Читать книгу Dracula - Брэм Стокер, Bram Stoker, John Edgar Browning - Страница 5

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!

28 May. There is a chance of escape, or at any rate of being

able to send word home. A band of Szgany have come to the

castle, and are encamped in the courtyard. These Szgany are

gipsies; I have notes of them in my book. They are peculiar to

this part of the world, though allied to the ordinary gipsies all

the world over. There are thousands of them in Hungary and

Transylvania, who are almost outside all law. They attach them-

selves as a rule to some great noble or boyar, and call themselves

by his name. They are fearless and without religion, save super-

stition, and they talk only their own varieties of the Romany

tongue.

I shall write some letters home, and shall try to get them to

have them posted. I have already spoken them through my

window to begin acquaintanceship. They took their hats off

and made obeisance and many signs, which, however, I could

not understand any more than I could their spoken language….

I have written the letters. Mina’s is in shorthand, and I simply

ask Mr. Hawkins to communicate with her. To her I have ex-

plained my situation, but without the horrors which I may only

surmise. It would shock and frighten her to death were I to ex-

pose my heart to her. Should the letters not carry, then the

Count shall not yet know my secret or the extent of my knowl-

edge….

40 Dracula

I have given the letters; I threw them through the bars o!

my window with a gold piece, and made what signs I could to

have them posted. The man who took them pressed them to his

heart and bowed, and then put them in his cap. I could do no

more. I stole back to the study, and began to read. As the Count

did not come in, I have written here….

The Count has come. He sat down beside me, and said in his

smoothest voice as he opened two letters:

«The Szgany has given me these, of which, though I know not

whence they come, I shall, of course, take care. See!» he must

have looked at it «one is from you, and to my friend Peter

Hawkins; the other» here he caught sight of the strange sym-

bols as he opened the envelope, and the dark look came into his

face, and his eyes blazed wickedly «the other is a vile thing,

an outrage upon friendship and hospitality! It is not signed.

Well! so it cannot matter to us.» And he calmly held letter and

envelope in the flame of the lamp till they were consumed.

Then he went on:

«The letter to Hawkins that I shall, of course, send on, since

it is yours. Your letters are sacred to me. Your pardon, my friend,

that unknowingly I did break the seal. Will you not cover it

again? "He held out the letter to me, and with a courteous bow

handed me a clean envelope. I could only redirect it and hand it

to him in silence. When he went out of the room I could hear the

key turn softly. A minute later I went over and tried it, and the

door was locked.

When, an hour or two after, the Count came quietly into the

room, his coming awakened me, for I had gone to sleep on the

sofa. He was very courteous and very cheery in his manner, and

seeing that I had been sleeping, he said:

«So, my friend, you are tired? Get to bed. There is the surest

rest. I may not have the pleasure to talk to-night, since there are

many labours to me; but you will sleep, I pray.» I passed to my

room and went to bed, and, strange to say, slept without dream-

ing. Despair has its own calms.

31 May. This morning when I woke I thought I would pro-

vide myself with some paper and envelopes from my bag and

keep them in my pocket, so that I might write in case I should

get an opportunity, but again a surprise, again a shock!

Every scrap of paper was gone, and with it all my notes, my

memoranda, relating to railways and travel, my letter of credit,

Jonathan Harker’s Journal 41

in fact all that might be useful to me were I once outside the

castle. I sat and pondered awhile, and then some thought oc-

curred to me, and I made search of my portmanteau and in the

wardrobe where I had placed my clothes.

The suit in which I had travelled was gone, and also my over-

coat and rug; I could find no trace of them anywhere. This

looked like some new scheme of villainy

17 June. This morning, as I was sitting on the edge of my

bed cudgelling my brains, I heard without a cracking of whips

and pounding and scraping of horses’ feet up the rocky path

beyond the courtyard. With joy I hurried to the window, and

saw drive into the yard two great leiter-wagons, each drawn by

eight sturdy horses, and at the head of each pair a Slovak, with

his wide hat, great nail-studded belt, dirty sheepskin, and high

boots. They had also their long staves in hand. I ran to the door,

intending to descend and try and join them through the main

hall, as I thought that way might be opened for them. Again a

shock: my door was fastened on the outside.

