Part 1 - Dracula Audiobook by Bram Stoker (Chs 01-04)

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