Dracula

by Bram Stoker

  CHAPTER XV.

  /Dr. Seward's Diary/--_continued._

  For a while sheer anger mastered me; it was as if he had during her lifestruck Lucy on the face. I smote the table hard and rose up as I said tohim:--

  "Dr. Van Helsing, are you mad?" He raised his head and looked at me, andsomehow the tenderness of his face calmed me at once. "Would I were!" hesaid. "Madness were easy to bear compared with truth like this. Oh, myfriend, why, think you, did I go so far round, why take so long to tellyou so simple a thing? Was it because I hate you and have hated you allmy life? Was it because I wished to give you pain? Was it that I wanted,now so late, revenge for that time when you saved my life, and from afearful death? Ah no!"

  "Forgive me," said I. He went on:--

  "My friend, it was because I wished to be gentle in the breaking toyou, for I know you have loved that so sweet lady. But even yet I donot expect you to believe. It is so hard to accept at once any abstracttruth, that we may doubt such to be possible when we have alwaysbelieved the 'no' of it; it is more hard still to accept so sad aconcrete truth, and of such a one as Miss Lucy. To-night I go to proveit. Dare you come with me?"

  This staggered me. A man does not like to prove such a truth; Byronexcepted from the category, jealousy.

  "And prove the very truth he most abhorred."

  He saw my hesitation, and spoke:--

  "The logic is simple, no madman's logic this time, jumping from tussockto tussock in a misty fog. If it be not true, then proof will be relief;at worst it will not harm. If it be true! Ah, there is the dread; yetvery dread should help my cause, for in it is some need of belief. Come,I tell you what I propose: first, that we go off now and see that childin the hospital. Dr. Vincent of the North Hospital, where the papers saythe child is, is friend of mine, and I think of yours since you were inclass at Amsterdam. He will let two scientists see his case, if he willnot let two friends. We shall tell him nothing, but only that we wish tolearn. And then----"

  "And then?" He took a key from his pocket and held it up. "And then wespend the night, you and I, in the churchyard where Lucy lies. Thisis the key that lock the tomb. I had it from the coffin-man to giveto Arthur." My heart sank within me, for I felt that there were somefearful ordeal before us. I could do nothing, however, so I plucked upwhat heart I could and said that we had better hasten, as the afternoonwas passing....

  We found the child awake. It had had a sleep and taken some food,and altogether was going on well. Dr. Vincent took the bandage fromits throat, and showed us the punctures. There was no mistaking thesimilarity to those which had been on Lucy's throat. They were smaller,and the edges looked fresher; that was all. We asked Vincent to whathe attributed them, and he replied that it must have been a bite ofsome animal, perhaps a rat; but, for his own part, he was inclined tothink that it was one of the bats which are so numerous on the northernheights of London. "Out of so many harmless ones," he said, "there maybe some wild specimen from the South of a more malignant species. Somesailor may have brought one home, and it managed to escape; or even fromthe Zoological Gardens a young one may have got loose, or one be bredthere from a vampire. These things do occur, you know. Only ten daysago a wolf got out, and was, I believe, traced up in this direction.For a week after, the children were playing nothing but Red Riding Hoodon the Heath and in every alley in the place until this 'bloofer lady'scare came along, since when it has been quite a gala-time with them.Even this poor little mite, when he woke up today, asked the nurse if hemight go away. When she asked him why he wanted to go, he said he wantedto play with the 'bloofer lady.'"

  "I hope," said Van Helsing, "that when you are sending the child homeyou will caution its parents to keep strict watch over it. These fanciesto stray are most dangerous; and if the child were to remain out anothernight, it would probably be fatal. But in any case I suppose you willnot let it away for some days?"

  "Certainly not, not for a week at least; longer if the wound is nothealed."

  Our visit to the hospital took more time than we had reckoned on, andthe sun had dipped before we came out. When Van Helsing saw how dark itwas, he said:--

  "There is no hurry. It is more late than I thought. Come, let us seeksomewhere that we may eat, and then we shall go on our way."

