Dracula

am 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 see me, or pause in his speaking

if he hear 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

2O Dracula

estate in London. You shall, I trust, rest here with me awhile, so

that by our talking I may learn the English intonation; and I

would that you tell me when I make error, even of the smallest,

in my speaking. I am sorry that I had to be away so long to-day;

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 ex-

periences 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 ques-

tions 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 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

Jonathan Marker’s Journal 21

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 undis-

covered, 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 mat-

ters.

«Come, ' he said at last, «tell me of London and 01 the house

which you have procured for me.» With an apology for my re-

missness, I went into my own room to get the papers from my

bag. Whilst I was placing them in order I heard a rattling of

china and silver in the next room, and as I passed through, no-

ticed 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, read-

ing, 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 neigh-

bourhood, 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

22 Dracula

estate at Purfleet. When I had told him the facts and got his

signature to the necessary papers, and had written a letter with

them ready to post to Mr. Hawkins, he began to ask me how I

had come across so suitable a place. I read to him the notes which

I had made at the time, and which I inscribe here :

«At Purfleet, on a by-road, I came across just such a place as

seemed to be required, and where was displayed a dilapidated

notice that the place was for sale. It 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 estate is called Carfax, no doubt a corruption of the old

Quatre Face, as the house is four-sided, agreeing with the car-

dinal points of the compass. It contains in all some twenty acres,

quite surrounded by the solid stone wall above mentioned.

There are many trees on it, which make it in places gloomy, and

there is a deep, dark-looking pond or small lake, evidently fed

t> y 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 im-

mensely 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 has been added to,

but in a very straggling way, and I can only guess at the amount

of ground it covers, which must be very great. There are but few

houses close at hand, one being a very large house only recently

added to and formed into a private lunatic asylum. It is not,

however, visible from the grounds.»

When I had finished, he said:

«I am glad that it is old and big. I myself am of an old family,

and to live in a new house would kill me. A house cannot be made

habitable in a day; and, after all, how few days go to make up

a century. I rejoice also that there is a chapel of old times. We

Transylvanian nobles love not to think that our bones may lie

amongst the common dead. I» seek not gaiety nor mirth, not

the bright voluptuousness of much sunshine and sparkling

waters which please the young and gay. I am no longer young;

and my heart, through weary years of mourning over the dead,

is not attuned to mirth. Moreover, the walls of my castle are

broken; the shadows are many, and the wind breathes cold

through the broken battlements and casements. I love the

Jonathan Marker’s Journal 23

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, asidng me to put all 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 at 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 York-

shire 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 in-

deed, but I did not say anything, for I felt under obligation to

meet my host’s wishes in every way. I was not sleepy, as the

long sleep yesterday had fortified me; but I could not help ex-

periencing 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

the dawn or at the turn of the tide; any one 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 a 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 regard-

ing 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 own room and drew the curtains, but there was

little to notice; my window opened into the courtyard, all I

could see was the warm grey of quickening sky. So I pulled the

curtains again, and have written of this day.

24 Dracula

8 May. I began to fear as I wrote in this book that I was get-

ting too diffuse; but now I am glad that I went into detail from

s the first, for there is something so strange about this place and

all in it that I cannot but feel uneasy. I wish I were safe out of

it, or that I had never come. It may be that this strange night-

existence is telling on me; but would that that were all! If there

were any one to talk to I could bear it, but there is no one. I

have only the Count to speak with, and he! I fear I am myself

the only living soul within the place. Let me be prosaic so far as

facts can be; it wiirhelp me to bear up, and imagination must

not run riot with me. If it does I am lost. Let me say at once how

I stand or seem to.

I only slept a few hours when I went to bed, and feeling that

I could not sleep any more, got up. I had hung my shaving glass

by the window, and was just beginning to shave. Suddenly I

felt a hand on my shoulder, and heard the Count’s voice saying

to me, "Good-morning.» I started, for it amazed me that I had

not seen him, since the reflection of the glass covered the whole

room behind me. In starting I had cut myself slightly, – but did

not notice it at the moment. Having answered the Count’s

salutation, I turned to the glass again to see how I had been

mistaken. This time there could be no error, for the man was

close to me, and I could see him over my shoulder. But there

was no reflection of him in the mirror! The whole room behind

me was displayed; but there was no sign of a man in it, except

myself. This was startling, and, coming on the top of so many

strange things, was beginning to increase that vague feeling of

uneasiness which I always have when the Count is near; but at

the instant I saw that the cut had bled a little, and the blood

was trickling over my chin. I laid down the razor, turning as I

did so half round to look for some sticking plaster. When the

Count saw my lacCj, Jiis eyes blazed_with a sort of demoniac

fury, ancThe suddenly made a grab at myj^roat.,! drewaway,

and his hand touched the.string of beads which held the crucifix.

It made an instant change ir> Mm, 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 than 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 heavy 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.

Jonathan Marker’s Journal 25

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 bot-

tom of the shaving-pot, which is fortunately of metal.

When I went into the dining-room, breakfast was prepared;

but I could not find the Count anywhere. So I breakfasted alone.

It is strange that as yet I have not seen the Count eat or drink.

He must be a very peculiar man! After breakfast I did a little

exploring in the castle. I went out on the stairs, and found a room

looking towards the South. The view was magnificent, and from

where I stood there was every opportunity of seeing it. The

castle is on the very edge of a terrible precipice. A stone falling

from the window would fall a thousand feet without touching

anything! As far as the eye can reach is a sea of green tree tops,

with occasionally a deep rift where there is a chasm. Here and

there are silver threads where the rivers wind in deep gorges

through the forests.

But I am not in heart to describe beauty, for when I had seen

the view I explored further; doors, doors, doors everywhere, and

all locked and bolted. In no place save from the windows in the

castle walls is there an available exit.

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