Dracula. Bram Stoker
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that it was not really locked, but that
the resistance came from the fact that the hinges had fallen
somewhat, and the heavy door rested on the floor. Here was an
opportunity which I might not have again, so I exerted myself,
and with many efforts forced it back so that I could enter. I
was now in a wing of the castle further to the right than the
rooms I knew and a storey lower down. From the windows I
could see that the suite of rooms lay along to the south of the
castle, the windows of the end room looking out both west and
south. On the 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 moun-
34 Dracula
tain fastnesses, rising peak on peak, the sheer rock studded with
mountain ash and thorn, whose roots clung in cracks and crev-
ices and crannies of the stone. This was evidently the portion
of the castle occupied by the ladies in bygone days, for the fur-
niture had more air» of comfort than any I had seen. The win-
dows 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 dis-
guised in some measure the ravages of time and the moth. My
lamp seemed to be of little effect in the brilliant moonlight^ut
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 pos-
sibly some fair lady sat to pen, with much thought and many
blushes, her ill-spelt love-letter, and writing in my diary in short —
hand all that has happened since I closed it last. It is nineteenth,
century up-to-date with a vengeance. And yet, unless my senses
deceive me, the old centuries had, and have, powers of their j
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, that I may not go mad, if, indeed, I be not mad al-
ready. 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 Shake-
speare 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
Jonathan Marker’s Journal 35
frightens me more now when I think of it, for in 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 warn-
ing came into my mind, but I took a 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
rne. I determined not to return to-night 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 comer, 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 fol-
lowed was startlingly real so real that 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 yo-ung women, ladies by their dress and manner. I thought
at the time that I must be dreaming when I saw them, for,
though the moonlight was behind 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
wavy 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 howl
or where./All three had