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But
I
am
not
in
heart
to
describe
beauty
,
for
when
I
had
seen
the
view
I
explored
further
.
Doors
,
doors
,
doors
everywhere
,
and
all
locked
and
bolted
.
In
no
place
save
from
the
windows
in
the
castle
walls
is
there
an
available
exit
.
The
castle
is
a
veritable
prison
,
and
I
am
a
prisoner
!
When
I
found
that
I
was
a
prisoner
a
sort
of
wild
feeling
came
over
me
.
I
rushed
up
and
down
the
stairs
,
trying
every
door
and
peering
out
of
every
window
I
could
find
,
but
after
a
little
the
conviction
of
my
helplessness
overpowered
all
other
feelings
.
When
I
look
back
after
a
few
hours
I
think
I
must
have
been
mad
for
the
time
,
for
I
behaved
much
as
a
rat
does
in
a
trap
.
When
,
however
,
the
conviction
had
come
to
me
that
I
was
helpless
I
sat
down
quietly
,
as
quietly
as
I
have
ever
done
anything
in
my
life
,
and
began
to
think
over
what
was
best
to
be
done
.
I
am
thinking
still
,
and
as
yet
have
come
to
no
definite
conclusion
.
Of
one
thing
only
am
I
certain
.
That
it
is
no
use
making
my
ideas
known
to
the
Count
.
He
knows
well
that
I
am
imprisoned
,
and
as
he
has
done
it
himself
,
and
has
doubtless
his
own
motives
for
it
,
he
would
only
deceive
me
if
I
trusted
him
fully
with
the
facts
.
So
far
as
I
can
see
,
my
only
plan
will
be
to
keep
my
knowledge
and
my
fears
to
myself
,
and
my
eyes
open
.
I
am
,
I
know
,
either
being
deceived
,
like
a
baby
,
by
my
own
fears
,
or
else
I
am
in
desperate
straits
,
and
if
the
latter
be
so
,
I
need
,
and
shall
need
,
all
my
brains
to
get
through
.
I
had
hardly
come
to
this
conclusion
when
I
heard
the
great
door
below
shut
,
and
knew
that
the
Count
had
returned
.
He
did
not
come
at
once
into
the
library
,
so
I
went
cautiously
to
my
own
room
and
found
him
making
the
bed
.
This
was
odd
,
but
only
confirmed
what
I
had
all
along
thought
,
that
there
are
no
servants
in
the
house
.
When
later
I
saw
him
through
the
chink
of
the
hinges
of
the
door
laying
the
table
in
the
dining
room
,
I
was
assured
of
it
.
For
if
he
does
himself
all
these
menial
offices
,
surely
it
is
proof
that
there
is
no
one
else
in
the
castle
,
it
must
have
been
the
Count
himself
who
was
the
driver
of
the
coach
that
brought
me
here
.
This
is
a
terrible
thought
,
for
if
so
,
what
does
it
mean
that
he
could
control
the
wolves
,
as
he
did
,
by
only
holding
up
his
hand
for
silence
?
How
was
it
that
all
the
people
at
Bistritz
and
on
the
coach
had
some
terrible
fear
for
me
?
What
meant
the
giving
of
the
crucifix
,
of
the
garlic
,
of
the
wild
rose
,
of
the
mountain
ash
?
Bless
that
good
,
good
woman
who
hung
the
crucifix
round
my
neck
!
For
it
is
a
comfort
and
a
strength
to
me
whenever
I
touch
it
.
It
is
odd
that
a
thing
which
I
have
been
taught
to
regard
with
disfavour
and
as
idolatrous
should
in
a
time
of
loneliness
and
trouble
be
of
help
.
Is
it
that
there
is
something
in
the
essence
of
the
thing
itself
,
or
that
it
is
a
medium
,
a
tangible
help
,
in
conveying
memories
of
sympathy
and
comfort
?
Some
time
,
if
it
may
be
,
I
must
examine
this
matter
and
try
to
make
up
my
mind
about
it
.
In
the
meantime
I
must
find
out
all
I
can
about
Count
Dracula
,
as
it
may
help
me
to
understand
.
Tonight
he
may
talk
of
himself
,
if
I
turn
the
conversation
that
way
.
I
must
be
very
careful
,
however
,
not
to
awake
his
suspicion
.
Midnight
.
--
I
have
had
a
long
talk
with
the
Count
.
I
asked
him
a
few
questions
on
Transylvania
history
,
and
he
warmed
up
to
the
subject
wonderfully
.
In
his
speaking
of
things
and
people
,
and
especially
of
battles
,
he
spoke
as
if
he
had
been
present
at
them
all
.
This
he
afterwards
explained
by
saying
that
to
a
Boyar
the
pride
of
his
house
and
name
is
his
own
pride
,
that
their
glory
is
his
glory
,
that
their
fate
is
his
fate
.
Whenever
he
spoke
of
his
house
he
always
said
"
we
"
,
and
spoke
almost
in
the
plural
,
like
a
king
speaking
.
