breast, and abandoned herself to all the violences of extravagant
emotion. Finally, she threw herself forward, and, though I could not see
her, I could hear the beating of her naked hands against the door.
Somewhere high overhead, probably on the tower, I heard the voice of the
Count calling in his harsh, metallic whisper. His call seemed to be
answered from far and wide by the howling of wolves. Before many minutes
had passed a pack of them poured, like a pent-up dam when liberated,
through the wide entrance into the courtyard.
There was no cry from the woman, and the howling of the wolves was but
short. Before long they streamed away singly, licking their lips.
I could not pity her, for I knew now what had become of her child, and
she was better dead.
What shall I do? what can I do? How can I escape from this dreadful
thing of night and gloom and fear?
* * * * *
_25 June, morning._--No man knows till he has suffered from the night
how sweet and how dear to his heart and eye the morning can be. When the
sun grew so high this morning that it struck the top of the great
gateway opposite my window, the high spot which it touched seemed to me
as if the dove from the ark had lighted there. My fear fell from me as
if it had been a vaporous garment which dissolved in the warmth. I must
take action of some sort whilst the courage of the day is upon me. Last
night one of my post-dated letters went to post, the first of that fatal
series which is to blot out the very traces of my existence from the
earth.
Let me not think of it. Action!
It has always been at night-time that I have been molested or
threatened, or in some way in danger or in fear. I have not yet seen the
Count in the daylight. Can it be that he sleeps when others wake, that
he may be awake whilst they sleep? If I could only get into his room!
But there is no possible way. The door is always locked, no way for me.
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