Dracula / Дракула

My host stood there at the fireplace. He said: “Please, be seated and have supper. You will, I hope, excuse me that I do not join you; but I have dined already, and I do not have supper.”

I handed to him the sealed letter which Mr. Hawkins had entrusted to me.

He opened it and read it. Then, with a charming smile, he handed it to me to read. One part of it gave me pleasure.

“I regret that I cannot come myself because of an attack of gout.But I am happy to say I can send an adequate substitute, one in whom I have every confidence. He is a young man, full of energy and talent. He is discreet and silent.He will be ready to serve you during his stay, and will take your instructions in all matters.”

The Count himself came forward and took off the cover of a dish where there was 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 about my journey, and I told him all I had experienced.

When I finished my supper, my host offered me a cigar and we sat by the fire. He excused himself that he did not smoke. I had now an opportunity to see him properly, and found his appearance very remarkable.

He had a very strong aquiline face, with high bridge of the thin nose and unusually arched nostrils, with high domed forehead. His hair grew thinly round the temples but thickly elsewhere. His eyebrows were very massive and bushy, and almost met over the nose. The mouth was firm and rather cruel-looking, with very sharp white teeth; they protruded over the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed surprising 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.

The backs of his hands seemed rather white and fine, but now I could see them properly in the firelight, and I noticed that they were rather coarse – broad, with short and thick fingers. Strange, there were hairs in the centre of the palm. The nails were long and fine, and sharp-pointed. As the Count leaned over me and his hands touched me, I could not suppress a shudder. A horrible feeling of nausea came over me, perhaps, because his breath was foul. Evidently, the Count noticed it and sat down again on his own side of the fireplace, with a grim sort of smile, which showed his protruding teeth. We were both silent for a while, and as I looked towards the window I saw the first grey light of the coming dawn. There was a strange stillness over everything; but as I listened I heard as though 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!”

He saw, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, and added: “Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot understand the feelings of the hunter.” Then he rose and said: “But you must be tired. Your bedroom is all ready, and to-morrow you can sleep as late as you will. I have to be away till the afternoon. So sleep well and dream well!”

With a courtly bow, he opened the door to the octagonal room for me himself, and I entered my bedroom…

I am full of bewilderment. 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 early morning, but I have rested and enjoyed the last twenty-four hours. I slept long and awoke late in the day. When I had dressed myself I went into the room where I had had supper, and found a cold breakfast laid out. Coffee was kept hot in the pot 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.” When I finished my meal, I looked for a bell, so that I might let the servants know that I had, but I could not find one. It seemed certainly strange to me. There are extraordinary evidences of wealth in the house. The table service is of gold, and so beautifully made that it must be very expensive. The curtains and upholstery of the chairs and sofas are of the most expensive and most beautiful fabrics, and, of course, had 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 there they were worn and moth-eaten. But there is no mirror in any of the rooms. 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. I did not like to go about the castle until I had asked the Count's permission. I looked about for something to read, but 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.

I was very glad to find in the library a great number of English books, magazines and newspapers. English magazines and newspapers were not of very recent date. The books were of the most varied kind – history, geography, politics, political economy, botany, geology, law – all about England and English life and customs and manners. There were even such reference books as the London Directory, the Army and Navy Lists, the Law List.

While 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 laid his hand on some of the books and said: “These companions have been good friends to me. Through them I have come to know and love your great England. I want very much to go through the crowded streets of your enormous 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! I only know your tongue through books. With your help, my friend, I hope to learn to speak it.”

I said that he spoke English very well. The Count thanked me for the compliment and said: “I know the grammar and the words, but yet I do not know how to speak them. If I moved and spoke in your London, everybody would know at once that I am a foreigner. That is not enough for me. Here I am noble; common people know me; I am master. But a stranger in a strange land, he is no one; men do not know him and do not pay attention to him. I am contented 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 master so long that I would like to stay master, or at least that none other would be master of me. You came to me not only as agent of my friend Peter Hawkins to tell me all about my new estate in London. You will, I hope, stay here with me for awhile, so that by our talking I may learn the English intonation. And, please, correct my mistakes, even the smallest ones. I am sorry that I had to be away so long to-day, but you will, I know, forgive one who has so many important affairs in hand.”

