Reading Help DRACULA by Bram Stoker Ch.1-12
both leave evidence that I have been seen in the towns or villages `
` posting my own letters, and that any wickedness which he may do shall `
` by the local people be attributed to me. `
` `
` It makes me rage to think that this can go on, and whilst I am shut up `
` here, a veritable prisoner, but without that protection of the law `
` which is even a criminal's right and consolation. `
` `
` I thought I would watch for the Count's return, and for a long time `
` sat doggedly at the window. Then I began to notice that there were `
` some quaint little specks floating in the rays of the moonlight. They `
` were like the tiniest grains of dust, and they whirled round and `
` gathered in clusters in a nebulous sort of way. I watched them with a `
` sense of soothing, and a sort of calm stole over me. I leaned back in `
` the embrasure in a more comfortable position, so that I could enjoy `
` more fully the aerial gambolling. `
` `
` Something made me start up, a low, piteous howling of dogs somewhere `
` far below in the valley, which was hidden from my sight. Louder it `
` seemed to ring in my ears, and the floating moats of dust to take new `
` shapes to the sound as they danced in the moonlight. I felt myself `
` struggling to awake to some call of my instincts. Nay, my very soul `
` was struggling, and my half-remembered sensibilities were striving to `
` answer the call. I was becoming hypnotised! `
` `
` Quicker and quicker danced the dust. The moonbeams seemed to quiver `
` as they went by me into the mass of gloom beyond. More and more they `
` gathered till they seemed to take dim phantom shapes. And then I `
` started, broad awake and in full possession of my senses, and ran `
` screaming from the place. `
` `
` The phantom shapes, which were becoming gradually materialised from `
` the moonbeams, were those three ghostly women to whom I was doomed. `
` `
` I fled, and felt somewhat safer in my own room, where there was no `
` moonlight, and where the lamp was burning brightly. `
` `
` When a couple of hours had passed I heard something stirring in the `
` Count's room, something like a sharp wail quickly suppressed. And `
` then there was silence, deep, awful silence, which chilled me. With a `
` beating heart, I tried the door, but I was locked in my prison, and `
` could do nothing. I sat down and simply cried. `
` `
` As I sat I heard a sound in the courtyard without, the agonised cry of `
` a woman. I rushed to the window, and throwing it up, peered between `
` the bars. `
` `
` There, indeed, was a woman with dishevelled hair, holding her hands `
` over her heart as one distressed with running. She was leaning `
` against the corner of the gateway. When she saw my face at the window `
` she threw herself forward, and shouted in a voice laden with menace, `
` "Monster, give me my child!" `
` `
` She threw herself on her knees, and raising up her hands, cried the `
` same words in tones which wrung my heart. Then she tore her hair and `
` beat her breast, and abandoned herself to all the violences of `
` extravagant emotion. Finally, she threw herself forward, and though I `
` could not see her, I could hear the beating of her naked hands against `
` the door. `
` `
` Somewhere high overhead, probably on the tower, I heard the voice of `
` the Count calling in his harsh, metallic whisper. His call seemed to `
` be answered from far and wide by the howling of wolves. Before many `
` minutes had passed a pack of them poured, like a pent-up dam when `
` liberated, through the wide entrance into the courtyard. `
` `
` There was no cry from the woman, and the howling of the wolves was but `
` short. Before long they streamed away singly, licking their lips. `
` `
` I could not pity her, for I knew now what had become of her child, and `
` she was better dead. `
` `
` What shall I do? What can I do? How can I escape from this dreadful `
` thing of night, gloom, and fear? `
` `
` `
` 25 June.--No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet `
` and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be. When the sun grew `
` so high this morning that it struck the top of the great gateway `
` opposite my window, the high spot which it touched seemed to me as if `
` the dove from the ark had lighted there. My fear fell from me as if `
` it had been a vaporous garment which dissolved in the warmth. `
` `
` I must take action of some sort whilst the courage of the day is upon `
` me. Last night one of my post-dated letters went to post, the first `
` of that fatal series which is to blot out the very traces of my `
` existence from the earth. `
` `
` Let me not think of it. Action! `
` `
` It has always been at night-time that I have been molested or `
` threatened, or in some way in danger or in fear. I have not yet seen `
` the Count in the daylight. Can it be that he sleeps when others wake, `
` that he may be awake whilst they sleep? If I could only get into his `
` room! But there is no possible way. The door is always locked, no `
` way for me. `
` `
` Yes, there is a way, if one dares to take it. Where his body has gone `
` why may not another body go? I have seen him myself crawl from his `
` window. Why should not I imitate him, and go in by his window? The `
` chances are desperate, but my need is more desperate still. I shall `
` risk it. At the worst it can only be death, and a man's death is not `
` a calf's, and the dreaded Hereafter may still be open to me. God help `
` me in my task! Goodbye, Mina, if I fail. Goodbye, my faithful friend `
` and second father. Goodbye, all, and last of all Mina! `
` `
` `
` Same day, later.--I have made the effort, and God helping me, have `
` come safely back to this room. I must put down every detail in order. `
