CHAPTER XXVII

MINA HARKER’S JOURNAL

1 November.—All day long we have travelled, and at a good speed.
The horses seem to know that they are being kindly treated, for they
go willingly their full stage at best speed. We have now had so many
changes and find the same thing so constantly that we are encour‐
aged to think that the journey will be an easy one. Dr. Van Helsing
is laconic; he tells the farmers that he is hurrying to Bistritz, and
pays them well to make the exchange of horses. We get hot soup, or
coffee, or tea; and off we go. It is a lovely country; full of beauties of
all imaginable kinds, and the people are brave, and strong, and
simple, and seem full of nice qualities. They are very, very supersti‐
tious. In the first house where we stopped, when the woman who
served us saw the scar on my forehead, she crossed herself and put
out two fingers towards me, to keep off the evil eye. I believe they
went to the trouble of putting an extra amount of garlic into our
food; and I can’t abide garlic. Ever since then I have taken care not
to take off my hat or veil, and so have escaped their suspicions. We
are travelling fast, and as we have no driver with us to carry tales, we
go ahead of scandal; but I daresay that fear of the evil eye will
follow hard behind us all the way. The Professor seems tireless; all
632 FRANKENSTEIN, DRACUL A, AND GOTHIC LITERATURE

day he would not take any rest, though he made me sleep for a long
spell. At sunset time he hypnotised me, and he says that I answered
as usual “darkness, lapping water and creaking wood”; so our
enemy is still on the river. I am afraid to think of Jonathan, but
somehow I have now no fear for him, or for myself. I write this
whilst we wait in a farmhouse for the horses to be got ready. Dr. Van
Helsing is sleeping, Poor dear, he looks very tired and old and grey,
but his mouth is set as firmly as a conqueror’s; even in his sleep he is
instinct with resolution. When we have well started I must make him
rest whilst I drive. I shall tell him that we have days before us, and
we must not break down when most of all his strength will be need‐
ed.... All is ready; we are off shortly.

2 November, morning.—I was successful, and we took turns driving

all night; now the day is on us, bright though cold. There is a
strange heaviness in the air—I say heaviness for want of a better
word; I mean that it oppresses us both. It is very cold, and only our
warm furs keep us comfortable. At dawn Van Helsing hypnotised
me; he says I answered “darkness, creaking wood and roaring
water,” so the river is changing as they ascend. I do hope that my
darling will not run any chance of danger—more than need be; but
we are in God’s hands.

2 November, night.—All day long driving. The country gets wilder

as we go, and the great spurs of the Carpathians, which at Veresti
seemed so far from us and so low on the horizon, now seem to
gather round us and tower in front. We both seem in good spirits; I
think we make an effort each to cheer the other; in the doing so we
cheer ourselves. Dr. Van Helsing says that by morning we shall
reach the Borgo Pass. The houses are very few here now, and the
Professor says that the last horse we got will have to go on with us, as
we may not be able to change. He got two in addition to the two we
changed, so that now we have a rude four-in-hand. The dear horses
are patient and good, and they give us no trouble. We are not
worried with other travellers, and so even I can drive. We shall get to
the Pass in daylight; we do not want to arrive before. So we take it
 CHAPTER XXVII 633

easy, and have each a long rest in turn. Oh, what will to-morrow
bring to us? We go to seek the place where my poor darling suffered
so much. God grant that we may be guided aright, and that He will
deign to watch over my husband and those dear to us both, and who
are in such deadly peril. As for me, I am not worthy in His sight.
Alas! I am unclean to His eyes, and shall be until He may deign to
let me stand forth in His sight as one of those who have not
incurred His wrath.
Memorandum by Abraham Van Helsing.
4 November.—This to my old and true friend John Seward, M.D.,
of Purfleet, London, in case I may not see him. It may explain. It is
morning, and I write by a fire which all the night I have kept alive—
Madam Mina aiding me. It is cold, cold; so cold that the grey heavy
sky is full of snow, which when it falls will settle for all winter as the
ground is hardening to receive it. It seems to have affected Madam
Mina; she has been so heavy of head all day that she was not like
herself. She sleeps, and sleeps, and sleeps! She who is usual so alert,
have done literally nothing all the day; she even have lost her
appetite. She make no entry into her little diary, she who write so
faithful at every pause. Something whisper to me that all is not well.
However, to-night she is more vif. Her long sleep all day have refresh
and restore her, for now she is all sweet and bright as ever. At sunset
I try to hypnotise her, but alas! with no effect; the power has grown
less and less with each day, and to-night it fail me altogether. Well,
God’s will be done—whatever it may be, and whithersoever it
may lead!
Now to the historical, for as Madam Mina write not in her
stenography, I must, in my cumbrous old fashion, that so each day
of us may not go unrecorded.
We got to the Borgo Pass just after sunrise yesterday morning.
When I saw the signs of the dawn I got ready for the hypnotism. We
stopped our carriage, and got down so that there might be no distur‐
bance. I made a couch with furs, and Madam Mina, lying down,
yield herself as usual, but more slow and more short time than ever,
to the hypnotic sleep. As before, came the answer: “darkness and the
swirling of water.” Then she woke, bright and radiant and we go on
634 FRANKENSTEIN, DRACUL A, AND GOTHIC LITERATURE