Then I ran to the window and cried to them. They looked

up at me stupidly and pointed, but just then the «hetman»

of the Szgany came out, and seeing them pointing to my window,

said something, at which they laughed. Henceforth no effort of

mine, no piteous cry or agonised entreaty, would make them

even look at me. They resolutely turned away. The leiter-wagons

contained great, square boxes, with handles of thick rope; these

were evidently empty by the ease with which the Slovaks handled

them, and by their resonance as they were roughly moved.

When they were all unloaded and packed in a great heap in one

corner of the yard, the Slovaks were given some money by the

Szgany, and spitting on it for luck, lazily went each to his

horse’s head. Shortly afterwards, I heard the cracking of their

whips die away in the distance.

24, June, before morning. Last night the Count left me early,

and locked himself into his own room. As soon as I dared I ran up

the winding stair, and looked out of the window, which opened

south. I thought I would watch for the Count, for there is some-

thing going on. The Szgany are quartered somewhere in the’castle

and are doing work of some kind. I know it, for now and then I

hear a far-away muffled sound as of mattock and spade, and,

whatever it is % it must be the end of some ruthless villainy.

42 Dracula

I had been at the window somewhat less than half an hour,

when I saw something coming out of the Count’s window. I

drew back and watched carefully, and saw the whole man

emerge. It was a new shock to me to find that he had on the

suit of clothes which I had worn whilst travelling here, and

slung over his shoulder the terrible bag which I had seen the

women take away. There could be no doubt as to his quest, and

’in my garb, too! This, then, is his new scheme of evil: that he

will allow others to see me, as they think, so that he may both

leave evidence that I have been seen in the towns or villages

posting my own letters, and that any wickedness which he may

do shall by the local people be attributed to me.

It makes me rage to think that this can go on, and whilst I

am shut up here, a veritable prisoner, but without that protec-

tion of the law which is even a criminal’s right and consolation.

I thought I would watch for the Count’s return, and for a

long time sat doggedly at the window. Then I began to notice

that there were some quaint little specks floating hi the rays of

the moonlight. They were like the tiniest grains of dust, and they

whirled round and gathered in clusters in a nebulous sort of way.

I watched them with a sense of soothing, and a sort of calm stole

over me. I leaned back in the embrasure in a more comfortable

position, so that I could enjoy more fully the aerial gambolling.

Something made me start up, a low, piteous howling of dogs

somewhere far below in the valley, which was hidden from my

sight. Louder it seemed to ring in my ears, and the floating motes

of dust to take new shapes to the sound as they danced in the

moonlight. I felt myself struggling to awake to some call of

my instincts; nay, my very soul was struggling, and my half-

remembered sensibilities were striving to answer the call. I was

becoming hypnotised! Quicker and quicker danced the dust;

the moonbeams seemed to quiver as they went by me into the

mass of gloom beyond. More and more they gathered till they

seemed to take dim phantom shapes. And then I started, broad

awake and in full possession of my senses, and ran screaming

from the place. The phantom shapes, which were becoming grad-

ually materialised from the moonbeams, were those of the three

ghostly women to whom I was doomed. I fled, and felt somewhat

safer in my own room, where there was no moonlight and where

the lamp was burning brightly.

When a couple of hours had passed I heard something stirring

in the Count’s room, something like a sharp wail quickly sup-

pressed; and then there was silence, deep, awful silence, which

Jonathan Marker’s Journal 43

chilled me. With a beating heart, I tried the door; but I was

locked in my prison, and could do nothing. I sat down and

simply cried

As I sat I heard a sound in the courtyard without the ago-

nised cry of a woman. I rushed to the window, and throwing it

up, peered out between the bars. There, indeed, was a woman

with dishevelled hair, holding her hands over her heart as one

distressed with running. She was leaning against a corner of the

gateway. When she saw my face at the window she threw her-

self forward, and shouted in a voice laden with menace:

«Monster, give me my child!»

