“24 May.
“Dear Güzin,
“Thanks for your sweet reply! Güzin, I have much to tell you in this letter. My Güzin, today I am exactly twenty years old; until today I have never had a marriage proposal. However, I have just had three in the same day. You can imagine how I feel. Three proposals in one day. Isn’t it frightening? Believe me when I say I feel a deep pain in my heart for two of the people who proposed to me. On the other hand, I am so happy; I don’t know what to do. Let me tell you what happened: but you can never tell anyone! Except Azmi Bey, for if I were you I would tell Azmi Bey all my secrets! But to my story. The first one came before dinner. This was Doctor Afif Bey, who I mentioned to you in my earlier letter! This somber man was very cool outwardly. But when we were alone, I felt something was about to happen between us. When I was alone near the piano, the doctor confessed his love in a very modest, but kind and extremely sincere way, and proposed to me. I was in a very pleasant but troubling position. It was so difficult to turn down this handsome, kind young man and his earnest proposal. But my heart was already connected by an unbreakable bond to someone else. With conflicted feelings, I began to cry. He quickly stood up in a sad and embarrassed manner, apologized for causing me pain, and asked if he might have hope for the future. Then I felt it my duty to tell this young man that the love and dreams of another man were in my heart, and that is what I did. Afif Bey looked pale and his lips quivered. He wanted to say something, but held himself back. Then, with great sincerity, he held my hands, wished me a happy life in the future, and insisted that I consider him a close, dear friend.
“Late afternoon.
“My tall, handsome, curly-haired staff major Turan has just left… I feel bored, and so shall continue to write what occurred.
“Number two came after dinner. This one is also a handsome, scholarly fellow, and what they call an ‘original character.’ A beautiful specimen of Anatolian man. Raised in the ‘Efe’ culture of Aydin,[8] he is a tall, heroic-looking, naïve, brave young man. This fellow from Aydin has a lovely name: ‘Özdemir Oguz.’ Is that not a name that someone like you, with the heart of a poet, would love? He is also the type that could arouse such feelings. Our Turan Bey, Doctor Afif Bey, and this Özdemir Oguz all worked together on the front lines of the War of Independence. Turan Bey speaks constantly of what Özdemir Oguz Bey did at the Usak front and in rear support.
“This young man from Aydin has also had a good education. His wealthy father sent him to Germany during the Great War; so in short, aside from his sunburnt face and very sweet Aydin accent, he in no way resembles the highlanders. And there is also his sincere manner and almost feminine innocence and purity. Sometimes I think that today’s high society Istanbul girls are more unreserved than these young men who were raised by the War of Independence. To make a long story short, this fellow from Aydin, this ‘National Forces’ squad leader, this young Anatolian man with a good education in Germany, proposed to me in his own way, and it was practically a recurrence of the events between Doctor Afif and myself. But to tell the truth, I think I cried even more this time. Özdemir Oguz also took my hands in his strong, tanned hands and held them. He even kissed them and said:
“ ‘Sadan, you are a warm-hearted and honest girl. If your heart belongs to the man whom I have guessed, and if he knows your value, then I congratulate you both with all my heart, even though I am a little sad. Now I have kissed your hands… This is an agreement of friendship between us. Whatever you need and whenever you wish, you can count on the sacrifice of this young Turk!’
“Güzin, do I need to speak of number three? I don’t, do I? Then there is no reason to write the conclusion of the scene between Turan and me. Oh, if I hadn’t had to break the hearts of those two precious, honest young men, how happy I would have been! These three men are close friends. Do they talk about me?
“Güzin, it has been a long time. I wait for you with all of my heart. Come, come, come!
“Love and loved by you,
“Sadan”
From Güzin’s Diary.
24 July. Bakirköy.—I have finally come here, to Sadan. At the station I hugged and kissed her affectionately. Oh, how beautiful this calm, seaside corner of Istanbul is after months of lonely work. We walk around everywhere, Sadan and I; in the mornings and at night we sit and chat on a high hillside overlooking the sea.
But I have one worry; I have not received any letters from Azmi. I wonder why?
