36 Dracula
the softness of human lips. It was like the intolerable, tinglii _
sweetness of water-glasses 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:
/’jHe is^.young_and steragjJtkCTeareJuaaesJoj^jjsaJi^I lay
quietTlooking out under my eyelashes in an agony of~delightf ul
anticipation. The fair girl advanced and bent over me till I
could feel the movement of her breath upon me. Sweet it was
in one sense, honey-sweet, and sent the same tingling through
the nerves as her voice, but with a bitter underlying the sweet,
a bitter offensiveness, as one smells in blood.
I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw per-
fectly under the lashes. The girl went on her knees, and bent
over me, simply gloating. There was a deliberate voluptuousness
which was both thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her
neck she actually licked her lips like an animal, till I could see
in the moonlight the moisture shining on the scarlet lips and on
the red tongue as it lapped the white sharp teeth. Lower and
lower went her head as the lips went below the range of my
mouth and chin and seemed about to fasten on my throat.
Then she paused, and I could hear the churning sound of her
tongue as it licked her teeth and lips, and could feel the hot
breath on my neck. (Then the skin of my throat began to tingle
as one’s flesh does when the hand that is to tickle it approaches
nearer nearer, ft could feel the soft, shivering touch of the lips
on the super-sensitive skin of my throat, and the hard dents
of two sharp teeth, just touching and pausing there. I closed
my eyes in a languorous ecstasy and waited waited with beat-
ing heartj
JtJut aTthat instant, another sensation swept through me as
quick as lightning. I was conscious of the presence of the Count.,
and of his being as if lapped in a storm of fury. As my eyes
opened involuntarily I saw his strong hand grasp the slendef
neck of the fair woman and with giant’s power draw it back,
the blue eyes transformed with fury, the white teeth champing
with rage, and the fair cheeks blazing red with passion. But the
Count! Never did I imagine such wrath and fury, even to the
demons of the pit. His eyes were positively blazing. The red
light in them was lurid, as if the flames of heft-fire blazed behind
them. His face was deathly pale, and the lines of it were hard
like drawn wires; the thick eyebrows that met over the nose
Jonathan Marker’s Journal 37
now seemed like a heaving bar of white-hot metal. With a fierce
sweep of his arm, he hurled the woman from him, and then
motioned to the others, as though he were beating them back;
it was the same imperious gesture that I had seen used to the
wolves. In a voice which, though low and almost in a whisper
seemed to cut through the air and then ring round the room
he said:
«How dare you touch him, any of you? How dare you cast
eyes on him when I had forbidden it? Back, I tell you all! This
man belongs to me! Beware how you meddle with him, or you’ll
have to deal with me.» The fair girl, with a laugh of ribald
coquetry, turned to answer him:
«You yourself never loved; you never love!» On this the
other women joined, and such a mirthless, hard, soulless laugh-
ter rang through the room that it almost made me faint to hear;
it seemed like the pleasure of fiends. Then the Count turned,
after looking at my face attentively, and said in a soft whisper:
«Yes, I too can love; you yourselves can tell it from the past.
Is it not so? Well, now I promise you that when I am done
with him you shall kiss him at your will. Now go! go! I must
awaken him, for there is work to be done.»
«Are we to have nothing to-night?» said one of them, with a
low laugh, as she pointed to the bag which he had thrown upon
the floor, and which moved as though there were some living
thing within it. For answer he nodded his head. One of the wo-
men jumped forward and opened it. If my ears did not deceive
me there was a gasp and a low wail, as of a half -smothered child.
The women closed round, whilst I was aghast with horror; but
as I looked they disappeared, and with them the dreadful bag.
There was no door near them, and they could not have passed
me without my noticing. They simply seemed to fade into the
rays of the moonlight and pass out through the window, for I
could see outside the dim, shadowy forms for a moment before
they entirely faded away.
Then the horror overcame me, and I sank down unconscious.
CHAPTER IV
JONATHAN BARKER’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
rnay have been evidences that my mind was not as usual, and,
from 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 doorway
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 splin-
tered. 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.
ip May. I am surely in the toils. Last night the Count
asked me in the suavest tones 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 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
38
Jonathan Marker’s Journal 39
absolutely in his power; and to refuse would be to excite his sus-
picion 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 gathering 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 impressive-
ness that he would countermand the later letters, 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!