  We dined at "Jack Straw's Castle" along with a little crowd ofbicyclists and others who were genially noisy. About ten o'clock westarted from the inn. It was then very dark, and the scattered lampsmade the darkness greater when we were once outside their individualradius. The Professor had evidently noted the road we were to go, forhe went on unhesitatingly; but as for me, I was in quite a mix-upas to locality. As we went further, we met fewer and fewer people,till at last we were somewhat surprised when we met even the patrolof horse police going their usual suburban round. At last we reachedthe wall of the churchyard, which we climbed over. With some littledifficulty--for it was very dark, and the whole place seemed so strangeto us--we found the Westenra tomb. The Professor took the key, openedthe creaky door, and standing back, politely, but quite unconsciously,motioned me to precede him. There was a delicious irony in the offer,in the courtliness of giving preference on such a ghastly occasion. Mycompanion followed me quickly, and cautiously drew the door to, aftercarefully ascertaining that the lock was a falling, and not a springone. In the latter case we should have been in a bad plight. Then hefumbled in his bag, and taking out a match-box and a piece of candle,proceeded to make a light. The tomb in the daytime, and when wreathedwith fresh flowers, had looked grim and gruesome enough; but now somedays afterwards, when the flowers hung lank and dead, their whitesturning to rust and their greens to browns; when the spider and thebeetle had resumed their accustomed dominance; when time-discolouredstone, and dust-encrusted mortar, and rusty, dank iron, and tarnishedbrass, and clouded silver-plating gave back the feeble glimmer of acandle, the effect was more miserable and sordid than could have beenimagined. It conveyed irresistibly the idea that life--animal life--wasnot the only thing which could pass away.

  Van Helsing went about his work systematically. Holding his candle sothat he could read the coffin plates, and so holding it that the spermdropped in white patches which congealed as they touched the metal, hemade assurance of Lucy's coffin. Another search in his bag, and he tookout a turnscrew.

  "What are you going to do?" I asked.

  "To open the coffin. You shall yet be convinced." Straightway he begantaking out the screws, and finally lifted off the lid, showing thecasing of lead beneath. The sight was almost too much for me. It seemedto be as much an affront to the dead as it would have been to havestripped off her clothing in her sleep whilst living; I actually tookhold of his hand to stop him. He only said: "You shall see," and againfumbling in his bag, took out a tiny fret-saw. Striking the turnscrewthrough the lead with a swift downward stab, which made me wince, hemade a small hole, which was, however, big enough to admit the pointof the saw. I had expected a rush of gas from the week-old corpse. Wedoctors, who have had to study our dangers, have to become accustomed tosuch things, and I drew back towards the door. But the Professor neverstopped for a moment; he sawed down a couple of feet along one sideof the lead coffin, and then across, and down the other side. Takingthe edge of the loose flange, he bent it back towards the foot of thecoffin, and holding up the candle into the aperture, motioned to me tolook.

  I drew near and looked. The coffin was empty.

  It was certainly a surprise to me, and gave me a considerable shock, butVan Helsing was unmoved. He was now more sure than ever of his ground,and so emboldened to proceed in his task. "Are you satisfied now, friendJohn?" he asked.

  I felt all the dogged argumentativeness of my nature awake within me asI answered him:

  "I am satisfied that Lucy's body is not in that coffin; but that onlyproves one thing."

  "And what is that, friend John?"

  "That it is not there."

  "That is good logic," he said, "so far as it goes. But how do you--howcan you--account for it n
ot being there?"

  "Perhaps a body-snatcher," I suggested. "Some of the undertaker's peoplemay have stolen it." I felt that I was speaking folly, and yet it wasthe only real cause which I could suggest. The Professor sighed. "Ahwell!" he said, "we must have more proof. Come with me."

  He put on the coffin-lid again, gathered up all his things and placedthem in the bag, blew out the light, and placed the candle also in thebag. We opened the door, and went out. Behind us he closed the door andlocked it. He handed me the key, saying: "Will you keep it? You hadbetter be assured." I laughed--it was not a very cheerful laugh, I ambound to say--as I motioned him to keep it. "A key is nothing," I said;"there may be duplicates; and anyhow it is not difficult to pick a lockof that kind." He said nothing, but put the key in his pocket. Then hetold me to watch at one side of the churchyard whilst he could watchat the other. I took up my place behind a yew-tree, and I saw his darkfigure move until the intervening headstones and trees hid it from mysight.

  It was a lonely vigil. Just after I had taken my place I heard a distantclock strike twelve, and in time came one and two. I was chilled andunnerved, and angry with the Professor for taking me on such an errandand with myself for coming. I was too cold and too sleepy to be keenlyobservant, and not sleepy enough to betray my trust; so altogether I hada dreary, miserable time.

