Dracula

by Bram Stoker

I could see Quincey Morris run across the lawn and hide himself in the shadow of a great yew-tree.

Why

And you, their best beloved one, are now to me, flesh of my flesh; blood of my blood; kin of my kin;

shall be later on my companion and my helper.

As he had placed the Wafer on Mina’s forehead, it had seared it—had burned into the flesh as though it had been a piece of white-hot metal.

Pulling her beautiful hair over her face, as the leper of old his mantle, she wailed out:— “Unclean! Unclean! Even the Almighty shuns my polluted flesh! I must bear this mark of shame upon my forehead until the Judgment Day.”

Then without a word we all knelt down together, and, all holding hands, swore to be true to each other. We men pledged ourselves to raise the veil of sorrow from the head of her whom, each in his own way, we loved;

The rest of us are, with what patience we can, waiting their return—or the coming of the Count.

His waxen hue became greenish-yellow by the contrast of his burning eyes, and the red scar on the forehead showed on the pallid skin like a palpitating wound.

“You think to baffle me, you—with your pale faces all in a row, like sheep in a butcher’s. You shall be sorry yet, each one of you! You think you have left me without a place to rest; but I have more. My revenge is just begun! I spread it over centuries, and time is on my side. Your girls that you all love are mine already;

When we came to the part where Harker had rushed at the Count so recklessly, she clung to her husband’s arm, and held it tight as though her clinging could protect him from any harm that might come.

Oh, that I could give any idea of the scene; of that sweet, sweet, good, good woman in all the radiant beauty of her youth and animation,

her loving kindness against our grim hate; her tender faith against all our fears and doubting; and we, knowing that so far as symbols went, she with all her goodness and purity and faith, was outcast from God.

the word sounded like music on her lips it was so full of love and tenderness,

That poor soul who has wrought all this misery is the saddest case of all.

“Oh, thank God for good brave men!”

“Because,” he answered solemnly, “he can live for centuries, and you are but mortal woman. Time is now to be dreaded—since once he put that mark upon your throat.” I was just in time to catch her as she fell forward in a faint.

Take heart afresh, dear husband of Madam Mina. This battle is but begun, and in the end we shall win—so sure as that God sits on high to watch over His children. Therefore be of much comfort till we return. Van Helsing.

He swear much, and he red face and loud of voice, but he good fellow all the same;

except that he have a hat of straw which suit not him or the time.

Lol

He have done this alone; all alone! from a ruin tomb in a forgotten land. What more may he not do when the greater world of thought is open to him?

It is really wonderful how much resilience there is in human nature. Let any obstructing cause, no matter what, be removed in any way—even by death—and we fly back to first principles of hope and enjoyment.

“I promise!” and as I said it I felt that from that instant a door had been shut between us.

There is a poison in my blood, in my soul, which may destroy me; which must destroy me, unless some relief comes to us.

“You must not shrink. You are nearest and dearest and all the world to me; our souls are knit into one, for all life and all time.

And oh, my dear, if it is to be that I must meet death at any hand, let it be at the hand of him that loves me best.

“I am deeper in death at this moment than if the weight of an earthly grave lay heavy upon me!”

How can I—how could anyone—tell of that strange scene, its solemnity, its gloom, its sadness, its horror; and, withal, its sweetness.

Even a skeptic, who can see nothing but a travesty of bitter truth in anything holy or emotional, would have been melted to the heart had he seen that little group of loving and devoted friends kneeling round that stricken and sorrowing lady; or heard the tender passion of her husband’s voice, as in tones so broken with emotion that often he had to pause, he read the simple and beautiful service from the Burial of the Dead.

Thank God! this is the country where bribery can do anything,

Wherever he may be in the Black Sea, the Count is hurrying to his destination. To his doom, I trust!

Quincey Morris tightened his belt with that quick movement which I knew so well; in our old wandering days it meant “action.”

“That other of his race who, in a later age, again and again, brought his forces over The Great River into Turkey-land; who, when he was beaten back, came again, and again, and again, though he had to come alone from the bloody field where his troops were being slaughtered, since he knew that he alone could ultimately triumph.”

But there comes another word from someone who speak without thought because she, too, know not what it mean—what it might mean.

It’s no canny to run frae London to the Black Sea wi’ a wind ahint ye, as though the Deil himself were blawin’ on yer sail for his ain purpose.

the Roumanians, came and asked me to heave overboard a big box which had been put on board by a queer lookin’ old man just before we had started frae London.

And, too, it made me think of the wonderful power of money! What can it not do when it is properly applied;

I felt so thankful that Lord Godalming is rich, and that both he and Mr. Morris, who also has plenty of money, are willing to spend it so freely.

31 October.

If Jonathan and I were driving through it alone what a pleasure it would be. To stop and see people, and learn something of their life, and to fill our minds and memories with all the colour and picturesqueness of the whole wild, beautiful country and the quaint people!

and when I sudden remember that I watch, I find her lying quiet, but awake, and looking at me with so bright eyes.

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

and it seemed as though the snow flurries and the wreaths of mist took shape as of women with trailing garments.

“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,”

“Come, sister. Come to us. Come! Come!”

We ride to the death of someone. God alone knows who, or where, or what, or when, or how it may be . . .

before the whole body began to melt away and crumble into 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!”

felt no fear, but only a wild, surging desire to do something.

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.

the whole body crumbled into dust and passed from our sight.