I
wish
I
could
put
down
all
he
said
exactly
as
he
said
it
,
for
to
me
it
was
most
fascinating
.
It
seemed
to
have
in
it
a
whole
history
of
the
country
.
He
grew
excited
as
he
spoke
,
and
walked
about
the
room
pulling
his
great
white
moustache
and
grasping
anything
on
which
he
laid
his
hands
as
though
he
would
crush
it
by
main
strength
.
One
thing
he
said
which
I
shall
put
down
as
nearly
as
I
can
,
for
it
tells
in
its
way
the
story
of
his
race
.
"
We
Szekelys
have
a
right
to
be
proud
,
for
in
our
veins
flows
the
blood
of
many
brave
races
who
fought
as
the
lion
fights
,
for
lordship
.
Here
,
in
the
whirlpool
of
European
races
,
the
Ugric
tribe
bore
down
from
Iceland
the
fighting
spirit
which
Thor
and
Wodin
gave
them
,
which
their
Berserkers
displayed
to
such
fell
intent
on
the
seaboards
of
Europe
,
aye
,
and
of
Asia
and
Africa
too
,
till
the
peoples
thought
that
the
werewolves
themselves
had
come
.
Here
,
too
,
when
they
came
,
they
found
the
Huns
,
whose
warlike
fury
had
swept
the
earth
like
a
living
flame
,
till
the
dying
peoples
held
that
in
their
veins
ran
the
blood
of
those
old
witches
,
who
,
expelled
from
Scythia
had
mated
with
the
devils
in
the
desert
.
Fools
,
fools
!
What
devil
or
what
witch
was
ever
so
great
as
Attila
,
whose
blood
is
in
these
veins
?
"
He
held
up
his
arms
.
"
Is
it
a
wonder
that
we
were
a
conquering
race
,
that
we
were
proud
,
that
when
the
Magyar
,
the
Lombard
,
the
Avar
,
the
Bulgar
,
or
the
Turk
poured
his
thousands
on
our
frontiers
,
we
drove
them
back
?
Is
it
strange
that
when
Arpad
and
his
legions
swept
through
the
Hungarian
fatherland
he
found
us
here
when
he
reached
the
frontier
,
that
the
Honfoglalas
was
completed
there
?
And
when
the
Hungarian
flood
swept
eastward
,
the
Szekelys
were
claimed
as
kindred
by
the
victorious
Magyars
,
and
to
us
for
centuries
was
trusted
the
guarding
of
the
frontier
of
Turkeyland
.
Aye
,
and
more
than
that
,
endless
duty
of
the
frontier
guard
,
for
as
the
Turks
say
,
'
water
sleeps
,
and
the
enemy
is
sleepless
.
'
Who
more
gladly
than
we
throughout
the
Four
Nations
received
the
'
bloody
sword
,
'
or
at
its
warlike
call
flocked
quicker
to
the
standard
of
the
King
?
When
was
redeemed
that
great
shame
of
my
nation
,
the
shame
of
Cassova
,
when
the
flags
of
the
Wallach
and
the
Magyar
went
down
beneath
the
Crescent
?
Who
was
it
but
one
of
my
own
race
who
as
Voivode
crossed
the
Danube
and
beat
the
Turk
on
his
own
ground
?
This
was
a
Dracula
indeed
!
Woe
was
it
that
his
own
unworthy
brother
,
when
he
had
fallen
,
sold
his
people
to
the
Turk
and
brought
the
shame
of
slavery
on
them
!
Was
it
not
this
Dracula
,
indeed
,
who
inspired
that
other
of
his
race
who
in
a
later
age
again
and
again
brought
his
forces
over
the
great
river
into
Turkeyland
,
who
,
when
he
was
beaten
back
,
came
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
!
They
said
that
he
thought
only
of
himself
.
Bah
!
What
good
are
peasants
without
a
leader
?
Where
ends
the
war
without
a
brain
and
heart
to
conduct
it
?
Again
,
when
,
after
the
battle
of
Mohacs
,
we
threw
off
the
Hungarian
yoke
,
we
of
the
Dracula
blood
were
amongst
their
leaders
,
for
our
spirit
would
not
brook
that
we
were
not
free
.
Ah
,
young
sir
,
the
Szekelys
,
and
the
Dracula
as
their
heart
's
blood
,
their
brains
,
and
their
swords
,
can
boast
a
record
that
mushroom
growths
like
the
Hapsburgs
and
the
Romanoffs
can
never
reach
.
The
warlike
days
are
over
.
Blood
is
too
precious
a
thing
in
these
days
of
dishonourable
peace
,
and
the
glories
of
the
great
races
are
as
a
tale
that
is
told
.
"
It
was
by
this
time
close
on
morning
,
and
we
went
to
bed
.
(
Mem
.
,
this
diary
seems
horribly
like
the
beginning
of
the
"
Arabian
Nights
,
"
for
everything
has
to
break
off
at
cockcrow
,
or
like
the
ghost
of
Hamlet
's
father
.
)
