DRACULA
c 1897
by
Bram Stoker
CHAPTER 1
Jonathan Harker's Journal
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 won-
derful 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 nation-
al dish, I should be able to get it anywhere along the Car-
pathians.
I found my smattering of German very useful here,in-
deed, 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 dis-
tinct 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 car-
afe, 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 ot 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 be-
ing 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 shirt-sleeves, who had followed her to the door.
He went, but immediately returned with a letter:
"My friend.--Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxious-
ly 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 seem-
ed somewhat reticent, and pretended that he could not under-
stand my German.
This could not be true,because up to then he had under-
stood it perfectly; at least, he answered my questions
exactly as if he did.
He and his wife, the old lady who had received me,look-
ed 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 start-
ing 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 to-night, 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 be-
fore starting.
It was all very ridiculous but I did not feel com-
fortable. 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 cruci-
fix from her neck offered it to me.
I did not know what to do, for, as an English Church-
man, I have been taught to regard such things as in some
measure idolatrous, and yet it seemed so ungracious to re-
fuse 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 good-bye. 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 cross-
ing 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 bewild-
ering 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 differ-
ent 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 for-
eign 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 Car-
pathians 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 him-
self 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 kneel-
ing 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, calcu-
lated 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 evi-
dently 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 some-
thing 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 sepa-
rated two atmospheres, and that now we had got into the
thunderous one. I was now myself looking out for the convey-
ance 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 tomor-
row 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 cross-
ing of themselves, a caleche, with four horses, drove up be-
hind 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 be-
fore 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
or 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 near-
er, 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 turn-
ing his head to left and right, but I could not see anything
through the darkness.
Suddenly, away on our left I saw a fain 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 gather-
ing 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 under-
stand their true import.
All at once the wolves began to howl as though the moon-
light 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 pull-
ing 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.
CHAPTER 2
Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued
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 con-
siderable 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 th e 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 jump-
ed again into his seat and shook the reins.The horses start-
ed 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 end-
less, 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 solic-
itor! 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 over-
work. 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 speak-
ing. So to make sure, I said interrogatively, "Count Drac-
ula?"
He bowed in a courtly was 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 in-
sisted 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 open-
ed 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 chim-
ney. 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 stone-
work, 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 pass-
age of it, at least, gave me a thrill of pleasure.
"I must regret that an attack of gout, from which mal-
ady I am a constant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travel-
ling 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 question
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 him-
self 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 point-
ed. 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 cer-
tainly odd deficiencies in the house, considering the ex-
traordinary 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 of 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 permiss-
ion. There was absolutely nothing in the room, book, news-
paper, 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
center 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 nob-
le.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 ans-
wered, "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 Eng-
land. 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 ask-
ed 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 un-
checked 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 centur-
ies 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 Aust-
rian and the Hungarian came up in hordes, and the patriots
went out to meet them, men and women, the aged and the chil-
dren 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 trium-
phant 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 un-
discovered, 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 day-
light 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, and 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 neighborhood, 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 by-road, 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 sur-
rounded 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, how-
ever, 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 Tran-
sylvanian 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 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, mani-
festly 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 re-
turned. "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, chat-
ting and asking questions on every conceivable subject,
hour after hour. I felt that it was getting very late in-
deed, 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 for-
get 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 prosaiac 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 shav-
ing 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 my-
self 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 the 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 pre-
pared, but I could not find the Count anywhere. So I break-
fasted 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 every-
where, 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!
CHAPTER 3
Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued
When I found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feel-
ing 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 quiet-
ly 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 cau-
tiously 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 some-
thing 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 shall put down as nearly as I can, for it tells in its way
the story of his race.
"We Szekelys have a right to be proud, for in our veins
flows the blood of many brave races who fought as the lion
fights, for lordship. Here, in the whirlpool of European
races, the Ugric tribe bore down from Iceland the fighting
spirit which Thor and Wodin game them,which their Berserkers
displayed to such fell intent on the seaboards of Europe,
aye, and of Asia and Africa too, till the peoples thought
that the werewolves themselves had come. Here, too, when
they came, they found the Huns, whose warlike fury had
swept the earth like a living flame, till the dying peoples
held that in their veins ran the blood of those old witches,
who, expelled from Scythia had mated with the devils in the
desert. Fools, fools! What devil or what witch was ever so
great as Attila, whose blood is in these veins?" He held up
his arms. "Is it a wonder that we were a conquering race,
that we were proud, that when the Magyar, the Lombard, the
Avar, the Bulgar, or the Turk poured his thousands on our
frontiers, we drove them back? Is it strange that when Arpad
and his legions swept through the Hungarian fatherland he
found us here when he reached the frontier, that the Honfog-
lalas was completed there?And when the Hungarian flood swept
eastward,the Szekelys were claimed as kindred by the victor-
ious Magyars, and to us for centuries was trusted the guard-
ing of the frontier of Turkeyland. Aye, and more than that,
endless duty of the frontier guard, for as the Turks say,
`water sleeps, and the enemy is sleepless.' Who more gladly
than we throughout the Four Nations received the `bloody
sword,' or at its warlike call flocked quicker to the stand-
ard of the King? When was redeemed that great shame of my
nation, the shame of Cassova, when the flags of the Wallach
and the Magyar went down beneath the Crescent?Who was it but
one of my own race who as Voivode crossed the Danube and
beat the Turk on his own ground? This was a Dracula indeed!
Woe was it that his own unworthy brother,when he had fallen,
sold his people to the Turk and brought the shame of slavery
on them! Was it not this Dracula, indeed, who inspired that
other of his race who in a later age again and again brought
his forces over the great river into Turkeyland,who, when he
was beaten back, came again, and again,though he had to come
alone from the bloody field where his troops were being
slaughtered, since he knew that he alone could ultimately
triumph! They said that he thought only of himself.Bah! What
good are peasants without a leader? Where ends the war with-
out a brain and heart to conduct it? Again, when, after the
battle of Mohacs, we threw off the Hungarian yoke, we of the
Dracula blood were amongst their leaders, for our spirit
would not brook that we were not free. Ah, young sir, the
Szekelys, and the Dracula as their heart's blood, their
brains, and their swords, can boast a record that mushroom
growths like the Hapsburgs and the Romanoffs can never reach.
The warlike days are over. Blood is too precious a thing in
these days of dishonourable peace, and the glories of the
great races are as a tale that is told."
It was by this time close on morning, and we went to
bed. (Mem., this diary seems horribly like the beginning of
the "Arabian Nights," for everything has to break off at
cockcrow, or like the ghost of Hamlet's father.)
12 May.--Let me begin with facts, bare, meager facts,
verified by books and figures, and of which there can be no
doubt. I must not confuse them with experiences which will
have to rest on my own observation, or my memory of them.
Last evening when the Count came from his room he began by
asking me questions on legal matters and on the doing of
certain kinds of business. I had spent the day wearily over
books, and, simply to keep my mind occupied, went over some
of the matters I had been examined in at Lincoln's Inn.There
was a certain method in the Count's inquiries, so I shall
try to put them down in sequence. The knowledge may somehow
or some time be useful to me.
