DRACULA
By
Bram Stoker
1897 edition
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER
1 JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL. 3
CHAPTER
2 JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL CONTINUED.. 16
CHAPTER
3 JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL CONTINUED.. 28
CHAPTER
4 JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL CONTINUED.. 40
CHAPTER
5 LETTER FROM MISS MINA MURRAY TO MISS LUCY WESTENRA.. 53
CHAPTER
6 MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL. 62
CHAPTER
7 CUTTING FROM "THE DAILYGRAPH", 8 AUGUST. 75
CHAPTER
8 MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL. 88
CHAPTER
9 LETTER, MINA HARKER TO LUCY WESTENRA.. 102
CHAPTER
10 LETTER, DR. SEWARD TO HON. ARTHUR HOLMWOOD.. 115
CHAPTER
11 LUCY WESTENRA'S DIARY.. 129
CHAPTER
12 DR. SEWARD'S DIARY.. 141
CHAPTER
13 DR. SEWARD'S DIARY--cont. 158
CHAPTER
14 MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL. 173
CHAPTER
15 DR. SEWARD'S DIARY--cont. 188
CHAPTER
16 DR. SEWARD'S DIARY--cont. 202
CHAPTER
17 DR. SEWARD'S DIARY--cont. 212
CHAPTER
18 DR. SEWARD'S DIARY.. 224
CHAPTER
19 JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL. 240
CHAPTER
20 JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL. 252
CHAPTER
21 DR. SEWARD'S DIARY.. 267
CHAPTER
22 JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL. 281
CHAPTER
23 DR. SEWARD'S DIARY.. 293
CHAPTER
24 DR. SEWARD'S PHONOGRAPH DIARY.. 306
CHAPTER
25 DR. SEWARD'S DIARY.. 319
CHAPTER
26 DR. SEWARD'S DIARY.. 333
CHAPTER
27 MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL. 349
3 May.
Bistritz.--Left Munich at 8:35 P.M., on 1st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning; should have
arrived at 6:46, but train was an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful
place, from the glimpse which I got of it from the train and the little I could
walk through the streets. I feared to go very far from the station, as we had
arrived late and would start as near the correct time as possible.
The impression I
had was that we were leaving the West and entering the East; the most western
of splendid bridges over the Danube, which is
here of noble width and depth, took us among the traditions of Turkish rule.
We left in
pretty good time, and came after nightfall to Klausenburgh. Here I stopped for
the night at the Hotel Royale. I had for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken
done up some way with red pepper, which was very good but thirsty. (Mem. get
recipe for Mina.) I asked the waiter, and he said it was called "paprika
hendl," and that, as it was a national dish, I should be able to get it
anywhere along the Carpathians.
I found my
smattering of German very useful here, indeed, I don't know how I should be
able to get on without it.
Having had some
time at my disposal when in London, I had
visited the British Museum, and made search among the books and maps in
the library regarding Transylvania; it had
struck me that some foreknowledge of the country could hardly fail to have some
importance in dealing with a nobleman of that country.
I find that the
district he named is in the extreme east of the country, just on the borders of
three states, Transylvania, Moldavia, and Bukovina, in the midst of the
Carpathian mountains; one of the wildest and least known portions of Europe.
I was not able
to light on any map or work giving the exact locality of the Castle Dracula, as
there are no maps of this country as yet to compare with our own Ordance Survey
Maps; but I found that Bistritz, the post town named by Count Dracula, is a
fairly well-known place. I shall enter here some of my notes, as they may
refresh my memory when I talk over my travels with Mina.
In the
population of Transylvania there are four
distinct nationalities: Saxons in the South, and mixed with them the Wallachs,
who are the descendants of the Dacians; Magyars in the West, and Szekelys in
the East and North. I am going among the latter, who claim to be descended from
Attila and the Huns. This may be so, for when the Magyars conquered the country
in the eleventh century they found the Huns settled in it.
I read that
every known superstition in the world is gathered into the horseshoe of the
Carpathians, as if it were the centre of some sort of imaginative whirlpool; if
so my stay may be very interesting. (Mem., I must ask the Count all about
them.)
I did not sleep
well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for I had all sorts of queer
dreams. There was a dog howling all night under my window, which may have had
something to do with it; or it may have been the paprika, for I had to drink up
all the water in my carafe, and was still thirsty. Towards morning I slept and
was wakened by the continuous knocking at my door, so I guess I must have been
sleeping soundly then.
I had for
breakfast more paprika, and a sort of porridge of maize flour which they said
was "mamaliga", and egg-plant stuffed with forcemeat, a very
excellent dish, which they call "impletata". (Mem., get recipe for
this also.)
I had to hurry
breakfast, for the train started a little before eight, or rather it ought to
have done so, for after rushing to the station at 7:30 I had to sit in the
carriage for more than an hour before we began to move.
It seems to me
that the further east you go the more unpunctual are the trains. What ought
they to be in China?
All day long we
seemed to dawdle through a country which was full of beauty of every kind.
Sometimes we saw little towns or castles on the top of steep hills such as we
see in old missals; sometimes we ran by rivers and streams which seemed from
the wide stony margin on each side of them to be subject to great floods. It
takes a lot of water, and running strong, to sweep the outside edge of a river
clear.
At every station
there were groups of people, sometimes crowds, and in all sorts of attire. Some
of them were just like the peasants at home or those I saw coming through France and Germany, with short jackets, and
round hats, and home-made trousers; but others were very picturesque.
The women looked
pretty, except when you got near them, but they were very clumsy about the
waist. They had all full white sleeves of some kind or other, and most of them
had big belts with a lot of strips of something fluttering from them like the
dresses in a ballet, but of course there were petticoats under them.
The strangest
figures we saw were the Slovaks, who were more barbarian than the rest, with
their big cow-boy hats, great baggy dirty-white trousers, white linen shirts,
and enormous heavy leather belts, nearly a foot wide, all studded over with
brass nails. They wore high boots, with their trousers tucked into them, and
had long black hair and heavy black moustaches. They are very picturesque, but
do not look prepossessing. On the stage they would be set down at once as some
old Oriental band of brigands. They are, however, I am told, very harmless and
rather wanting in natural self-assertion.
It was on the
dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz, which is a very interesting old
place. Being practically on the frontier--for the Borgo
Pass leads from it into Bukovina--it has had a very stormy existence, and it
certainly shows marks of it. Fifty years ago a series of great fires took
place, which made terrible havoc on five separate occasions. At the very
beginning of the seventeenth century it underwent a siege of three weeks and
lost 13,000 people, the casualties of war proper being assisted by famine and
disease.
