and the white skin seemed ruby-red underneath. The mouth was redder
than ever, for on the lips were gouts of fresh blood, which
trickled from the corners of the mouth and ran down over the chin
and neck. Even the deep, burning eyes seemed set amongst swollen
flesh, for the lids and pouches underneath were bloated. It seemed
as if the whole awful creature were simply gorged with blood. He
lay like a filthy leech, exhausted with his repletion.
I shuddered as I bent over to touch him, and every sense in me
revolted at the contact, but I had to search, or I was lost. The
coming night might see my own body a banquet in a similar war to
those horrid three. I felt all over the body, but no sign could I
find of the key. Then I stopped and looked at the Count. There was
a mocking smile on the bloated face which seemed to drive me mad.
This was the being I was helping to transfer to London, where,
perhaps, for centuries to come he might, amongst its teeming
millions, satiate his lust for blood, and create a new and
ever-widening circle of semi-demons to batten on the helpless.
The very thought drove me mad. A terrible desire came upon me to
rid the world of such a monster. There was no lethal weapon at
hand, but I seized a shovel which the workmen had been using to
fill the cases, and lifting it high, struck, with the edge
downward, at the hateful face. But as I did so the head turned, and
the eyes fell upon me, with all their blaze of basilisk horror. The
sight seemed to paralyze me, and the shovel turned in my hand and
glanced from the face, merely making a deep gash above the
forehead. The shovel fell from my hand across the box, and as I
pulled it away the flange of the blade caught the edge of the lid
which fell over again, and hid the horrid thing from my sight. The
last glimpse I had was of the bloated face, blood-stained and fixed
with a grin of malice which would have held its own in the
nethermost hell. I thought and thought what should be my next move,nethermost hell. I thought and thought what should be my next move,
but my brain seemed on fire, and I waited with a despairing feeling
growing over me. As I waited I heard in the distance a gipsy song
sung by merry voices coming closer, and through their song the
rolling of heavy wheels and the cracking of whips. The Szgany and
the Slovaks of whom the Count had spoken were coming. With a last
look around and at the box which contained the vile body, I ran
from the place and gained the Count's room, determined to rush out
at the moment the door should be opened. With strained ears, I
listened, and heard downstairs the grinding of the key in the great
lock and the falling back of the heavy door. There must have been
some other means of entry, or some one had a key for one of the
locked doors.
Then there came the sound of many feet tramping and dying away
in some passage which sent up a clanging echo. I turned to run down
again towards the vault, where I might find the new entrance, but
at the moment there seemed to come a violent puff of wind, and the
door to the winding stair blew to with a shock that set the dust
from the lintels flying. When I ran to push it open, I found that
it was hopelessly fast. I was again a prisoner, and the net of doom
was closing round me more closely.
As I write there is in the passage below a sound of many
tramping feet and the crash of weights being set down heavily,
doubtless the boxes, with their freight of earth. There was a sound
of hammering. It is the box being nailed down. Now I can hear the
heavy feet tramping again along the hall, with with many other idle
feet coming behind them.
The door is shut, the chains rattle. There is a grinding of the
key in the lock. I can hear the key withdrawn, then another door
opens and shuts. I hear the creaking of lock and bolt.
Hark! In the courtyard and down the rocky way the roll of heavy
wheels, the crack of whips, and the chorus of the Szgany as they
pass into the distance.wheels, the crack of whips, and the chorus of the Szgany as they
pass into the distance.
I am alone in the castle with those horrible women. Faugh! Mina
is a woman, and there is nought in common. They are devils of the
Pit!
I shall not remain alone with them. I shall try to scale the
castle wall farther than I have yet attempted. I shall take some of
the gold with me, lest I want it later. I may find a way from this
dreadful place.
And then away for home! Away to the quickest and nearest train!
Away from the cursed spot, from this cursed land, where the devil
and his children still walk with earthly feet!
At least God's mercy is better than that of those monsters, and
the precipice is steep and high. At its foot a man may sleep, as a
man. Goodbye, all. Mina!9 May.
My dearest Lucy,
Forgive my long delay in writing, but I have been simply
overwhelmed with work. The life of an assistant schoolmistress is
sometimes trying. I am longing to be with you, and by the sea,
where we can talk together freely and build our castles in the air.
I have been working very hard lately, because I want to keep up
with Jonathan's studies, and I have been practicing shorthand very
assiduously. When we are married I shall be able to be useful to
Jonathan, and if I can stenograph well enough I can take down what
he wants to say in this way and write it out for him on the
typewriter, at which also I am practicing very hard.
He 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 don't mean one of those
two-pages-to-the-week-with-Sunday-squeezed-in-a-corner diaries, but
a sort of journal which I can write in whenever I feel
inclined.
I do not suppose there will be much of interest to other people,
but it is not intended for them. I may show it to Jonathan some day
if there is in it anything worth sharing, but it is really an
exercise book. I shall try to do what I see lady journalists do,
interviewing and writing descriptions and trying to remember
conversations. I am told that, with a little practice, one can
remember all that goes on or that one hears said during a day.
However, we shall see. I will tell you of my little plans when
we meet. I have just had a few hurried lines from Jonathan from
Transylvania. He is well, and will be returning in about a week. I
am longing to hear all his news. It must be nice to see strange
countries. I wonder if we, I mean Jonathan and I, shall ever see
them together. There is the ten o'clock bell ringing. Goodbye. Your
loving Mina
Tell me all the news when you write. You have not told me
anything for a long time. I hear rumours, and especially of a tall,
handsome, curly-haired man.???
LETTER, LUCY WESTENRA TO MINA MURRAY
17, Chatham Street