stupidly and pointed, but just then the "hetman" of the Szgany came
out, and seeing them pointing to my window, said something, at
which they laughed.
Henceforth no effort of mine, no piteous cry or agonized
entreaty, would make them even look at me. They resolutely turned
away. The leiter-wagons contained great, square boxes, with handles
of thick rope. These were evidently empty by the ease with which
the Slovaks handled them, and by their resonance as they were
roughly moved.
When they were all unloaded and packed in a great heap in one
corner of the yard, the Slovaks were given some money by the
Szgany, and spitting on it for luck, lazily went each to his
horse's head. Shortly afterwards, I heard the crackling of their
whips die away in the distance.
24 June.—Last night the Count left me early, and locked himself
into his own room. As soon as I dared I ran up the winding stair,
and looked out of the window, which opened South. I thought I would
watch for the Count, for there is something going on. The Szgany
are quartered somewhere in the castle and are doing work of some
kind. I know it, for now and then, I hear a far-away muffled sound
as of mattock and spade, and, whatever it is, it must be the end of
some ruthless villainy.
I had been at the window somewhat less than half an hour, when I
saw something coming out of the Count's window. I drew back and
watched carefully, and saw the whole man emerge. It was a new shock
to me to find that he had on the suit of clothes which I had worn
whilst travelling here, and slung over his shoulder the terrible
bag which I had seen the women take away. There could be no doubt
as to his quest, and in my garb, too! This, then, is his new scheme
of evil, that he will allow others to see me, as they think, so
that he may 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 amIt 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.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