our way and soon reach the Pass. At this time and place, she
become all on fire with zeal; some new guiding power be in her
manifested, for she point to a road and say:—
“This is the way.”
“How know you it?” I ask.
“Of course I know it,” she answer, and with a pause, add: “Have
not my Jonathan travelled it and wrote of his travel?”
At first I think somewhat strange, but soon I see that there be
only one such by-road. It is used but little, and very different from
the coach road from the Bukovina to Bistritz, which is more wide
and hard, and more of use.
So we came down this road; when we meet other ways—not
always were we sure that they were roads at all, for they be neglect
and light snow have fallen—the horses know and they only. I give
rein to them, and they go on so patient. By-and-by we find all the
things which Jonathan have note in that wonderful diary of him.
Then we go on for long, long hours and hours. At the first, I tell
Madam Mina to sleep; she try, and she succeed. She sleep all the
time; till at the last, I feel myself to suspicious grow, and attempt to
wake her. But she sleep on, and I may not wake her though I try. I
do not wish to try too hard lest I harm her; for I know that she have
suffer much, and sleep at times be all-in-all to her. I think I drowse
myself, for all ofsudden I feel guilt, as though I have done some‐
thing; I find myself bolt up, with the reins in my hand, and the good
horses go along jog, jog, just as ever. I look down and find Madam
Mina still sleep. It is now not far off sunset time, and over the snow
the light of the sun flow in big yellow flood, so that we throw great
long shadow on where the mountain rise so steep. For we are going
up, and up; and all is oh! so wild and rocky, as though it were the
end of the world.
Then I arouse Madam Mina. This time she wake with not much
trouble, and then I try to put her to hypnotic sleep. But she sleep
not, being as though I were not. Still I try and try, till all at once I
find her and myself in dark; so I look round, and find that the sun
have gone down. Madam Mina laugh, and I turn and look at her.
She is now quite awake, and look so well as I never saw her since
 CHAPTER XXVII 635

that night at Carfax when we first enter the Count’s house. I am

amaze, and not at ease then; but she is so bright and tender and
thoughtful for me that I forget all fear. I light a fire, for we have
brought supply of wood with us, and she prepare food while I undo
the horses and set them, tethered in shelter, to feed. Then when I
return to the fire she have my supper ready. I go to help her; but she
smile, and tell me that she have eat already—that she was so hungry
that she would not wait. I like it not, and I have grave doubts; but I
fear to affright her, and so I am silent of it. She help me and I eat
alone; and then we wrap in fur and lie beside the fire, and I tell her
to sleep while I watch. But presently I forget all of watching; and
when I sudden remember that I watch, I find her lying quiet, but
awake, and looking at me with so bright eyes. Once, twice more the
same occur, and I get much sleep till before morning. When I wake I
try to hypnotise her; but alas! though she shut her eyes obedient, she
may not sleep. The sun rise up, and up, and up; and then sleep
come to her too late, but so heavy that she will not wake. I have to
lift her up, and place her sleeping in the carriage when I have
harnessed the horses and made all ready. Madam still sleep, and she
look in her sleep more healthy and more redder than before. And I
like it not. And I am afraid, afraid, afraid!—I am afraid of all things
—even to think but I must go on my way. The stake we play for is
life and death, or more than these, and we must not flinch.