She threw herself on her knees, and raising up her hands, cried

the same words in tones which wrung my heart. Then she tore

her hair and beat her breast, and abandoned herself to all the

violences of extravagant emotion. Finally, she threw herself for-

ward, and, though I could not see her, I could hear the beating

of her naked hands against the door.

Somewhere high overhead, probably on the tower, I heard

the voice of the Count calling in his harsh, metallic whisper.

His call seemed to be answered from far and wide by the howling

of wolves. Before many minutes had passed a pack of them

poured, like a pent-up dam when liberated, through the wide

entrance into the courtyard.

There was no cry from the woman, and the howling of the

wolves was but short. Before long they streamed away singly,

licking their lips.

I could not pity her, for I knew now what had become of her

child, and she was better dead.

What shall I do? what can I do? How can I escape from this

dreadful thing of night and gloom and fear?

25 June, morning. No man knows till he has suffered from

the night how sweet and how dear to his heart and eye the

morning can be. When the sun grew so high this morning that

it struck the top of the great gateway opposite my window, the

high spot which it touched seemed to me as if the dove from the

ark had lighted there. My fear fell from me as if it had been a

vaporous garment which dissolved in the warmth. I must take

action of some sort whilst the courage of the day is upon me.

Last night one of my post-dated letters went to post, the first

of that fatal series which is to blot out the very traces of my ex-

istence from the earth.

Let me not think of it. Action!

44 Dracula

It has always been at night-time that I have been molested

or threatened, or in some way in danger or in fear. I have not

yet seen the Count in the daylight. Can it be that he sleeps when

others wake, that he may be awake whilst they sleep? If I could

only get into his room! But there is no possible way. The door

is always locked, no way for me.

Yes, there is a way, if one dares to take it. Where his body

has gone why may not another body go? I have seen him my-

self crawl from his window. Why should not I imitate him, and

go in by his window? The chances are desperate, but my need

is more desperate still. I shall risk it. At the worst it can only

be death; and a man’s death is not a calf’s, and the dreaded Here-

after may still be open to me. God help me in my task! Good-

bye, Mina, if I fail; good-bye, my faithful friend and second

father; good-bye, all, and last of all Mina!

Same day t later. I have made the effort, and God, helping me,

have come safely back to this room. I must put down every

detail in order. I went whilst my courage was fresh straight to

the window on the south side, and at once got outside on the

narrow ledge of stone which runs around the building on this

side. The stones are big and roughly cut, and the mortar has by

process of time been washed away between them. I took off my

boots, and ventured out on the desperate way. I looked down

once, so as to make sure that a sudden glimpse of the awful

depth would not overcome me, but after that kept my eyes

away from it. I knew pretty well the direction and distance of

the Count’s window, and made for it as well as I could, having

regard to the opportunities available. I did not feel dizzy I

suppose I was too excited and the time seemed ridiculously

short till I found myself standing on the window-sill and trying

to raise up the sash. I was filled with agitation, however, when

I bent down and slid feet foremost in through the window. Then

I looked around for the Count, but, with surprise and gladness,

made a discovery. The room was empty! It was barely furnished

with odd things, which seemed to have never been used; the fur-

niture was something the same style as that in the south rooms,

and was covered with dust. I looked for the key, but it was not

in the lock, and I could not find it anywhere. The only thing I

found was a great heap of gold in one corner gold of all kinds,

Roman, and British, and Austrian, and Hungarian, and Greek

and Turkish money, covered with a film of dust, as though

it had lain long in the ground. None of it that I noticed was

Jonathan Harker’s Journal 45

less than three hundred years old. There were also chains

and ornaments, some jewelled, but all of them old and

stained.