Of course, I said I would willingly help him, and asked if I might come into the library 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 if you could see with my eyes and know what I know, you would perhaps understand better.” 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 many things will be strange to you. No, from what you have told me of your experiences already, you know something of what strange things there may be.”

It seemed that he wanted to talk, so I asked him many questions about things that had already happened to me or I had noticed. In general he answered my questions most frankly, but sometimes he avoided the subject, or pretended not to understand. When I asked him, for instance, why the coachman went to the places where he had seen the blue flames, he told me that there was a legend that on a certain night of the year – last night, in fact, when all evil spirits have uncontrolled power, a blue flame is seen over any place where treasure has been hidden. Then he explained that last night I had travelled through the region of a very stormy past, that a lot of men's blood, patriots or invaders, had been spilled in that region. He said that the the patriots – men and women, the aged and the children, had fought the invaders bravely, but if the invader was triumphant, he found little, for everything valuable had been hidden in the friendly soil.

I was surprised that with such clear sign – a blue flame – the treasure had remained undiscovered so long. The Count smiled, and his 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, go outdoors. And, dear sir, even if he did go out, he would not know what to do. Why, even the peasant who marked the place of the flame would not know where to look in daylight even for his own mark.”

We talked a little of some other matters. Then the Count asked me to tell him of London and of his house there. I apologized for my negligence and went into my own room to get the papers from my bag. While I was in my room, I heard a rattling of china and silver in the next room, and as I passed through it, I noticed that the table had been cleared and the lamp lighted, for it was by this time quite dark. The lamps were also lighted in the library. When I came in, the Count cleared the books and papers from the table, and we 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. I understood that he had studied the subject of the surroundings beforehand, for he evidently knew very much more than I did.

After I told him the facts of the purchase of the estate at Purfleet and he signed the necessary papers, he asked me how I had come across so suitable a place. I read to him the following notes which I had made at the time of that search: “At Purfleet, on a by-road, it seems I came across just such a place as is required, and it was for sale. The estate is 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 area of the estate is some twenty acres. There are many trees on it, which make it in places shadowy, and there is a deep, dark-looking pond or small lake. The house is very large and it dates, I think, to medieval times, for one part of it looks like part of a main tower of a medieval castle, and is close to an old chapel or church. There are straggling additions to the house, so I can only guess what area it covers. I think it is very large. There are very few houses near the estate. A very large house was recently added 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 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 make up a century! I am also glad that there is a chapel of old times. We, Transylvanian nobles, do not love to think that our bones may lie amongst the common dead. I do not look for merriment or the bright sensual pleasure of much sunshine and sparkling waters which please the young and merry. I am no longer young, and my heart, through arduous years of mourning over the dead, is not attuned to merriment. Moreover, the walls of my castle are broken; the wind breathes cold through the broken battlements and casements. I love the shade and the shadow, and prefer to be alone with my thoughts when I may.” However, it seemed that somehow his words and his appearance did not agree, or perhaps the form of his face made his smile look malevolent and gloomy.

Presently, the Count asked me to put all my papers together, excused himself and left the room. While he was away, I began to look at some of the books around me. One was an atlas. It was opened naturally at England, as though that map had been much used. Several places were marked by little circles. One was near London on the east side, where his new estate was situated; the other two were Exeter, and Whitby on the Yorkshire coast.

The Count was absent nearly an hour. “Still at your books?” he said when he returned. “Good! But you must not work all the time. Come, I am informed that your supper is ready.” He took my arm, and we went into the next room, where I saw an excellent supper ready on the table. The Count again excused himself, as he had dined out while he was away from home. But he sat as on the previous night, and chatted while I ate.