5 November, morning.—Let me be accurate in everything, for

though you and I have seen some strange things together, you may
at the first think that I, Van Helsing, am mad—that the many
horrors and the so long strain on nerves has at the last turn my
brain.
All yesterday we travel, ever getting closer to the mountains, and
moving into a more and more wild and desert land. There are great,
frowning precipices and much falling water, and Nature seem to
have held sometime her carnival. Madam Mina still sleep and sleep;
and though I did have hunger and appeased it, I could not waken
her—even for food. I began to fear that the fatal spell of the place
was upon her, tainted as she is with that Vampire baptism. “Well,”
636 FRANKENSTEIN, DRACUL A, AND GOTHIC LITERATURE

said I to myself, “if it be that she sleep all the day, it shall also be
that I do not sleep at night.” As we travel on the rough road, for a
road of an ancient and imperfect kind there was, I held down my
head and slept. Again I waked with a sense of guilt and of time
passed, and found Madam Mina still sleeping, and the sun low
down. But all was indeed changed; the frowning mountains seemed
further away, and we were near the top of a steep-rising hill, on
summit of which was such a castle as Jonathan tell of in his diary. At
once I exulted and feared; for now, for good or ill, the end was near.
I woke Madam Mina, and again tried to hypnotise her; but alas!
unavailing till too late. Then, ere the great dark came upon us—for
even after down-sun the heavens reflected the gone sun on the snow,
and all was for a time in a great twilight—I took out the horses and
fed them in what shelter I could. Then I make a fire; and near it I
make Madam Mina, now awake and more charming than ever, sit
comfortable amid her rugs. I got ready food: but she would not eat,
simply saying that she had not hunger. I did not press her, knowing
her unavailingness. But I myself eat, for I must needs now be strong
for all. Then, with the fear on me of what might be, I drew a ring so
big for her comfort, round where Madam Mina sat; and over the
ring I passed some of the wafer, and I broke it fine so that all was
well guarded. She sat still all the time—so still as one dead; and she
grew whiter and ever whiter till the snow was not more pale; and no
word she said. But when I drew near, she clung to me, and I could
know that the poor soul shook her from head to feet with a tremor
that was pain to feel. I said to her presently, when she had grown
more quiet:—
“Will you not come over to the fire?” for I wished to make a test
of what she could. She rose obedient, but when she have made a
step she stopped, and stood as one stricken.
“Why not go on?” I asked. She shook her head, and,
coming back, sat down in her place. Then, looking at me with open
eyes, as of one waked from sleep, she said simply:—
“I cannot!” and remained silent. I rejoiced, for I knew that what
she could not, none of those that we dreaded could. Though there
might be danger to her body, yet her soul was safe!
 CHAPTER XXVII 637

Presently the horses began to scream, and tore at their tethers

till I came to them and quieted them. When they did feel my hands
on them, they whinnied low as in joy, and licked at my hands and
were quiet for a time. Many times through the night did I come to
them, till it arrive to the cold hour when all nature is at lowest; and
every time my coming was with quiet of them. In the cold hour the
fire began to die, and I was about stepping forth to replenish it, for
now the snow came in flying sweeps and with it a chill mist. Even in
the dark there was a light of some kind, as there ever is over snow;
and it seemed as though the snow-flurries and the wreaths of mist
took shape as of women with trailing garments. All was in dead,
grim silence only that the horses whinnied and cowered, as if in
terror of the worst. I began to fear—horrible fears; but then came
to me the sense of safety in that ring wherein I stood. I began, too,
to think that my imaginings were of the night, and the gloom, and
the unrest that I have gone through, and all the terrible anxiety. It
was as though my memories of all Jonathan’s horrid experience
were befooling me; for the snow flakes and the mist began to wheel
and circle round, till I could get as though a shadowy glimpse of
those women that would have kissed him. And then the horses
cowered lower and lower, and moaned in terror as men do in pain.
Even the madness of fright was not to them, so that they could
break away. I feared for my dear Madam Mina when these weird
figures drew near and circled round. I looked at her, but she sat
calm, and smiled at me; when I would have stepped to the fire to
replenish it, she caught me and held me back, and whispered, like a
voice that one hears in a dream, so low it was:—
“No! No! Do not go without. Here you are safe!” I turned to her,
and looking in her eyes, said:—
“But you? It is for you that I fear!” whereat she laughed—a
laugh, low and unreal, and said:—
“Fear for me! Why fear for me? None safer in all the world from
them than I am,” and as I wondered at the meaning of her words, a
puff of wind made the flame leap up, and I see the red scar on her
forehead. Then, alas! I knew. Did I not, I would soon have learned,
for the wheeling figures of mist and snow came closer, but keeping
638 FRANKENSTEIN, DRACUL A, AND GOTHIC LITERATURE

