But at that moment, another sensation came to me. The Count arrived, in a storm of fury. My eyes opened; he grasped the slender neck of the fair woman and with giant’s power drew it back.[53] The blue eyes transformed with fury, the white teeth champed with rage. But the Count! The red light in his eyes was lurid, his face was deathly pale. He said, “How dare you touch him?![54] How dare you cast eyes on him?! Back, I tell you all! This man belongs to me!”

The fair girl tried to answer, “You never loved; you never love!”

The Count turned, and said in a soft whisper, “Yes, I too can love; you can tell it from the past. Is it not so? Well, now I promise you that when I finish with him you will kiss him. Now go! Go! I must awaken him.”

“We have nothing tonight?” said one of them, with a low laugh. She pointed to the bag which he had thrown upon the floor. For answer he nodded his head. One of the women jumped forward and opened it. If my ears did not deceive me there was a gasp and a low wail, as of a child. The women disappeared with the dreadful bag. There was no door near them, they simply faded into the rays of the moonlight and passed out through the window.

Then the horror overcame me, and I sank down unconscious.[55]

I awoke in my own bed. I think the Count carried me here. This room is now a sanctuary, for nothing can be more dreadful than those awful women, who were – who are – waiting to suck my blood.

18 May. – I went down to look at that room again in daylight, for I must know the truth. When I got to the doorway at the top of the stairs, it was closed. The door is fastened from the inside. I fear it was no dream.

19 May. – I am surely in the toils.[56] Last night the Count asked me to write three letters, one saying that my work here was nearly done, and that I should start for home within a few days, another that I was starting on the next morning, and the third that I had left the castle and arrived at Bistritz. It is madness to quarrel openly with the Count while I am so absolutely in his power. To refuse is 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. I am waiting for a chance to escape.

I asked him: what dates must I put on the letters? He calculated a minute, and then said, “The first letter must 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 to send word home. A band of gypsies[57] have come to the castle, and are encamped in the courtyard. There are thousands of them in Hungary and Transylvania, who are almost outside all law. They are fearless and without religion.

I shall write some letters home, and shall give them to the gypsies. I have already spoken to them through my window. They took their hats off and made many signs, which, however, I could not understand.

I have written the letters. Mina’s letter is in shorthand. I have given the letters; I threw them through the bars of my window with a gold piece. The gypsy man who took them pressed them to his heart and bowed, and then put them in his cap. I could do no more.

The Count has come. He sat down beside me, and said in his smoothest voice as he opened two letters, “The gypsies have given me these letters. I do not know not whence they come, but I shall, of course, take care. See! One is from you, and to my friend Peter Hawkins. The other is not signed. Well!” And he calmly held letter and envelope in the flame of the lamp.