if it be that she sleep all the day, it shall also be that I
do not sleep at night.” As we travel on the rough road, for a road of
an ancient and imperfect kind there was, I held down my head and slept.
Again I waked with a sense of guilt and of time passed, and found Madam
Mina still sleeping, and the sun low down. But all was indeed changed;
the frowning mountains seemed further away, and we were near the top
of a steep-rising hill, on summit of which was such as castle as
Jonathan tell of in his diary. At once I exulted and feared; for now,
for good or ill, the end was near. I woke Madam Mina, and again tried
to hypnotise her; but alas! unavailing till too late. Then, ere the
great dark came upon us--for even after down-sun the heavens reflected
the gone sun on the snow, and all was for a time in a great twilight--I
took out the horses and fed them in what shelter I could. Then I make a
fire; and near it I made Madam Mina, now awake and more charming than
ever, sit comfortable amid her rugs. I got ready food: but she would
not eat, simply saying that she had not hunger. I did not press her,
knowing her unavailingness. But I myself eat, for I must needs now be
strong for all. Then, with the fear on me of what might be, I drew a
ring so big for her comfort, round where Madam Mina sat; and over the
ring I passed some of the wafer, and I broke it fine so that all was
well guarded. She sat still all the time--so still as one dead; and she
grew whiter and ever whiter till the snow was not more pale; and no
word she said. But when I drew near, she clung to me, and I could know
that the poor soul shook her from head to feet with a tremor that was
pain to feel. I said to her presently, when she had grown more quiet:--
“Will you not come over to the fire?” for I wished to make a test of
what she could. She rose obedient, but when she have made a step she
stopped, and stood as one stricken.
“Why not go on?” I asked. She shook her head, and, coming back, sat
down in her place. Then, looking at me with open eyes, as of one waked
from sleep, she said simply:--
“I cannot!” and remained silent. I rejoiced, for I knew that what she
could not, none of those that we dreaded could. Though there might be
danger to her body, yet her soul was safe!
Presently the horses began to scream, and tore at their tethers till
I came to them and quieted them. When they did feel my hands on them,
they whinnied low as in joy, and licked at my hands and were quiet
for a time. Many times through the night did I come to them, till it
arrive to the cold hour when all nature is at lowest; and every time
my coming was with quiet of them. In the cold hour the fire began to
die, and I was about stepping forth to replenish it, for now the snow
came in flying sweeps and with it a chill mist. Even in the dark there
was a light of some kind, as there ever is over snow; and it seemed as
though the snow-flurries and the wreaths of mist took shape as of women
with trailing garments. All was in dead, grim silence, only that the
horses whinnied and cowered, as if in terror of the worst. I began to
fear--horrible fears; but then came to me the sense of safety in that
ring wherein I stood. I began, too, to think that my imaginings were
of the night, and the gloom, and the unrest that I have gone through,
and all the terrible anxiety. It was as though my memories of all
Jonathan’s horrid experience were befooling me; for the snow flakes and
the mist began to wheel and circle round, till I could get as though
a shadowy glimpse of those women that would have kissed him. And then
the horses cowered lower and lower, and moaned in terror as men do in
pain. Even the madness of fright was not to them, so that they could
break away. I feared for my dear Madam Mina when these weird figures
drew near and circled round. I looked at her, but she sat calm, and
smiled at me; when I would have stepped to the fire to replenish it,
she caught me and held me back, and whispered, like a voice that one
hears in a dream, so low it was:--
“No! No! Do not go without. Here you are safe!” I turned to her, and
looking in her eyes, said:--
“But you? It is for you that I fear!” whereat she laughed--a laugh low
and unreal, and said:--
“Fear for _me_! Why fear for me? None safer in all the world from them
than I am,” and as I wondered at the meaning of her words, a puff of
wind made the flame leap up, and I see the red scar on her forehead.
Then, alas! I knew. Did I not, I would soon have learned, for the
wheeling figures of mist and snow came closer, but keeping ever without
the Holy circle. Then they began to materialise, till--if God have not
take away my reason, for I saw it through my eyes--there were before
me in actual flesh the same three women that Jonathan saw in the room,
when they would have kissed his throat. I knew the swaying round forms,
the bright hard eyes, the white teeth, the ruddy colour, the voluptuous
lips. They smiled ever at poor dear Madam Mina; and as their laugh came
through the silence of the night, they twined their arms and pointed to
her, and said in those so sweet tingling tones that Jonathan said were
of the intolerable sweetness of the water-glasses:--
“Come, sister. Come to us. Come! Come!” In fear I turned to my poor
Madam Mina, and my heart with gladness leapt like flame; for oh! the
terror in her sweet eyes, the repulsion, the horror, told a story to my
heart that was all of hope. God be thanked she was not, yet, of them.