First, he asked if a man in England might have two so-
licitors or more. I told him he might have a dozen if he
wished, but that it would not be wise to have more than one
solicitor engaged in one transaction, as only one could act
at a time, and that to change would be certain to militate
against his interest. He seemed thoroughly to understand,
and went on to ask if there would be any practical difficul-
ty in having one man to attend, say, to banking, and another
to look after shipping, in case local help were needed in a
place far from the home of the banking solicitor. I asked
to explain more fully, so that I might not by any chance
mislead him, so he said,
"I shall illustrate. Your friend and mine, Mr. Peter
Hawkins, from under the shadow of your beautiful cathedral
at Exeter, which is far from London, buys for me through
your good self my place at London. Good! Now here let me
say frankly, lest you should think it strange that I have
sought the services of one so far off from London instead of
some one resident there, that my motive was that no local
interest might be served save my wish only, and as one of
London residence might, perhaps,have some purpose of himself
or friend to serve, I went thus afield to seek my agent,
whose labours should be only to my interest. Now, suppose I,
who have much of affairs, wish to ship goods, say, to New-
castle, or Durham, or Harwich, or Dover,might it not be that
it could with more ease be done by consigning to one in
these ports?"
I answered that certainly it would be most easy, but
that we solicitors had a system of agency one for the other,
so that local work could be done locally on instruction from
any solicitor, so that the client, simply placing himself
in the hands of one man, could have his wishes carried out
by him without further trouble.
"But," said he,"I could be at liberty to direct myself.
Is it not so?"
"Of course, " I replied, and "Such is often done by men
of business,who do not like the whole of their affairs to be
known by any one person."
"Good!" he said,and then went on to ask about the means
of making consignments and the forms to be gone through, and
of all sorts of difficulties which might arise, but by fore-
thought could be guarded against. I explained all these
things to him to the best of my ability, and he certainly
left me under the impression that he would have made a
wonderful solicitor, for there was nothing that he did not
think of or foresee. For a man who was never in the country,
and who did not evidently do much in the way of business,his
knowledge and acumen were wonderful. When he had satisfied
himself on these points of which he had spoken, and I had
verified all as well as I could by the books available, he
suddenly stood up and said, "Have you written since your
first letter to our friend Mr. Peter Hawkins, or to any
other?"
It was with some bitterness in my heart that I answered
that I had not, that as yet I had not seen any opportunity
of sending letters to anybody.
"Then write now, my young friend," he said, laying a
heavy hand on my shoulder, "write to our friend and to any
other, and say, if it will please you, that you shall stay
with me until a month from now."
"Do you wish me to stay so long?" I asked, for my heart
grew cold at the thought.
"I desire it much, nay I will take no refusal.When your
master, employer, what you will, engaged that someone should
come on his behalf,it was understood that my needs only were
to be consulted. I have not stinted. Is it not so?"
What could I do but bow acceptance? It was Mr.Hawkins'
interest, not mine, and I had to think of him, not myself,
and besides, while Count Dracula was speaking, there was
that in his eyes and in his bearing which made me remember
that I was a prisoner, and that if I wished it I could have
no choice. The Count saw his victory in my bow, and his mas-
tery in the trouble of my face, for he began at once to use
them, but in his own smooth, resistless way.
"I pray you, my good young friend, that you will not
discourse of things other than business in your letters. It
will doubtless please your friends to know that you are well,
and that you look forward to getting home to them. Is it not
so?" As he spoke he handed me three sheets of note paper
and three envelopes. They were all of the thinnest foreign
post, and looking at them, then at him, and noticing his
quiet smile, with the sharp, canine teeth lying over the red
underlip, I understood as well as if he had spoken that I
should be more careful what I wrote, for he would be able to
read it. So I determined to write only formal notes now, but
to write fully to Mr. Hawkins in secret, and also to Mina,
for to her I could write shorthand, which would puzzle the
Count, if he did see it. When I had written my two letters I
sat quiet, reading a book whilst the Count wrote several
notes, referring as he wrote them to some books on his table.
Then he took up my two and placed them with his own, and put
by his writing materials, after which, the instant the door
had closed behind him, I leaned over and looked at the lett-
ers, which were face down on the table.I felt no compunction
in doing so for under the circumstances I felt that I should
protect myself in every way I could.
One of the letters was directed to Samuel F.Billington,
No. 7, The Crescent, Whitby, another to Herr Leutner, Varna.
The third was to Coutts & Co., London, and the fourth to
Herren Klopstock & Billreuth, bankers, Buda Pesth. The
second and fourth were unsealed. I was just about to look at
them when I saw the door handle move.I sank back in my seat,
having just had time to resume my book before the Count,
holding still another letter in his hand, entered the room.
He took up the letters on the table and stamped them care-
fully, and then turning to me, said,
"I trust you will forgive me, but I have much work to
do in private this evening. You will,I hope, find all things
as you wish." At the door he turned, and after a moment's
pause said, "Let me advise you, my dear young friend. Nay,
let me warn you with all seriousness, that should you leave
these rooms you will not by any chance go to sleep in any
other part of the castle. It is old, and has many memories,
and there are bad dreams for those who sleep unwisely. Be
warned! Should sleep now or ever overcome you, or be like to
do, then haste to your own chamber or to these rooms, for
your rest will then be safe. But if you be not careful in
this respect, then," He finished his speech in a gruesome
way, for he motioned with his hands as if he were washing
them. I quite understood. My only doubt was as to whether
any dream could be more terrible than the unnatural,horrible
net of gloom and mystery which seemed closing around me.
Later.--I endorse the last words written, but this time
there is no doubt in question. I shall not fear to sleep in
any place where he is not. I have placed the crucifix over
the head of my bed,I imagine that my rest is thus freer from
dreams, and there it shall remain.
When he left me I went to my room.After a little while,
not hearing any sound,I came out and went up the stone stair
to where I could look out towards the South. There was some
sense of freedom in the vast expanse, inaccessible though it
was to me,as compared with the narrow darkness of the court-
yard. Looking out on this, I felt that I was indeed in pri-
son, and I seemed to want a breath of fresh air, though it
were of the night. I am beginning to feel this nocturnal ex-
istence tell on me. It is destroying my nerve. I start at
my own shadow, and am full of all sorts of horrible imagin-
ings. God knows that there is ground for my terrible fear in
this accursed place!I looked out over the beautiful expanse,
bathed in soft yellow moonlight till it was almost as light
as day. In the soft light the distant hills became melted,
and the shadows in the valleys and gorges of velvety black-
ness. The mere beauty seemed to cheer me. There was peace
and comfort in every breath I drew.As I leaned from the win-
dow my eye was caught by something moving a storey below me,
and somewhat to my left, where I imagined, from the order of
the rooms, that the windows of the Count's own room would
look out. The window at which I stood was tall and deep,
stone-mullioned, and though weatherworn, was still complete.