ever without the Holy circle. Then they began to materialise till—if
God have not take away my reason, for I saw it through my eyes—
there were before me in actual flesh the same three women that
Jonathan saw in the room, when they would have kissed his throat. I
knew the swaying round forms, the bright hard eyes, the white teeth,
the ruddy colour, the voluptuous lips. They smiled ever at poor dear
Madam Mina; and as their laugh came through the silence of the
night, they twined their arms and pointed to her, and said in those
so sweet tingling tones that Jonathan said were of the intolerable
sweetness of the water-glasses:—
“Come, sister. Come to us. Come! Come!” In fear I turned to
my poor Madam Mina, and my heart with gladness leapt like flame;
for oh! the terror in her sweet eyes, the repulsion, the horror, told a
story to my heart that was all of hope. God be thanked she was not,
yet, of them. I seized some of the firewood which was by me, and
holding out some of the Wafer, advanced on them towards the fire.
They drew back before me, and laughed their low horrid laugh. I
fed the fire, and feared them not; for I knew that we were safe within
our protections. They could not approach, me, whilst so armed, nor
Madam Mina whilst she remained within the ring, which she could
not leave no more than they could enter. The horses had ceased to
moan, and lay still on the ground; the snow fell on them softly, and
they grew whiter. I knew that there was for the poor beasts no more
of terror.
And so we remained till the red of the dawn to fall through the
snow-gloom. I was desolate and afraid, and full of woe and terror;
but when that beautiful sun began to climb the horizon life was to
me again. At the first coming of the dawn the horrid figures melted
in the whirling mist and snow; the wreaths of transparent gloom
moved away towards the castle, and were lost.
Instinctively, with the dawn coming, I turned to Madam Mina,
intending to hypnotise her; but she lay in a deep and sudden sleep,
from which I could not wake her. I tried to hypnotise through her
sleep, but she made no response, none at all; and the day broke. I
fear yet to stir. I have made my fire and have seen the horses, they
are all dead. To-day I have much to do here, and I keep waiting till
 CHAPTER XXVII 639

the sun is up high; for there may be places where I must go, where
that sunlight, though snow and mist obscure it, will be to me a
safety.
I will strengthen me with breakfast, and then I will to my terrible
work. Madam Mina still sleeps; and, God be thanked! she is calm in
her sleep....
Jonathan Harker’s Journal.
4 November, evening.—The accident to the launch has been a
terrible thing for us. Only for it we should have overtaken the boat
long ago; and by now my dear Mina would have been free. I fear to
think of her, off on the wolds near that horrid place. We have got
horses, and we follow on the track. I note this whilst Godalming is
getting ready. We have our arms. The Szgany must look out if they
mean fight. Oh, if only Morris and Seward were with us. We must
only hope! If I write no more Good-bye, Mina! God bless and
keep you.
Dr. Seward’s Diary.
5 November.—With the dawn we saw the body of Szgany before
us dashing away from the river with their leiter-wagon. They
surrounded it in a cluster, and hurried along as though beset. The
snow is falling lightly and there is a strange excitement in the air. It
may be our own feelings, but the depression is strange. Far off I
hear the howling of wolves; the snow brings them down from the
mountains, and there are dangers to all of us, and from all sides.
The horses are nearly ready, and we are soon off. We ride to death
of some one. God alone knows who, or where, or what, or when, or
how it may be....
Dr. Van Helsing’s Memorandum.
5 November, afternoon.—I am at least sane. Thank God for that
mercy at all events, though the proving it has been dreadful. When I
left Madam Mina sleeping within the Holy circle, I took my way to
the castle. The blacksmith hammer which I took in the carriage
from Veresti was useful; though the doors were all open I broke
them off the rusty hinges, lest some ill-intent or ill-chance should
close them, so that being entered I might not get out. Jonathan’s
bitter experience served me here. By memory of his diary I found
640 FRANKENSTEIN, DRACUL A, AND GOTHIC LITERATURE