After supper I smoked, as on the last evening, and the Count continued to chat with me and ask all sorts of questions. Though I was not sleepy, I felt that it was getting very late indeed but I did not say anything, for I felt I was obliged to meet my host's wishes in every way. All at once we heard the crow of a cock. It sounded supernaturally shrill in the clear morning air. Count Dracula jumped to his feet and said: “Why, there is the morning again! How thoughtless of me to let you stay up so long. You must make your conversation about 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 bedroom and wrote of this day in my journal before I went to bed.

8 May. I am glad that from the beginning I went into detail when I wrote in this book, for there is something very strange about this place and I wish I had never come here. May be this strange night-existence is telling on me. But that is not all! If there were any one to talk to, I could endure 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. I will write down prosaic facts; imagination must not run riot with me. If it does, I am lost.

I only slept a few hours; I woke up and felt that I could not sleep any more, so I got up. My shaving glass hung by the window; the whole room was reflected in it. I was just beginning to shave when I felt a hand on my shoulder, and heard the Count's voice: “Good-morning,” but I did not see his reflection in the glass. I jerked and cut my chin slightly, but did not notice it at the moment. I turned around and answered the Count's salutation. Then I turned to the glass again, and again there was no reflection of the Count in the mirror! But the man was close to me, and I could see him over my shoulder! The whole room behind me was reflected, but there was no sign of a man in it, except myself. This increased that vague feeling of uneasiness which I always have when the Count is near. At that moment I saw that the blood from the cut was trickling over my chin. I wanted to find some sticking plaster and half turned from the mirror. When the Count saw my face, his eyes blazed with a sort of demoniac fury, and he suddenly grabbed 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.

“Be careful,” he said, “do not cut yourself. It is more dangerous than you think in this country.” Then he grabbed the shaving glass and with the words: “And this wretched thing has done the injury” he threw the glass out of the window. Then he left the room without a word. It is very annoying. How am I to shave? If only with the help of my watch-case.

When I went into the dining-room, breakfast was on the table, but the Count was absent. So I breakfasted alone. It is strange that the Count has not yet shared any meal with me. He must be a very peculiar man! After breakfast I explored the castle a little. I went out on the stairs, and found a room that looked towards the South. The view from the window was magnificent. The castle is on the very edge of a terrible precipice. And there is a sea of green tree tops below. Here and there are silver threads where the rivers wind in deep gorges through the forests.

But now I am not in the mood to describe beauty, for when I had seen the view I explored further; doors, doors, doors everywhere, and all locked. There is no exit anywhere except from the windows in the castle walls.

The castle is a real prison, and I am a prisoner!

Chapter III

JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL(continued)

The fact that I was a prisoner made me very nervous. I rushed up and down the stairs, tried every door and looked out of every window I could find. But soon I realized that it was useless. I began to think over what to do best. And I am certain of one thing – I should not tell the Count anything about my ideas. My only plan will be to keep my knowledge and my fears to myself, and my eyes open.

As I had made this decision, I heard that the great door below had closed, 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 saw that he was making the bed. Later, through the crack in the door, I saw how he was laying the table in the dining-room. It showed that I was right in my suspicion that there were no servants in the house. This gave me a fright, for it meant that the Count himself had been the driver of the coach that brought me here. If so, what does it mean that he could control the wolves, as he did, just by only holding up his hand in silence? How was it that all the people at Bistritz and on the coach had some terrible fear for me? What did the giving of the crucifix, of the garlic, of the wild rose, of the mountain ash mean? Bless that good woman who hung the crucifix round my neck! It is a comfort to me whenever I touch it. Is there something in the crucifix itself, or it is a medium in conveying memories of sympathy and comfort? Some time 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 because it may help me to understand. To-night he may talk of himself, if I turn the conversation that way. But I must be very careful.I do not want to awake his suspicion.