26 July. Bakirköy.—I have two pains in my heart: one is not hearing from Azmi, and the other is the condition of Sadan. I asked our dear elder Rifat Bey, the manager of the business administration office, if he has heard from Azmi by phone. He has received a new, albeit brief letter. Azmi, in his short message, announced that he was preparing to leave Castle Dracula in Transylvania immediately. Oh, the name of that ominous Dracula strains my nerves; I imagine Azmi taken prisoner by the terrible Impaler Voivode. Have I become hysterical?
Rifat Bey will send me Azmi’s letter. I wonder why Azmi has not written to me? Furthermore, there is the concern about Sadan. Lately my childhood friend has had a long-forgotten illness recur. She walks in her sleep. Sadan’s mother has spoken to me about it. She warned me to lock the door of our bedroom from the inside and take the keys. Sadan’s mother, this sick woman who is already aggrieved; her beautiful daughter is soon to be married. What if word of her problem is made known? According to that poor woman, Sadan’s father also had this habit—or to be precise, this illness. It is too bad that this arose just as Sadan and Turan Bey became engaged!
27 July.—There is still no news of Azmi. I have a strange, awful feeling in my heart. Is he ill? Oh, that evil Castle Dracula… What a strange and ugly name; what a coincidence! Sadan still walks in her sleep. I lock the door every night and take the keys. Her poor mother! She cannot tell her daughter about her condition. Nor can I. We have both cried in secret.
3 August.—Another week has passed. There is still no news from Azmi. Not even Rifat Bey has heard anything. Sadan still gets up in her sleep from time to time and tries to get out. When she finds the door locked she even goes about the room searching for the keys. Poor girl… This breaks my heart so.
6 August.—Three more days and Azmi is still silent. If only I knew his address and could write my reproach to him. I still lament. What if he is ill? Oh God… Sadan is still the same. This is another catastrophe. Her fiancé is coming to stay as a guest. What if Turan Bey learns of her situation and breaks off the engagement? Poor, poor Sadan! I feel a strange sadness when I see her cheerful and healthy countenance in the morning, unaware of the seriousness of her condition!
8 August.—Last night Sadan was very ill. She got up from her bed twice and left. I caught her in time on both occasions and put her back into bed. My God, what a terrible tragedy; it makes me forget my troubles and Azmi. How hard it is seeing my beautiful, cheerful angel Sadan like this. There was a great storm last night; perhaps it affected her mood.
In the morning Sadan and I went to the same hill we visit every day to watch the sea. There was a large sailing ship right at our feet. Its flag and shape were foreign. We were curious and approached nearer, to the point where the water reached our feet. Large, rectangular crates were being unloaded to land from the ship. We tried to discover what it was to gratify our curiosity. The ship was a Russian one; its flag belonged to the new Bolshevik Soviet government, and these crates were loaded in Varna and contain some kind of clay or sand used for making ceramics. Sadan is so happy when she runs on the sand, and I think about her unnatural behavior at n
ight. It feels like needles have been stuck into my heart. Who would not fall in love with such a beautiful girl? Turan Bey is very lucky. But if only she was not in this accursed situation! Something odd! Sailors are speaking of strange things concerning that ship from Varna; its two passengers and two of its crew disappeared mysteriously and the ship barely made it to the Straits with its three remaining crew members.