Count Dracula
had directed me to go to the Golden Krone Hotel, which I found, to my great
delight, to be thoroughly old-fashioned, for of course I wanted to see all I
could of the ways of the country.
I was evidently
expected, for when I got near the door I faced a cheery-looking elderly woman
in the usual peasant dress--white undergarment with a long double apron, front,
and back, of coloured stuff fitting almost too tight for modesty. When I came
close she bowed and said, "The Herr Englishman?"
"Yes,"
I said, "Jonathan Harker."
She smiled, and
gave some message to an elderly man in white shirtsleeves, who had followed her
to the door.
He went, but
immediately returned with a letter:
"My
friend.--Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting you. Sleep well
tonight. At three tomorrow the diligence will start for Bukovina;
a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass
my carriage will await you and will bring you to me. I trust that your journey
from London has
been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land.--Your
friend, Dracula."
4 May--I found
that my landlord had got a letter from the Count, directing him to secure the
best place on the coach for me; but on making inquiries as to details he seemed
somewhat reticent, and pretended that he could not understand my German.
This could not
be true, because up to then he had understood it perfectly; at least, he
answered my questions exactly as if he did.
He and his wife,
the old lady who had received me, looked at each other in a frightened sort of
way. He mumbled out that the money had been sent in a letter, and that was all
he knew. When I asked him if he knew Count Dracula, and could tell me anything
of his castle, both he and his wife crossed themselves, and, saying that they
knew nothing at all, simply refused to speak further. It was so near the time
of starting that I had no time to ask anyone else, for it was all very
mysterious and not by any means comforting.
Just before I
was leaving, the old lady came up to my room and said in a hysterical way:
"Must you go? Oh! Young Herr, must you go?" She was in such an
excited state that she seemed to have lost her grip of what German she knew,
and mixed it all up with some other language which I did not know at all. I was
just able to follow her by asking many questions. When I told her that I must go
at once, and that I was engaged on important business, she asked again:
"Do you
know what day it is?" I answered that it was the fourth of May. She shook
her head as she said again:
"Oh, yes! I
know that! I know that, but do you know what day it is?"
On my saying
that I did not understand, she went on:
"It is the
eve of St. George's
Day. Do you not know that tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, all the
evil things in the world will have full sway? Do you know where you are going,
and what you are going to?" She was in such evident distress that I tried
to comfort her, but without effect. Finally, she went down on her knees and
implored me not to go; at least to wait a day or two before starting.
It was all very
ridiculous but I did not feel comfortable. However, there was business to be
done, and I could allow nothing to interfere with it.
I tried to raise
her up, and said, as gravely as I could, that I thanked her, but my duty was
imperative, and that I must go.
She then rose
and dried her eyes, and taking a crucifix from her neck offered it to me.
I did not know
what to do, for, as an English Churchman, I have been taught to regard such
things as in some measure idolatrous, and yet it seemed so ungracious to refuse
an old lady meaning so well and in such a state of mind.
She saw, I
suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put the rosary round my neck and said,
"For your mother's sake," and went out of the room.
I am writing up
this part of the diary whilst I am waiting for the coach, which is, of course,
late; and the crucifix is still round my neck.
Whether it is
the old lady's fear, or the many ghostly traditions of this place, or the
crucifix itself, I do not know, but I am not feeling nearly as easy in my mind
as usual.
If this book
should ever reach Mina before I do, let it bring my goodbye. Here comes the
coach!
5 May. The
Castle.--The gray of the morning has passed, and the sun is high over the
distant horizon, which seems jagged, whether with trees or hills I know not,
for it is so far off that big things and little are mixed.
I am not sleepy,
and, as I am not to be called till I awake, naturally I write till sleep comes.
There are many
odd things to put down, and, lest who reads them may fancy that I dined too
well before I left Bistritz, let me put down my dinner exactly.
I dined on what
they called "robber steak"--bits of bacon, onion, and beef, seasoned
with red pepper, and strung on sticks, and roasted over the fire, in simple
style of the London
cat's meat!
The wine was
Golden Mediasch, which produces a queer sting on the tongue, which is, however,
not disagreeable.
I had only a
couple of glasses of this, and nothing else.
When I got on
the coach, the driver had not taken his seat, and I saw him talking to the
landlady.
They were
evidently talking of me, for every now and then they looked at me, and some of
the people who were sitting on the bench outside the door--came and listened,
and then looked at me, most of them pityingly. I could hear a lot of words
often repeated, queer words, for there were many nationalities in the crowd, so
I quietly got my polyglot dictionary from my bag and looked them out.
I must say they
were not cheering to me, for amongst them were "Ordog"--Satan,
"Pokol"--hell, "stregoica"--witch, "vrolok" and
"vlkoslak"--both mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the other
Servian for something that is either werewolf or vampire. (Mem., I must ask the
Count about these superstitions.)
When we started,
the crowd round the inn door, which had by this time swelled to a considerable
size, all made the sign of the cross and pointed two fingers towards me.
With some
difficulty, I got a fellow passenger to tell me what they meant. He would not
answer at first, but on learning that I was English, he explained that it was a
charm or guard against the evil eye.
This was not
very pleasant for me, just starting for an unknown place to meet an unknown
man. But everyone seemed so kind-hearted, and so sorrowful, and so sympathetic
that I could not but be touched.
I shall never
forget the last glimpse which I had of the inn yard and its crowd of
picturesque figures, all crossing themselves, as they stood round the wide
archway, with its background of rich foliage of oleander and orange trees in
green tubs clustered in the centre of the yard.
Then our driver,
whose wide linen drawers covered the whole front of the
boxseat,--"gotza" they call them--cracked his big whip over his four
small horses, which ran abreast, and we set off on our journey.
I soon lost
sight and recollection of ghostly fears in the beauty of the scene as we drove
along, although had I known the language, or rather languages, which my
fellow-passengers were speaking, I might not have been able to throw them off
so easily. Before us lay a green sloping land full of forests and woods, with
here and there steep hills, crowned with clumps of trees or with farmhouses,
the blank gable end to the road. There was everywhere a bewildering mass of
fruit blossom--apple, plum, pear, cherry. And as we drove by I could see the
green grass under the trees spangled with the fallen petals. In and out amongst
these green hills of what they call here the "Mittel Land"
ran the road, losing itself as it swept round the grassy curve, or was shut out
by the straggling ends of pine woods, which here and there ran down the
hillsides like tongues of flame. The road was rugged, but still we seemed to
fly over it with a feverish haste. I could not understand then what the haste
meant, but the driver was evidently bent on losing no time in reaching Borgo Prund.