my way to the old chapel, for I knew that here my work lay. The air
was oppressive; it seemed as if there was some sulphurous fume,
which at times made me dizzy. Either there was a roaring in my ears
or I heard afar off the howl of wolves. Then I bethought me of my
dear Madam Mina, and I was in terrible plight. The dilemma had
me between his horns.
Her, I had not dare to take into this place, but left safe from the
Vampire in that Holy circle; and yet even there would be the wolf ! I
resolve me that my work lay here, and that as to the wolves we must
submit, if it were God’s will. At any rate it was only death and
freedom beyond. So did I choose for her. Had it but been for myself
the choice had been easy, the maw of the wolf were better to rest in
than the grave of the Vampire! So I make my choice to go on with
my work.
I knew that there were at least three graves to find—graves that
are inhabit; so I search, and search, and I find one of them. She lay
in her Vampire sleep, so full of life and voluptuous beauty that I
shudder as though I have come to do murder. Ah, I doubt not that
in old time, when such things were, many a man who set forth to do
such a task as mine, found at the last his heart fail him, and then his
nerve. So he delay, and delay, and delay, till the mere beauty and the
fascination of the wanton Un-Dead have hypnotise him; and he
remain on and on, till sunset come, and the Vampire sleep be over.
Then the beautiful eyes of the fair woman open and look love, and
the voluptuous mouth present to a kiss—and man is weak. And
there remain one more victim in the Vampire fold; one more to
swell the grim and grisly ranks of the Un-Dead!...
There is some fascination, surely, when I am moved by the mere
presence of such an one, even lying as she lay in a tomb fretted with
age and heavy with the dust of centuries, though there be that
horrid odour such as the lairs of the Count have had. Yes, I was
moved—I, Van Helsing, with all my purpose and with my motive
for hate—I was moved to a yearning for delay which seemed to
paralyse my faculties and to clog my very soul. It may have been
that the need of natural sleep, and the strange oppression of the air
were beginning to overcome me. Certain it was that I was lapsing
 CHAPTER XXVII 641

into sleep, the open-eyed sleep of one who yields to a sweet fascina‐
tion, when there came through the snow-stilled air a long, low wail,
so full of woe and pity that it woke me like the sound of a clarion.
For it was the voice of my dear Madam Mina that I heard.
Then I braced myself again to my horrid task, and found by
wrenching away tomb-tops one other of the sisters, the other dark
one. I dared not pause to look on her as I had on her sister, lest once
more I should begin to be enthrall; but I go on searching until, pres‐
ently, I find in a high great tomb as if made to one much beloved
that other fair sister which, like Jonathan I had seen to gather
herself out of the atoms of the mist. She was so fair to look on, so
radiantly beautiful, so exquisitely voluptuous, that the very instinct
of man in me, which calls some of my sex to love and to protect one
of hers, made my head whirl with new emotion. But God be
thanked, that soul-wail of my dear Madam Mina had not died out
of my ears; and, before the spell could be wrought further upon me,
I had nerved myself to my wild work. By this time I had searched all
the tombs in the chapel, so far as I could tell; and as there had been
only three of these Un-Dead phantoms around us in the night, I
took it that there were no more of active Un-Dead existent. There
was one great tomb more lordly than all the rest; huge it was, and
nobly proportioned. On it was but one word
DRACULA.
This then was the Un-Dead home of the King-Vampire, to
whom so many more were due. Its emptiness spoke eloquent to
make certain what I knew. Before I began to restore these women to
their dead selves through my awful work, I laid in Dracula’s tomb
some of the Wafer, and so banished him from it, Un-Dead, for ever.
Then began my terrible task, and I dreaded it. Had it been but
one, it had been easy, comparative. But three! To begin twice more
after I had been through a deed of horror; for if it was terrible with
the sweet Miss Lucy, what would it not be with these strange ones
who had survived through centuries, and who had been strength‐
ened by the passing of the years; who would, if they could, have
fought for their foul lives....
Oh, my friend John, but it was butcher work; had I not been
642 FRANKENSTEIN, DRACUL A, AND GOTHIC LITERATURE

nerved by thoughts of other dead, and of the living over whom

hung such a pall of fear, I could not have gone on. I tremble and
tremble even yet, though till all was over, God be thanked, my nerve
did stand. Had I not seen the repose in the first place, and the glad‐
ness that stole over it just ere the final dissolution came, as realisa‐
tion that the soul had been won, I could not have gone further with
my butchery. I could not have endured the horrid screeching as the
stake drove home; the plunging of writhing form, and lips of bloody
foam. I should have fled in terror and left my work undone. But it is
over! And the poor souls, I can pity them now and weep, as I think
of them placid each in her full sleep of death for a short moment
ere fading. For, friend John, hardly had my knife severed the head of
each, before the whole body began to melt away and crumble in to
its native dust, as though the death that should have come centuries
agone had at last assert himself and say at once and loud “I
am here!”
Before I left the castle I so fixed its entrances that never more
can the Count enter there Un-Dead.
When I stepped into the circle where Madam Mina slept, she
woke from her sleep, and, seeing, me, cried out in pain that I had
endured too much.
“Come!” she said, “come away from this awful place! Let us go
to meet my husband who is, I know, coming towards us.” She was
looking thin and pale and weak; but her eyes were pure and glowed
with fervour. I was glad to see her paleness and her illness, for my
mind was full of the fresh horror of that ruddy vampire sleep.
And so with trust and hope, and yet full of fear, we go eastward
to meet our friends—and him—whom Madam Mina tell me that
she know are coming to meet us.
Mina Harker’s Journal.
6 November.—It was late in the afternoon when the Professor and
I took our way towards the east whence I knew Jonathan was
coming. We did not go fast, though the way was steeply downhill,
for we had to take heavy rugs and wraps with us; we dared not face
the possibility of being left without warmth in the cold and the
snow. We had to take some of our provisions, too, for we were in a
 CHAPTER XXVII 643