  Suddenly, as I turned round, I thought I saw something like a whitestreak, moving between two dark yew-trees at the side of the churchyardfarthest from the tomb; at the same time a dark mass moved from theProfessor's side of the ground, and hurriedly went towards it. ThenI too moved; but I had to go round headstones and railed-off tombs,and I stumbled over graves. The sky was overcast, and somewhere faroff an early cock crew. A little way off, beyond a line of scatteredjuniper-trees, which marked the pathway to the church, a white, dimfigure flitted in the direction of the tomb. The tomb itself was hiddenby trees, and I could not see where the figure disappeared. I heard therustle of actual movement where I had first seen the white figure, andcoming over, found the Professor holding in his arms a tiny child. Whenhe saw me he held it out to me, and said:--

  "Are you satisfied now?"

  "No," I said, in a way that I felt was aggressive.

  "Do you not see the child?"

  "Yes, it is a child, but who brought it here? And is it wounded?" Iasked.

  "We shall see," said the Professor, and with one impulse we took our wayout of the churchyard, he carrying the sleeping child.

  When we had got some little distance away, we went into a clump oftrees, and struck a match, and looked at the child's throat. It waswithout a scratch or scar of any kind.

  "Was I right?" I asked triumphantly.

  "We were just in time," said the Professor thankfully.

  We had now to decide what we were to do with the child, and so consultedabout it. If we were to take it to a police-station we should have togive some account of our movements during the night; at least, we shouldhave had to make some statement as to how we had come to find the child.So finally we decided that we would take it to the Heath, and when weheard a policeman coming, would leave it where he could not fail to findit; we would then seek our way home as quickly as we could. All fell outwell. At the edge of Hampstead Heath we heard a policeman's heavy tramp,and laying the child on the pathway, we waited and watched until he sawit as he flashed his lantern to and fro. We heard his exclamation ofastonishment, and then we went away silently. By good chance we got acab near the "Spaniards," and drove to town.

  I cannot sleep, so I make this entry. But I must try to get a few hours'sleep, as Van Helsing is to call for me at noon. He insists that I shallgo with him on another expedition.

  _27 September._--It was two o'clock before we found a suitableopportunity for our attempt. The funeral held at noon was all completed,and the last stragglers of the mourners had taken themselves lazilyaway, when, looking carefully from behind a clump of alder-trees, wesaw the sexton lock the gate after him. We knew then that we were safetill morning did we desire it; but the Professor told me that we shouldnot want more than an hour at most. Again I felt that horrid senseof the reality of things, in which any effort of imagination seemedout of place; and I realised distinctly the perils of the law whichwe were incurring in our unhallowed work. Besides, I felt it was allso useless. Outrageous as it was to open a leaden coffin, to see if awoman dead nearly a week were really dead, it now seemed the height offolly to open the tomb again, when we knew, from the evidence of our owneyesight, that the coffin was empty. I shrugged my shoulders, however,and rested silent, for Van Helsing had a way of going on his own road,no matter who remonstrated. He took the key, opened the vault, andagain courteously motioned me to precede. The place was not so gruesomeas last night, but oh, how unutterably mean-looking when the sunshinestreamed in. Van Helsing walked over to Lucy's coffin, and I followed.He bent over and again forced back the leaden flange; and then a shockof surprise and dismay shot through me.

  There lay Lucy, seemingly just as we had seen her the night before herfuneral. She was, if possible, more radiantly beautiful than ever; and Icould not believe that she was dead. The lips were red, nay redder thanbefore; and on the cheeks was a delicate bloom.

  "Is this a juggle?" I said to him.

  "Are you convinced now?" said the Professor in response, and as he spokehe put over his hand, and in a way that made me shudder, pulled back thedead lips and showed the white teeth.

  "See," he went on, "see, they are even sharper than before. With thisand this"--and he touched one of the canine teeth and that belowit--"the little children can be bitten. Are you of belief now, friendJohn?" Once more, argumentative hostility woke within me. I _could_ notaccept such an overwhelming idea as he suggested; so, with an attempt toargue of which I was even at the moment ashamed, I said:--

  "She may have been placed here since last night."

  "Indeed? That is so, and by whom?"