I was told that this road is in summertime excellent, but that it had not yet
been put in order after the winter snows. In this respect it is different from
the general run of roads in the Carpathians, for it is an old tradition that
they are not to be kept in too good order. Of old the Hospadars would not
repair them, lest the Turk should think that they were preparing to bring in
foreign troops, and so hasten the war which was always really at loading point.
Beyond the green
swelling hills of the Mittel
Land rose mighty slopes
of forest up to the lofty steeps of the Carpathians themselves. Right and left
of us they towered, with the afternoon sun falling full upon them and bringing
out all the glorious colours of this beautiful range, deep blue and purple in
the shadows of the peaks, green and brown where grass and rock mingled, and an
endless perspective of jagged rock and pointed crags, till these were
themselves lost in the distance, where the snowy peaks rose grandly. Here and
there seemed mighty rifts in the mountains, through which, as the sun began to
sink, we saw now and again the white gleam of falling water. One of my
companions touched my arm as we swept round the base of a hill and opened up
the lofty, snow-covered peak of a mountain, which seemed, as we wound on our
serpentine way, to be right before us.
"Look!
Isten szek!"--"God's seat!"--and he crossed himself reverently.
As we wound on
our endless way, and the sun sank lower and lower behind us, the shadows of the
evening began to creep round us. This was emphasized by the fact that the snowy
mountain-top still held the sunset, and seemed to glow out with a delicate cool
pink. Here and there we passed Cszeks and slovaks, all in picturesque attire,
but I noticed that goitre was painfully prevalent. By the roadside were many
crosses, and as we swept by, my companions all crossed themselves. Here and
there was a peasant man or woman kneeling before a shrine, who did not even
turn round as we approached, but seemed in the self-surrender of devotion to
have neither eyes nor ears for the outer world. There were many things new to
me. For instance, hay-ricks in the trees, and here and there very beautiful
masses of weeping birch, their white stems shining like silver through the
delicate green of the leaves.
Now and again we
passed a leiter-wagon--the ordinary peasants's cart--with its long, snakelike
vertebra, calculated to suit the inequalities of the road. On this were sure to
be seated quite a group of homecoming peasants, the Cszeks with their white,
and the Slovaks with their coloured sheepskins, the latter carrying
lance-fashion their long staves, with axe at end. As the evening fell it began
to get very cold, and the growing twilight seemed to merge into one dark
mistiness the gloom of the trees, oak, beech, and pine, though in the valleys
which ran deep between the spurs of the hills, as we ascended through the Pass,
the dark firs stood out here and there against the background of late-lying
snow. Sometimes, as the road was cut through the pine woods that seemed in the
darkness to be closing down upon us, great masses of greyness which here and
there bestrewed the trees, produced a peculiarly weird and solemn effect, which
carried on the thoughts and grim fancies engendered earlier in the evening,
when the falling sunset threw into strange relief the ghost-like clouds which
amongst the Carpathians seem to wind ceaselessly through the valleys. Sometimes
the hills were so steep that, despite our driver's haste, the horses could only
go slowly. I wished to get down and walk up them, as we do at home, but the
driver would not hear of it. "No, no," he said. "You must not
walk here. The dogs are too fierce." And then he added, with what he
evidently meant for grim pleasantry--for he looked round to catch the approving
smile of the rest--"And you may have enough of such matters before you go
to sleep." The only stop he would make was a moment's pause to light his
lamps.
When it grew
dark there seemed to be some excitement amongst the passengers, and they kept
speaking to him, one after the other, as though urging him to further speed. He
lashed the horses unmercifully with his long whip, and with wild cries of
encouragement urged them on to further exertions. Then through the darkness I
could see a sort of patch of grey light ahead of us, as though there were a
cleft in the hills. The excitement of the passengers grew greater. The crazy
coach rocked on its great leather springs, and swayed like a boat tossed on a
stormy sea. I had to hold on. The road grew more level, and we appeared to fly
along. Then the mountains seemed to come nearer to us on each side and to frown
down upon us. We were entering on the Borgo Pass.
One by one several of the passengers offered me gifts, which they pressed upon
me with an earnestness which would take no denial. These were certainly of an
odd and varied kind, but each was given in simple good faith, with a kindly
word, and a blessing, and that same strange mixture of fear-meaning movements
which I had seen outside the hotel at Bistritz--the sign of the cross and the
guard against the evil eye. Then, as we flew along, the driver leaned forward,
and on each side the passengers, craning over the edge of the coach, peered
eagerly into the darkness. It was evident that something very exciting was
either happening or expected, but though I asked each passenger, no one would
give me the slightest explanation. This state of excitement kept on for some
little time. And at last we saw before us the Pass opening out on the eastern
side. There were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy,
oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though the mountain range had
separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got into the thunderous one. I
was now myself looking out for the conveyance which was to take me to the
Count. Each moment I expected to see the glare of lamps through the blackness,
but all was dark. The only light was the flickering rays of our own lamps, in
which the steam from our hard-driven horses rose in a white cloud. We could see
now the sandy road lying white before us, but there was on it no sign of a
vehicle. The passengers drew back with a sigh of gladness, which seemed to mock
my own disappointment. I was already thinking what I had best do, when the
driver, looking at his watch, said to the others something which I could hardly
hear, it was spoken so quietly and in so low a tone, I thought it was "An
hour less than the time." Then turning to me, he spoke in German worse
than my own.
"There is
no carriage here. The Herr is not expected after all. He will now come on to Bukovina, and return tomorrow or the next day, better the
next day." Whilst he was speaking the horses began to neigh and snort and
plunge wildly, so that the driver had to hold them up. Then, amongst a chorus
of screams from the peasants and a universal crossing of themselves, a caleche,
with four horses, drove up behind us, overtook us, and drew up beside the
coach. I could see from the flash of our lamps as the rays fell on them, that
the horses were coal-black and splendid animals. They were driven by a tall
man, with a long brown beard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide his
face from us. I could only see the gleam of a pair of very bright eyes, which
seemed red in the lamplight, as he turned to us.
He said to the
driver, "You are early tonight, my friend."
The man
stammered in reply, "The English Herr was in a hurry."
To which the
stranger replied, "That is why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to Bukovina. You cannot deceive me, my friend. I know too
much, and my horses are swift."
As he spoke he
smiled, and the lamplight fell on a hard-looking mouth, with very red lips and
sharp-looking teeth, as white as ivory. One of my companions whispered to
another the line from Burger's "Lenore".
