somewhat sternly, on purpose to disconcert him.
The effort succeeded, for an instant he unconsciously relapsed
into his old servile manner, bent low before me, and actually
fawned upon me as he replied. "I don't want any souls, indeed,
indeed! I don't. I couldn't use them if I had them. They would be
no manner of use to me. I couldn't eat them or … "
He suddenly stopped and the old cunning look spread over his
face, like a wind sweep on the surface of the water.
"And doctor, as to life, what is it after all? When you've got
all you require, and you know that you will never want, that is
all. I have friends, good friends, like you, Dr. Seward."This was
said with a leer of inexpressible cunning. "I know that I shall
never lack the means of life!"
I think that through the cloudiness of his insanity he saw some
antagonism in me, for he at once fell back on the last refuge of
such as he, a dogged silence. After a short time I saw that for the
present it was useless to speak to him. He was sulky, and so I came
away.
Later in the day he sent for me. Ordinarily I would not have
come without special reason, but just at present I am so interested
in him that I would gladly make an effort. Besides, I am glad to
have anything to help pass the time. Harker is out, following up
clues, and so are Lord Godalming and Quincey. Van Helsing sits in
my study poring over the record prepared by the Harkers. He seems
to think that by accurate knowledge of all details he will light up
on some clue. He does not wish to be disturbed in the work, without
cause. I would have taken him with me to see the patient, only I
thought that after his last repulse he might not care to go again.
There was also another reason. Renfield might not speak so freely
before a third person as when he and I were alone.
I found him sitting in the middle of the floor on his stool, a
pose which is generally indicative of some mental energy on his
part. When I came in, he said at once, as though the question had
been waiting on his lips. "What about souls?"been waiting on his lips. "What about souls?"
It was evident then that my surmise had been correct.
Unconscious cerebration was doing its work, even with the lunatic.
I determined to have the matter out.
"What about them yourself?" I asked.
He did not reply for a moment but looked all around him, and up
and down, as though he expected to find some inspiration for an
answer.
"I don't want any souls!" He said in a feeble, apologetic way.
The matter seemed preying on his mind, and so I determined to use
it, to "be cruel only to be kind." So I said, "You like life, and
you want life?"
"Oh yes! But that is all right. You needn't worry about
that!"
"But," I asked,"how are we to get the life without getting the
soul also?"
This seemed to puzzle him, so I followed it up, "A nice time
you'll have some time when you're flying out here, with the souls
of thousands of flies and spiders and birds and cats buzzing and
twittering and moaning all around you. You've got their lives, you
know, and you must put up with their souls!"
Something seemed to affect his imagination, for he put his
fingers to his ears and shut his eyes, screwing them up tightly
just as a small boy does when his face is being soaped. There was
something pathetic in it that touched me. It also gave me a lesson,
for it seemed that before me was a child, only a child, though the
features were worn, and the stubble on the jaws was white. It was
evident that he was undergoing some process of mental disturbance,
and knowing how his past moods had interpreted things seemingly
foreign to himself, I thought I would enter into his mind as well
as I could and go with him
The first step was to restore confidence, so I asked him,
speaking pretty loud so that he would hear me through his closed
ears,"Would you like some sugar to get your flies around
again?"
He seemed to wake up all at once, and shook his head. With a
laugh he replied, "Not much! Flies are poor things, after all!"
After a pause he added, "But I don't want their souls buzzing round
me, all the same."After a pause he added, "But I don't want their souls buzzing round
me, all the same."
"Or spiders?" I went on.
"Blow spiders! What's the use of spiders? There isn't anything
in them to eat or … " He stopped suddenly as though reminded
of a forbidden topic.
"So, so!" I thought to myself, "this is the second time he has
suddenly stopped at the word `drink'. What does it mean?"
Renfield seemed himself aware of having made a lapse, for he
hurried on, as though to distract my attention from it, "I don't
take any stock at all in such matters. `Rats and mice and such
small deer,' as Shakespeare has it, `chicken feed of the larder'
they might be called. I'm past all that sort of nonsense. You might
as well ask a man to eat molecules with a pair of chopsticks, as to
try to interest me about the less carnivora, when I know of what is
before me."
"I see," I said."You want big things that you can make your
teeth meet in? How would you like to breakfast on an elephant?"
"What ridiculous nonsense you are talking?" He was getting too
wide awake, so I thought I would press him hard.
"I wonder," I said reflectively, "what an elephant's soul is
like!"
The effect I desired was obtained, for he at once fell from his
high-horse and became a child again.
"I don't want an elephant's soul, or any soul at all!" he said.
For a few moments he sat despondently. Suddenly he jumped to his
feet, with his eyes blazing and all the signs of intense cerebral
excitement. "To hell with you and your souls!" he shouted. "Why do
you plague me about souls? Haven't I got enough to worry, and pain,
to distract me already, without thinking of souls?"
He looked so hostile that I thought he was in for another
homicidal fit, so I blew my whistle.
The instant, however, that I did so he became calm, and said
apologetically, "Forgive me, Doctor. I forgot myself. You do not
need any help. I am so worried in my mind that I am apt to be
irritable. If you only knew the problem I have to face, and that I