I seized some of the firewood which was by me, and holding out some of
the Wafer, advanced on them towards the fire. They drew back before me,
and laughed their low horrid laugh. I fed the fire, and feared them
not; for I knew that we were safe within our protections. They could
not approach me, whilst so armed, nor Madam Mina whilst she remained
within the ring, which she could not leave no more than they could
enter. The horses had ceased to moan, and lay still on the ground; the
snow fell on them softly, and they grew whiter. I knew that there was
for the poor beasts no more of terror.
And so we remained till the red of the dawn began to fall through the
snow-gloom. I was desolate and afraid, and full of woe and terror;
but when that beautiful sun began to climb the horizon life was to me
again. At the first coming of the dawn the horrid figures melted in the
whirling mist and snow; the wreaths of transparent gloom moved away
towards the castle, and were lost.
Instinctively, with the dawn coming, I turned to Madam Mina, intending
to hypnotise her; but she lay in a deep and sudden sleep, from which
I could not wake her. I tried to hypnotise through her sleep, but she
made no response, none at all; and the day broke. I fear yet to stir. I
have made my fire and have seen the horses; they are all dead. To-day I
have much to do here, and I keep waiting till the sun is up high; for
there may be places where I must go, where that sunlight, though snow
and mist obscure it, will be to me a safety.
I will strengthen me with breakfast, and then I will to my terrible
work. Madam Mina still sleeps; and, God be thanked! she is calm in her
sleep....
_Jonathan Harker’s Journal._
_4 November, evening._--The accident to the launch has been a terrible
thing for us. Only for it we should have overtaken the boat long ago;
and by now my dear Mina would have been free. I fear to think of her,
off on the wolds near that horrid place. We have got horses, and we
follow on the track. I note this whilst Godalming is getting ready. We
have our arms. The Szgany must look out if they mean to fight. Oh, if
only Morris and Seward were with us. We must only hope! If I write no
more, Good-bye, Mina! God bless and keep you.
_Dr. Seward’s Diary._
_5 November._--With the dawn we saw the body of Szgany before us
dashing away from the river with their leiter-waggon. They surrounded
it in a cluster, and hurried along as though beset. The snow is falling
lightly and there is a strange excitement in the air. It may be our
own excited feelings, but the depression is strange. Far off I hear
the howling of wolves; the snow brings them down from the mountains,
and there are dangers to all of us, and from all sides. The horses are
nearly ready, and we are soon off. We ride to death of some one. God
alone knows who, or where, or what, or when, or how it may be....
_Dr. Van Helsing’s Memorandum._
_5 November, afternoon._--I am at least sane. Thank God for that
mercy at all events, though the proving it has been dreadful. When I
left Madam Mina sleeping within the Holy circle, I took my way to the
castle. The blacksmith hammer which I took in the carriage from Veresti
was useful; though the doors were all open I broke them off the rusty
hinges, lest some ill-intent or ill-chance should close them, so that
being entered I might not get out. Jonathan’s bitter experience served
me here. By memory of his diary I found my way to the old chapel, for
I knew that here my work lay. The air was oppressive; it seemed as if
there was some sulphurous fume, which at times made me dizzy. Either
there was a roaring in my ears or I heard afar off the howl of wolves.
Then I bethought me of my dear Madam Mina, and I was in terrible
plight. The dilemma had me between his horns. Her, I had not dare to
take into this place, but left safe from the Vampire in that Holy
circle; and yet even there would be the wolf! I resolve me that my work
lay here, and that as to the wolves we must submit, if it were God’s
Will. At any rate it was only death and freedom beyond. So did I choose
for her. Had it but been for myself the choice had been easy; the maw
of the wolf were better to rest in than the grave of the Vampire! So I
make my choice to go on with my work.