"Denn die
Todten reiten Schnell." ("For the dead travel fast.")
The strange
driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up with a gleaming smile. The
passenger turned his face away, at the same time putting out his two fingers
and crossing himself. "Give me the Herr's luggage," said the driver,
and with exceeding alacrity my bags were handed out and put in the caleche.
Then I descended from the side of the coach, as the caleche was close
alongside, the driver helping me with a hand which caught my arm in a grip of
steel. His strength must have been prodigious.
Without a word
he shook his reins, the horses turned, and we swept into the darkness of the
pass. As I looked back I saw the steam from the horses of the coach by the
light of the lamps, and projected against it the figures of my late companions
crossing themselves. Then the driver cracked his whip and called to his horses,
and off they swept on their way to Bukovina.
As they sank into the darkness I felt a strange chill, and a lonely feeling come
over me. But a cloak was thrown over my shoulders, and a rug across my knees,
and the driver said in excellent German--"The night is chill, mein Herr,
and my master the Count bade me take all care of you. There is a flask of
slivovitz (the plum brandy of the country) underneath the seat, if you should
require it."
I did not take
any, but it was a comfort to know it was there all the same. I felt a little
strangely, and not a little frightened. I think had there been any alternative
I should have taken it, instead of prosecuting that unknown night journey. The
carriage went at a hard pace straight along, then we made a complete turn and
went along another straight road. It seemed to me that we were simply going
over and over the same ground again, and so I took note of some salient point,
and found that this was so. I would have liked to have asked the driver what
this all meant, but I really feared to do so, for I thought that, placed as I
was, any protest would have had no effect in case there had been an intention
to delay.
By-and-by,
however, as I was curious to know how time was passing, I struck a match, and
by its flame looked at my watch. It was within a few minutes of midnight. This
gave me a sort of shock, for I suppose the general superstition about midnight
was increased by my recent experiences. I waited with a sick feeling of
suspense.
Then a dog began
to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the road, a long, agonized wailing,
as if from fear. The sound was taken up by another dog, and then another and
another, till, borne on the wind which now sighed softly through the Pass, a
wild howling began, which seemed to come from all over the country, as far as
the imagination could grasp it through the gloom of the night.
At the first
howl the horses began to strain and rear, but the driver spoke to them
soothingly, and they quieted down, but shivered and sweated as though after a
runaway from sudden fright. Then, far off in the distance, from the mountains
on each side of us began a louder and a sharper howling, that of wolves, which
affected both the horses and myself in the same way. For I was minded to jump
from the caleche and run, whilst they reared again and plunged madly, so that
the driver had to use all his great strength to keep them from bolting. In a
few minutes, however, my own ears got accustomed to the sound, and the horses
so far became quiet that the driver was able to descend and to stand before
them.
He petted and
soothed them, and whispered something in their ears, as I have heard of
horse-tamers doing, and with extraordinary effect, for under his caresses they
became quite manageable again, though they still trembled. The driver again
took his seat, and shaking his reins, started off at a great pace. This time,
after going to the far side of the Pass, he suddenly turned down a narrow
roadway which ran sharply to the right.
Soon we were
hemmed in with trees, which in places arched right over the roadway till we
passed as through a tunnel. And again great frowning rocks guarded us boldly on
either side. Though we were in shelter, we could hear the rising wind, for it
moaned and whistled through the rocks, and the branches of the trees crashed
together as we swept along. It grew colder and colder still, and fine, powdery
snow began to fall, so that soon we and all around us were covered with a white
blanket. The keen wind still carried the howling of the dogs, though this grew
fainter as we went on our way. The baying of the wolves sounded nearer and
nearer, as though they were closing round on us from every side. I grew
dreadfully afraid, and the horses shared my fear. The driver, however, was not
in the least disturbed. He kept turning his head to left and right, but I could
not see anything through the darkness.
Suddenly, away
on our left I saw a faint flickering blue flame. The driver saw it at the same
moment. He at once checked the horses, and, jumping to the ground, disappeared
into the darkness. I did not know what to do, the less as the howling of the
wolves grew closer. But while I wondered, the driver suddenly appeared again,
and without a word took his seat, and we resumed our journey. I think I must
have fallen asleep and kept dreaming of the incident, for it seemed to be
repeated endlessly, and now looking back, it is like a sort of awful nightmare.
Once the flame appeared so near the road, that even in the darkness around us I
could watch the driver's motions. He went rapidly to where the blue flame
arose, it must have been very faint, for it did not seem to illumine the place
around it at all, and gathering a few stones, formed them into some device.
Once there
appeared a strange optical effect. When he stood between me and the flame he
did not obstruct it, for I could see its ghostly flicker all the same. This
startled me, but as the effect was only momentary, I took it that my eyes
deceived me straining through the darkness. Then for a time there were no blue
flames, and we sped onwards through the gloom, with the howling of the wolves
around us, as though they were following in a moving circle.
At last there
came a time when the driver went further afield than he had yet gone, and
during his absence, the horses began to tremble worse than ever and to snort
and scream with fright. I could not see any cause for it, for the howling of
the wolves had ceased altogether. But just then the moon, sailing through the
black clouds, appeared behind the jagged crest of a beetling, pine-clad rock,
and by its light I saw around us a ring of wolves, with white teeth and lolling
red tongues, with long, sinewy limbs and shaggy hair. They were a hundred times
more terrible in the grim silence which held them than even when they howled.
For myself, I felt a sort of paralysis of fear. It is only when a man feels
himself face to face with such horrors that he can understand their true
import.
All at once the
wolves began to howl as though the moonlight had had some peculiar effect on
them. The horses jumped about and reared, and looked helplessly round with eyes
that rolled in a way painful to see. But the living ring of terror encompassed
them on every side, and they had perforce to remain within it. I called to the
coachman to come, for it seemed to me that our only chance was to try to break
out through the ring and to aid his approach, I shouted and beat the side of
the caleche, hoping by the noise to scare the wolves from the side, so as to
give him a chance of reaching the trap. How he came there, I know not, but I
heard his voice raised in a tone of imperious command, and looking towards the sound,
saw him stand in the roadway. As he swept his long arms, as though brushing
aside some impalpable obstacle, the wolves fell back and back further still.
Just then a heavy cloud passed across the face of the moon, so that we were
again in darkness.
When I could see
again the driver was climbing into the caleche, and the wolves disappeared.
This was all so strange and uncanny that a dreadful fear came upon me, and I
was afraid to speak or move. The time seemed interminable as we swept on our
way, now in almost complete darkness, for the rolling clouds obscured the moon.