  "I do not know. Some one has done it."

  "And yet she has been dead one week. Most peoples in that time would notlook so." I had no answer for this, so was silent. Van Helsing did notseem to notice my silence; at any rate, he showed neither chagrin nortriumph. He was looking intently at the face of the dead woman, raisingthe eyelids and looking at the eyes, and once more opening the lips andexamining the teeth. Then he turned to me and said:--

  "Here, there is one thing which is different from all recorded: here issome dual life that is not as the common. She was bitten by the vampirewhen she was in a trance, sleep-walking--oh, you start; you do not knowthat, friend John, but you shall know it all later--and in trance couldhe best come to take more blood. In trance she died, and in trance sheis Un-Dead, too. So it is that she differ from all other. Usually whenthe Un-Dead sleep at home"--as he spoke he made a comprehensive sweep ofhis arm to designate what to a vampire was "home"--"their face show whatthey are, but this so sweet that-was when she not Un-Dead she go back tothe nothings of the common dead. There is no malign there, see, and soit make hard that I must kill her in her sleep." This turned my bloodcold, and it began to dawn upon me that I was accepting Van Helsing'stheories; but if she were really dead, what was there of terror in theidea of killing her? He looked up at me, and evidently saw the change inmy face, for he said almost joyously:--

  "Ah, you believe now?"

  I answered: "Do not press me too hard all at once. I am willing toaccept. How will you do this bloody work?"

  "I shall cut off her head and fill her mouth with garlic, and I shalldrive a stake through her body." It made me shudder to think of somutilating the body of the woman whom I had loved. And yet the feelingwas not so strong as I had expected. I was, in fact, beginning toshudder at the presence of this being, this Un-Dead, as Van Helsingcalled it, and to loathe it. Is it possible that love is all subjective,or all objective?

  I waited a considerable time for Van Helsing to begin, but he stood asif wrapped in thought. Presently he closed the catch of his bag with asnap, and said:--

  "I
have been thinking, and have made up my mind as to what is best. IfI did simply follow my inclining I would do now, at this moment, whatis to be done; but there are other things to follow, and things thatare thousand times more difficult in that them we do not know. This issimple. She have yet no life taken, though that is of time; and to actnow would be to take danger from her for ever. But then we may haveto want Arthur, and how shall we tell him of this? If you, who saw thewounds on Lucy's throat, and saw the wounds so similar on the child'sat the hospital; if you, who saw the coffin empty last night and fullto-day with a woman who have not change only to be more rose and morebeautiful in a whole week after she die--if you know of this and know ofthe white figure last night that brought the child to the churchyard,and yet of your own senses you did not believe, how, then, can I expectArthur, who know none of those things, to believe? He doubted me whenI took him from her kiss when she was dying. I know he has forgiven mebecause in some mistaken idea I have done things that prevent him saygood-bye as he ought; and he may think that in some more mistaken ideathis woman was buried alive; and that in most mistake of all we havekilled her. He will then argue back that it is we, mistaken ones, thathave killed her by our ideas; and so he will be much unhappy always.Yet he never can be sure; and that is the worst of all. And he willsometimes think that she he loved was buried alive, and that will painthis dreams with horrors of what she must have suffered; and, again, hewill think that we may be right, and that his so beloved was, after all,an Un-Dead. No! I told him once, and since then I learn much. Now, sinceI know it is all true, a hundred thousand times more do I know that hemust pass through the bitter waters to reach the sweet. He, poor fellow,must have one hour that will make the very face of heaven grow black tohim; then we can act for good all round and send him peace. My mind ismade up. Let us go. You return home for to-night to your asylum, andsee that all be well. As for me, I shall spend the night here in thischurchyard in my own way. To-morrow night you will come to me to theBerkeley Hotel at ten of the clock. I shall send for Arthur to come too,and also that so fine young man of America that gave his blood. Laterwe shall all have work to do. I come with you so far as Piccadilly andthere dine, for I must be back here before the sun set."

  So we locked the tomb and came away, and got over the wall of thechurchyard, which was not much of a task, and drove back to Piccadilly.

  _Note left by Van Helsing in his portmanteau, Berkeley Hotel, directedto John Seward, M.D._

  (Not delivered.)

