Le charme envoûtant du groupe ethnique Ba - le bourreau

Chapitre 10

"Unless? Unless? How—how?"

Meanwhile, Arthur could only watch and listen in pitiful confusion, unable to offer any help.

Jack stretched out his hands, as if he could touch the truth, a truth that was still difficult to grasp.

Hawsing, cigar in mouth, approached him relentlessly. "Ha—think about it, Jack, you still have a brain. Open your head and let me see what you're thinking!"

Overwhelmed with frustration and anger, Jack finally turned to the old professor and gestured wildly. "All I can think of is something that's draining her life away! Could it be that something ran upstairs, sucked her blood, and then flew away?"

“By the way.” It was a brief but uncompromising provocation. “Yes, why not?”

“That’s enough,” Arthur interjected firmly, then burped. He had swallowed the last drop of brandy in the bottle, which had an anesthetic effect on his weakened state after the blood transfusion. He swayed as he sat down on a stone bench, letting the bottle fall to the ground beside him.

The other two ignored him for the time being. Hausin continued to relentlessly pressure his student.

“Listen to me! Jack, you’re a scientist. Don’t you think there are things in this universe that you can’t understand—but that are absolutely true?” He gestured with his hand towards the word “night”, which was shimmering with starlight.

“You know I don’t think so,” Jack replied, frowning.

"Oh?" His teacher remained unconvinced. "Then what about hypnosis? Or electron-magnetic fields?"

Jack had to concede. "You and Chaco have proven that hypnosis is possible."

"Where is the spirit? Has the ghost manifested?"

"I have no idea--"

“Ah! Right… now that you admit there are many things you don’t know, let me tell you—” Howsin paused, making sure the other two were listening intently. “Listen to me! Something is sucking her blood, just as you said. And dear Lucy—good heavens—has sucked the morbid blood of that thing itself, and as a result, she will become just like that thing… a demon… a beast.”

It was morning again in England. Mina was deeply troubled when she heard from the servants' gossip about the disturbances and illness of the night. After her strange encounter with the prince and her late return home, she went to rest in the room next to Lucy's and soon fell into a deep sleep, hearing nothing.

This morning, Mina breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Lucy sleeping peacefully in her own room. After anxiously searching for any signs of improvement in her friend, she had to admit that the face on her pillow, though still pale, was a little better than she had seen when she left yesterday.

Yesterday...it feels like ages ago.

She, Mina, though technically still as chaste as before, now has a lover she shouldn't have. How strange, how incomprehensible.

And she knew—though helpless, she was absolutely certain—that she would go see her prince again, as soon as possible.

Chapter Eleven

Today, to avoid attracting attention, Mina took the train to the city center. She was there at the prince's request to meet him at the Café de la Lure. This café was a popular little shop in the West End; in earlier years, the famous poet Oscar Wilde frequented it with charming ladies and handsome gentlemen.

Although the Café de la Lure was frequented by royalty and nobility, Mina's protector was not only exceptionally charming but also very generous, quickly securing them a private dining room.

Food and wine were laid out on the table, and the sound of a violin drifted from the background—music that was sometimes light and cheerful, sometimes melancholic; Mina thought it sounded like Gypsy music. Through the frosted glass wall of the small room, she could vaguely see pairs of people dancing.

The prince was saying to her, “The land left by my ancestors is as rich as your England in every way, whether in culture, fables or legends.”

“Yes…” Mina imagined scenes of exotic lands. “I want to believe it must be so.”

After removing her sunglasses, her companion's eyes were a pure blue, now sparkling with a hint of a smile. "I think my hometown is the most beautiful place in the world."

“Trentovnia.” Mina’s voice and mood were hollow, as if in a dream. She was sipping a glass of milky green absinthe; the most popular drink in London cafes at this time, and whether Mina had ordered it on a whim matching her madness that afternoon—or whether her partner had suggested it? She couldn’t remember now. But sometimes, when she was a little more lucid, she would think that her current state was partly due to this drink.

Trisowonia… She vaguely remembered Jonathan’s voice mentioning the same place name months ago… a nobleman living in the wilderness of Trisowonia… Yes, that’s right. Jonathan went there on business, or to the vicinity of it. His last letter, written so long ago, was from some region of Trisowonia, from Dracula’s castle…

But the image of her fiancé quickly faded.

She thought to herself, “I know what this name means… beyond a vast forest, surrounded by towering mountains and verdant vineyards. And flowers, I can almost see them, smell their fragrance; nowhere else on God’s green earth can I find such delicate and beautiful flowers…”

The prince leaned forward. He was so young—she thought, gazing at his smooth face reflected in the candlelight—so handsome. So different from the other men, so superior to them.

He whispered, “Your description of my hometown is as if you had seen it with your own eyes.”

Mina closed her eyes—just for a moment. That brief moment brought her peace. With her eyes closed, she said, "Perhaps it's your voice. So…familiar…like a voice from some dream. It can comfort me when I'm alone."