But it was evidently many a day since the case had been
there.I drew back behind the stonework, and looked carefully
out.
What I saw was the Count's head coming out from the
window. I did not see the face, but I knew the man by the
neck and the movement of his back and arms. In any case I
could not mistake the hands which I had had some many oppor-
tunities of studying. I was at first interested and somewhat
amused, for it is wonderful how small a matter will interest
and amuse a man when he is a prisoner. But my very feelings
changed to repulsion and terror when I saw the whole man
slowly emerge from the window and begin to crawl down the
castle wall over the dreadful abyss,face down with his cloak
spreading out around him like great wings. At first I could
not believe my eyes.I thought it was some trick of the moon-
light, some weird effect of shadow, but I kept looking, and
it could be no delusion.I saw the fingers and toes grasp the
corners of the stones,worn clear of the mortar by the stress
of years, and by thus using every projection and inequality
move downwards with considerable speed, just as a lizard
moves along a wall.
What manner of man is this, or what manner of creature,
is it in the semblance of man? I feel the dread of this hor-
rible place overpowering me.I am in fear, in awful fear, and
there is no escape for me. I am encompassed about with
terrors that I dare not think of.
15 May.--Once more I have seen the count go out in his
lizard fashion. He moved downwards in a sidelong way, some
hundred feet down, and a good deal to the left. He vanished
into some hole or window. When his head had disappeared, I
leaned out to try and see more, but without avail. The dis-
tance was too great to allow a proper angle of sight. I knew
he had left the castle now, and thought to use the opportun-
ity to explore more than I had dared to do as yet. I went
back to the room, and taking a lamp, tried all the doors.
They were all locked, as I had expected, and the locks were
comparatively new. But I went down the stone stairs to the
hall where I had entered originally. I found I could pull
back the bolts easily enough and unhook the great chains.
But the door was locked, and the key was gone! That key must
be in the Count's room. I must watch should his door be un-
locked, so that I may get it and escape. I went on to make
a thorough examination of the various stairs and passages,
and to try the doors that opened from them. One or two
small rooms near the hall were open, but there was nothing
to see in them except old furniture, dusty with age and
moth-eaten. At last, however, I found one door at the top of
the stairway which, though it seemed locked, gave a little
under pressure. I tried it harder, and found that it was not
really locked, but that the resistance came from the fact
that the hinges had fallen somewhat,and the heavy door rest-
ed on the floor. Here was an opportunity which I might not
have again, so I exerted myself,and with many efforts forced
it back so that I could enter. I was now in a wing of the
castle further to the right than the rooms I knew and a
storey lower down. From the windows I could see that the
suite of rooms lay along to the south of the castle,the win-
dows of the end room looking out both west and south. On the
latter side, as well as to the former, there was a great
precipice. The castle was built on the corner of a great
rock, so that on three sides it was quite impregnable, and
great windows were placed here where sling, or bow, or culv-
erin could not reach, and consequently light and comfort,
impossible to a position which had to be guarded, were secu-
red. To the west was a great valley, and then, rising far
away, great jagged mountain fastnesses, rising peak on peak,
the sheer rock studded with mountain ash and thorn, whose
roots clung in cracks and crevices and crannies of the stone.
This was evidently the portion of the castle occupied by the
ladies in bygone days, for the furniture had more an air of
comfort than any I had seen.
The windows were curtainless, and the yellow moonlight,
flooding in through the diamond panes, enabled one to see
even colours,whilst it softened the wealth of dust which lay
over all and disguised in some measure the ravages of time
and moth.My lamp seemed to be of little effect in the brill-
iant moonlight, but I was glad to have it with me, for there
was a dread loneliness in the place which chilled my heart
and made my nerves tremble. Still, it was better than living
alone in the rooms which I had come to hate from the pre-
sence of the Count, and after trying a little to school my
nerves, I found a soft quietude come over me. Here I am,
sitting at a little oak table where in old times possibly
some fair lady sat to pen,with much thought and many blushes,
her ill-spelt love letter, and writing in my diary in short-
hand all that has happened since I closed it last. It is the
nineteenth century up-to-date with a vengeance. And yet, un-
less my senses deceive me, the old centuries had, and have,
powers of their own which mere "modernity" cannot kill.
Later: The morning of 16 May.--God preserve my sanity,
for to this I am reduced. Safety and the assurance of safety
are things of the past. Whilst I live on here there is but
one thing to hope for, that I may not go mad, if, indeed, I
be not mad already.If I be sane, then surely it is maddening
to think that of all the foul things that lurk in this hate-
ful place the Count is the least dreadful to me, that to him
alone I can look for safety, even though this be only whilst
I can serve his purpose. Great God! Merciful God, let me be
calm, for out of that way lies madness indeed. I begin to
get new lights on certain things which have puzzled me. Up
to now I never quite knew what Shakespeare meant when he
made Hamlet say, "My tablets! Quick, my tablets! `tis meet
that I put it down," etc., For now, feeling as though my own
brain were unhinged or as if the shock had come which must
end in its undoing, I turn to my diary for repose. The habit
of entering accurately must help to soothe me.
The Count's mysterious warning frightened me at the
time. It frightens me more not when I think of it, for in
the future he has a fearful hold upon me. I shall fear to
doubt what he may say!
When I had written in my diary and had fortunately re-
placed the book and pen in my pocket I felt sleepy. The
Count's warning came into my mind, but I took pleasure in
disobeying it. The sense of sleep was upon me, and with it
the obstinacy which sleep brings as outrider. The soft moon-
light soothed, and the wide expanse without gave a sense of
freedom which refreshed me. I determined not to return to-
night to the gloom-haunted rooms, but to sleep here, where,
of old, ladies had sat and sung and lived sweet lives whilst
their gentle breasts were sad for their menfolk away in the
midst of remorseless wars. I drew a great couch out of its
place near the corner, so that as I lay, I could look at the
lovely view to east and south,and unthinking of and uncaring
for the dust, composed myself for sleep. I suppose I must
have fallen asleep. I hope so, but I fear, for all that fol-
lowed was startlingly real, so real that now sitting here in
the broad, full sunlight of the morning, I cannot in the
least believe that it was all sleep.
I was not alone.The room was the same, unchanged in any
way since I came into it.I could see along the floor, in the
brilliant moonlight,my own footsteps marked where I had dis-
turbed the long accumulation of dust. In the moonlight opp-
osite me were three young women, ladies by their dress and
manner. I thought at the time that I must be dreaming when I
saw them, they threw no shadow on the floor. They came close
to me, and looked at me for some time, and then whispered
together. Two were dark, and had high aquiline noses, like
the Count, and great dark, piercing eyes, that seemed to be
almost red when contrasted with the pale yellow moon. The
other was fair,as fair as can be, with great masses of gold-
en hair and eyes like pale sapphires. I seemed somehow to
know her face, and to know it in connection with some dreamy
fear, but I could not recollect at the moment how or where.