At one corner of the room was a heavy door. I tried it, for,

since I could not find the key of the room or the key of the

outer door, which was the main object of my search, I must make

further examination, or all my efforts would be in vain. It was

open, and led through a stone passage to a circular stairway,

which went steeply down. I descended, minding carefully where

I went, for the stairs were dark, being only lit by loopholes in

the heavy masonry. At the bottom there was a dark, tunnel-

like passage, through which came a deathly, sickly odour, the

odour of old earth newly turned. As I went through the passage

the smell grew closer and heavier. At last I pulled open a heavy

door which stood ajar, and found myself in an old, ruined chapel,

which had evidently been used as a graveyard. The roof was

broken, and in two places were steps leading to vaults, but the

ground had recently been dug over, and the earth placed in great

wooden boxes, manifestly those which had been brought by the

Slovaks. There was nobody about, and I made search for any

further outlet, but there was none. Then I went over every

inch of the ground, so as not to lose a chance. I went down

even into the vaults, where the dim light struggled, although

to do so was a dread to my very soul. Into two of these I went,

but saw nothing except fragments of old coffins and piles of dust;

in the third, however, I made a discovery.

There, in one of the great boxes, of which there were fifty in

all, on a pile of newly dug earth, lay the Count! He was either

dead or asleep, I could not say which for the eyes were open

and stony, but without the glassiness of death and the cheeks

had the warmth of life through all their pallor; the lips were as

red as ever. But there was no sign of movement, no pulse, no

breath, no beating of the heart. I bent over him, and tried to

find any sign of life, but in vain. He could not have lain there

long, for the earthy smell would have passed away in a few

hours. By the side of the box was its cover, pierced with holes

here and there. I thought he might have the keys on him, but

when I went to search I saw the dead eyes, and in them, dead

though they were, such a look of hate, though unconscious of

me or my presence, that I fled from the place, and leaving the

Count’s room by the window, crawled again up the castle wall.

Regaining my room, I threw myself panting upon the bed and

tried to think..

46 Dracula

2Q June. To-day is the date of my last letter, and the Count

has taken steps to prove that it was genuine, for again I saw him

leave the castle by the same window, and in my clothes. As he

went down the wall, lizard fashion, I wished I had a gun or some

lethal weapon, that I might destroy him; but I fear that no wea-

pon wrought alone by man’s hand would have any effect on him.

I dared not wait to see him return, for I feared to see those

weird sisters. I came back to the library, and read there till I

fell asleep.

I was awakened by the Count, who looked at me as grimly as

a man can look as he said:

«To-morrow, my friend, we must part. You return to your

beautiful England, I to some work which may have such an end

that we may never meet. Your letter home has been despatched;

to-morrow I shall not be here, but all shall be ready for your

journey. In the morning come the Szgany, who have some la-

bours of their own here, and also come some Slovaks. When they

have gone, my carriage shall come for you, and shall bear you

to the Borgo Pass to meet the diligence froir Bukovina to Bis-

tritz. But I am in hopes that I shall see more of you at Castle

Dracula.» I suspected him, and determined to test his sincerity.

Sincerity! It seems like a profanation of the word to write it in

connection with such a monster, so asked him point-blank:

«Why may I not go to-night?»

«Because, dear sir, my coachman and horses are away on a

mission.»

«But I would walk with pleasure. I want to get away at once.»

He smiled, such a soft, smooth, diabolical smile that I knew there

was some trick behind his smoothness. He said*

«And your baggage?»

«I do not care about it. I can send for it some other time.»»

The Count stood up, and said, with a sweet courtesy which

made me rub my eyes, it seemed so real:

«You English have a saying which is close to my heart, for

its spirit is that which rules our boyars: «Welcome the coming;

speed the parting guest. ' Come with me, my dear young friend.