perfect desolation, and, so far as we could see through the snowfall,

there was not even the sign of habitation. When we had gone about
a mile, I was tired with the heavy walking and sat down to rest.
Then we looked back and saw where the clear line of Dracula’s
castle cut the sky; for we were so deep under the hill whereon it was
set that the angle of perspective of the Carpathian mountains was
far below it. We saw it in all its grandeur, perched a thousand feet on
the summit of a sheer precipice, and with seemingly a great gap
between it and the steep of the adjacent mountain on any side.
There was something wild and uncanny about the place. We could
hear the distant howling of wolves. They were far off, but the sound,
even though coming muffled through the deadening snowfall, was
full of terror. I knew from the way Dr. Van Helsing was searching
about that he was trying to seek some strategic point, where we
would be less exposed in case of attack. The rough roadway still led
downwards; we could trace it through the drifted snow.
In a little while the Professor signalled to me, so I got up and
joined him. He had found a wonderful spot, a sort of natural hollow
in a rock, with an entrance like a doorway between two boulders.
He took me by the hand and drew me in: “See!” he said, “here you
will be in shelter; and if the wolves do come I can meet them one by
one.” He brought in our furs, and made a snug nest for me, and got
out some provisions and forced them upon me. But I could not eat;
to even try to do so was repulsive to me, and, much as I would have
liked to please him, I could not bring myself to the attempt. He
looked very sad, but did not reproach me. Taking his field-glasses
from the case, he stood on the top of the rock, and began to search
the horizon. Suddenly he called out:—
“Look! Madam Mina, look! look!” I sprang up and stood beside
him on the rock; he handed me his glasses and pointed. The snow
was now falling more heavily, and swirled about fiercely, for a high
wind was beginning to blow. However, there were times when there
were pauses between the snow flurries and I could see a long way
round. From the height where we were it was possible to see a great
distance; and far off, beyond the white waste of snow, I could see the
river lying like a black ribbon in kinks and curls as it wound its way.
644 FRANKENSTEIN, DRACUL A, AND GOTHIC LITERATURE

Straight in front of us and not far off—in fact, so near that I

wondered we had not noticed before—came a group of mounted
men hurrying along. In the midst of them was a cart, a long leiter-
wagon which swept from side to side, like a dog’s tail wagging, with
each stern inequality of the road. Outlined against the snow as they
were, I could see from the men’s clothes that they were peasants or
gypsies of some kind.
On the cart was a great square chest. My heart leaped as I saw
it, for I felt that the end was coming. The evening was now drawing
close, and well I knew that at sunset the Thing, which was till then
imprisoned there, would take new freedom and could in any of
many forms elude all pursuit. In fear I turned to the Professor; to
my consternation, however, he was not there. An instant later, I saw
him below me. Round the rock he had drawn a circle, such as we
had found shelter in last night. When he had completed it he stood
beside me again, saying:—
“At least you shall be safe here from him!” He took the glasses
from me, and at the next lull of the snow swept the whole space
below us. “See,” he said, “they come quickly; they are flogging the
horses, and galloping as hard as they can.” He paused and went on
in a hollow voice:—
“They are racing for the sunset. We may be too late. God’s will
be done!” Down came another blinding rush of driving snow, and
the whole landscape was blotted out. It soon passed, however, and
once more his glasses were fixed on the plain. Then came a
sudden cry:—
“Look! Look! Look! See, two horsemen follow fast, coming up
from the south. It must be Quincey and John. Take the glass. Look
before the snow blots it all out!” I took it and looked. The two men
might be Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris. I knew at all events that
neither of them was Jonathan. At the same time I knew that
Jonathan was not far off; looking around I saw on the north side of
the coming party two other men, riding at break-neck speed. One
of them I knew was Jonathan, and the other I took, of course, to be
Lord Godalming. They, too, were pursuing the party with the cart.
When I told the Professor he shouted in glee like a schoolboy, and,
 CHAPTER XXVII 645