All three had brilliant white teeth that shone like pearls
against the ruby of their voluptuous lips. There was some-
thing about them that made me uneasy,some longing and at the
same time some deadly fear.I felt in my heart a wicked,burn-
ing desire that they would kiss me with those red lips.It is
not good to note this down, lest some day it should meet
Mina's eyes and cause her pain, but it is the truth. They
whispered together, and then they all three laughed, such a
silvery,musical laugh, but as hard as though the sound never
could have come through the softness of human lips. It was
like the intolerable,tingling sweetness of waterglasses when
played on by a cunning hand. The fair girl shook her head
coquettishly, and the other two urged her on.
One said, "Go on! You are first, and we shall follow.
Yours' is the right to begin."
The other added, "He is young and strong. There are
kisses for us all."
I lay quiet, looking out from under my eyelashes in an
agony of delightful anticipation. The fair girl advanced and
bent over me till I could feel the movement of her breath
upon me. Sweet it was in one sense,honey-sweet, and sent the
same tingling through the nerves as her voice, but with a
bitter underlying the sweet, a bitter offensiveness, as one
smells in blood.
I was afraid to raise my eyelids,but looked out and saw
perfectly under the lashes. The girl went on her knees, and
bent over me, simply gloating.There was a deliberate volupt-
uousness which was both thrilling and repulsive, and as she
arched her neck she actually licked her lips like an animal,
till I could see in the moonlight the moisture shining on
the scarlet lips and on the red tongue as it lapped the
white sharp teeth. Lower and lower went her head as the lips
went below the range of my mouth and chin and seemed to
fasten on my throat. Then she paused, and I could hear the
churning sound of her tongue as it licked her teeth and lips,
and I could feel the hot breath on my neck. Then the skin of
my throat began to tingle as one's flesh does when the hand
that is to tickle it approaches nearer, nearer. I could feel
the soft, shivering touch of the lips on the super sensitive
skin of my throat, and the hard dents of two sharp teeth,
just touching and pausing there. I closed my eyes in lang-
uorous ecstasy and waited, waited with beating heart.
But at that instant, another sensation swept through me
as quick as lightning.I was conscious of the presence of the
Count, and of his being as if lapped in a storm of fury. As
my eyes opened involuntarily I saw his strong hand grasp the
slender neck of the fair woman and with giant's power draw
it back, the blue eyes transformed with fury, the white
teeth champing with rage, and the fair cheeks blazing red
with passion. But the Count! Never did I imagine such wrath
and fury, even to the demons of the pit. His eyes were pos-
itively blazing. The red light in them was lurid, as if the
flames of hell fire blazed behind them. His face was deathly
pale, and the lines of it were hard like drawn wires. The
thick eyebrows that met over the nose now seemed like a
heaving bar of white-hot metal. With a fierce sweep of his
arm, he hurled the woman from him, and then motioned to the
others, as though he were beating them back. It was the same
imperious gesture that I had seen used to the wolves. In a
voice which,though low and almost in a whisper seemed to cut
through the air and then ring in the room he said,
"How dare you touch him, any of you? How dare you cast
eyes on him when I had forbidden it? Back, I tell you all!
This man belongs to me! Beware how you meddle with him, or
you'll have to deal with me."
The fair girl, with a laugh of ribald coquetry, turned
to answer him. "You yourself never loved.You never love!" On
this the other women joined,and such a mirthless,hard, soul-
less laughter rang through the room that it almost made me
faint to hear. It seemed like the pleasure of fiends.
Then the Count turned, after looking at my face atten-
tively, and said in a soft whisper, "Yes, I too can love.You
yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it not so? Well,now
I promise you that when I am done with him you shall kiss
him at your will.Now go! Go! I must awaken him, for there is
work to be done."
"Are we to have nothing tonight?"said one of them, with
a low laugh, as she pointed to the bag which he had thrown
upon the floor, and which moved as though there were some
living thing within it. For answer he nodded his head. One
of the women jumped forward and opened it.If my ears did not
deceive me there was a gasp and a low wail, as of a half
smothered child. The women closed round, whilst I was aghast
with horror. But as I looked,they disappeared, and with them
the dreadful bag.There was no door near them, and they could
not have passed me without my noticing.They simply seemed to
fade into the rays of the moonlight and pass out through the
window, for I could see outside the dim, shadowy forms for a
moment before they entirely faded away.
Then the horror overcame me,and I sank down unconscious.
CHAPTER 4
Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued
I awoke in my own bed. If it be that I had not dreamt,
the Count must have carried me here. I tried to satisfy
myself on the subject, but could not arrive at any un-
questionable result. To be sure, there were certain small
evidences, such as that my clothes were folded and laid by
in a manner which was not my habit. My watch was still
unwound, and I am rigorously accustomed to wind it the last
thing before going to bed, and many such details. But these
things are no proof, for they may have been evidences that
my mind was not as usual, and, for some cause or another, I
had certainly been much upset.I must watch for proof. Of one
thing I am glad.If it was that the Count carried me here and
undressed me, he must have been hurried in his task, for my
pockets are intact. I am sure this diary would have been a
mystery to him which he would not have brooked.He would have
taken or destroyed it. As I look round this room, although
it has been to me so full of fear, it is now a sort of sanc-
tuary, for nothing can be more dreadful than those awful
women, who were, who are, waiting to suck my blood.
18 May.--I have been down to look at that room again in
daylight, for I must know the truth. When I got to the door-
way at the top of the stairs I found it closed. It had been
so forcibly driven against the jamb that part of the wood-
work was splintered. I could see that the bolt of the lock
had not been shot, but the door is fastened from the inside.
I fear it was no dream, and must act on this surmise.
19 May.--I am surely in the toils. Last night the Count
asked me in the sauvest tones to write three letters, one
saying that my work here was nearly done, and that I should
start for home within a few days,another that I was starting
on the next morning from the time of the letter, and the
third that I had left the castle and arrived at Bistritz. I
would fain have rebelled, but felt that in the present state
of things it would be madness to quarrel openly with the
Count whilst I am so absolutely in his power. And to refuse
would be to excite his suspicion and to arouse his anger. He
knows that I know too much, and that I must not live, lest I
be dangerous to him. My only chance is to prolong my oppor-
tunities. Something may occur which will give ma a chance to
escape. I saw in his eyes something of that gathering wrath
which was manifest when he hurled that fair woman from him.
He explained to me that posts were few and uncertain, and
that my writing now would ensure ease of mind to my friends.
And he assured me with so much impressiveness that he would
countermand the later letters, which would be held over at
Bistritz until due time in case chance would admit of my
prolonging my stay, that to oppose him would have been to
create new suspicion. I therefore pretended to fall in with
his views, and asked him what dates I should put on the
letters.
He calculated a minute, and then said, "The first
should be June 12,the second June 19,and the third June 29."
I know now the span of my life. God help me!
28 May.--There is a chance of escape, or at any rate of
being able to send word home. A band of Szgany have come to
the castle, and are encamped in the courtyard. These are
gipsies. I have notes of them in my book. They are peculiar
to this part of the world, though allied to the ordinary
gipsies all the world over. There are thousands of them in
Hungary and Transylvania, who are almost outside all law.