I knew that there were at least three graves to find--graves that are
inhabit; so I search, and search, and I find one of them. She lay in
her Vampire sleep, so full of life and voluptuous beauty that I shudder
as though I have come to do murder. Ah, I doubt not that in old time,
when such things were, many a man who set forth to do such a task as
mine, found at the last his heart fail him, and then his nerve. So he
delay, and delay, and delay, till the mere beauty and the fascination
of the wanton Un-Dead have hypnotise him; and he remain on, and on,
till sunset come, and the Vampire sleep be over. Then the beautiful
eyes of the fair woman open and look love, and the voluptuous mouth
present to a kiss--and man is weak. And there remain one more victim in
the Vampire fold; one more to swell the grim and grisly ranks of the
Un-Dead!...
There is some fascination, surely, when I am moved by the mere presence
of such an one, even lying as she lay in a tomb fretted with age and
heavy with the dust of centuries, though there be that horrid odour
such as the lairs of the Count have had. Yes, I was moved--I, Van
Helsing, with all my purpose and with my motive for hate--I was moved
to a yearning for delay which seemed to paralyse my faculties and to
clog my very soul. It may have been that the need of natural sleep,
and the strange oppression of the air were beginning to overcome me.
Certain it was that I was lapsing into sleep, the open-eyed sleep of
one who yields to a sweet fascination, when there came through the
snow-stilled air a long, low wail, so full of woe and pity that it woke
me like the sound of a clarion. For it was the voice of my dear Madam
Mina that I heard.
Then I braced myself again to my horrid task, and found by wrenching
away tomb-tops one other of the sisters, the other dark one. I dared
not pause to look on her as I had on her sister, lest once more I
should begin to be enthral; but I go on searching until, presently, I
find in a high great tomb as if made to one much beloved that other
fair sister which, like Jonathan I had seen to gather herself out
of the atoms of the mist. She was so fair to look on, so radiantly
beautiful, so exquisitely voluptuous, that the very instinct of man in
me, which calls some of my sex to love and to protect one of hers, made
my head whirl with new emotion. But God be thanked, that soul-wail of
my dear Madam Mina had not died out of my ears; and, before the spell
could be wrought further upon me, I had nerved myself to my wild work.
By this time I had searched all the tombs in the chapel, so far as I
could tell; and as there had been only three of these Un-Dead phantoms
around us in the night, I took it that there were no more of active
Un-Dead existent. There was one great tomb more lordly than all the
rest; huge it was, and nobly proportioned. On it was but one word
DRACULA.
This then was the Un-Dead home of the King-Vampire, to whom so many
more were due. Its emptiness spoke eloquent to make certain what I
knew. Before I began to restore these women to their dead selves
through my awful work, I laid in Dracula’s tomb some of the Wafer, and
so banished him from it, Un-Dead, for ever.
Then began my terrible task, and I dreaded it. Had it been but one,
it had been easy, comparative. But three! To begin twice more after
I had been through a deed of horror; for if it was terrible with the
sweet Miss Lucy, what would it not be with these strange ones who
had survived through centuries, and who had been strengthened by the
passing of the years; who would, if they could, have fought for their
foul lives?...
Oh, my friend John, but it was butcher work; had I not been nerved by
thoughts of other dead, and of the living over whom hung such a pall of
fear, I could not have gone on. I tremble and tremble even yet, though
till all was over, God be thanked, my nerve did stand. Had I not seen
the repose in the first face, and the gladness that stole over it just
ere the final dissolution came, as realisation that the soul had been
won, I could not have gone further with my butchery. I could not have
endured the horrid screeching as the stake drove home; the plunging of
writhing form, and lips of bloody foam. I should have fled in terror
and left my work undone. But it is over! And the poor souls, I can pity
them now and weep, as I think of them placid each in her full sleep of
death, for a short moment ere fading. For, friend John, hardly had my
knife severed the head of each, before the whole body began to melt
away and crumble into its native dust, as though the death that should
have come centuries agone had at last assert himself and say at once
and loud “I am here!”
Before I left the castle I so fixed its entrances that never more can
the Count enter there Un-Dead.
When I stepped into the circle where Madam Mina slept, she woke from
her sleep, and seeing me, cried out in pain that I had endured too much.
“Come!” she said, “come away from this awful place! Let us go to meet
my husband, who is, I know, coming towards us.” She was looking thin
and pale and weak; but her eyes were pure and glowed with fervour. I
was glad to see her paleness and her illness, for my mind was full of
the fresh horror of that ruddy Vampire sleep.
