The White Devil

ᗪ尺卂匚ㄩㄥ卂

J
onathan Harker’s Journal Continued
I awoke in my own bed. If it be that I had not dreamt,
the Count must have carried me here. I tried to satisfy myself
on the subject, but could not arrive at any unquestionable
result. To be sure, there were certain small evidences, such
as that my clothes were folded and laid by in a manner
which was not my habit. My watch was still unwound, and
I am rigorously accustomed to wind it the last thing before
going to bed, and many such details. But these things are no
proof, for they may have been evidences that my mind was
not as usual, and, for some cause or another, I had certainly
been much upset. I must watch for proof. Of one thing I am
glad. If it was that the Count carried me here and undressed
me, he must have been hurried in his task, for my pockets
are intact. I am sure this diary would have been a mystery
to him which he would not have brooked. He would have
taken or destroyed it. As I look round this room, although
it has been to me so full of fear, it is now a sort of sanctuary,
for nothing can be more dreadful than those awful women,
who were, who are, waiting to suck my blood.
18 May.—I have been down to look at that room again in
daylight, for I must know the truth. When I got to the door-
way at the top of the stairs I found it closed. It had been so
forcibly driven against the jamb that part of the woodwork

was splintered. I could see that the bolt of the lock had not
been shot, but the door is fastened from the inside. I fear it
was no dream, and must act on this surmise.
19 May.—I am surely in the toils. Last night the Count
asked me in the suavest tones to write three letters, one say-
ing that my work here was nearly done, and that I should
start for home within a few days, another that I was start-
ing on the next morning from the time of the letter, and
the third that I had left the castle and arrived at Bistritz. I
would fain have rebelled, but felt that in the present state
of things it would be madness to quarrel 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 gath-
ering 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 let-
ters, 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 be-
ing 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 pecu-
liar 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 …
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