latter side, as well as to the former, there was a great precipice.
The castle was built on the corner of a great rock, so that on
three sides it was quite impregnable, and great windows were placed
here where sling, or bow, or culverin could not reach, and
consequently light and comfort, impossible to a position which had
to be guarded, were secured. To the west was a great valley, and
then, rising far away, great jagged mountain fastnesses, rising
peak on peak, the sheer rock studded with mountain ash and thorn,
whose roots clung in cracks and crevices and crannies of the stone.
This was evidently the portion of the castle occupied by the ladies
in bygone days, for the furniture had more an air of comfort than
any I had seen.
The windows were curtainless, and the yellow moonlight, flooding
in through the diamond panes, enabled one to see even colours,
whilst it softened the wealth of dust which lay over all and
disguised in some measure the ravages of time and moth. My lamp
seemed to be of little effect in the brilliant moonlight, but I was
glad to have it with me, for there was a dread loneliness in the
place which chilled my heart and made my nerves tremble. Still, it
was better than living alone in the rooms which I had come to hate
from the presence of the Count, and after trying a little to school
my nerves, I found a soft quietude come over me. Here I am, sitting
at a little oak table where in old times possibly some fair lady
sat to pen, with much thought and many blushes, her ill-spelt love
letter, and writing in my diary in shorthand all that has happened
since I closed it last. It is the nineteenth century up-to-date
with a vengeance. And yet, unless my senses deceive me, the old
centuries had, and have, powers of their own which mere "modernity"
cannot kill.
Later: The morning of 16 May.—God preserve my sanity, for to
this I am reduced. Safety and the assurance of safety are things of
the past. Whilst I live on here there is but one thing to hope for,the past. Whilst I live on here there is but one thing to hope for,
that I may not go mad, if, indeed, I be not mad already. If I be
sane, then surely it is maddening to think that of all the foul
things that lurk in this hateful place the Count is the least
dreadful to me, that to him alone I can look for safety, even
though this be only whilst I can serve his purpose. Great God!
Merciful God, let me be calm, for out of that way lies madness
indeed. I begin to get new lights on certain things which have
puzzled me. Up to now I never quite knew what Shakespeare meant
when he made Hamlet say, "My tablets! Quick, my tablets! `tis meet
that I put it down," etc., For now, feeling as though my own brain
were unhinged or as if the shock had come which must end in its
undoing, I turn to my diary for repose. The habit of entering
accurately must help to soothe me.
The Count's mysterious warning frightened me at the time. It
frightens me more not when I think of it, for in the future he has
a fearful hold upon me. I shall fear to doubt what he may say!
When I had written in my diary and had fortunately replaced the
book and pen in my pocket I felt sleepy. The Count's warning came
into my mind, but I took pleasure in disobeying it. The sense of
sleep was upon me, and with it the obstinacy which sleep brings as
outrider. The soft moonlight soothed, and the wide expanse without
gave a sense of freedom which refreshed me. I determined not to
return tonight to the gloom-haunted rooms, but to sleep here,
where, of old, ladies had sat and sung and lived sweet lives whilst
their gentle breasts were sad for their menfolk away in the midst
of remorseless wars. I drew a great couch out of its place near the
corner, so that as I lay, I could look at the lovely view to east
and south, and unthinking of and uncaring for the dust, composed
myself for sleep. I suppose I must have fallen asleep. I hope so,
but I fear, for all that followed was startlingly real, so real
that now sitting here in the broad, full sunlight of the morning, Ithat now sitting here in the broad, full sunlight of the morning, I
cannot in the least believe that it was all sleep.
I was not alone. The room was the same, unchanged in any way
since I came into it. I could see along the floor, in the brilliant
moonlight, my own footsteps marked where I had disturbed the long
accumulation of dust. In the moonlight opposite me were three young
women, ladies by their dress and manner. I thought at the time that
I must be dreaming when I saw them, they threw no shadow on the
floor. They came close to me, and looked at me for some time, and
then whispered together. Two were dark, and had high aquiline
noses, like the Count, and great dark, piercing eyes, that seemed
to be almost red when contrasted with the pale yellow moon. The
other was fair, as fair as can be, with great masses of golden hair
and eyes like pale sapphires. I seemed somehow to know her face,
and to know it in connection with some dreamy fear, but I could not
recollect at the moment how or where. All three had brilliant white
teeth that shone like pearls against the ruby of their voluptuous
lips. There was something about them that made me uneasy, some
longing and at the same time some deadly fear. I felt in my heart a
wicked, burning desire that they would kiss me with those red
lips.It is not good to note this down, lest some day it should meet
Mina's eyes and cause her pain, but it is the truth. They whispered
together, and then they all three laughed, such a silvery, musical
laugh, but as hard as though the sound never could have come
through the softness of human lips. It was like the intolerable,
tingling sweetness of waterglasses when played on by a cunning
hand. The fair girl shook her head coquettishly, and the other two
urged her on.
One said, "Go on! You are first, and we shall follow. Yours' is
the right to begin."
The other added, "He is young and strong. There are kisses for
us all."
I lay quiet, looking out from under my eyelashes in an agony of