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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 484 pages of information about Dracula.

For a moment he seemed choked, and a great sob rose in his throat.  He gulped it down and went on, “There are here some who would stand between you and death.  You must not die.  You must not die by any hand, but least of all your own.  Until the other, who has fouled your sweet life, is true dead you must not die.  For if he is still with the quick Undead, your death would make you even as he is.  No, you must live!  You must struggle and strive to live, though death would seem a boon unspeakable.  You must fight Death himself, though he come to you in pain or in joy.  By the day, or the night, in safety or in peril!  On your living soul I charge you that you do not die.  Nay, nor think of death, till this great evil be past.”

The poor dear grew white as death, and shook and shivered, as I have seen a quicksand shake and shiver at the incoming of the tide.  We were all silent.  We could do nothing.  At length she grew more calm and turning to him said sweetly, but oh so sorrowfully, as she held out her hand, “I promise you, my dear friend, that if God will let me live, I shall strive to do so.  Till, if it may be in His good time, this horror may have passed away from me.”

She was so good and brave that we all felt that our hearts were strengthened to work and endure for her, and we began to discuss what we were to do.  I told her that she was to have all the papers in the safe, and all the papers or diaries and phonographs we might hereafter use, and was to keep the record as she had done before.  She was pleased with the prospect of anything to do, if “pleased” could be used in connection with so grim an interest.

As usual Van Helsing had thought ahead of everyone else, and was prepared with an exact ordering of our work.

“It is perhaps well,” he said, “that at our meeting after our visit to Carfax we decided not to do anything with the earth boxes that lay there.  Had we done so, the Count must have guessed our purpose, and would doubtless have taken measures in advance to frustrate such an effort with regard to the others.  But now he does not know our intentions.  Nay, more, in all probability, he does not know that such a power exists to us as can sterilize his lairs, so that he cannot use them as of old.

“We are now so much further advanced in our knowledge as to their disposition that, when we have examined the house in Piccadilly, we may track the very last of them.  Today then, is ours, and in it rests our hope.  The sun that rose on our sorrow this morning guards us in its course.  Until it sets tonight, that monster must retain whatever form he now has.  He is confined within the limitations of his earthly envelope.  He cannot melt into thin air nor disappear through cracks or chinks or crannies.  If he go through a doorway, he must open the door like a mortal.  And so we have this day to hunt out all his lairs and sterilize them.  So we shall, if we have not yet catch him and destroy him, drive him to bay in some place where the catching and the destroying shall be, in time, sure.”

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