Kitabı oxu: «Дракула / Dracula», səhifə 3

Yes, there is a way! He crawled from his window. Why can’t I imitate him? I shall risk it. 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 have come safely back to this room. I got outside on the narrow ledge of stone which runs around the building. The stones are big and roughly cut. I took off my boots, I knew pretty well the direction and distance of the Count’s window. I did not feel dizzy – I suppose I was too excited – and the time seemed ridiculously short. I was filled with agitation.

I bent down and slid in through the window. Then I looked around for the Count, but, with surprise and gladness, made a discovery. The room was empty! The furniture 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. There were also chains and ornaments, all of them old and stained.

At one corner of the room was a heavy door. I tried it. It was open, and led through a stone passage to a circular stairway. I descended. At the bottom there was a dark, tunnel-like passage, through which came a deathly, sickly odour. At last I pulled open a heavy door, and found myself in an old, ruined chapel, which was used as a graveyard. There were great wooden boxes, those which the gypsies had brought. In two of these boxes I saw nothing except fragments of old coffins and piles of dust; in the third, however, I made a discovery.

There lay the Count! He was either dead or asleep – for his eyes were open and stony. I fled from the place, and left the Count’s room by the window, crawled again up the castle wall. In my room, I tried to think…

29 June. – Today is the date of my last letter. I came to the library, and read there till I fell asleep.

I was awakened by the Count. He said, “Tomorrow, my friend, we must part. You return to your beautiful England, I – to some work. We may never meet. In the morning my carriage will come for you, and will bring you to the Borgo Pass to meet the diligence from Bukovina to Bistritz. But I hope to see you again at Castle Dracula.”

“Why may I not go tonight?”

“Because, dear sir, my coachman and horses are away.”

“But I can walk with pleasure. I want to get away at once.”

He smiled, a soft, smooth, diabolical smile. 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, “Come with me, my dear young friend. Come!”

He, with the lamp, went down the stairs and along the hall. Suddenly he stopped.

“Hark!”

I heard the howling of many wolves. Their red jaws, with ugly teeth, 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, I could do nothing. But still the door continued slowly to open. As a last chance I cried out, “Shut the door! I shall wait till morning”. And covered my face with my hands to hide my tears of bitter disappointment.

The Count shut the door. In silence we returned to the library, and after a minute or two I went to my own room. Count Dracula was smiling.

When I was in my room, I heard voices at my door. I went to it softly and listened. I heard the voice of the Count, “Back, back, to your own place! Your time is not yet come. Wait! Have patience! Tonight is mine. Tomorrow night is yours!”

In a rage I opened the door, and saw three terrible women licking their lips. They all joined in a horrible laugh, and ran away.

I came back to my room. It is then so near the end? Tomorrow! Tomorrow! Lord, help me, and those to whom I am dear!

30 June, morning. – These may be the last words I ever write in this diary. I slept till just before the dawn. I came down and drew back the massive bolts. But the door would not move. Despair seized me. I pulled, and pulled, at the door, and shook it. No luck. It was locked.

Where is the key? I decided to crawl the wall again and get to 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. 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.

The great box was in the same place. There lay the Count, but he looked much younger than before. The white hair and moustache were changed to dark grey; the cheeks were fuller, and the white skin seemed red; the mouth was redder than ever, for on the lips were gouts of fresh blood. I stopped and looked at the Count. There was a mocking smile on the face. I must rid the world of such a monster. I seized a shovel, and lifted it high. But as I did so the head turned. The sight paralyzed me, and the shovel turned in my hand and glanced from the face. The shovel fell from my hand across the box, and as I pulled it away the edge of the lid moved and hid the horrid Count from my sight.

I ran from the place to the Count’s room and listened. I heard downstairs the grinding of the key in the great lock and the falling back of the heavy door. Then there came the sound of many feet. I turned and ran down again towards the vault, where I might find the new entrance. But alas! I was again a prisoner.

I am alone in the castle with those awful women. They are real devils! I shall not remain alone with them; I shall try to crawl the castle wall. I shall take some of the gold with me. I may find a way from this dreadful place.

And then away for home! Away to the quickest and nearest train! Away from this cursed spot, from this cursed land, where the devil and his children still walk with earthly feet!

The precipice is steep and high. But it is better to try to escape than to stay here.

Goodbye, all! Mina!

Letter from Miss Mina Murray to Miss Lucy Westenra⁵⁸

9 May.

My dearest Lucy,

I want to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely. Jonathan and I sometimes write letters in shorthand, and he is keeping a stenographic journal of his travels abroad. When I am with you I shall keep a diary in the same way. I shall try to do what I see journalists do: interviewing and writing. I will tell you of my little plans when we meet. I have just received a few lines from Jonathan from Transylvania. He is well, and will return in about a week. It’s ten o’clock. Goodbye.

Your loving

Mina

P. S. Tell me all the news when you write. I hear rumours, and especially of a tall, handsome, curly-haired man???

Letter, Lucy Westenra to Mina Murray

17, Chatham Street,

Wednesday.

My dearest Mina,

I have nothing to tell you. There is really nothing to interest for walks and rides in the park. As to⁵⁹ the tall, curly-haired man, that is Mr. Holmwood.⁶⁰ He often comes to see us.

We met some time ago a very interesting man. He is handsome and rich. He is a doctor and really clever. He is only nine-and-twenty, and he has his own lunatic asylum.⁶¹ Mr. Holmwood introduced him to me, and he often comes now. He seems absolutely imperturbable. Arthur is not against him. Oh, Arthur!