Not an hour shall you wait in my house against your will,

though sad am I at your going, and that you so suddenly desire

it. Come!» With a stately gravity, he, with the lamp, preceded

me down the stairs and along the hall. Suddenly he stopped.

«Hark!»

Close at hand came the howling of many wolves. It was al-

most as if the sound sprang up at the rising of his hand, just

Jonathan Marker’s Journal 47

as the music of a great orchestra seems to leap under the baton

of the conductor. After a pause of a moment, he proceeded, in

his stately way, to the door, drew back the ponderous bolts,

unhooked the heavy chains, and began to draw it open.

To my intense astonishment I saw that it was unlocked. Sus-

piciously, I looked all round, but could see no key of any kind.

As the door began to open, the howling of the wolves without

grew louder and angrier; their red jaws, with champing teeth,

and their blunt-clawed feet as they leaped, came in through

the opening door. I knew then that to struggle at the moment

against the Count was useless. With such allies as these at his

command, I could do nothing. But still the door continued slowly

to open, and only the Count’s body stood in the gap. Suddenly it

struck me that this might be the moment and means of my

doom; I was to be given to the wolves, and at my own instiga-

tion. There was a diabolical wickedness in the idea great enough

for the Count, and as a last chance I cried out:

«Shut the door; I shall wait till morning!» and covered my

face with my hands to hide my tears of bitter disappointment.

With one sweep of his powerful arm, the Count threw the door

shut, and the great bolts clanged and echoed through the hall

as they shot back into their places.

In silence we returned to the library, and after a minute or

two I went to my own room. The last I saw of Count Dracula

was his kissing his hand to me; with a red light of triumph in

his eyes, and with a smile that Judas in hell might be proud of.

When I was in my room and about to lie down, I thought I

heard a whispering at my door. I went to it softly and listened.

Unless my ears deceived me, I heard the voice of the Count:

«Back, back, to your own place! Your time is not yet come.

Wait! Have patience! To-night is mine. To-morrow night is

yours!» There was a low, sweet ripple of laughter, and in a

rage I threw open the door, and saw without the three terrible

women licking their lips. As I appeared they all joined in a hor-

rible laugh, and ran away.

I came back to my room and threw myself on my knees. It

is then so near the end? To-morrow! to-morrow! Lord, help me,

and those to whom I am dear!

30 June, morning. These may be the last words I ever write

in this diary. I slept till just before the clawn, and when I woke

threw myself on my knees, for I determined that if Death came

he should find me ready.

48 Dracula

At last I felt that subtle change in the air, and knew that the

morning had come. Then came the welcome cock-crow, and I

felt that I was safe. With a glad heart, I opened my door and ran

down to the hall. I had seen that the door was unlocked, and now

escape was before me. With hands that trembled with eagerness,

I unhooked the chains and drew back the massive bolts.

But the door would not move. Despair seized me. I pulled,

and pulled, at the door, and shook it till, massive as it was, it

rattled in its casement. I could see the bolt shot. It had been

locked after I left the Count.

Then a wild desire took me to obtain that key at any risk, and

I determined then and there to scale the wall again and gain

the Count’s room. He might kill me, but death now seemed the

happier choice of evils. Without a pause I rushed up to the east

window, and scrambled down the wall, as before, into the

Count’s room. It was empty, but that was as I expected. I could

not see a key anywhere, but the heap of gold remained. I went

through the door in the corner and down the winding stair and

along the dark passage to the old chapel. I knew now well enough

where to find the monster I sought.

The great box was in the same place, close against the wall,

but the lid fras laid on it, not fastened down, but with the nails

ready in their places to be hammered home. I knew I must

reach the 6ody for the key, so I raised the lid, and laid it back

against foe wall; and then I saw something which filled my very

soul with horror. There lay the Count, but looking as if his

youtA had been half renewed, for the white hair and moustache

were changed to dark iron-grey; the cheeks were fuller, and the

white skin seemed ruby-red underneath; the mouth was redder

than ever, for on the lips were gouts of fresh blood, which

trickled from the corners of the mouth and ran over the chin

and neck. Even the deep, burning eyes seemed set amongst

swollen flesh, for the lids and pouches underneath were bloated.

