openly with the Count whilst I am so absolutely in his power. And
to refuse would be to excite his suspicion and to arouse his anger.
He knows that I know too much, and that I must not live, lest I be
dangerous to him. My only chance is to prolong my opportunities.
Something may occur which will give me a chance to escape. I saw in
his eyes something of that gathering wrath which was manifest when
he hurled that fair woman from him. He explained to me that posts
were few and uncertain, and that my writing now would ensure ease
of mind to my friends. And he assured me with so much
impressiveness that he would countermand the later letters, which
would be held over at Bistritz until due time in case chance would
admit of my prolonging my stay, that to oppose him would have been
to create new suspicion. I therefore pretended to fall in with his
views, and asked him what dates I should put on the letters.
He calculated a minute, and then said, "The first should be June
12,the second June 19,and the third June 29."
I know now the span of my life. God help me!
28 May.—There is a chance of escape, or at any rate of being
able to send word home. A band of Szgany have come to the castle,
and are encamped in the courtyard. These are gipsies. I have notes
of them in my book. They are peculiar to this part of the world,
though allied to the ordinary gipsies all the world over. There are
thousands of them in Hungary and Transylvania, who are almost
outside all law. They attach themselves as a rule to some great
noble or boyar, and call themselves by his name. They are fearless
and without religion, save superstition, and they talk only their
own varieties of the Romany tongue.
I shall write some letters home, and shall try to get them to
have them posted. I have already spoken to them through my window
to begin acquaintanceship. They took their hats off and made
obeisance and many signs, which however, I could not understand any
more than I could their spoken language …more than I could their spoken language …
I have written the letters. Mina's is in shorthand, and I simply
ask Mr. Hawkins to communicate with her. To her I have explained my
situation, but without the horrors which I may only surmise. It
would shock and frighten her to death were I to expose my heart to
her. Should the letters not carry, then the Count shall not yet
know my secret or the extent of my knowledge …
I have given the letters. I threw them through the bars of my
window with a gold piece, and made what signs I could to have them
posted. The man who took them pressed them to his heart and bowed,
and then put them in his cap. I could do no more. I stole back to
the study, and began to read. As the Count did not come in, I have
written here …
The Count has come. He sat down beside me, and said in his
smoothest voice as he opened two letters, "The Szgany has given me
these, of which, though I know not whence they come, I shall, of
course, take care. See!"—He must have looked at it.—"One is from
you, and to my friend Peter Hawkins. The other,"—here he caught
sight of the strange symbols as he opened the envelope, and the
dark look came into his face, and his eyes blazed wickedly,—"The
other is a vile thing, an outrage upon friendship and hospitality!
It is not signed. Well! So it cannot matter to us."And he calmly
held letter and envelope in the flame of the lamp till they were
consumed.
Then he went on, "The letter to Hawkins, that I shall, of course
send on, since it is yours. Your letters are sacred to me. Your
pardon, my friend, that unknowingly I did break the seal. Will you
not cover it again?"He held out the letter to me, and with a
courteous bow handed me a clean envelope.
I could only redirect it and hand it to him in silence. When he
went out of the room I could hear the key turn softly. A minute
later I went over and tried it, and the door was locked.
When, an hour or two after, the Count came quietly into the
room, his coming awakened me, for I had gone to sleep on the sofa.room, his coming awakened me, for I had gone to sleep on the sofa.
He was very courteous and very cheery in his manner, and seeing
that I had been sleeping, he said, "So, my friend, you are tired?
Get to bed. There is the surest rest. I may not have the pleasure
of talk tonight, since there are many labours to me, but you will
sleep, I pray."
I passed to my room and went to bed, and, strange to say, slept
without dreaming. Despair has its own calms.
31 May.—This morning when I woke I thought I would provide
myself with some papers and envelopes from my bag and keep them in
my pocket, so that I might write in case I should get an
opportunity, but again a surprise, again a shock!
Every scrap of paper was gone, and with it all my notes, my
memoranda, relating to railways and travel, my letter of credit, in
fact all that might be useful to me were I once outside the castle.
I sat and pondered awhile, and then some thought occurred to me,
and I made search of my portmanteau and in the wardrobe where I had
placed my clothes.
The suit in which I had travelled was gone, and also my overcoat
and rug. I could find no trace of them anywhere. This looked like
some new scheme of villainy …
17 June.—This morning, as I was sitting on the edge of my bed
cudgelling my brains, I heard without a crackling of whips and
pounding and scraping of horses' feet up the rocky path beyond the
courtyard. With joy I hurried to the window, and saw drive into the
yard two great leiter-wagons, each drawn by eight sturdy horses,
and at the head of each pair a Slovak, with his wide hat, great
nail-studded belt, dirty sheepskin, and high boots. They had also
their long staves in hand. I ran to the door, intending to descend
and try and join them through the main hall, as I thought that way
might be opened for them. Again a shock, my door was fastened on
the outside.
Then I ran to the window and cried to them. They looked up at me
stupidly and pointed, but just then the "hetman" of the Szgany came