They attach themselves as a rule to some great noble or
boyar, and call themselves by his name. They are fearless
and without religion, save superstition, and they talk only
their own varieties of the Romany tongue.
I shall write some letters home, and shall try to get
them to have them posted. I have already spoken to them
through my window to begin acquaintanceship. They took their
hats off and made obeisance and many signs, which however, I
could not understand any more than I could their spoken
language . . .
I have written the letters. Mina's is in shorthand, and
I simply ask Mr. Hawkins to communicate with her. To her I
have explained my situation, but without the horrors which I
may only surmise. It would shock and frighten her to death
were I to expose my heart to her. Should the letters not
carry, then the Count shall not yet know my secret or the
extent of my knowledge . . .
I have given the letters. I threw them through the bars
of my window with a gold piece, and made what signs I could
to have them posted. The man who took them pressed them to
his heart and bowed, and then put them in his cap. I could
do no more. I stole back to the study, and began to read. As
the Count did not come in, I have written here . . .
The Count has come. He sat down beside me, and said in
his smoothest voice as he opened two letters, "The Szgany
has given me these, of which, though I know not whence they
come, I shall, of course, take care. See!"--He must have
looked at it.--"One is from you, and to my friend Peter
Hawkins. The other,"--here he caught sight of the strange
symbols as he opened the envelope, and the dark look came
into his face, and his eyes blazed wickedly,--"The other is
a vile thing, an outrage upon friendship and hospitality! It
is not signed. Well! So it cannot matter to us."And he calm-
ly held letter and envelope in the flame of the lamp till
they were consumed.
Then he went on, "The letter to Hawkins, that I shall,
of course send on, since it is yours.Your letters are sacred
to me. Your pardon, my friend, that unknowingly I did break
the seal.Will you not cover it again?"He held out the letter
to me, and with a courteous bow handed me a clean envelope.
I could only redirect it and hand it to him in silence.
When he went out of the room I could hear the key turn soft-
ly. A minute later I went over and tried it, and the door
was locked.
When, an hour or two after, the Count came quietly into
the room, his coming awakened me, for I had gone to sleep on
the sofa.He was very courteous and very cheery in his manner,
and seeing that I had been sleeping, he said, "So, my friend,
you are tired? Get to bed. There is the surest rest. I may
not have the pleasure of talk tonight, since there are many
labours to me, but you will sleep, I pray."
I passed to my room and went to bed, and, strange to
say, slept without dreaming. Despair has its own calms.
31 May.--This morning when I woke I thought I would
provide myself with some papers and envelopes from my bag
and keep them in my pocket, so that I might write in case I
should get an opportunity, but again a surprise, again a
shock!
Every scrap of paper was gone, and with it all my notes,
my memoranda, relating to railways and travel, my letter of
credit, in fact all that might be useful to me were I once
outside the castle. I sat and pondered awhile, and then some
thought occurred to me, and I made search of my portmanteau
and in the wardrobe where I had placed my clothes.
The suit in which I had travelled was gone, and also my
overcoat and rug. I could find no trace of them anywhere.
This looked like some new scheme of villainy . . .
17 June.--This morning, as I was sitting on the edge of
my bed cudgelling my brains, I heard without a crackling of
whips and pounding and scraping of horses' feet up the
rocky path beyond the courtyard. With joy I hurried to the
window, and saw drive into the yard two great leiter-wagons,
each drawn by eight sturdy horses, and at the head of each
pair a Slovak, with his wide hat, great nail-studded belt,
dirty sheepskin, and high boots. They had also their long
staves in hand. I ran to the door, intending to descend and
try and join them through the main hall, as I thought that
way might be opened for them. Again a shock, my door was
fastened on the outside.
Then I ran to the window and cried to them. They looked
up at me stupidly and pointed, but just then the "hetman" of
the Szgany came out, and seeing them pointing to my window,
said something, at which they laughed.
Henceforth no effort of mine,no piteous cry or agonized
entreaty, would make them even look at me. They resolutely
turned away. The leiter-wagons contained great,square boxes,
with handles of thick rope. These were evidently empty by
the ease with which the Slovaks handled them, and by their
resonance as they were roughly moved.
When they were all unloaded and packed in a great heap
in one corner of the yard, the Slovaks were given some money
by the Szgany, and spitting on it for luck, lazily went each
to his horse's head. Shortly afterwards, I heard the crack-
ling of their whips die away in the distance.
24 June.--Last night the Count left me early, and lock-
ed himself into his own room.As soon as I dared I ran up the
winding stair, and looked out of the window, which opened
South. I thought I would watch for the Count, for there is
something going on.The Szgany are quartered somewhere in the
castle and are doing work of some kind. I know it, for now
and then, I hear a far-away muffled sound as of mattock and
spade, and, whatever it is, it must be the end of some ruth-
less villainy.
I had been at the window somewhat less than half an
hour, when I saw something coming out of the Count's window.
I drew back and watched carefully, and saw the whole man
emerge. It was a new shock to me to find that he had on the
suit of clothes which I had worn whilst travelling here, and
slung over his shoulder the terrible bag which I had seen
the women take away. There could be no doubt as to his quest,
and in my garb, too! This, then, is his new scheme of evil,
that he will allow others to see me, as they think, so that
he may both leave evidence that I have been seen in the
towns or villages posting my own letters, and that any
wickedness which he may do shall by the local people be
attributed to me.
It makes me rage to think that this can go on, and
whilst I am shut up here, a veritable prisoner, but without
that protection of the law which is even a criminal's right
and consolation.
I thought I would watch for the Count's return, and for
a long time sat doggedly at the window. Then I began to not-
ice that there were some quaint little specks floating in
the rays of the moonlight. They were like the tiniest grains
of dust,and they whirled round and gathered in clusters in a
nebulous sort of way.I watched them with a sense of soothing,
and a sort of calm stole over me.I leaned back in the embra-
sure in a more comfortable position, so that I could enjoy
more fully the aerial gambolling.
Something made me start up, a low, piteous howling of
dogs somewhere far below in the valley, which was hidden
from my sight. Louder it seemed to ring in my ears, and the
floating moats of dust to take new shapes to the sound as
they danced in the moonlight. I felt myself struggling to
awake to some call of my instincts. Nay, my very soul was
struggling, and my half-remembered sensibilities were striv-
ing to answer the call. I was becoming hypnotised!
Quicker and quicker danced the dust.The moonbeams seem-
ed to quiver as they went by me into the mass of gloom
beyond. More and more they gathered till they seemed to take
dim phantom shapes. And then I started, broad awake and in
full possession of my senses, and ran screaming from the
place.
The phantom shapes, which were becoming gradually mat-
erialised from the moonbeams, were those three ghostly women
to whom I was doomed.
I fled, and felt somewhat safer in my own room, where
there was no moonlight, and where the lamp was burning
brightly.
