29 June.—Today is the date of the last of the three letters that the Count made me write. The Count awakened me from sleep, and with surprising kindness he said:
“My friend Azmi Bey, tomorrow you will be leaving. Since I have many things to take care of, we may not be able to see each other again. Tomorrow, some Slovakian villagers and gypsies will come to the castle and move your things. After they leave, my carriage will come and carry you to the mail coach at the Burgo Pass.”
He shook my hand firmly. I wanted to say something, to beg him; but he closed the door without looking back. I ran to the door at the last moment. I wanted to force it, to take it apart. But at that moment I heard a whisper from the other side. I stopped and listened, as though hypnotized. The voice of the Count was speaking slowly:
“Back; go back to your place. The time has not yet come. Be patient and wait; you will get what you desire tomorrow night!”
These words were answered by the sensuous, sultry laughter of women. Then, all the voices disappeared.
I walked to the middle of the room and fell down on my knees.
So my end—that terrible, hellish moment—is so near! Tomorrow, tomorrow? Oh great merciful God, help me!
My hands went to my throat. I took my mother’s Enâm from its case and began crying and kissing it without even a thought of reading it!
30 June.—The crow of a rooster revealed to me that I had escaped danger for a night. The daylight boosted the confidence and determination that I had lost to fear. I am prepared to do anything to avoid the death that waits for me, grinning with its skeletal face, twelve hours from now. I opened my door and went out. I was determined at any cost to go to the place where I had seen the Count sleeping and take the keys, even if I had to do battle with ghouls. A few moments later I had reached the crypt by way of the window and the gold room. The crate in which the Count slept lay in the same spot; but its lid was also in place, ready to be nailed down.
I opened the lid and set it against the wall. There again lay the Count, but what I saw left me horrified with bewilderment. The Count had become younger, half his age. His white mustache and hair were blackened, leaving only a quarter of his hair white. His cheeks were livelier, his skin had color, and his lips were even redder. And those lips had fresh blood on them. The blood dripped down from the corners of his mouth to his chin and neck! This terrible, ominous creature now looked like a bag filled with blood. I felt an intense disgust as I leaned over the body to touch this corpse. All of my feelings, my soul, rebelled against it. However, I had to search the Count, come what may; it was my last hope. I searched Dracula thoroughly; there was no sign of the keys. Finally, as I ceased my search and looked at the Count’s face, I glimpsed such a sinister and mocking smile that it nearly made me go mad. Now I understood many truths. Many trivial, seemingly unrelated events and indications suddenly flashed before my eyes and formed into a clear picture. I was aiding this unthinkably horrible monster to come to Istanbul and my beloved country! There this devil would drink Turkish blood and create a land of devastation like the cursed Impaler Voivode who lived centuries ago. My maddening anger grew even stronger; I thought of saving the world from this evil offspring of the Impaler Voivode. But I had no weapons to cut or dismember him; I saw only a shovel used by the villagers to support the crates. I took it, raised it over my head, and struck, edge downward, that grim, ominous face with all of my strength. As I was delivering my blow, the face of the Count turned halfway toward me and his gaze, full of hatred and evil, fell full upon me. The look nearly paralyzed my hands. My fingers lost their strength and the sharp edge of the shovel turned away from the Count’s face. Thus his face was not crushed, but there was a deep gash on his forehead. The shovel fell from my hands to the ground. Pulling the handle away caused the lid to fall into place and hide that horrible sight.
For a moment I thought about what I should do. It was as if my whole brain was on fire. Meanwhile I heard singing and footsteps from far away. That meant the workers and gypsies of whom the Count had spoken were coming. I considered fleeing castle through the door they would enter and running away toward the mountains. I began to run with all my strength to get upstairs as quickly as possible. I went upstairs, entered through the window, and tried to take a quick glance around my room before jumping outside. Alas, the window of the room slammed to with a shock as if a storm had blown it shut. I tried forcing it with all of my strength but it was impossible to open. Once again I was a prisoner in my own room.
As I wrote these lines I could hear some of the carriages moving. Five minutes later, deadly silence had fallen again. There is no question… Right now I am alone in this castle of death with those three terrifying women.
Oh, but I shall not stay here. I will climb down the cliff side of the castle. I will get some gold to take with me just in case. Falling from the cliff and being torn to pieces would be a thousand times better than staying with these monsters. I trust to the grace of the great God. Güzin, my precious Güzin, farewell… I am walking toward death…
CHAPTER V
Letter from Güzin to Sadan.
“9 May. Cagaloglu.
“Dear Sadan…
“I am very late in answering your letter; please forgive this negligence. If only you knew how much I want to be with you and spend time with you by the sea. I have been very busy lately; a teacher’s assistant never has free time. But I also create work for myself. Azmi is now an assistant attorney who can transact business on his own, and I am busy with courses to be able to help him. I have been practicing stenography, learning the typewriter, and whatnot! I will tell you all my plans when we are back together. Of course my fiancé Azmi is also acquainted with them. I just received a short, hastily-written letter from him; he is in Transylvania on important business. Who knows what kinds of things he is seeing in that historic country of the cruel, barbaric Dracula, the Impaler Voivode we read about in our history? You know how much I like those sorts of trips. Oh, the clock is striking ten now. Farewell.
“Love,
“Güzin
“P.S.—I await all of your news in your letter. You have not written to me for a long time, you naugh
ty thing. Especially about that tall, handsome, curly-haired man!!”
Letter from Sadan to Güzin.
“Wednesday, Bakirköy.
“Dearest Güzin;
“How could you send me such a short letter? Is this the answer to all of mine? In any event, I am thankful for what I have. What would I have done if you were completely silent? About that ‘tall, handsome, curly-haired’ man, I think someone has been spreading rumors and trying to sow discord between us. In any event, do not stay in suspense; the name of this young and handsome man is Turan Bey. He is a major. His parents were friends with my mother and father. He fought in the War of Independence. He is in Istanbul on leave for a couple of months for health reasons. He has an old father and a charming mother. They visit us frequently. He tells us horrible war stories. But he never talks about himself; he is gallant and handsome, but very shy. However, through the major I have made another friend; Doctor Afif Bey. He is young, very kind, and trustworthy. Ah, if you were not engaged to Azmi Bey he would be just the right husband for you. Have I made a faux pas? Please do not be offended. I am sorry; you have your dearest Azmi and he can have you. But there is no harm in my speaking of this doctor! This earnest man was educated in Europe and endured the War of Independence; he tended to our wounded soldiers with the compassion of a father under those poor, horrific conditions. But why do I hesitate? I will tell you all of my secrets here, darling Güzin. That tall, handsome, heroic, and shy staff major Turan Bey and I are in love. And we have confessed it to each other.
“So why should you not know it too? Have we not kept each other’s secrets since we were children? God bless you. Güzin, write your reply quickly; start writing as soon as you read this! Write all of your thoughts about me and my news. That’s enough, Güzin. Do not forget me, and pray for my happiness.
“Love,
“Sadan”
From Sadan to Güzin.