We kept on
ascending, with occasional periods of quick descent, but in the main always
ascending. Suddenly, I became conscious of the fact that the driver was in the
act of pulling up the horses in the courtyard of a vast ruined castle, from
whose tall black windows came no ray of light, and whose broken battlements
showed a jagged line against the sky.
5 May.--I must
have been asleep, for certainly if I had been fully awake I must have noticed
the approach of such a remarkable place. In the gloom the courtyard looked of
considerable size, and as several dark ways led from it under great round
arches, it perhaps seemed bigger than it really is. I have not yet been able to
see it by daylight.
When the caleche
stopped, the driver jumped down and held out his hand to assist me to alight.
Again I could not but notice his prodigious strength. His hand actually seemed
like a steel vice that could have crushed mine if he had chosen. Then he took
my traps, and placed them on the ground beside me as I stood close to a great
door, old and studded with large iron nails, and set in a projecting doorway of
massive stone. I could see even in the dim light that the stone was massively
carved, but that the carving had been much worn by time and weather. As I
stood, the driver jumped again into his seat and shook the reins. The horses
started forward, and trap and all disappeared down one of the dark openings.
I stood in
silence where I was, for I did not know what to do. Of bell or knocker there
was no sign. Through these frowning walls and dark window openings it was not
likely that my voice could penetrate. The time I waited seemed endless, and I
felt doubts and fears crowding upon me. What sort of place had I come to, and
among what kind of people? What sort of grim adventure was it on which I had
embarked? Was this a customary incident in the life of a solicitor's clerk sent
out to explain the purchase of a London
estate to a foreigner? Solicitor's clerk! Mina would not like that. Solicitor,
for just before leaving London
I got word that my examination was successful, and I am now a full-blown
solicitor! I began to rub my eyes and pinch myself to see if I were awake. It
all seemed like a horrible nightmare to me, and I expected that I should
suddenly awake, and find myself at home, with the dawn struggling in through
the windows, as I had now and again felt in the morning after a day of
overwork. But my flesh answered the pinching test, and my eyes were not to be
deceived. I was indeed awake and among the Carpathians. All I could do now was
to be patient, and to wait the coming of morning.
Just as I had
come to this conclusion I heard a heavy step approaching behind the great door,
and saw through the chinks the gleam of a coming light. Then there was the
sound of rattling chains and the clanking of massive bolts drawn back. A key
was turned with the loud grating noise of long disuse, and the great door swung
back.
Within, stood a
tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white moustache, and clad in black
from head to foot, without a single speck of colour about him anywhere. He held
in his hand an antique silver lamp, in which the flame burned without a chimney
or globe of any kind, throwing long quivering shadows as it flickered in the
draught of the open door. The old man motioned me in with his right hand with a
courtly gesture, saying in excellent English, but with a strange intonation.
"Welcome to
my house! Enter freely and of your own free will!" He made no motion of
stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue, as though his gesture of welcome
had fixed him into stone. The instant, however, that I had stepped over the
threshold, he moved impulsively forward, and holding out his hand grasped mine
with a strength which made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by the
fact that it seemed cold as ice, more like the hand of a dead than a living
man. Again he said,
"Welcome to
my house! Enter freely. Go safely, and leave something of the happiness you
bring!" The strength of the handshake was so much akin to that which I had
noticed in the driver, whose face I had not seen, that for a moment I doubted
if it were not the same person to whom I was speaking. So to make sure, I said
interrogatively, "Count Dracula?"
He bowed in a
courtly way as he replied, "I am Dracula, and I bid you welcome, Mr.
Harker, to my house. Come in, the night air is chill, and you must need to eat
and rest." As he was speaking, he put the lamp on a bracket on the wall,
and stepping out, took my luggage. He had carried it in before I could
forestall him. I protested, but he insisted.
"Nay, sir,
you are my guest. It is late, and my people are not available. Let me see to
your comfort myself." He insisted on carrying my traps along the passage,
and then up a great winding stair, and along another great passage, on whose
stone floor our steps rang heavily. At the end of this he threw open a heavy
door, and I rejoiced to see within a well-lit room in which a table was spread
for supper, and on whose mighty hearth a great fire of logs, freshly
replenished, flamed and flared.
The Count
halted, putting down my bags, closed the door, and crossing the room, opened
another door, which led into a small octagonal room lit by a single lamp, and
seemingly without a window of any sort. Passing through this, he opened another
door, and motioned me to enter. It was a welcome sight. For here was a great
bedroom well lighted and warmed with another log fire, also added to but
lately, for the top logs were fresh, which sent a hollow roar up the wide
chimney. The Count himself left my luggage inside and withdrew, saying, before
he closed the door.
"You will
need, after your journey, to refresh yourself by making your toilet. I trust
you will find all you wish. When you are ready, come into the other room, where
you will find your supper prepared."
The light and
warmth and the Count's courteous welcome seemed to have dissipated all my
doubts and fears. Having then reached my normal state, I discovered that I was
half famished with hunger. So making a hasty toilet, I went into the other
room.
I found supper
already laid out. My host, who stood on one side of the great fireplace,
leaning against the stonework, made a graceful wave of his hand to the table,
and said,
"I pray
you, be seated and sup how you please. You will I trust, excuse me that I do
not join you, but I have dined already, and I do not sup."
I handed to him
the sealed letter which Mr. Hawkins had entrusted to me. He opened it and read
it gravely. Then, with a charming smile, he handed it to me to read. One
passage of it, at least, gave me a thrill of pleasure.
"I must
regret that an attack of gout, from which malady I am a constant sufferer,
forbids absolutely any travelling on my part for some time to come. But I am
happy to say I can send a sufficient substitute, one in whom I have every
possible confidence. He is a young man, full of energy and talent in his own
way, and of a very faithful disposition. He is discreet and silent, and has
grown into manhood in my service. He shall be ready to attend on you when you
will during his stay, and shall take your instructions in all matters."
The count
himself came forward and took off the cover of a dish, and I fell to at once on
an excellent roast chicken. This, with some cheese and a salad and a bottle of
old tokay, of which I had two glasses, was my supper. During the time I was
eating it the Count asked me many questions as to my journey, and I told him by
degrees all I had experienced.
By this time I
had finished my supper, and by my host's desire had drawn up a chair by the
fire and begun to smoke a cigar which he offered me, at the same time excusing
himself that he did not smoke. I had now an opportunity of observing him, and
found him of a very marked physiognomy.