When a couple of hours had passed I heard something
stirring in the Count's room, something like a sharp wail
quickly suppressed. And then there was silence, deep, awful
silence, which chilled me. With a beating heart, I tried the
door, but I was locked in my prison, and could do nothing. I
sat down and simply cried.
As I sat I heard a sound in the courtyard without, the
agonised cry of a woman. I rushed to the window, and throw-
ing it up, peered between the bars.
There, indeed, was a woman with dishevelled hair, hold-
ing her hands over her heart as one distressed with running.
She was leaning against the corner of the gateway. When she
saw my face at the window she threw herself forward, and
shouted in a voice laden with menace, "Monster, give me my
child!"
She threw herself on her knees,and raising up her hands,
cried the same words in tones which wrung my heart. Then she
tore her hair and beat her breast, and abandoned herself to
all the violences of extravagant emotion. Finally, she threw
herself forward, and though I could not see her,I could hear
the beating of her naked hands against the door.
Somewhere high overhead, probably on the tower, I heard
the voice of the Count calling in his harsh,metallic whisper.
His call seemed to be answered from far and wide by the howl-
ing of wolves. Before many minutes had passed a pack of them
poured, like a pent-up dam when liberated, through the wide
entrance into the courtyard.
There was no cry from the woman, and the howling of the
wolves was but short. Before long they streamed away singly,
licking their lips.
I could not pity her, for I knew now what had become of
her child, and she was better dead.
What shall I do? What can I do? How can I escape from
this dreadful thing of night, gloom, and fear?
25 June.--No man knows till he has suffered from the
night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning
can be. When the sun grew so high this morning that it
struck the top of the great gateway opposite my window, the
high spot which it touched seemed to me as if the dove from
the ark had lighted there. My fear fell from me as if it
had been a vaporous garment which dissolved in the warmth.
I must take action of some sort whilst the courage of
the day is upon me. Last night one of my post-dated letters
went to post, the first of that fatal series which is to
blot out the very traces of my existence from the earth.
Let me not think of it. Action!
It has always been at night-time that I have been mo-
lested or threatened, or in some way in danger or in fear.
I have not yet seen the Count in the daylight. Can it be
that he sleeps when others wake, that he may be awake whilst
they sleep? If I could only get into his room! But there is
no possible way. The door is always locked, no way for me.
Yes, there is a way, if one dares to take it. Where his
body has gone why may not another body go? I have seen him
myself crawl from his window. Why should not I imitate him,
and go in by his window? The chances are desperate, but my
need is more desperate still. I shall risk it. At the worst
it can only be death, and a man's death is not a calf's, and
the dreaded Hereafter may still be open to me. God help me
in my task! Goodbye, Mina, if I fail. Goodbye, my faithful
friend and second father.Goodbye, all, and last of all Mina!
Same day, later.--I have made the effort, and God help-
ing me, have come safely back to this room. I must put down
every detail in order. I went whilst my courage was fresh
straight to the window on the south side, and at once got
outside on this side.The stones are big and roughly cut, and
the mortar has by process of time been washed away between
them. I took off my boots, and ventured out on the desperate
way. I looked down once, so as to make sure that a sudden
glimpse of the awful depth would not overcome me, but after
that kept my eyes away from it.I know pretty well the direc-
tion and distance of the Count's window, and made for it as
well as I could,having regard to the opportunities available.
I did not feel dizzy, I suppose I was too excited, and the
time seemed ridiculously short till I found myself standing
on the window sill and trying to raise up the sash. I was
filled with agitation, however, when I bent down and slid
feet foremost in through the window.Then I looked around for
the Count, but with surprise and gladness, made a discovery.
The room was empty! It was barely furnished with odd things,
which seemed to have never been used.
The furniture was something the same style as that in
the south rooms, and was covered with dust. I looked for the
key, but it was not in the lock, and I could not find it any-
where. The only thing I found was a great heap of gold in
one corner, gold of all kinds, Roman, and British, and Aust-
rian,and Hungarian,and Greek and Turkish money, covered with
a film of dust, as though it had lain long in the ground.
None of it that I noticed was less than three hundred years
old.There were also chains and ornaments, some jewelled, but
all of them old and stained.
At one corner of the room was a heavy door. I tried it,
for, since I could not find the key of the room or the key
of the outer door, which was the main object of my search, I
must make further examination, or all my efforts would be
in vain. It was open, and led through a stone passage to a
circular stairway, which went steeply down.
I descended, minding carefully where I went for the
stairs were dark, being only lit by loopholes in the heavy
masonry. At the bottom there was a dark, tunnel-like pass-
age, through which came a deathly, sickly odour, the odour
of old earth newly turned. As I went through the passage
the smell grew closer and heavier. At last I pulled open
a heavy door which stood ajar, and found myself in an old
ruined chapel, which had evidently been used as a graveyard.
The roof was broken, and in two places were steps leading to
vaults, but the ground had recently been dug over, and the
earth placed in great wooden boxes, manifestly those which
had been brought by the Slovaks.
There was nobody about, and I made a search over every
inch of the ground, so as not to lose a chance. I went down
even into the vaults, where the dim light struggled,although
to do so was a dread to my very soul. Into two of these I
went, but saw nothing except fragments of old coffins and
piles of dust. In the third, however, I made a discovery.
There, in one of the great boxes, of which there were
fifty in all, on a pile of newly dug earth, lay the Count!
He was either dead or asleep.I could not say which, for eyes
were open and stony, but without the glassiness of death,and
the cheeks had the warmth of life through all their pallor.
The lips were as red as ever. But there was no sign of move-
ment, no pulse, no breath, no beating of the heart.
I bent over him, and tried to find any sign of life,
but in vain. He could not have lain there long, for the
earthy smell would have passed away in a few hours. By the
side of the box was its cover, pierced with holes here and
there. I thought he might have the keys on him, but when I
went to search I saw the dead eyes, and in them dead though
they were, such a look of hate, though unconscious of me or
my presence, that I fled from the place, and leaving the
Count's room by the window, crawled again up the castle wall.
Regaining my room, I threw myself panting upon the bed and
tried to think.
29 June.--Today is the date of my last letter, and the
Count has taken steps to prove that it was genuine,for again
I saw him leave the castle by the same window, and in my
clothes. As he went down the wall, lizard fashion, I wished
I had a gun or some lethal weapon, that I might destroy him.
But I fear that no weapon wrought along by man's hand would
have any effect on him. I dared not wait to see him return,
for I feared to see those weird sisters. I came back to the
library, and read there till I fell asleep.
I was awakened by the Count, who looked at me as grimly
as a man could look as he said,"Tomorrow, my friend, we must
part. You return to your beautiful England, I to some work
which may have such an end that we may never meet.Your lett-
er home has been despatched. Tomorrow I shall not be here,
but all shall be ready for your journey. In the morning come
the Szgany, who have some labours of their own here, and al-
so come some Slovaks. When they have gone, my carriage
shall come for you, and shall bear you to the Borgo Pass to
meet the diligence from Bukovina to Bistritz. But I am in
hopes that I shall see more of you at Castle Dracula."
