"Bram Stoker - Dracula" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stoker Bram)

30 June.--These may be the last words I ever write in this diary.
I slept till just before the dawn, and when I woke threw myself on my knees,
for I determined that if Death came he should find me ready.

At last I felt that subtle change in the air, and knew that the morning
had come. Then came the welcome cockcrow, and I felt that I was safe.
With a glad heart, I opened the door and ran down 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 threw
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 the 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 was laid on it, not fastened down, but with the nails
ready in their places to be hammered home.

I knew I must reach the body for the key, so I raised the lid,
and laid it back against the wall. And then I saw something
which filled my very soul with horror. There lay the Count,
but looking as if his youth had been half restored.
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 down 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 repletion.

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 war