His face was a
strong, a very strong, aquiline, with high bridge of the thin nose and
peculiarly arched nostrils, with lofty domed forehead, and hair growing
scantily round the temples but profusely elsewhere. His eyebrows were very
massive, almost meeting over the nose, and with bushy hair that seemed to curl
in its own profusion. The mouth, so far as I could see it under the heavy
moustache, was fixed and rather cruel-looking, with peculiarly sharp white
teeth. These protruded over the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed
astonishing vitality in a man of his years. For the rest, his ears were pale,
and at the tops extremely pointed. The chin was broad and strong, and the
cheeks firm though thin. The general effect was one of extraordinary pallor.
Hitherto I had
noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his knees in the firelight, and
they had seemed rather white and fine. But seeing them now close to me, I could
not but notice that they were rather coarse, broad, with squat fingers. Strange
to say, there were hairs in the centre of the palm. The nails were long and
fine, and cut to a sharp point. As the Count leaned over me and his hands
touched me, I could not repress a shudder. It may have been that his breath was
rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea came over me, which, do what I would, I
could not conceal.
The Count,
evidently noticing it, drew back. And with a grim sort of smile, which showed
more than he had yet done his protruberant teeth, sat himself down again on his
own side of the fireplace. We were both silent for a while, and as I looked
towards the window I saw the first dim streak of the coming dawn. There seemed
a strange stillness over everything. But as I listened, I heard as if from down
below in the valley the howling of many wolves. The Count's eyes gleamed, and
he said.
"Listen to
them, the children of the night. What music they make!" Seeing, I suppose,
some expression in my face strange to him, he added, "Ah, sir, you dwellers
in the city cannot enter into the feelings of the hunter." Then he rose
and said.
"But you
must be tired. Your bedroom is all ready, and tomorrow you shall sleep as late
as you will. I have to be away till the afternoon, so sleep well and dream well!"
With a courteous bow, he opened for me himself the door to the octagonal room,
and I entered my bedroom.
I am all in a
sea of wonders. I doubt. I fear. I think strange things, which I dare not
confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!
7 May.--It is
again early morning, but I have rested and enjoyed the last twenty-four hours.
I slept till late in the day, and awoke of my own accord. When I had dressed
myself I went into the room where we had supped, and found a cold breakfast
laid out, with coffee kept hot by the pot being placed on the hearth. There was
a card on the table, on which was written--"I have to be absent for a
while. Do not wait for me. D." I set to and enjoyed a hearty meal. When I
had done, I looked for a bell, so that I might let the servants know I had
finished, but I could not find one. There are certainly odd deficiencies in the
house, considering the extraordinary evidences of wealth which are round me.
The table service is of gold, and so beautifully wrought that it must be of
immense value. The curtains and upholstery of the chairs and sofas and the
hangings of my bed are of the costliest and most beautiful fabrics, and must
have been of fabulous value when they were made, for they are centuries old,
though in excellent order. I saw something like them in Hampton Court, but they were worn and
frayed and moth-eaten. But still in none of the rooms is there a mirror. There
is not even a toilet glass on my table, and I had to get the little shaving
glass from my bag before I could either shave or brush my hair. I have not yet
seen a servant anywhere, or heard a sound near the castle except the howling of
wolves. Some time after I had finished my meal, I do not know whether to call
it breakfast or dinner, for it was between five and six o'clock when I had it,
I looked about for something to read, for I did not like to go about the castle
until I had asked the Count's permission. There was absolutely nothing in the
room, book, newspaper, or even writing materials, so I opened another door in
the room and found a sort of library. The door opposite mine I tried, but found
locked.
In the library I
found, to my great delight, a vast number of English books, whole shelves full
of them, and bound volumes of magazines and newspapers. A table in the centre
was littered with English magazines and newspapers, though none of them were of
very recent date. The books were of the most varied kind, history, geography,
politics, political economy, botany, geology, law, all relating to England and
English life and customs and manners. There were even such books of reference
as the London Directory, the "Red" and "Blue" books,
Whitaker's Almanac, the Army and Navy Lists, and it somehow gladdened my heart
to see it, the Law List.
Whilst I was
looking at the books, the door opened, and the Count entered. He saluted me in
a hearty way, and hoped that I had had a good night's rest. Then he went on.
"I am glad
you found your way in here, for I am sure there is much that will interest you.
These companions," and he laid his hand on some of the books, "have
been good friends to me, and for some years past, ever since I had the idea of
going to London, have given me many, many hours of pleasure. Through them I
have come to know your great England,
and to know her is to love her. I long to go through the crowded streets of
your mighty London, to be in the midst of the whirl and rush of humanity, to
share its life, its change, its death, and all that makes it what it is. But
alas! As yet I only know your tongue through books. To you, my friend, I look
that I know it to speak."
"But,
Count," I said, "You know and speak English thoroughly!" He
bowed gravely.
"I thank
you, my friend, for your all too-flattering estimate, but yet I fear that I am
but a little way on the road I would travel. True, I know the grammar and the
words, but yet I know not how to speak them."
"Indeed,"
I said, "You speak excellently."
"Not
so," he answered. "Well, I know that, did I move and speak in your London, none there are
who would not know me for a stranger. That is not enough for me. Here I am
noble. I am a Boyar. The common people know me, and I am master. But a stranger
in a strange land, he is no one. Men know him not, and to know not is to care
not for. I am content if I am like the rest, so that no man stops if he sees
me, or pauses in his speaking if he hears my words, 'Ha, ha! A stranger!' I
have been so long master that I would be master still, or at least that none
other should be master of me. You come to me not alone as agent of my friend
Peter Hawkins, of Exeter, to tell me all about
my new estate in London.
You shall, I trust, rest here with me a while, so that by our talking I may
learn the English intonation. And I would that you tell me when I make error,
even of the smallest, in my speaking. I am sorry that I had to be away so long
today, but you will, I know forgive one who has so many important affairs in
hand."
Of course I said
all I could about being willing, and asked if I might come into that room when
I chose. He answered, "Yes, certainly," and added.
"You may go
anywhere you wish in the castle, except where the doors are locked, where of
course you will not wish to go. There is reason that all things are as they
are, and did you see with my eyes and know with my knowledge, you would perhaps
better understand." I said I was sure of this, and then he went on.
"We are in
Transylvania, and Transylvania is not England. Our ways are not your
ways, and there shall be to you many strange things. Nay, from what you have
told me of your experiences already, you know something of what strange things
there may be."