after looking intently till a snow fall made sight impossible, he laid
his Winchester rifle ready for use against the boulder at the opening
of our shelter. “They are all converging,” he said. “When the time
comes we shall have gypsies on all sides.” I got out my revolver
ready to hand, for whilst we were speaking the howling of wolves
came louder and closer. When the snow storm abated a moment we
looked again. It was strange to see the snow falling in such heavy
flakes close to us, and beyond, the sun shining more and more
brightly as it sank down towards the far mountain tops. Sweeping
the glass all around us I could see here and there dots moving singly
and in twos and threes and larger numbers—the wolves were gath‐
ering for their prey.
Every instant seemed an age whilst we waited. The wind came
now in fierce bursts, and the snow was driven with fury as it swept
upon us in circling eddies. At times we could not see an arm’s length
before us; but at others, as the hollow-sounding wind swept by us, it
seemed to clear the air-space around us so that we could see afar off.
We had of late been so accustomed to watch for sunrise and sunset,
that we knew with fair accuracy when it would be; and we knew that
before long the sun would set. It was hard to believe that by our
watches it was less than an hour that we waited in that rocky shelter
before the various bodies began to converge close upon us. The
wind came now with fiercer and more bitter sweeps, and more
steadily from the north. It seemingly had driven the snow clouds
from us, for, with only occasional bursts, the snow fell. We could
distinguish clearly the individuals of each party, the pursued and the
pursuers. Strangely enough those pursued did not seem to realise, or
at least to care, that they were pursued; they seemed, however, to
hasten with redoubled speed as the sun dropped lower and lower on
the mountain tops.
Closer and closer they drew. The Professor and I crouched down
behind our rock, and held our weapons ready; I could see that he
was determined that they should not pass. One and all were quite
unaware of our presence.
All at once two voices shouted out to: “Halt!” One was my
Jonathan’s, raised in a high key of passion; the other Mr. Morris’
646 FRANKENSTEIN, DRACUL A, AND GOTHIC LITERATURE

strong resolute tone of quiet command. The gypsies may not have
known the language, but there was no mistaking the tone, in what‐
ever tongue the words were spoken. Instinctively they reined in, and
at the instant Lord Godalming and Jonathan dashed up at one side
and Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris on the other. The leader of the
gypsies, a splendid-looking fellow who sat his horse like a centaur,
waved them back, and in a fierce voice gave to his companions some
word to proceed. They lashed the horses which sprang forward; but
the four men raised their Winchester rifles, and in an unmistakable
way commanded them to stop. At the same moment Dr. Van
Helsing and I rose behind the rock and pointed our weapons at
them. Seeing that they were surrounded the men tightened their
reins and drew up. The leader turned to them and gave a word at
which every man of the gypsy party drew what weapon he carried,
knife or pistol, and held himself in readiness to attack. Issue was
joined in an instant.
The leader, with a quick movement of his rein, threw his horse
out in front, and pointing first to the sun—now close down on the
hill tops—and then to the castle, said something which I did not
understand. For answer, all four men of our party threw themselves
from their horses and dashed towards the cart. I should have felt
terrible fear at seeing Jonathan in such danger, but that the ardour
of battle must have been upon me as well as the rest of them; I felt
no fear, but only a wild, surging desire to do something. Seeing the
quick movement of our parties, the leader of the gypsies gave a
command; his men instantly formed round the cart in a sort of
undisciplined endeavour, each one shouldering and pushing the
other in his eagerness to carry out the order.
In the midst of this I could see that Jonathan on one side of the
ring of men, and Quincey on the other, were forcing a way to the
cart; it was evident that they were bent on finishing their task
before the sun should set. Nothing seemed to stop or even to
hinder them. Neither the levelled weapons nor the flashing knives
of the gypsies in front, nor the howling of the wolves behind,
appeared to even attract their attention. Jonathan’s impetuosity,
and the manifest singleness of his purpose, seemed to overawe
 CHAPTER XXVII 647

