Dracula

"But, Art, this is different.  We broke house at Carfax, but we had
night and a walled park to protect us.  It will be a mighty different
thing to commit burglary in Piccadilly, either by day or night.  I
confess I don't see how we are going to get in unless that agency duck
can find us a key of some sort."

Lord Godalming's brows contracted, and he stood up and walked about the
room.  By-and-by he stopped and said, turning from one to another of
us, "Quincey's head is level.  This burglary business is getting
serious.  We got off once all right, but we have now a rare job on
hand.  Unless we can find the Count's key basket."

As nothing could well be done before morning, and as it would be at
least advisable to wait till Lord Godalming should hear from
Mitchell's, we decided not to take any active step before breakfast
time.  For a good while we sat and smoked, discussing the matter in
its various lights and bearings.  I took the opportunity of bringing
this diary right up to the moment.  I am very sleepy and shall go to
bed . . .

Just a line.  Mina sleeps soundly and her breathing is regular.  Her
forehead is puckered up into little wrinkles, as though she thinks
even in her sleep.  She is still too pale, but does not look so
haggard as she did this morning.  Tomorrow will, I hope, mend all
this.  She will be herself at home in Exeter.  Oh, but I am sleepy!




DR. SEWARD'S DIARY

1 October.--I am puzzled afresh about Renfield.  His moods change so
rapidly that I find it difficult to keep touch of them, and as they
always mean something more than his own well-being, they form a more
than interesting study.  This morning, when I went to see him after
his repulse of Van Helsing, his manner was that of a man commanding
destiny.  He was, in fact, commanding destiny, subjectively.  He did
not really care for any of the things of mere earth, he was in the
clouds and looked down on all the weaknesses and wants of us poor
mortals.

I thought I would improve the occasion and learn something, so I asked
him, "What about the flies these times?"

He smiled on me in quite a superior sort of way, such a smile as would
have become the face of Malvolio, as he answered me, "The fly, my dear
sir, has one striking feature.  It's wings are typical of the aerial
powers of the psychic faculties.  The ancients did well when they
typified the soul as a butterfly!"

I thought I would push his analogy to its utmost logically, so I said
quickly, "Oh, it is a soul you are after now, is it?"

His madness foiled his reason, and a puzzled look spread over his face
as, shaking his head with a decision which I had but seldom seen in
him.

He said, "Oh, no, oh no!  I want no souls.  Life is all I want."  Here
he brightened up.  "I am pretty indifferent about it at present.  Life
is all right.  I have all I want.  You must get a new patient, doctor,
if you wish to study zoophagy!"

This puzzled me a little, so I drew him on.  "Then you command life.
You are a god, I suppose?"

He smiled with an ineffably benign superiority.  "Oh no!  Far be it
from me to arrogate to myself the attributes of the Deity.  I am not
even concerned in His especially spiritual doings.  If I may state my
intellectual position I am, so far as concerns things purely
terrestrial, somewhat in the position which Enoch occupied
spiritually!"

This was a poser to me.  I could not at the moment recall Enoch's
appositeness, so I had to ask a simple question, though I felt that by
so doing I was lowering myself in the eyes of the lunatic.  "And why
with Enoch?"

"Because he walked with God."

I could not see the analogy, but did not like to admit it, so I harked
back to what he had denied.  "So you don't care about life and you
don't want souls.  Why not?"  I put my question quickly and somewhat
sternly, on purpose to disconcert him.

The effort succeeded, for an instant he unconsciously relapsed into
his old servile manner, bent low before me, and actually fawned upon
me as he replied.  "I don't want any souls, indeed, indeed!  I don't.
I couldn't use them if I had them.  They would be no manner of use to
me.  I couldn't eat them or . . ."

He suddenly stopped and the old cunning look spread over his face,
like a wind sweep on the surface of the water.

"And doctor, as to life, what is it after all?  When you've got all
you require, and you know that you will never want, that is all.  I
have friends, good friends, like you, Dr. Seward."  This was said with
a leer of inexpressible cunning.  "I know that I shall never lack the
means of life!"