And so with trust and hope, and yet full of fear, we go eastward to
meet our friends--and _him_--whom Madam Mina tell me that she _know_
are coming to meet us.
_Mina Harker’s Journal._
_6 November._--It was late in the afternoon when the Professor and I
took our way towards the east whence I knew Jonathan was coming. We
did not go fast, though the way was steeply downhill, for we had to
take heavy rugs and wraps with us; we dared not face the possibility of
being left without warmth in the cold and the snow. We had to take some
of our provisions too, for we were in a perfect desolation, and, so
far as we could see through the snow-fall, there was not even the sign
of a habitation. When we had gone about a mile, I was tired with the
heavy walking and sat down to rest. Then we looked back and saw where
the clear line of Dracula’s castle cut the sky; for we were so deep
under the hill whereon it was set that the angle of perspective of the
Carpathian mountains was far below it. We saw it in all its grandeur,
perched a thousand feet on the summit of a sheer precipice, and with
seemingly a great gap between it and the steep of the adjacent mountain
on any side. There was something wild and uncanny about the place. We
could hear the distant howling of wolves. They were far off, but the
sound, even though coming muffled through the deadening snowfall, was
full of terror. I knew from the way Dr. Van Helsing was searching about
that he was trying to seek some strategic point, where we would be less
exposed in case of attack. The rough roadway still led downwards; we
could trace it through the drifted snow.
In a little while the Professor signalled to me, so I got up and joined
him. He had found a wonderful spot, a sort of natural hollow in a
rock, with an entrance like a doorway between two boulders. He took
me by the hand and drew me in: “See!” he said, “here you will be in
shelter; and if the wolves do come I can meet them one by one.” He
brought in our furs, and made a snug nest for me, and got out some
provisions and forced them upon me. But I could not eat; to even try to
do so was repulsive to me, and, much as I would have liked to please
him, I could not bring myself to the attempt. He looked very sad, but
did not reproach me. Taking his field-glasses from the case, he stood
on the top of the rock, and began to search the horizon. Suddenly he
called out:--
“Look! Madam Mina, look! look!” I sprang up and stood beside him on the
rock; he handed me his glasses and pointed. The snow was now falling
more heavily, and swirled about fiercely, for a high wind was beginning
to blow. However, there were times when there were pauses between the
snow flurries, and I could see a long way round. From the height where
we were it was possible to see a great distance; and far off, beyond
the white waste of snow, I could see the river lying like a black
ribbon in kinks and curls as it wound its way. Straight in front of us
and not far off--in fact so near that I wondered we had not noticed
before--came a group of mounted men hurrying along. In the midst of
them was a cart, a long leiter-waggon, which swept from side to side,
like a dog’s tail wagging, with each stern inequality of the road.
Outlined against the snow as they were, I could see from the men’s
clothes that they were peasants or gipsies of some kind.
On the cart was a great square chest. My heart leaped as I saw it, for
I felt that the end was coming. The evening was now drawing close, and
well I knew that at sunset the Thing, which was till then imprisoned
there, would take new freedom and could in any of many forms elude
all pursuit. In fear I turned to the Professor; to my consternation,
however, he was not there. An instant later, I saw him below me. Round
the rock he had drawn a circle, such as we had found shelter in last
night. When he had completed it he stood beside me again, saying:--
“At least you shall be safe here from _him_!” He took the glasses from
me, and at the next lull of the snow swept the whole space below us.
“See,” he said, “they come quickly; they are flogging the horses,
and galloping as hard as they can.” He paused and went on in a hollow
voice:--
“They are racing for the sunset. We may be too late. God’s will be
done!” Down came another blinding rush of driving snow, and the whole
landscape was blotted out. It soon passed, however, and once more his
glasses were fixed on the plain. Then came a sudden cry:--
“Look! Look! Look! See, two horsemen follow fast, coming up from the
south. It must be Quincey and John. Take the glass. Look, before the
snow blots it all out!” I took it and looked. The two men might be Dr.
