Дракула / Dracula. Брэм Стокер

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СКАЧАТЬ Lucy’s condition. The time and distance seemed endless, and my knees trembled. When I got almost to the top I could see the bench and the white figure, and I was now close enough to distinguish it even through the shadow. There was undoubtedly something, long and black, it was bending over the white figure. I called in fright, “Lucy! Lucy!” and something raised a head, and I saw a white face and red, gleaming eyes. Lucy did not answer, and I ran on to the entrance of the churchyard. As I entered, the church was between me and the bench, and for a minute or so I lost sight of her. When I came in view again the cloud had passed, and I could see Lucy lying on the bench. She was quite alone, and there was not a sign of anybody about.

      When I bent over her I noticed that she was still asleep. She was breathing – not softly as usual with her, but in long, heavy gasps. As I came close, she put up her hand in her sleep and pulled the collar of her nightdress close around her throat. I fastened the shawl at her throat with a big safety pin;[97] but I was clumsy in my anxiety and pinched or pricked her with it, for when her breathing became quieter, she put her hand to her throat again and moaned. I put my shoes on her feet and then began very gently to wake her. At first she did not respond; but gradually she became more and more uneasy in her sleep, moaning and sighing occasionally. At last, I shook her more forcibly, till finally she opened her eyes and awoke. She did not seem surprised to see me, as, of course, she did not realize all at once where she was.

      Lucy always wakes prettily, and even at such a time in a churchyard at night, she did not lose her grace. She trembled a little, and when I told her to come with me home she rose without a word, with the obedience of a child. We got home and we did not meet anybody. Once we saw a man, who seemed not quite sober; but we hid in a door till he had disappeared.

      When we came home, and washed our feet, and said a prayer of thankfulness together, I brought her to bed. Before falling asleep she asked – even implored – me not to say a word to any one, even her mother, about her sleep-walking adventure. I thought it wiser to do so. I hope I did right.

      Same day, noon. – All goes well. Lucy slept till I woke her. She looks better this morning than before. I was sorry to notice that I hurt her with the safety-pin. Indeed, it can be serious, for the skin of her throat was pierced. There are two little red points like pin-pricks, and on the band of her nightdress was a drop of blood. When I apologized, she laughed, and said she did not even feel it. Fortunately it is so tiny.

      Same day, night. – We passed a happy day. The air was clear, and the sun bright, and there was a cool breeze. We took our lunch to Mulgrave Woods.[98] In the evening we heard some good music by Spohr and Mackenzie,[99] and went to bed early. Lucy seems more restful than she has been for some time, and fell asleep at once. I shall lock the door and secure the key the same as before, though I do not expect any trouble tonight.

      12 August. – My expectations were wrong, for twice during the night I was wakened by Lucy. She was trying to get out. I woke with the dawn, and heard the birds outside of the window. Lucy woke, too, and, I was glad to see, was even better than on the previous morning. She came and snuggled in beside me and told me all about Arthur. I told her how anxious I was about Jonathan, and then she tried to comfort me. Well, she succeeded somewhat.

      13 August. – Another quiet day, and to bed with the key on my wrist as before. Again I awoke in the night, and found Lucy sitting up in bed, still asleep, pointing to the window. I got up quietly, and looked out. It was brilliant moonlight. Between me and the moonlight flitted a great bat. Once or twice it came quite close. When I came back from the window Lucy had lain down again, and was sleeping peacefully. She did not stir again all night.

      14 August. – On the East Cliff, reading and writing all day. This afternoon Lucy made a funny remark. We were coming home for dinner, and had come to the top of the steps up from the West Pier and stopped to look at the view, as we generally do. The setting sun was bathing everything in a beautiful rosy glow. We were silent for a while, and suddenly Lucy murmured as if to herself, “His red eyes again! They are just the same.”

      It was such an odd expression, that it quite startled me. Lucy was in a half-dreamy state,[100] with an odd look on her face; so I said nothing, but followed her eyes. She was looking at the bench, whereon was a dark figure. I was a little frightened; but a second look dispelled the illusion. The red sunlight was shining on the windows of St. Mary’s Church.[101] Lucy looked sad; so I said nothing, and we went home to dinner. Lucy had a headache and went early to bed. I saw her asleep, and went out for a while.

      I walked along the cliffs to the westward, and was full of sweet sadness, for I was thinking of Jonathan. When I was coming home, I looked at our window, and saw Lucy’s head. I thought that perhaps she was looking out for me, so I opened my handkerchief and waved it. She did not notice. Just then the light fell on the window. Lucy was asleep, and by her, was something that looked like a giant bird. I ran upstairs, but as I came into the room she was lying in her bed, she was breathing heavily; and she was holding her hand to her throat.

      I did not wake her. She looks so sweet as she sleeps; but she is paler than before. I fear she is fretting about something. What is it?

      15 August. – Rose later than usual. Lucy was languid and tired.

      17 August. – No diary for two whole days. I did not want to write. No news from Jonathan, and Lucy is growing weaker. I do not understand why Lucy fades away. She eats well and sleeps well, and enjoys the fresh air; but all the time the roses in her cheeks are fading, and she gets weaker and more languid day by day.[102] At night she gets up and walks about the room, and sits at the open window.

      I looked at her throat just now as she lay asleep, and the tiny wounds were not healed. They are still open, and larger than before, and the edges of them are faintly white. They are like little white dots with red centres. Unless they heal within a day or two, I shall insist on the doctor.

      18 August. – I am happy today. Lucy is ever so much better. Last night she slept well all night, and did not disturb me once. She is full of life and cheerfulness.

      19 August. – Joy, joy, joy! Although not all joy. At last, news of Jonathan. He has been ill; that is why he did not write. I am not afraid to think it or say it, now that I know. I shall leave in the morning and go over to Jonathan, and help to nurse him if necessary, and bring him home. I got a good Sister’s[103] letter! It is of Jonathan, and it must be next my heart, for he is in my heart. My journey is prepared, and my luggage is ready.

      Letter, Sister Agatha, Hospital of St. Joseph and Ste. Mary,[104] Buda-Pesth, to Miss Wilhelmina Murray

      12 August.

      Dear Madam,

      I write by desire[105] of Mr. Jonathan Harker, who is himself not strong enough to write, but he is recovering, thanks to God and St. Joseph and Ste. Mary. He has been under our care for nearly six weeks, he is suffering from a violent brain fever.[106] He is sorry for his delay, his work is completed. He will require some few weeks’ rest in our sanatorium in the hills, but will then return. He wishes me to say that he has not sufficient money with him. He would like to pay for his staying here.

      Yours, with sympathy and all blessings,

      Sister Agatha.

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