I suspected him, and determined to test his sincerity.
Sincerity! It seems like a profanation of the word to write
it in connection with such a monster, so I asked him point-
blank, "Why may I not go tonight?"
"Because, dear sir, my coachman and horses are away on
a mission."
"But I would walk with pleasure. I want to get away at
once."
He smiled, such a soft, smooth, diabolical smile that I
knew there was some trick behind his smoothness. He said,
"And your baggage?"
"I do not care about it. I can send for it some other
time."
The Count stood up, and said, with a sweet courtesy
which made me rub my eyes, it seemed so real, "You English
have a saying which is close to my heart, for its spirit is
that which rules our boyars, `Welcome the coming, speed the
parting guest.' Come with me, my dear young friend. Not an
hour shall you wait in my house against your will,though sad
am I at your going,and that you so suddenly desire it. Come!"
With a stately gravity, he, with the lamp, preceded me down
the stairs and along the hall. Suddenly he stopped. "Hark!"
Close at hand came the howling of many wolves. It was
almost as if the sound sprang up at the rising of his hand,
just as the music of a great orchestra seems to leap under
the baton of the conductor. After a pause of a moment, he
proceeded, in his stately way, to the door, drew back the
ponderous bolts, unhooked the heavy chains, and began to
draw it open.
To my intense astonishment I saw that it was unlocked.
Suspiciously, I looked all round, but could see no key of
any kind.
As the door began to open, the howling of the wolves
without grew louder and angrier. Their red jaws, with champ-
ing teeth, and their blunt-clawed feet as they leaped, came
in through the opening door. I knew than that to struggle
at the moment against the Count was useless.With such allies
as these at his command, I could do nothing.
But still the door continued slowly to open, and only
the Count's body stood in the gap. Suddenly it struck me
that this might be the moment and means of my doom. I was to
be given to the wolves, and at my own instigation. There was
a diabolical wickedness in the idea great enough for the
Count, and as the last chance I cried out, "Shut the door! I
shall wait till morning." And I covered my face with my
hands to hide my tears of bitter disappointment.
With one sweep of his powerful arm, the Count threw the
door shut, and the great bolts clanged and echoed through
the hall as they shot back into their places.
In silence we returned to the library, and after a min-
ute or two I went to my own room. The last I saw of Count
Dracula was his kissing his hand to me, with a red light of
triumph in his eyes, and with a smile that Judas in hell
might be proud of.
When I was in my room and about to lie down,I thought I
heard a whispering at my door. I went to it softly and list-
ened. Unless my ears deceived me, I heard the voice of the
Count.
"Back! Back to your own place! Your time is not yet
come. Wait! Have patience! Tonight is mine. Tomorrow night
is yours!"
There was a low,sweet ripple of laughter, and in a rage
I threw open the door, and saw without the three terrible
women licking their lips. As I appeared, they all joined in
a horrible laugh, and ran away.
I came back to my room and threw myself on my knees. It
is then so near the end? Tomorrow! Tomorrow! Lord, help me,
and those to whom I am dear!
30 June.--These may be the last words I ever write in
this diary. I slept till just before the dawn, and when I
woke threw myself on my knees,for I determined that if Death
came he should find me ready.
At last I felt that subtle change in the air, and knew
that the morning had come. Then came the welcome cock-crow,
and I felt that I was safe. With a glad heart, I opened the
door and ran down the hall. I had seen that the door was
unlocked, and now escape was before me. With hands that
trembled with eagerness, I unhooked the chains and threw
back the massive bolts.
But the door would not move. Despair seized me. I
pulled and pulled at the door, and shook it till, massive as
it was, it rattled in its casement.I could see the bolt shot.
It had been locked after I left the Count.
Then a wild desire took me to obtain the key at any
risk,and I determined then and there to scale the wall again,
and gain the Count's room. He might kill me, but death now
seemed the happier choice of evils. Without a pause I rushed
up to the east window, and scrambled down the wall,as before,
into the Count's room. It was empty, but that was as I ex-
pected. I could not see a key anywhere, but the heap of gold
remained. I went through the door in the corner and down the
winding stair and along the dark passage to the old chapel.I
knew now well enough where to find the monster I sought.
The great box was in the same place, close against the
wall, but the lid was laid on it, not fastened down, but
with the nails ready in their places to be hammered home.
I knew I must reach the body for the key, so I raised
the lid, and laid it back against the wall. And then I saw
something which filled my very soul with horror. There lay
the Count,but looking as if his youth had been half restored.
For the white hair and moustache were changed to dark iron-
grey. The cheeks were fuller, and the white skin seemed
ruby-red underneath. The mouth was redder than ever, for on
the lips were gouts of fresh blood, which trickled from the
corners of the mouth and ran down over the chin and neck.
Even the deep,burning eyes seemed set amongst swollen flesh,
for the lids and pouches underneath were bloated. It seemed
as if the whole awful creature were simply gorged with blood.
He lay like a filthy leech, exhausted with his repletion.
I shuddered as I bent over to touch him,and every sense
in me revolted at the contact, but I had to search, or I was
lost. The coming night might see my own body a banquet in a
similar war to those horrid three. I felt all over the body,
but no sign could I find of the key.Then I stopped and look-
ed at the Count. There was a mocking smile on the bloated
face which seemed to drive me mad. This was the being I was
helping to transfer to London, where, perhaps, for centuries
to come he might, amongst its teeming millions, satiate his
lust for blood, and create a new and ever-widening circle of
semi-demons to batten on the helpless.
The very thought drove me mad. A terrible desire came
upon me to rid the world of such a monster. There was no
lethal weapon at hand, but I seized a shovel which the work-
men had been using to fill the cases, and lifting it high,
struck, with the edge downward, at the hateful face. But as
I did so the head turned, and the eyes fell upon me,with all
their blaze of basilisk horror. The sight seemed to paralyze
me, and the shovel turned in my hand and glanced from the
face, merely making a deep gash above the forehead. The sho-
vel fell from my hand across the box,and as I pulled it away
the flange of the blade caught the edge of the lid which
fell over again, and hid the horrid thing from my sight. The
last glimpse I had was of the bloated face,blood-stained and
fixed with a grin of malice which would have held its own in
the nethermost hell.
I thought and thought what should be my next move, but
my brain seemed on fire,and I waited with a despairing feel-
ing growing over me. As I waited I heard in the distance
a gipsy song sung by merry voices coming closer, and through
their song the rolling of heavy wheels and the cracking of
whips. The Szgany and the Slovaks of whom the Count had
spoken were coming. With a last look around and at the box
which contained the vile body, I ran from the place and
gained the Count's room,determined to rush out at the moment
the door should be opened. With strained ears, I listened,
and heard downstairs the grinding of the key in the great
lock and the falling back of the heavy door. There must
have been some other means of entry, or some one had a key
for one of the locked doors.