` I went whilst my courage was fresh straight to the window on the south `
` side, and at once got outside on this side. The stones are big and `
` roughly cut, and the mortar has by process of time been washed away `
` between them. I took off my boots, and ventured out on the desperate `
` way. I looked down once, so as to make sure that a sudden glimpse of `
` the awful depth would not overcome me, but after that kept my eyes `
` away from it. I know pretty well the direction and distance of the `
` Count's window, and made for it as well as I could, having regard to `
` the opportunities available. I did not feel dizzy, I suppose I was `
` too excited, and the time seemed ridiculously short till I found `
` myself standing on the window sill and trying to raise up the sash. I `
` was filled with agitation, however, when I bent down and slid feet `
` foremost in through the window. Then I looked around for the Count, `
` but with surprise and gladness, made a discovery. The room was `
` empty! It was barely furnished with odd things, which seemed to have `
` never been used. `
` `
` The furniture was something the same style as that in the south rooms, `
` and was covered with dust. I looked for the key, but it was not in `
` the lock, and I could not find it anywhere. The only thing I found `
` was a great heap of gold in one corner, gold of all kinds, Roman, and `
` British, and Austrian, and Hungarian, and Greek and Turkish money, `
` covered with a film of dust, as though it had lain long in the ground. `
` None of it that I noticed was less than three hundred years old. `
` There were also chains and ornaments, some jewelled, but all of them `
` old and stained. `
` `
` At one corner of the room was a heavy door. I tried it, for, since I `
` could not find the key of the room or the key of the outer door, which `
` was the main object of my search, I must make further examination, or `
` all my efforts would be in vain. It was open, and led through a stone `
` passage to a circular stairway, which went steeply down. `
` `
` I descended, minding carefully where I went for the stairs were dark, `
` being only lit by loopholes in the heavy masonry. At the bottom there `
` was 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 a search 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 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. `
` `
` `
` 29 June.--Today 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 weapon wrought along 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 could `
` look as he said, "Tomorrow, 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. Tomorrow I `
` shall not be here, but all shall be ready for your journey. In the `
` morning come the Szgany, who have some labours 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 `
` from Bukovina to Bistritz. 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 I asked him point-blank, "Why may I not go `
`
` posting my own letters, and that any wickedness which he may do shall `
` by the local people be attributed to me. `
` `
` It makes me rage to think that this can go on, and whilst I am shut up `
` here, a veritable prisoner, but without that protection of the law `
` which is even a criminal's right and consolation. `
` `
` I thought I would watch for the Count's return, and for a long time `
` sat doggedly at the window. Then I began to notice that there were `
` some quaint little specks floating in the rays of the moonlight. They `
` were like the tiniest grains of dust, and they whirled round and `
` gathered in clusters in a nebulous sort of way. I watched them with a `
` sense of soothing, and a sort of calm stole over me. I leaned back in `
` the embrasure in a more comfortable position, so that I could enjoy `
` more fully the aerial gambolling. `
` `
` Something made me start up, a low, piteous howling of dogs somewhere `
` far below in the valley, which was hidden from my sight. Louder it `
` seemed to ring in my ears, and the floating moats of dust to take new `
` shapes to the sound as they danced in the moonlight. I felt myself `
` struggling to awake to some call of my instincts. Nay, my very soul `
` was struggling, and my half-remembered sensibilities were striving to `
` answer the call. I was becoming hypnotised! `
` `
` Quicker and quicker danced the dust. The moonbeams seemed to quiver `
` as they went by me into the mass of gloom beyond. More and more they `
` gathered till they seemed to take dim phantom shapes. And then I `
` started, broad awake and in full possession of my senses, and ran `
` screaming from the place. `
` `
` The phantom shapes, which were becoming gradually materialised from `
` the moonbeams, were those three ghostly women to whom I was doomed. `
` `
` I fled, and felt somewhat safer in my own room, where there was no `
` moonlight, and where the lamp was burning brightly. `
` `
` When a couple of hours had passed I heard something stirring in the `
` Count's room, something like a sharp wail quickly suppressed. And `
` then there was silence, deep, awful silence, which chilled me. With a `
` beating heart, I tried the door, but I was locked in my prison, and `
` could do nothing. I sat down and simply cried. `
` `
` As I sat I heard a sound in the courtyard without, the agonised cry of `
` a woman. I rushed to the window, and throwing it up, peered between `
` the bars. `
` `
` There, indeed, was a woman with dishevelled hair, holding her hands `
` over her heart as one distressed with running. She was leaning `
` against the corner of the gateway. When she saw my face at the window `
` she threw herself forward, and shouted in a voice laden with menace, `
` "Monster, give me my child!" `
` `
` She threw herself on her knees, and raising up her hands, cried the `