She opened her eyes again; relaxed, yet drowsy. Mina met her companion's gaze and vaguely thought that the contact had lasted far too long. Then, she wasn't sure how he did it, but suddenly he was sitting beside her. His right hand was on her neck, his fingers gently yet firmly exploring and caressing. It was possessive, as if it were the most natural thing in the world…

A dizzying laugh suddenly escaped her lips as she abruptly stood up, breaking free from the physical contact, as if she knew this was her last chance to do so… Then, somehow, another question floated from her lips:

"How is the princess?"

His blue eyes blinked. "Your Highness?"

Mina gazed out over the café's main hall. "I always felt there should be a princess. Flowing long hair, the color of which was…it was…and mesmerizing, cat-like eyes. A long robe, the style—very old-fashioned. Her face…"

Mina slowly drifted into a hallucinatory state. It wasn't just a vivid imagination. She knew she was still there, in the Luhr Café in London, yet... another reality also existed simultaneously.

“…a river.” Mina said clearly, “The princess is in a river, no, she is a river, filled with sorrow and heartbroken tears…”

At this point, the spell—or whatever it was—disappeared. Perhaps not entirely, but weakened enough for Mina to see just how effective her words were on the prince.

She raised her hands to cover her face and said, "What nonsense am I talking about? That glass of absinthe... I shouldn't have drunk it. You think I'm ridiculous, don't you?"

“Absolutely not, Elizabeth. Absolutely not. You see, there used to be a princess.”

"You must tell me about her."

"I will."

As he spoke, he stood up and extended a hand, inviting her to dance. The sound of a violin filled the air; Mina rose, feeling only the dizziness of absinthe, and then she was turned into an elegant waltz, surrounded by what seemed like a million candlelight…

The dreamlike euphoria lasted until the next morning. Mina sat alone in the gardens of Shireen Manor, on her favorite long bench, counting down the minutes, awaiting her next meeting with the prince. When she looked up, she saw Hobb hurrying towards her. The old head servant carried a silver tray with a letter on it. Every servant knew that the young lady's guest was waiting for news from someone.

Mina examined the envelope with trembling hands; it wasn't Jonathan's handwriting, but it was from Budapest, so it must be news from him… Mina tore the letter open with trembling fingers. The letter was from Sister Vengatha at St. John's and St. Mary's Hospital.

Dear lady—

Mr. Jonathan Hack said I was writing to you. Although Mr. Hack's condition is improving, Woodshang is unable to write by himself. He thanks God and St. John and St. Mary. He has been under our care for nearly six weeks with acute meningitis. He wanted me to convey his love…

Jonathan is alive. He's alive! Mina jumped up, ignoring Hob's whispered congratulations, and, overjoyed, started to run across the garden, eager to share her happiness... but after only a few steps, she suddenly slowed down.

How could she have forgotten the person who had become the center of her life over the past few days?

“My sweet prince,” she murmured to herself, “Jonathan must never know about us.”

A moment later, she started running towards the house again, but her steps were no longer as light as before. There was no doubt that she had to find Jonathan immediately.

Mina hurried up the stairs toward Lucy's room. On the terrace, she encountered Dr. Jack Seaworth, who was talking to a handsome old gentleman.

The old man turned around, looked her up and down with his sharp blue eyes, then nodded in a rather military manner and gave a brief self-introduction.

"Abraham van Hausin."

Mina had already guessed that this person must be Lucy's new doctor, the one Jack Schwartz often mentioned. The old professor added, "You must be Miss Mina Murray, our Lucy's good friend."

"Doctor, is she alright?"

"She's still very weak. She talked about Jonathan Hack, whom you love, and your worries about him... But I guess you have some good news today?"

“Yes, very good news… a letter…” She was still holding the letter in her hand.

“That’s wonderful. I’m also worried about lovers all over the world.” To Mina’s surprise, the old professor suddenly started singing, and before she could even realize what was happening, his arm had already gracefully wrapped around her back, like a charming dance partner, and he began to lead her in a waltz on the terrace, which amused Jack, who was watching from the sidelines.

The dance ended abruptly. Haoxin looked directly into Mina's eyes and said in a hypnotic voice, "Life has a dark side and a bright side. You are the bright side, dear Mina. Now, go see your friends."

A moment later, Mina sat down beside Lucy's bed and took her friend's poor, thin hand in hers. She had good news to share; in her opinion, it was good news important enough to awaken the patient.

Somewhere, a boorish servant slammed the door shut, and the sound of horses' hooves echoed from the winding, wide driveway outside. Startled, Lucy slowly opened her eyes, then struggled to focus.

Her voice was low and tentative. "Mina, darling...where have you been?"

"Lucy, you're frozen stiff." Mina temporarily set aside Lucy's good news because of her pitiful condition, and gently rubbed the hand that Lucy was holding, hoping to encourage the patient's will to live.