  "_27 September._

  "Friend John,--

  "I write this in case anything should happen. I go alone to watch inthat churchyard. It pleases me that the Un-Dead, Miss Lucy, shallnot leave to-night, that so on the morrow night she may be moreeager. Therefore I shall fix some things she like not--garlic and acrucifix--and so seal up the door of the tomb. She is young as Un-Dead,and will heed. Moreover, these are only to prevent her coming out;they may not prevail on her wanting to get in; for then the Un-Dead isdesperate, and must find the line of least resistance, whatsoever it maybe. I shall be at hand all the night from sunset till after the sunrise,and if there be aught that may be learned I shall learn it. For MissLucy, or from her, I have no fear: but that other to whom is there thatshe is Un-Dead, he have now the power to seek her tomb and find shelter.He is cunning, as I know from Mr. Jonathan and from the way that allalong he have fooled us when he played with us for Miss Lucy's life, andwe lost; and in many ways the Un-Dead are strong. He have always thestrength in his hand of twenty men; even we four who gave our strengthto Miss Lucy it also is all to him. Besides, he can summon his wolfand I know not what. So if it be that he come thither on this night heshall find me; but none other shall--until it be too late. But it may bethat he will not attempt the place. There is no reason why he should;his hunting ground is more full of game than the churchyard where theUn-Dead woman sleep, and one old man watch.

  "Therefore I write this in case.... Take the papers that are with this,the diaries of Harker and the rest, and read them, and then find thisgreat Un-Dead, and cut off his head and burn his heart or drive a stakethough it, so that the world may rest from him.

  "If it be so, farewell.

  "/Van Helsing./"

  _Dr. Seward's Diary._

  _28 September._--It is wonderful what a good night's sleep will do forone. Yesterday I was almost willing to accept Van Helsing's monstrousideas; but now they seem to start out lurid before me as outrages oncommon sense. I have no doubt that he believes it all. I wonder if hismind can have become in any way unhinged. Surely there must be _some_rational explanation of all these mysterious things. Is it possible thatthe Professor can have done it himself? He is so abnormally clever thatif he went off his head he would carry out his intent with regard tosome fixed idea in a wonderful way. I am loath to think it, and indeedit would be almost as great a marvel as the other to find that VanHelsing was mad; but anyhow I shall watch him carefully. I may get somelight on the mystery.

  _29 September, morning_.... Last night, at a little before ten o'clock,Arthur and Quincey came into Van Helsing's room; he told us all what hewanted us to do, but especially addressing himself to Arthur, as if allour wills were centred in his. He began by saying that he hoped we wouldall come with him too, "for," he said, "there is a grave duty to bedone there. You were doubtless surprised at my letter?" This query wasdirectly addressed to Lord Godalming.

  "I was. It rather upset me for a bit. There has been so much troublearound my house of late that I could do without any more. I have beencurious, too, as to what you mean. Quincey and I talked it over; but themore we talked, the more puzzled we got, till now I can say for myselfthat I'm about up a tree as to any meaning about anything."

  "Me, too," said Quincey Morris laconically.

  "Oh," said the Professor, "then you are nearer the beginning, both ofyou, than friend John here, who has to go a long way back before he caneven get so far as to begin."

  It was evident that he recognised my return to my old doubting frame ofmind without my saying a word. Then, turning to the other two, he saidwith intense gravity:--

  "I want your permission to do what I think good this night. It is, Iknow, much to ask; and when you know what it is I propose to do you willknow, and only then, how much. Therefore may I ask that you promise mein the dark, so that afterwards, though you may be angry with me fora time--I must not disguise from myself the possibility that such maybe--you shall not blame yourselves for anything."

  "That's frank anyhow," broke in Quincey. "I'll answer for the Professor.I don't quite see his drift, but I swear he's honest; and that's goodenough for me."

  "I thank you, sir," said Van Helsing proudly. "I have done myself thehonour of counting you one trusting friend, and such endorsement is dearto me." He held out a hand, which Quincey took.

  Then Arthur spoke out:--

  "Dr. Van Helsing, I don't quite like to 'buy a pig in a poke,' as theysay in Scotland, and if it be anything in which my honour as a gentlemanor my faith as a Christian is concerned, I cannot make such a promise.If you can assure me that what you intend does not violate either ofthese two, then I give my consent at once; though, for the life of me, Icannot understand what you are driving at."