Then there came the sound of many feet tramping and
dying away in some passage which sent up a clanging echo. I
turned to run down again towards the vault, where I might
find the new entrance, but at the moment there seemed to
come a violent puff of wind, and the door to the winding
stair blew to with a shock that set the dust from the lint-
els flying. When I ran to push it open, I found that it
was hopelessly fast. I was again a prisoner, and the net
of doom was closing round me more closely.
As I write there is in the passage below a sound of
many tramping feet and the crash of weights being set down
heavily, doubtless the boxes, with their freight of earth.
There was a sound of hammering. It is the box being nailed
down. Now I can hear the heavy feet tramping again along
the hall, with with many other idle feet coming behind them.
The door is shut, the chains rattle. There is a grind-
ing of the key in the lock. I can hear the key withdrawn,
then another door opens and shuts. I hear the creaking of
lock and bolt.
Hark! In the courtyard and down the rocky way the
roll of heavy wheels, the crack of whips, and the chorus of
the Szgany as they pass into the distance.
I am alone in the castle with those horrible women.
Faugh! Mina is a woman, and there is nought in common. They
are devils of the Pit!
I shall not remain alone with them. I shall try to
scale the castle wall farther than I have yet attempted. I
shall take some of the gold with me, lest I want it later. I
may find a way from this dreadful place.
And then away for home! Away to the quickest and near-
est train! Away from the cursed spot, from this cursed land,
where the devil and his children still walk with earthly
feet!
At least God's mercy is better than that of those mon-
sters, and the precipice is steep and high. At its foot a
man may sleep, as a man. Goodbye, all. Mina!
CHAPTER 5
LETTER FROM MISS MINA MURRAY TO MISS LUCY WESTENRA
9 May.
My dearest Lucy,
Forgive my long delay in writing,but I have been simply
overwhelmed with work. The life of an assistant schoolmist-
ress is sometimes trying. I am longing to be with you, and
by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our
castles in the air. I have been working very hard lately,
because I want to keep up with Jonathan's studies, and I
have been practicing shorthand very assiduously. When we are
married I shall be able to be useful to Jonathan, and if I
can stenograph well enough I can take down what he wants to
say in this way and write it out for him on the typewriter,
at which also I am practicing very hard.
He and I sometimes write letters in shorthand, and he
is keeping a stenographic journal of his travels abroad.
When I am with you I shall keep a diary in the same way. I
don't mean one of those two-pages-to-the-week-with-Sunday-
squeezed-in-a-corner diaries, but a sort of journal which
I can write in whenever I feel inclined.
I do not suppose there will be much of interest to
other people, but it is not intended for them. I may show
it to Jonathan some day if there is in it anything worth
sharing, but it is really an exercise book. I shall try to
do what I see lady journalists do, interviewing and writing
descriptions and trying to remember conversations. I am told
that, with a little practice, one can remember all that goes
on or that one hears said during a day.
However, we shall see. I will tell you of my little
plans when we meet. I have just had a few hurried lines from
Jonathan from Transylvania. He is well, and will be return-
ing in about a week. I am longing to hear all his news. It
must be nice to see strange countries. I wonder if we, I
mean Jonathan and I, shall ever see them together. There is
the ten o'clock bell ringing. Goodbye.
Your loving
Mina
Tell me all the news when you write. You have not told
me anything for a long time. I hear rumours, and especially
of a tall, handsome, curly-haired man.???
LETTER, LUCY WESTENRA TO MINA MURRAY
17, Chatham Street
Wednesday
My dearest Mina,
I must say you tax me very unfairly with being a bad
correspondent. I wrote you twice since we parted, and your
last letter was only your second. Besides, I have nothing
to tell you. There is really nothing to interest you.
Town is very pleasant just now, and we go a great deal
to picture-galleries and for walks and rides in the park. As
to the tall, curly-haired man, I suppose it was the one who
was with me at the last Pop. Someone has evidently been
telling tales.
That was Mr. Holmwood. He often comes to see us, and
he and Mamma get on very well together, they have so many
things to talk about in common.
We met some time ago a man that would just do for you,
if you were not already engaged to Jonathan. He is an
excellant parti, being handsome, well off, and of good birth.
He is a doctor and really clever. Just fancy! He is only
nine-and twenty, and he has an immense lunatic asylum all
under his own care. Mr. Holmwood introduced him to me, and
he called here to see us, and often comes now. I think he
is one of the most resolute men I ever saw, and yet the most
calm. He seems absolutely imperturbable. I can fancy what
a wonderful power he must have over his patients. He has a
curious habit of looking one straight in the face, as if
trying to read one's thoughts. He tries this on very much
with me,but I flatter myself he has got a tough nut to crack.
I know that from my glass.
Do you ever try to read your own face? I do, and I can
tell you it is not a bad study, and gives you more trouble
than you can well fancy if you have never tried it.
He say that I afford him a curious psychological study,
and I humbly think I do. I do not, as you know, take suff-
icient interest in dress to be able to describe the new
fashions. Dress is a bore. That is slang again, but never
mind. Arthur says that every day.
There, it is all out,Mina, we have told all our secrets
to each other since we were children. We have slept together
and eaten together, and laughed and cried together, and now,
though I have spoken, I would like to speak more. Oh, Mina,
couldn't you guess? I love him. I am blushing as I write,
for although I think he loves me, he has not told me so in
words. But, oh, Mina, I love him. I love him! There, that
does me good.
I wish I were with you, dear, sitting by the fire un-
dressing, as we used to sit, and I would try to tell you
what I feel. I do not know how I am writing this even to
you. I am afraid to stop, or I should tear up the letter,
and I don't want to stop, for I do so want to tell you all.
Let me hear from you at once, and tell me all that you think
about it. Mina, pray for my happiness.
Lucy
P.S.--I need not tell you this is a secret. Goodnight
again. L.
LETTER, LUCY WESTENRA TO MINA MURRAY
24 May
My dearest Mina,
Thanks, and thanks, and thanks again for your sweet
letter. It was so nice to be able to tell you and to have
your sympathy.
My dear, it never rains but it pours. How true the old
proverbs are. Here am I, who shall be twenty in September,
and yet I never had a proposal till today, not a real pro-
posal, and today I had three. Just fancy! Three proposals
in one day! Isn't it awful! I feel sorry, really and truly
sorry, for two of the poor fellows. Oh, Mina, I am so happy
that I don't know what to do with myself. And three propos-
als! But, for goodness' sake, don't tell any of the girls,
or they would be getting all sorts of extravagant ideas, and
imagining themselves injured and slighted if in their very
first day at home they did not get six at least. Some girls
are so vain! You and I, Mina dear, who are engaged and are
going to settle down soon soberly into old married women,
can despise vanity. Well, I must tell you about the three,
but you must keep it a secret, dear, from every one except,
of course, Jonathan. You will tell him, because I would, if
I were in your place, certainly tell Arthur. A woman ought
to tell her husband everything. Don't you think so, dear?
And I must be fair. Men like women, certainly their wives,
to be quite as fair as they are. And women, I am afraid, are
not always quite as fair as they should be.
Well, my dear, number One came just before lunch. I
told you of him, Dr. John Seward, the lunatic asylum man,
with the