Lucy straightened up slightly, trying to appear more lively.

"You're so sweet. Darling, do you know that Jack Seaworth is playing my doctor?"

"I know."

"Did you see him? I told him a lot about you."

“Yes, Lucy, I saw Dr. Seaworth. At the banquet, that was several weeks ago, remember?” Mina reached for a tray of untouched food on the bedside table. “He’s a psychiatrist, and you’re not crazy. All you need is proper care. Now, little girl, eat your porridge.”

Lucy weakly turned her head away, as if the food in the spoon was disgusting, and refused Mina's attempt to feed her. She whispered, "I'm too fat. Arthur hates that I'm fat."

Her words, contrasting with her already emaciated figure, sent a chill down Mina's spine. She gently yet firmly scooped a spoonful of oatmeal into Lucy's mouth, as if handling a baby.

Although Lucy looked hesitant, she swallowed the porridge anyway. Then she squinted at her friend questioningly.

"What's wrong, Mina? You haven't looked this happy in a long time."

Mina's face flushed slightly.

Lucy forced a smile. "It's Jonathan who wrote, isn't it?"

Mina nodded, then launched into a torrent of good news. “Actually, it wasn’t really him who wrote it, but yes, he’s safe and sound. He’s been in a hospital in Budapest for six weeks—it must have been longer now. A letter just arrived from a kind nun who’s been taking care of him. It says he desperately needs me, so I have to go see him right away—but I really don’t want to leave you under these circumstances—”

Lucy struggled to sit up and embraced Mina with her weak arms. She whispered in Mina's ear, "Mina—go find him. Love him, and marry him right now. Don't waste any more of life's precious moments."

Lucy lay back down on her pillow, exhausted. The two girls looked at each other in silence for a long time, as if exchanging important messages without a word.

Then Lucy took off her engagement ring. The diamond-encrusted gold ring slipped easily from her thin finger.

She handed the ring to her friend. "Take this, my dear... Consider it my wedding gift to you and Jonathan. Please accept it..."

Mina was so shocked she couldn't speak, shaking her head repeatedly, trying to refuse.

“If you refuse, misfortune will befall you.” Lucy’s voice grew softer and softer. She was clearly powerless.

She added succinctly, "For me to give Jonathan... an unparalleled love... a thousand and one kisses..."

On the night Mina bid farewell to Dracula, Dracula sat impatiently alone in the private dining room of Café de la Lure, his keen hearing receiving each opening and closing of the restaurant door, until finally a short note was delivered by a waiter.

A shadow crossed the elegantly dressed young man's face as he accepted the note; he hadn't expected the woman he loved (and knew she loved him too, despite her previous rejections due to her fiancé) to be so hesitant and evasive, failing to keep their appointment immediately. Perhaps, however, some unavoidable emergency had arisen—

He gave the waiter a penny tip, then opened the envelope and found, as he had expected, a letter from Mina. The contents of the letter utterly shocked him.

My dearest prince, please forgive me, but I cannot be with you now, nor ever before. I received word that my fiancé is in Budapest, and I have set off to find him. We will be married.

Forever your love, honeyland

The prince's hand convulsed as he crumpled the note. All the loving and tender thoughts had been completely erased and vanished in an instant by the impact of anger and the wounded red wall.

He could hear himself whimpering like a wounded animal, and everyone outside the private dining room could hear him too.

The note arrived after midnight, by which time Mina had been on the train for almost a day to Budapest. The route she was taking was the same one Jonathan had taken months earlier: from London, through Dover, to Paris, and then continuing eastward from Paris.

She unfolded the letter from Budapest again, rereading it for what felt like the umpteenth time, focusing particularly on the second half.

...P.S.—My patient is asleep now, and I'm unfolding this letter again so you can know more. He told me—or so we doctors say—that when he had a fever, his delirium was terrifying, about wolves, poison, blood, ghosts, and demons; I dared not say more. Take good care of him while you're gone, and don't arouse him with such things for a long time; his condition isn't easily cured. We should have written to you sooner, but we knew nothing about his friends before. He came by train from Clausenburg, where the stationmaster told the guards that he rushed into the station shouting for a ticket home. They saw from his agitated appearance that he was English and gave him a ticket to the train's final destination.

Please take good care of him. He is really getting better, and I have no doubt that he will recover in a few weeks. But just in case, please take extra care of him. I pray to God, St. John, and St. Mary to bring you many, many happy days.

As Mina Murray continued her journey eastward, her arduous struggle at Hilling Manor continued day after day, night after night. Sometimes in the afternoon, Lucy seemed to be gradually recovering, while in the morning, she sometimes seemed to be hovering on the brink of death. One day, when the doctor was not in sight, Mrs. Wertner, with faltering steps, went to see her daughter, but was displeased with all the garlic in the room, so she sent for all the garlic flowers that Howsing had painstakingly arranged every day to be thrown away; when the professor discovered this loss, he was utterly dumbfounded.