  "I accept your limitation," said Van Helsing, "and all I ask of youis that if you feel it necessary to condemn any act of mine, you willfirst consider it well and be satisfied that it does not violate yourreservations."

  "Agreed!" said Arthur; "that is only fair. And now that the_pourparlers_ are over, may I ask what it is we are to do?"

  "I want you to come with me, and to come in secret, to the churchyard atKingstead."

  Arthur's face fell as he said in an amazed sort of way:--

  "Where poor Lucy is buried?" The Professor bowed. Arthur went on: "Andwhen there?"

  "To enter the tomb!" Arthur stood up.

  "Professor, are you in earnest; or is it some monstrous joke? Pardonme, I see that you are in earnest." He sat down again, but I could seethat he sat
firmly and proudly, as one who is on his dignity. There wassilence until he asked again:--

  "And when in the tomb?"

  "To open the coffin."

  "This is too much!" he said, angrily rising again. "I am willingto be patient in all things that are reasonable; but in this--thisdesecration of the grave--of one who----" He fairly choked withindignation. The Professor looked pityingly at him.

  "If I could spare you one pang, my poor friend," he said, "God knows Iwould. But this night our feet must tread in thorny paths; or later,and for ever, the feet you love must walk in paths of flame!"

  Arthur looked up with set, white face and said:--

  "Take care, sir, take care!"

  "Would it not be well to hear what I have to say?" said Van Helsing."And then you will at least know the limit of my purpose. Shall I goon?"

  "That's fair enough," broke in Morris.

  After a pause Van Helsing went on, evidently with an effort:--

  "Miss Lucy is dead; is it not so? Yes! Then there can be no wrong toher. But if she be not dead----"

  Arthur jumped to his feet.

  "Good God!" he cried. "What do you mean? Has there been any mistake; hasshe been buried alive?" He groaned in anguish that not even hope couldsoften.

  "I did not say she was alive, my child; I did not think it. I go nofurther than to say that she might be Un-Dead."

  "Un-Dead! Not alive! What do you mean? Is this all a nightmare, or whatis it?"

  "There are mysteries which men can only guess at, which age by age theymay solve only in part. Believe me, we are now on the verge of one. ButI have not done. May I cut off the head of dead Miss Lucy?"

  "Heavens and earth, no!" cried Arthur in a storm of passion. "Not forthe wide world will I consent to any mutilation of her dead body. Dr.Van Helsing, you try me too far. What have I done to you that you shouldtorture me so? What did that poor, sweet girl do that you should want tocast such dishonour on her grave? Are you mad that speak such things,or am I mad that listen to them? Don't dare to think more of such adesecration; I shall not give my consent to anything you do. I have aduty to do in protecting her grave from outrage; and, by God, I shall doit!"

  Van Helsing rose up from where he had all the time been seated, andsaid, gravely and sternly:--

  "My Lord Godalming, I, too, have a duty to do, a duty to others, aduty to you, a duty to the dead; and, by God, I shall do it! All I askyou now is that you come with me, that you look and listen; and ifwhen later I make the same request you do not be more eager for itsfulfilment even than I am, then--then I shall do my duty, whatever itmay seem to me. And then, to follow of your Lordship's wishes, I shallhold myself at your disposal to render an account to you, when and whereyou will." His voice broke a little, and he went on with an accent fullof pity:--

  "But, I beseech you, do not go forth in anger with me. In a long life ofacts which were often not pleasant to do, and which sometimes did wringmy heart, I have never had so heavy a task as now. Believe me that ifthe time comes for you to change your mind towards me, one look from youwill wipe away all this so sad hour, for I would do what a man can tosave you from sorrow. Just think. For why should I give myself so muchof labour and so much of sorrow? I have come here from my own land todo what I can of good; at the first to please my friend John, and thento help a sweet young lady, whom, too, I came to love. For her--I amashamed to say so much, but I say it in kindness--I gave what you gave:the blood of my veins; I gave it, I, who was not, like you, her lover,but only her physician and her friend. I gave to her my nights anddays--before death, after death; and if my death can do her good evennow, when she is the dead Un-Dead, she shall have it freely." He saidthis with a very grave, sweet pride, and Arthur was much affected by it.He took the old man's hand and said in a broken voice:--

  "Oh, it is hard to think of it, and I cannot understand; but at least Iwill go with you and wait."