It seemed as if the whole awful creature were simply gorged

with blood. He lay like a filthy leech, exhausted with his reple-

tion. I shuddered as I bent over to touch him, and every sense

in me revolted at the contact; but I had to search, or I was lost.

The coming night might see my own body a banquet in a similar

way to those horrid three. I felt all over the body, but no sign

could I find of the key. Then I stopped and looked at the Count.

There was a mocking smile on the bloated face which seemed to

drive me mad. This was the being I was helping to transfer to

London, where, perhaps, for centuries to come he might, amongs t

Jonathan Marker’s Journal 49

its teeming millions, satiate his lust for blood, and create a new

and ever-widening circle of semi-demons to batten on the help-

less. The very thought drove me mad. A terrible desire came upon

me to rid the world of such a monster. There was no lethal wea-

pon at hand, but I seized a shovel which the workmen had been

using to fill the cases, and lifting it high, struck, with the edge

downward, at the hateful face. But as I did so the head turned,

and the eyes fell full upon me, with all their blaze of basilisk

horror. The sight seemed to paralyse me, and the shovel turned

in my hand and glanced from the face, merely making a deep

gash above the forehead. The shovel fell from my hand across

the box, and as I pulled it away the flange of the blade caught

the edge of the lid which fell over again, and hid the horrid

thing from my sight. The last glimpse I had was of the bloated

face, blood-stained and fixed with a grin of malice which would

have held its own in the nethermost hell.

I thought and thought what should be my next move, but my

brain seemed on fire, and I waited with a despairing feeling grow-

ing over me. As I waited I heard in the distance a gipsy song sung

by merry voices coming closer, and through their song the roll-

ing of heavy wheels and the cracking of whips; the Szgany and

the Slovaks of whom the Count had spoken were coming. With

a last look around and at the box which contained the vile body,

I ran from the place and gained the Count’s room, determined

to rush out at the moment the door should be opened. With

strained ears, I listened, and heard downstairs the grinding of

the key in the great lock and the falling back of the heavy door.

There must have been some other means of entry, or some one

had a key for one of the locked doors. Then there came the sound

of many feet tramping and dying away in some passage which

sent up a clanging echo. I turned to run down again towards

the vault, where I might find the new entrance; but at the mo-

ment there seemed to come a violent puff of wind, and the door

to the winding stair blew to with a shock that set the dust from

the lintels flying. When I ran to push it open, I found that it

was hopelessly fast. I was again a prisoner, and the net of doom

jvas closing round me more closely.

As I write there is in the passage below a sound of many tramp-

ing feet and the crash of weights being set down heavily, doubt-

less the boxes, with their freight of earth. There is a sound of

hammering; it is the box being nailed down. Now I can hear the

heavy feet tramping again along the hall, with many other idle

feet coming behind them.

5O Dracula

The door is shut, and the chains rattle; there is a grinding of

the key in the lock; I can hear the key withdraw: then another

door opens and shuts; I hear the creaking of lock and bolt.

Hark! in the courtyard and down the rocky way the roll of

heavy wheels, the crack of whips, and the chorus of the Szgany

as they pass into the distance.

I am alone in the castle with those awful women. Faugh! Mina

is a woman, and there is nought in common. They are devils of

the Pit!

I shall not remain alone with them; I shall try to scale the

castle wall farther than I have yet attempted. I shall take some

of the gold with me, lest I want it later. I may find a way from

this dreadful place.

And then away for home! away to the quickest and nearest

train! away from this cursed spot, from this cursed land, where

the devil and his children still walk with earthly feet!

At least God’s mercy is better than that of these monsters,

and the precipice is steep and high. At its foot a man may sleep

as a man. Good-bye, all! Mina!