This led to much
conversation, and as it was evident that he wanted to talk, if only for
talking's sake, I asked him many questions regarding things that had already
happened to me or come within my notice. Sometimes he sheered off the subject,
or turned the conversation by pretending not to understand, but generally he
answered all I asked most frankly. Then as time went on, and I had got somewhat
bolder, I asked him of some of the strange things of the preceding night, as
for instance, why the coachman went to the places where he had seen the blue
flames. He then explained to me that it was commonly believed that on a certain
night of the year, last night, in fact, when all evil spirits are supposed to
have unchecked sway, a blue flame is seen over any place where treasure has
been concealed.
"That
treasure has been hidden," he went on, "in the region through which
you came last night, there can be but little doubt. For it was the ground
fought over for centuries by the Wallachian, the Saxon, and the Turk. Why,
there is hardly a foot of soil in all this region that has not been enriched by
the blood of men, patriots or invaders. In the old days there were stirring
times, when the Austrian and the Hungarian came up in hordes, and the patriots
went out to meet them, men and women, the aged and the children too, and waited
their coming on the rocks above the passes, that they might sweep destruction on
them with their artificial avalanches. When the invader was triumphant he found
but little, for whatever there was had been sheltered in the friendly
soil."
"But
how," said I, "can it have remained so long undiscovered, when there
is a sure index to it if men will but take the trouble to look?" The Count
smiled, and as his lips ran back over his gums, the long, sharp, canine teeth
showed out strangely. He answered:
"Because
your peasant is at heart a coward and a fool! Those flames only appear on one
night, and on that night no man of this land will, if he can help it, stir
without his doors. And, dear sir, even if he did he would not know what to do.
Why, even the peasant that you tell me of who marked the place of the flame
would not know where to look in daylight even for his own work. Even you would
not, I dare be sworn, be able to find these places again?"
"There you
are right," I said. "I know no more than the dead where even to look
for them." Then we drifted into other matters.
"Come,"
he said at last, "tell me of London
and of the house which you have procured for me." With an apology for my
remissness, I went into my own room to get the papers from my bag. Whilst I was
placing them in order I heard a rattling of china and silver in the next room,
and as I passed through, noticed that the table had been cleared and the lamp
lit, for it was by this time deep into the dark. The lamps were also lit in the
study or library, and I found the Count lying on the sofa, reading, of all
things in the world, an English Bradshaw's Guide. When I came in he cleared the
books and papers from the table, and with him I went into plans and deeds and
figures of all sorts. He was interested in everything, and asked me a myriad
questions about the place and its surroundings. He clearly had studied
beforehand all he could get on the subject of the neighbourhood, for he
evidently at the end knew very much more than I did. When I remarked this, he
answered.
"Well, but,
my friend, is it not needful that I should? When I go there I shall be all
alone, and my friend Harker Jonathan, nay, pardon me. I fall into my country's
habit of putting your patronymic first, my friend Jonathan Harker will not be
by my side to correct and aid me. He will be in Exeter, miles away, probably working at
papers of the law with my other friend, Peter Hawkins. So!"
We went
thoroughly into the business of the purchase of the estate at Purfleet. When I
had told him the facts and got his signature to the necessary papers, and had
written a letter with them ready to post to Mr. Hawkins, he began to ask me how
I had come across so suitable a place. I read to him the notes which I had made
at the time, and which I inscribe here.
"At
Purfleet, on a byroad, I came across just such a place as seemed to be required,
and where was displayed a dilapidated notice that the place was for sale. It
was surrounded by a high wall, of ancient structure, built of heavy stones, and
has not been repaired for a large number of years. The closed gates are of
heavy old oak and iron, all eaten with rust.
"The estate
is called Carfax, no doubt a corruption of the old Quatre Face, as the house is
four sided, agreeing with the cardinal points of the compass. It contains in
all some twenty acres, quite surrounded by the solid stone wall above
mentioned. There are many trees on it, which make it in places gloomy, and
there is a deep, dark-looking pond or small lake, evidently fed by some
springs, as the water is clear and flows away in a fair-sized stream. The house
is very large and of all periods back, I should say, to mediaeval times, for
one part is of stone immensely thick, with only a few windows high up and
heavily barred with iron. It looks like part of a keep, and is close to an old
chapel or church. I could not enter it, as I had not the key of the door
leading to it from the house, but I have taken with my Kodak views of it from
various points. The house had been added to, but in a very straggling way, and
I can only guess at the amount of ground it covers, which must be very great.
There are but few houses close at hand, one being a very large house only
recently added to and formed into a private lunatic asylum. It is not, however,
visible from the grounds."
When I had
finished, he said, "I am glad that it is old and big. I myself am of an
old family, and to live in a new house would kill me. A house cannot be made
habitable in a day, and after all, how few days go to make up a century. I
rejoice also that there is a chapel of old times. We Transylvanian nobles love
not to think that our bones may lie amongst the common dead. I seek not gaiety
nor mirth, not the bright voluptuousness of much sunshine and sparkling waters
which please the young and gay. I am no longer young, and my heart, through
weary years of mourning over the dead, is not attuned to mirth. Moreover, the
walls of my castle are broken. The shadows are many, and the wind breathes cold
through the broken battlements and casements. I love the shade and the shadow,
and would be alone with my thoughts when I may." Somehow his words and his
look did not seem to accord, or else it was that his cast of face made his
smile look malignant and saturnine.
Presently, with
an excuse, he left me, asking me to pull my papers together. He was some little
time away, and I began to look at some of the books around me. One was an
atlas, which I found opened naturally to England, as if that map had been
much used. On looking at it I found in certain places little rings marked, and
on examining these I noticed that one was near London on the east side,
manifestly where his new estate was situated. The other two were Exeter, and Whitby on the Yorkshire coast.
It was the
better part of an hour when the Count returned. "Aha!" he said.
"Still at your books? Good! But you must not work always. Come! I am
informed that your supper is ready." He took my arm, and we went into the
next room, where I found an excellent supper ready on the table. The Count
again excused himself, as he had dined out on his being away from home. But he
sat as on the previous night, and chatted whilst I ate. After supper I smoked,
as on the last evening, and the Count stayed with me, chatting and asking
questions on every conceivable subject, hour after hour. I felt that it was
getting very late indeed, but I did not say anything, for I felt under
obligation to meet my host's wishes in every way. I was not sleepy, as the long
sleep yesterday had fortified me, but I could not help experiencing that chill
which comes over one at the coming of the dawn, which is like, in its way, the
turn of the tide. They say that people who are near death die generally at the
change to dawn or at the turn of the tide. Anyone who has when tired, and tied
as it were to his post, experienced this change in the atmosphere can well
believe it. All at once we heard the crow of the cock coming up with
preternatural shrillness through the clear morning air.