` same words in tones which wrung my heart. Then she tore her hair and `
` beat her breast, and abandoned herself to all the violences of `
` extravagant emotion. Finally, she threw herself forward, and though I `
` could not see her, I could hear the beating of her naked hands against `
` the door. `
` `
` Somewhere high overhead, probably on the tower, I heard the voice of `
` the Count calling in his harsh, metallic whisper. His call seemed to `
` be answered from far and wide by the howling of wolves. Before many `
` minutes had passed a pack of them poured, like a pent-up dam when `
` liberated, through the wide entrance into the courtyard. `
` `
` There was no cry from the woman, and the howling of the wolves was but `
` short. Before long they streamed away singly, licking their lips. `
` `
` I could not pity her, for I knew now what had become of her child, and `
` she was better dead. `
` `
` What shall I do? What can I do? How can I escape from this dreadful `
` thing of night, gloom, and fear? `
` `
` `
` 25 June.--No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet `
` and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be. When the sun grew `
` so high this morning that it struck the top of the great gateway `
` opposite my window, the high spot which it touched seemed to me as if `
` the dove from the ark had lighted there. My fear fell from me as if `
` it had been a vaporous garment which dissolved in the warmth. `
` `
` I must take action of some sort whilst the courage of the day is upon `
` me. Last night one of my post-dated letters went to post, the first `
` of that fatal series which is to blot out the very traces of my `
` existence from the earth. `
` `
` Let me not think of it. Action! `
` `
` It has always been at night-time that I have been molested or `
` threatened, or in some way in danger or in fear. I have not yet seen `
` the Count in the daylight. Can it be that he sleeps when others wake, `
` that he may be awake whilst they sleep? If I could only get into his `
` room! But there is no possible way. The door is always locked, no `
` way for me. `
` `
` Yes, there is a way, if one dares to take it. Where his body has gone `
` why may not another body go? I have seen him myself crawl from his `
` window. Why should not I imitate him, and go in by his window? The `
` chances are desperate, but my need is more desperate still. I shall `
` risk it. At the worst it can only be death, and a man's death is not `
` a calf's, and the dreaded Hereafter may still be open to me. God help `
` me in my task! Goodbye, Mina, if I fail. Goodbye, my faithful friend `
` and second father. Goodbye, all, and last of all Mina! `
` `
` `
` Same day, later.--I have made the effort, and God helping me, have `
` come safely back to this room. I must put down every detail in order. `
` I went whilst my courage was fresh straight to the window on the south `
` side, and at once got outside on this side. The stones are big and `
` roughly cut, and the mortar has by process of time been washed away `
` between them. I took off my boots, and ventured out on the desperate `
` way. I looked down once, so as to make sure that a sudden glimpse of `
` the awful depth would not overcome me, but after that kept my eyes `
` away from it. I know pretty well the direction and distance of the `
` Count's window, and made for it as well as I could, having regard to `
` the opportunities available. I did not feel dizzy, I suppose I was `
` too excited, and the time seemed ridiculously short till I found `
` myself standing on the window sill and trying to raise up the sash. I `
` was filled with agitation, however, when I bent down and slid feet `
` foremost in through the window. Then I looked around for the Count, `
` but with surprise and gladness, made a discovery. The room was `
` empty! It was barely furnished with odd things, which seemed to have `
` never been used. `
` `
` The furniture was something the same style as that in the south rooms, `
` and was covered with dust. I looked for the key, but it was not in `
` the lock, and I could not find it anywhere. The only thing I found `
` was a great heap of gold in one corner, gold of all kinds, Roman, and `
` British, and Austrian, and Hungarian, and Greek and Turkish money, `
` covered with a film of dust, as though it had lain long in the ground. `
` None of it that I noticed was less than three hundred years old. `
` There were also chains and ornaments, some jewelled, but all of them `
` old and stained. `
` `
` At one corner of the room was a heavy door. I tried it, for, since I `
` could not find the key of the room or the key of the outer door, which `
` was the main object of my search, I must make further examination, or `
` all my efforts would be in vain. It was open, and led through a stone `
` passage to a circular stairway, which went steeply down. `
` `
` I descended, minding carefully where I went for the stairs were dark, `
` being only lit by loopholes in the heavy masonry. At the bottom there `
` was 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 a search 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 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. `
` `
` `
` 29 June.--Today 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 weapon wrought along 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 could `
` look as he said, "Tomorrow, 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. Tomorrow I `
` shall not be here, but all shall be ready for your journey. In the `
` morning come the Szgany, who have some labours 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 `
` from Bukovina to Bistritz. 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 I asked him point-blank, "Why may I not go `
`