11 August, three o’clock.—I write these lines with great agitation. I have gone through horrible things and an agonizing experience. After writing in my journal last night I went to sleep. I do not know for how long, but I woke up with an unpleasant pain and felt cold. The room was dark. I could not see Sadan’s bed. I leapt from mine and felt hers; the bed was empty. I found a match on the table and lit it, and suddenly I noticed that the key had been taken from the table drawer and the door was unlocked. That meant that Sadan had woken up again and gone outside. I turned on the light and checked the sofa and the parlor, but there was no one there. As an ever-growing fear chilled my heart, I continued to check all the other rooms. Sadan Hanim wasn’t there. I went downstairs, and the front door to the garden was wide open. Because we kept this door carefully closed, I began to fear that Sadan had gone out to the garden or the street in her nightdress. At that moment there was no worry in my mind except Sadan. With courage that I was surprised I possessed, I put on something and quickly went outside. There was no one in the garden; the full moon had turned the night into day, so I had no difficulty seeing the whole scene, even far away. I moved from the garden to the square. There was no one around, but the fact that the garden gate was open told me that Sadan was out there. Suddenly I thought of the hillside overlooking the sea where we would go each day and sit for hours. Had she gone there in her unconscious, sleepwalking state out of habit? I began to run in that direction and soon discovered that my guess had not been wrong. Far away at our beautiful conversation spot, on that large rock, she was leaning forward under the faint rays of the moonlight, white as a ghost. Just at that moment, a black cloud covered the face of the moon; but before it went dark I noticed another long, black shape standing behind that white figure. What was it? I could not tell if it was man or beast. I did not stop to think it over, but ran in that direction. The path leading to the hillside fell and rose quickly at one point. When I ascended after passing that low point, I saw Sadan again on the hillside in front of me. Yes, there was a black shape next to her. This black thing leaned over the white figure which lay half-reclining. I called to Sadan in fright and agitation. The bright face of the moon was again hidden behind clouds. I ran even faster. When I finally reached the rock on the hillside I found Sadan alone; there was no sign of any living creature around. Sadan was almost frozen, her neck angled to one side. She was gasping for air as though she had stopped breathing for some time. When I came near her, she put her hand to the collar of her nightdress and pulled it back around her throat. I saw she was shaking from head to toe; I quickly took the heavy shawl from my shoulders and covered her. I fastened the shawl around her throat with a pin I found, but I may have let the pin touch her skin; for once she started breathing normally again, I saw her touch her throat and moan in pain. I could not afford to waste any more time. Shaking her slightly, I woke her up and told her to take my arm and come home quickly. I was afraid that she might be surprised, but she rose immediately and began walking like an obedient child. I took off my slippers and put them on her feet. To avoid them being seen by anyone, I put my feet into a little puddle of mud on the way back home. We were lucky, for we arrived home without being seen by a soul. Sadan was shaking and my heart was racing. We washed our feet and I put my poor friend into her bed. Before going to sleep, Sadan asked me not to tell anyone about this sleepwalking incident, even her mother. Although I hesitated at first to grant her request, thinking of how sorry her mother would be if she were to hear, and how other people would exaggerate this incident, I promised her that I would keep quiet.
As I write these lines, Sadan is sound asleep and the morning sun is shining over the Marmara waters.
12 August.—I awoke twice tonight and saw Sadan trying to open the door. Even in this state, she appeared almost angry at being unable to find the keys. I took her arm and put her into bed, despite her resistance. Oh my great God, how I wonder about Azmi. I do not want to say it, but something, some disaster has occurred.
13 August.—Tonight I slept with the key tied to my waist again. I do not know what awoke me. Sadan was sitting up in bed, still asleep, pointing at the window with indescribable fear. I got up softly and looked outside. Moonlight shone everywhere. The light danced over the broad surface of the Marmara Sea; between the moon and the window a huge bat circled in the air. However, at some point it must have seen me because it went away immediately. It flew off toward the village graveyard. When I came away from the window, Sadan was sleeping in great peace and comfort.
14 August.—Sadan is practically in love with the rock on the hill where we watch the sea. She goes there to sit and think deeply. Late this afternoon we were sitting in that very place. She was lost in thought. Looking off at some unknown point, she murmured:
“Those red eyes again! They are just the same…”
I leaned down quickly. I followed her eyes. Far away from us there sat a strange, solitary man in black clothes. For a moment this man’s eyes appeared blazing red! Yet when I looked more closely, the illusion was dispelled. It had to have been a trick of the last light of sunset. Sadan rose from her place with a somber expression. We came home without saying a word. Sadan had a headache and went to sleep early. I went out through the front garden; after lying by the sea and thinking about Azmi with deep sorrow, I returned. It was bright as day again. As I came home, I looked up at the windows of the house; ours was open. I saw that Sadan was leaning out of the window and looking around. I waved my handkerchief, thinking she was looking out for me, but she did not react. When I was under the window, I saw Sadan had fallen asleep with her head on the windowsill. A rather large bird was standing in front of her. Thinking that she would get a chill, I ran quickly inside the house. When I came into the room Sadan was up and returning to her bed, again asleep and breathing very heavily. She put her hand to her throat as though she were trying to shield herself from the cold. I put her gently onto her bed without waking her. Then I shut the door and window firmly. At that moment I noticed something. Sadan’s face was deathly pale. Black circles had formed under her eyes. She sleeps so poorly; I almost feel afraid for her.