Seward and Mr. Morris. I knew at all events that neither of them was
Jonathan. At the same time I _knew_ that Jonathan was not far off;
looking around I saw on the north side of the coming party two other
men, riding at break-neck speed. One of them I knew was Jonathan,
and the other I took, of course, to be Lord Godalming. They, too,
were pursuing the party with the cart. When I told the Professor he
shouted in glee like a schoolboy, and, after looking intently till a
snowfall made sight impossible, he laid his Winchester rifle ready for
use against the boulder at the opening of our shelter. “They are all
converging,” he said. “When the time comes we shall have the gipsies
on all sides.” I got out my revolver ready to hand, for whilst we
were speaking the howling of wolves came louder and closer. When the
snowstorm abated a moment we looked again. It was strange to see the
snow falling in such heavy flakes close to us, and beyond, the sun
shining more and more brightly as it sank down towards the far mountain
tops. Sweeping the glass all around us I could see here and there dots
moving singly and in twos and threes and larger numbers--the wolves
were gathering for their prey.
Every instant seemed an age whilst we waited. The wind came now in
fierce bursts, and the snow was driven with fury as it swept upon us
in circling eddies. At times we could not see an arm’s length before
us; but at others as the hollow-sounding wind swept by us, it seemed to
clear the air-space around us so that we could see afar off. We had of
late been so accustomed to watch for sunrise and sunset, that we knew
with fair accuracy when it would be; and we knew that before long the
sun would set.
It was hard to believe that by our watches it was less than an hour
that we waited in that rocky shelter before the various bodies began to
converge close upon us. The wind came now with fiercer and more bitter
sweeps, and more steadily from the north. It seemingly had driven
the snow-clouds from us, for, with only occasional bursts, the snow
fell. We could distinguish clearly the individuals of each party, the
pursued and the pursuers. Strangely enough those pursued did not seem
to realize, or at least to care, that they were pursued; they seemed,
however, to hasten with redoubled speed as the sun dropped lower and
lower on the mountain tops.
Closer and closer they drew. The Professor and I crouched down
behind our rock, and held our weapons ready; I could see that he was
determined that they should not pass. One and all were quite unaware of
our presence.
All at once two voices shouted out to: “Halt!” One was my Jonathan’s,
raised in a high key of passion; the other Mr. Morris’s strong resolute
tone of quiet command. The gipsies may not have known the language,
but there was no mistaking the tone, in whatever tongue the words were
spoken. Instinctively they reined in, and at the instant Lord Godalming
and Jonathan dashed up at one side and Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris on the
other. The leader of the gipsies, a splendid looking fellow, who sat
his horse like a centaur, waved them back, and in a fierce voice gave
to his companions some word to proceed. They lashed the horses, which
sprang forward; but the four men raised their Winchester rifles, and
in an unmistakable way commanded them to stop. At the same moment Dr.
Van Helsing and I rose behind the rock and pointed our weapons at them.
Seeing that they were surrounded, the men tightened their reins and
drew up. The leader turned to them and gave a word at which every man
of the gipsy party drew what weapon he carried, knife or pistol, and
held himself in readiness to attack. Issue was joined in an instant.
The leader, with a quick movement of his rein, threw his horse out
in front, and pointing first to the sun--now close down on the
hill-tops--and then to the castle, said something which I did not
understand. For answer, all four men of our party threw themselves
from their horses and dashed towards the cart. I should have felt
terrible fear at seeing Jonathan in such danger, but that the ardour of
battle must have been upon me as well as the rest of them; I felt no
fear, but only a wild, surging desire to do something. Seeing a quick
movement of our parties, the leader of the gipsies gave a command;
his men instantly formed round the cart in a sort of undisciplined
endeavour, each one shouldering and pushing the other in his eagerness
to carry out the order.
In the midst of this I could see that Jonathan on one side of the ring
of men, and Quincey on the other, were forcing a way to the cart; it
was evident that they were bent on finishing their task before the sun
should set. Nothing seemed to stop or even to hinder them. Neither the
levelled weapons or the flashing knives of the gipsies in front, or the
howling of the wolves behind, appeared to even attract their attention.
Jonathan’s impetuosity, and the manifest singleness of his purpose,
seemed to overawe those in front of him; instinctively they cowered
aside and let him pass. In an instant he had jumped upon the cart,
and, with a strength which seemed incredible, raised the great box,
and flung it over the wheel to the ground. In the meantime, Mr. Morris
had had to use force to pass through his side of the ring of Szgany.