Mina, we have told all our secrets to each other since we were children; we have slept together and eaten together, and laughed and cried together. Oh, Mina, can you guess? I love him. Arthur. I think he loves me, too, although he has not told me so in words. But oh, Mina, I love him; I love him; I love him! Please, tell me all that you think about it.

Mina, I must stop. Goodnight. Bless me in your prayers; and, Mina, pray for my happiness.

Lucy

P. S. Of course, this is a secret. Goodnight again.

Letter, Lucy Westenra to Mina Murray

24 May.

My dearest Mina,

Thanks, and thanks, and thanks again for your sweet letter. My dear, I shall be twenty in September, and yet I never had a proposal⁶² till today, not a real proposal, and today I have had three. Three proposals in one day! Isn’t it awful! I feel sorry, really and truly sorry, for two of the poor fellows. Oh, Mina, I am so happy that I don’t know what to do with myself. And three proposals!

Well, my dear, number One came just before lunch. I told you of him, Dr. John Seward,⁶³ the lunatic-asylum man,⁶⁴ with the strong jaw and the good forehead. He was very cool outwardly, but was nervous all the same. He spoke to me, Mina, very straightforwardly.⁶⁵ He told me how dear I was to him. He said that he was my friend. My dear, I must stop here at present, I feel so miserable, though I am so happy.

24 May, evening.

Arthur has just gone, so I can go on. Well, my dear, number Two came after lunch. He is an American from Texas, and he looks young and fresh. Mr. Quincey P. Morris⁶⁶ telling us his stories, and Arthur never told any, and yet —

My dear, Mr. Morris is really well educated and has exquisite manners. He took my hand in his, and said ever so sweetly, “Miss Lucy, you are an honest hearted girl, I know. Tell me, is there any one else that you love? And if there is I’ll be just a very faithful friend.”

My dear Mina, why are men so noble when we women are so little worthy of them? I was able to look into Mr. Morris’s brave eyes, and I told him, “Yes, there is some one I love.”

Ever your loving

Lucy.

P. S. Oh, about number Three – I needn’t tell you of number Three, need I? Besides, it was all so confused. When he entered the room, he kissed me. I am very, very happy, and I don’t know what I have done to deserve it. God Himself sent me such a lover, such a husband, and such a friend.

Goodbye.

Dr. Seward’s Diary

25 May. – No appetite today. I cannot eat, cannot rest. The only cure for this is work, so I went to the asylum. There is a patient there who is of great interest to me.

R. M. Renfield,⁶⁷ 59. Sanguine temperament;⁶⁸ great physical strength; morbidly excitable; periods of gloom, fixed ideas.⁶⁹

Mina Murray’s Journal

24 July. Whitby.⁷⁰ – Lucy met me at the station, she looks sweeter and lovelier than ever. This is a lovely place. The little river, the Esk,⁷¹ runs through a deep valley. The valley is beautifully green. The houses of the old town are all red-roofed; there is a legend that one can see a white lady in one of the windows. Between it and the town there is a church. This is the nicest spot in Whitby.

I shall go home at the moment. Lucy with her mother will be home soon.

1 August. – I came up here an hour ago with Lucy, and we had a most interesting talk with my old friend. Lucy looks sweetly pretty in her white dress; she has got a beautiful colour since she has been here. She is so sweet with old people; I think they all fell in love with her.

Lucy told me all over again about Arthur and their future marriage. That made me just a little sad, for I haven’t heard from Jonathan for a whole month.

Same day, later. – I came up here alone, for I am very sad. There was no letter for me. Where is Jonathan? Does he think of me?

Dr. Seward’s Diary

5 June. – The case of Renfield becomes more interesting. He has certain qualities; selfishness, secrecy, and purpose.⁷² He has some scheme, but what it is I do not yet know. He loves animals and insects very much, though his love is very strange. Just now his hobby is catching flies. What will he do with them? I must watch him.

18 June. – He has turned to spiders, and has got several very big spiders in a box. He feeds them with his flies.

1 July. – He disgusted me much. While with him, a horrid fly came into the room, he caught it, held it for a few moments between his finger and thumb, and, before I knew what he was going to do, put it in his mouth and ate it. I scolded him for it, but he argued quietly that it was very good and very wholesome. He has evidently some deep problem in his mind, for he keeps a little notebook in which he is always writing down something. Whole pages of it are filled with figures.

8 July. – There is a method in his madness. He has managed to get a sparrow.⁷³ The spiders have diminished.

19 July. – We are progressing. My friend has now a whole colony of sparrows, and his flies and spiders almost disappeared. When I came in he ran to me and said he wanted to ask me a great favour – a very, very great favour. I asked him what it was, and he said, with a sort of rapture in his voice, “A kitten, a nice little, sleek playful kitten, I want to play with it, teach it, and feed it – and feed – and feed!”

I could see his face; there was a warning of danger in it, for there was a sudden fierce, sidelong look which meant killing. The man is a maniac.

20 July. – I visited Renfield very early. He was spreading out his sugar, which he had saved. I looked around for his birds, and did not see them. I asked him where they were. He replied that they had all flown away. There were a few feathers in the room and on his pillow a drop of blood. I said nothing.

20 July, 11 a.m. – The attendant said that Renfield was very sick and disgorged a whole lot of feathers. “I am sure, doctor,” he said, “that he has eaten his birds!”