Count Dracula,
jumping to his feet, said, "Why there is the morning again! How remiss I
am to let you stay up so long. You must make your conversation regarding my
dear new country of England
less interesting, so that I may not forget how time flies by us," and with
a courtly bow, he quickly left me.
I went into my
room and drew the curtains, but there was little to notice. My window opened
into the courtyard, all I could see was the warm grey of quickening sky. So I
pulled the curtains again, and have written of this day.
8 May.--I began
to fear as I wrote in this book that I was getting too diffuse. But now I am
glad that I went into detail from the first, for there is something so strange
about this place and all in it that I cannot but feel uneasy. I wish I were
safe out of it, or that I had never come. It may be that this strange night
existence is telling on me, but would that that were all! If there were any one
to talk to I could bear it, but there is no one. I have only the Count to speak
with, and he--I fear I am myself the only living soul within the place. Let me
be prosaic so far as facts can be. It will help me to bear up, and imagination
must not run riot with me. If it does I am lost. Let me say at once how I
stand, or seem to.
I only slept a
few hours when I went to bed, and feeling that I could not sleep any more, got
up. I had hung my shaving glass by the window, and was just beginning to shave.
Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder, and heard the Count's voice saying to
me, "Good morning." I started, for it amazed me that I had not seen
him, since the reflection of the glass covered the whole room behind me. In
starting I had cut myself slightly, but did not notice it at the moment. Having
answered the Count's salutation, I turned to the glass again to see how I had
been mistaken. This time there could be no error, for the man was close to me,
and I could see him over my shoulder. But there was no reflection of him in the
mirror! The whole room behind me was displayed, but there was no sign of a man
in it, except myself.
This was
startling, and coming on the top of so many strange things, was beginning to
increase that vague feeling of uneasiness which I always have when the Count is
near. But at the instant I saw that the cut had bled a little, and the blood
was trickling over my chin. I laid down the razor, turning as I did so half
round to look for some sticking plaster. When the Count saw my face, his eyes
blazed with a sort of demoniac fury, and he suddenly made a grab at my throat.
I drew away and his hand touched the string of beads which held the crucifix.
It made an instant change in him, for the fury passed so quickly that I could
hardly believe that it was ever there.
"Take
care," he said, "take care how you cut yourself. It is more dangerous
that you think in this country." Then seizing the shaving glass, he went
on, "And this is the wretched thing that has done the mischief. It is a
foul bauble of man's vanity. Away with it!" And opening the window with
one wrench of his terrible hand, he flung out the glass, which was shattered
into a thousand pieces on the stones of the courtyard far below. Then he
withdrew without a word. It is very annoying, for I do not see how I am to
shave, unless in my watch-case or the bottom of the shaving pot, which is
fortunately of metal.
When I went into
the dining room, breakfast was prepared, but I could not find the Count
anywhere. So I breakfasted alone. It is strange that as yet I have not seen the
Count eat or drink. He must be a very peculiar man! After breakfast I did a
little exploring in the castle. I went out on the stairs, and found a room
looking towards the South.
The view was
magnificent, and from where I stood there was every opportunity of seeing it.
The castle is on the very edge of a terrific precipice. A stone falling from
the window would fall a thousand feet without touching anything! As far as the
eye can reach is a sea of green tree tops, with occasionally a deep rift where
there is a chasm. Here and there are silver threads where the rivers wind in
deep gorges through the forests.
But I am not in
heart to describe beauty, for when I had seen the view I explored further. Doors,
doors, doors everywhere, and all locked and bolted. In no place save from the
windows in the castle walls is there an available exit. The castle is a
veritable prison, and I am a prisoner!
When I found
that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feeling came over me. I rushed up and down
the stairs, trying every door and peering out of every window I could find, but
after a little the conviction of my helplessness overpowered all other
feelings. When I look back after a few hours I think I must have been mad for
the time, for I behaved much as a rat does in a trap. When, however, the
conviction had come to me that I was helpless I sat down quietly, as quietly as
I have ever done anything in my life, and began to think over what was best to
be done. I am thinking still, and as yet have come to no definite conclusion.
Of one thing only am I certain. That it is no use making my ideas known to the
Count. He knows well that I am imprisoned, and as he has done it himself, and
has doubtless his own motives for it, he would only deceive me if I trusted him
fully with the facts. So far as I can see, my only plan will be to keep my
knowledge and my fears to myself, and my eyes open. I am, I know, either being
deceived, like a baby, by my own fears, or else I am in desperate straits, and
if the latter be so, I need, and shall need, all my brains to get through.
I had hardly
come to this conclusion when I heard the great door below shut, and knew that
the Count had returned. He did not come at once into the library, so I went
cautiously to my own room and found him making the bed. This was odd, but only
confirmed what I had all along thought, that there are no servants in the
house. When later I saw him through the chink of the hinges of the door laying
the table in the dining room, I was assured of it. For if he does himself all
these menial offices, surely it is proof that there is no one else in the
castle, it must have been the Count himself who was the driver of the coach that
brought me here. This is a terrible thought, for if so, what does it mean that
he could control the wolves, as he did, by only holding up his hand for
silence? How was it that all the people at Bistritz and on the coach had some
terrible fear for me? What meant the giving of the crucifix, of the garlic, of
the wild rose, of the mountain ash?
Bless that good,
good woman who hung the crucifix round my neck! For it is a comfort and a
strength to me whenever I touch it. It is odd that a thing which I have been taught
to regard with disfavour and as idolatrous should in a time of loneliness and
trouble be of help. Is it that there is something in the essence of the thing
itself, or that it is a medium, a tangible help, in conveying memories of
sympathy and comfort? Some time, if it may be, I must examine this matter and
try to make up my mind about it. In the meantime I must find out all I can
about Count Dracula, as it may help me to understand. Tonight he may talk of
himself, if I turn the conversation that way. I must be very careful, however,
not to awake his suspicion.
Midnight.--I
have had a long talk with the Count. I asked him a few questions on Transylvania history, and he warmed up to the subject
wonderfully. In his speaking of things and people, and especially of battles,
he spoke as if he had been present at them all. This he afterwards explained by
saying that to a Boyar the pride of his house and name is his own pride, that
their glory is his glory, that their fate is his fate. Whenever he spoke of his
house he always said "we", and spoke almost in the plural, like a
king speaking. I wish I could put down all he said exactly as he said it, for
to me it was most fascinating. It seemed to have in it a whole history of the
country. He grew excited as he spoke, and walked about the room pulling his
great white moustache and grasping anything on which he laid his hands as
though he would crush it by main strength. One thing he said which I s