All the time I had been breathlessly watching Jonathan I had, with the
tail of my eye, seen him pressing desperately forward, and had seen
the knives of the gipsies flash as he won a way through them, and they
cut at him. He had parried with his great bowie knife, and at first I
thought that he too had come through in safety; but as he sprang beside
Jonathan, who had by now jumped from the cart, I could see that with
his left hand he was clutching at his side, and that the blood was
spurting through his fingers. He did not delay notwithstanding this,
for as Jonathan, with desperate energy, attacked one end of the chest,
attempting to prise off the lid with his great kukri knife, he attacked
the other frantically with his bowie. Under the efforts of both men the
lid began to yield; the nails drew with a quick screeching sound, and
the top of the box was thrown back.
By this time the gipsies, seeing themselves covered by the Winchesters,
and at the mercy of Lord Godalming and Dr. Seward, had given in and
made no further resistance. The sun was almost down on the mountain
tops, and the shadows of the whole group fell long upon the snow. I
saw the Count lying within the box upon the earth, some of which the
rude falling from the cart had scattered over him. He was deathly pale,
just like a waxen image, and the red eyes glared with the horrible
vindictive look which I knew too well.
As I looked, the eyes saw the sinking sun, and the look of hate in them
turned to triumph.
But, on the instant, came the sweep and flash of Jonathan’s great
knife. I shrieked as I saw it shear through the throat; whilst at the
same moment Mr. Morris’ bowie knife plunged in the heart.
It was like a miracle; but before our very eyes, and almost in the
drawing of a breath, the whole body crumbled into dust and passed from
our sight.
I shall be glad as long as I live that even in that moment of final
dissolution there was in the face a look of peace, such as I never
could have imagined might have rested there.
The Castle of Dracula now stood out against the red sky, and every
stone of its broken battlements was articulated against the light of
the setting sun.
The gipsies, taking us as in some way the cause of the extraordinary
disappearance of the dead man, turned, without a word, and rode away
as if for their lives. Those who were unmounted jumped upon the
leiter-waggon and shouted to the horsemen not to desert them. The
wolves, which had withdrawn to a safe distance, followed in their wake,
leaving us alone.
Mr. Morris, who had sunk to the ground, leaned on his elbow, holding
his hand pressed to his side; the blood still gushed through his
fingers. I flew to him, for the Holy circle did not now keep me back;
so did the two doctors. Jonathan knelt behind him and the wounded man
laid back his head on his shoulder. With a sigh he took, with a feeble
effort, my hand in that of his own which was unstained. He must have
seen the anguish of my heart in my face, for he smiled at me and
said:--
“I am only too happy to have been of any service! Oh, God!” he cried
suddenly, struggling up to a sitting posture and pointing to me, “It
was worth this to die! Look! look!”
The sun was now right down upon the mountain top, and the red gleams
fell upon my face, so that it was bathed in rosy light. With one
impulse the men sank on their knees, and a deep and earnest “Amen”
broke from all as their eyes followed the pointing of his finger as the
dying man spoke:--
“Now God be thanked that all has not been in vain! See! the snow is not
more stainless than her forehead! The curse has passed away!”
And, to our bitter grief, with a smile and in silence, he died, a
gallant gentleman.
NOTE.
Seven years ago we all went through the flames; and the happiness of
some of us since then is, we think, well worth the pain we endured. It
is an added joy to Mina and to me that our boy’s birthday is the same
day as that on which Quincey Morris died. His mother holds, I know, the
secret belief that some of our brave friend’s spirit has passed into
him. His bundle of names links all our little band of men together; but
we call him Quincey.
In the summer of this year we made a journey to Transylvania, and went
over the old ground which was, and is, to us so full of vivid and
terrible memories. It was almost impossible to believe that the things
which we had seen with our own eyes and heard with our own ears were
living truths. Every trace of all that had been was blotted out. The
castle stood as before, reared high above a waste of desolation.
When we got home we got to talking of the old time--which we could all
look back on without despair, for Godalming and Seward are both happily
married. I took the papers from the safe where they have been ever
since our return so long ago. We were struck with the fact, that in all
the mass of material of which the record is composed, there is hardly
one authentic document; nothing but a mass of type-writing, except
the later note-books of Mina and Seward and myself, and Van Helsing’s
memorandum. We could hardly ask any one, even did we wish to, to accept
these as proofs of so wild a story. Van Helsing summed it all up as he
said, with our boy on his knee:--
“We want no proofs; we ask none to believe us! This boy will some day
know what a brave and gallant woman his mother is. Already he knows her
sweetness and loving care; later on he will understand how some men so
loved her, that they did dare much for her sake.”
/Jonathan Harker./