Midnight. I had a long talk with the Count. I asked him a few questions on Transylvania history, and he talked very warmly on the subject and got excited as he talked. He spoke of everything, and especially of battles, as if he had been present at them all. He said 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. It all sounded as the story of his nation: “We Szekelys[1] have a right to be proud, for in our veins flows the blood of many brave peoples who fought as the lion fights, for power. In the whirlpool of European peoples, the Ugric tribe[2] brought here the fighting spirit from Iceland, which Thor and Wodin[3] gave them. And their Berserkers[4] showed such ferocity on the seashores of Europe, Asia and even Africa that the peoples thought that the were-wolves themselves had come. Besides, when they came here, they found the Huns[5], whose warlike fury had swept the earth like a living flame, so that the dying peoples thought that in their veins ran the blood of those old witches, who were turned out from Scythia[6] and mated with the devils in the desert. Fools, fools! What devil or what witch was ever so great as Attila[7], whose blood is in these veins?” He held up his arms. “Is it surprising that we were a conquering nation, that we were proud, that when the Magyar, the Lombard, the Bulgar, or the Turk sent his thousands to our frontiers, we drove them back? Is it strange that when Arpad[8] and his legions swept through the Hungarian fatherland, he found us here when he reached the frontier and Honfoglalas was crushed there? And when the Hungarian flood moved eastward, the victorious Magyars recognizd the Szekelys as kindred and trusted us to guard the frontier of Turkey-land. When was redeemed that great shame of my nation, the shame of Kosovo, when the flags of the Wallach[9] and the Magyar went down beneath the Turkish Crescent? It was one of my own nation, a Dracula! He crossed the Danube and beat the Turk on his own ground! It was a great woe that his own unworthy brother, when he had fallen, sold his people to the Turk and brought the shame of slavery on them! But, in a later age, another Dracula again and again brought his troops over the great river into Turkey-land. When he was beaten back, he came again, and again, and again. Though he had to come alone from the bloody field where his troops were being killed, he knew that he alone could ultimately triumph! They said that he thought only of himself. But what good are peasants without a leader, without a leading brain and heart? Again, when we threw off the Hungarian yoke, we of the Dracula blood were among their leaders, for our free spirit cannot stand any oppression. Ah, young sir, the Szekelys – and the Dracula as their heart's blood, their brains, and their swords – can boast about such ancient family that mushroom growths like the Hapsburgs and the Romanoffs can never reach. The days of war are over. Blood is too precious a thing in these days of dishonourable peace, and the glories of the great tribes are no more than an old tale.”

It was nearly morning, and we went to bed. (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. Last evening when the Count came from his room, he began asking me questions on legal matters and on the doing of certain kinds of business in England. I answered his questions to the best of my ability, and my impression from his comments was that his knowledge of legal matters and understanding of business were nearly professional. At the end of that conversation the Count suddenly asked me if I had written to Mr. Hawkins since my first letter. I answered that I had not seen any opportunity of sending letters to anybody as yet.

“Then write now, my young friend,” he said, “write to our friend Mr. Peter Hawkins and to any other and say that you will stay with me for a month from now.”

My heart grew cold at the thought that I would stay at the castle so long, but I had to think of my employer Mr. Hawkins's interest, not mine and besides, while Count Dracula was speaking, I saw in his eyes that I was a prisoner and could have no choice. The Count saw his victory in the expression of my face, for he said: “I ask you, my good young friend, to write only about 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 notepaper and three envelopes. I understood by the expression of his face that I should be careful what I wrote, for he would be able to read it. So I decided 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 in shorthand. It would puzzle the Count, if he saw it. When I had written my two letters I sat quietly, reading a book while the Count wrote several letters. Then he took up my two letters, put them with his own on the table, and left the room. I had time to look at the addresses of his four letters. One of the letters was addressed 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 had no opportunity to look at them because the Count, with another letter in his hand, entered the room. He took up the letters on the table and stamped them carefully. Then he turned to me and said: “I hope 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: “My dear young friend, please, do not 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! If you feel sleepy, hurry to your own bedroom or to these rooms, for your rest will then be safe.