those in front of him; instinctively they cowered, aside and let him
pass. In an instant he had jumped upon the cart, and, with a
strength which seemed incredible, raised the great box, and flung it
over the wheel to the ground. In the meantime, Mr. Morris had
had to use force to pass through his side of the ring of Szgany. All
the time I had been breathlessly watching Jonathan I had, with the
tail of my eye, seen him pressing desperately forward, and had seen
the knives of the gypsies flash as he won a way through them, and
they cut at him. He had parried with his great bowie knife, and at
first I thought that he too had come through in safety; but as he
sprang beside Jonathan, who had by now jumped from the cart, I
could see that with his left hand he was clutching at his side, and
that the blood was spurting through his fingers. He did not delay
notwithstanding this, for as Jonathan, with desperate energy,
attacked one end of the chest, attempting to prize off the lid with
his great Kukri knife, he attacked the other frantically with his
bowie. Under the efforts of both men the lid began to yield; the
nails drew with a quick screeching sound, and the top of the box
was thrown back.
By this time the gypsies, seeing themselves covered by the
Winchesters, and at the mercy of Lord Godalming and Dr. Seward,
had given in and made no resistance. The sun was almost down on
the mountain tops, and the shadows of the whole group fell long
upon the snow. I saw the Count lying within the box upon the earth,
some of which the rude falling from the cart had scattered over him.
He was deathly pale, just like a waxen image, and the red eyes
glared with the horrible vindictive look which I knew too well.
As I looked, the eyes saw the sinking sun, and the look of hate in
them turned to triumph.
But, on the instant, came the sweep and flash of Jonathan’s
great knife. I shrieked as I saw it shear through the throat; whilst at
the same moment Mr. Morris’s bowie knife plunged into the heart.
It was like a miracle; but before our very eyes, and almost in the
drawing of a breath, the whole body crumble into dust and passed
from our sight.
I shall be glad as long as I live that even in that moment of final
648 FRANKENSTEIN, DRACUL A, AND GOTHIC LITERATURE

dissolution, there was in the face a look of peace, such as I never

could have imagined might have rested there.
The Castle of Dracula now stood out against the red sky, and
every stone of its broken battlements was articulated against the
light of the setting sun.
The gypsies, taking us as in some way the cause of the
extraordinary disappearance of the dead man, turned, without a
word, and rode away as if for their lives. Those who were
unmounted jumped upon the leiter-wagon and shouted to the
horsemen not to desert them. The wolves, which had withdrawn to
a safe distance, followed in their wake, leaving us alone.
Mr. Morris, who had sunk to the ground, leaned on his elbow,
holding his hand pressed to his side; the blood still gushed through
his fingers. I flew to him, for the Holy circle did not now keep me
back; so did the two doctors. Jonathan knelt behind him and the
wounded man laid back his head on his shoulder. With a sigh he
took, with a feeble effort, my hand in that of his own which was
unstained. He must have seen the anguish of my heart in my face,
for he smiled at me and said:—
“I am only too happy to have been of any service! Oh, God!” he
cried suddenly, struggling up to a sitting posture and pointing to me,
“It was worth for this to die! Look! look!”
The sun was now right down upon the mountain top, and the
red gleams fell upon my face, so that it was bathed in rosy light.
With one impulse the men sank on their knees and a deep and
earnest “Amen” broke from all as their eyes followed the pointing of
his finger. The dying man spoke:—
“Now God be thanked that all has not been in vain! See! the
snow is not more stainless than her forehead! The curse has
passed away!”
And, to our bitter grief, with a smile and in silence, he died, a
gallant gentleman.
NOTE
Seven years ago we all went through the flames; and the happi‐
ness of some of us since then is, we think, well worth the pain we
endured. It is an added joy to Mina and to me that our boy’s
 CHAPTER XXVII 649

birthday is the same day as that on which Quincey Morris died. His
mother holds, I know, the secret belief that some of our brave
friend’s spirit has passed into him. His bundle of names links all our
little band of men together; but we call him Quincey.
In the summer of this year we made a journey to Transylvania,
and went over the old ground which was, and is, to us so full of vivid
and terrible memories. It was almost impossible to believe that the
things which we had seen with our own eyes and heard with our
own ears were living truths. Every trace of all that had been was
blotted out. The castle stood as before, reared high above a waste of
desolation.
When we got home we were talking of the old time—which we
could all look back on without despair, for Godalming and Seward
are both happily married. I took the papers from the safe where
they had been ever since our return so long ago. We were struck
with the fact, that in all the mass of material of which the record is
composed, there is hardly one authentic document; nothing but a
mass of typewriting, except the later note-books of Mina and
Seward and myself, and Van Helsing’s memorandum. We could
hardly ask any one, even did we wish to, to accept these as proofs of
so wild a story. Van Helsing summed it all up as he said, with our
boy on his knee:—
“We want no proofs; we ask none to believe us! This boy will
some day know what a brave and gallant woman his mother is.
Already he knows her sweetness and loving care; later on he will
understand how some men so loved her, that they did dare much for
her sake.”
Jonathan Harker.
THE END