a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no ray
of light, and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line
against the moonlit sky.
CHAPTER II
JONATHAN BARKER’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 remark-
able place. In the gloom the courtyard looked of considerable
size, and as several dark ways led from it under great round
arches, it perhaps seemed bigger than it really is. I have not yet
been able to see it by daylight.
When the caleche stopped, the driver jumped down and held
out his hand to assist me to alight. Again I could not but notice
his prodigious strength. His hand actually seemed like a steel
vice that could have crushed mine if he had chosen. Then he
took out my traps, and placed them on the ground beside me as
I stood close to a great door, old and studded with large iron
nails, and set in a projecting doorway of massive stone. I could
see even in the dim light that the stone was massively carved,
but that the carving had been much worn by time and weather.
As I stood, the driver jumped again into his seat ’and shook the
reins; the horses started forward, and trap and all disappeared
.down one of the dark openings.
I stood in silence where I was, fc~ 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 ad-
venture 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 Lon-
don I got word that my examination was successful; and I am
now a full-blown solicitor! I began to rub my eyes and pinch
myself to see if I were awake. It all seemed like a horrible night-
mare to me, and I expected that I should suddenly awake, and
14
Jonathan Marker’s Journal 15
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 the morning.
Just as I had come to this conclusion I heard a heavy step
approaching behind the great door, and saw through the chinks
the gleam of a coming light. Then there was the sound of rattling
chains and the clanking of massive bolts drawn back. A key was
turned with the loud grating noise of long disuse, and the great
door swung back.
Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white
moustache, and clad in black from head to. oot, without a single
speck of colour about him anywhere. He ’held in his hand an
antique silver lamp, in which the flame burned without 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 vith a courtly gesture, saying in excel-
lent English, but with a. strange intonation:
«Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own will!»*
He made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a
statue, as though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone.
The instant, however, that I had stepped over the threshold,
he moved impulsively forward, and holding out his hand grasped
mine with a strength which made me wince,.an effect which was
not lessened by the fact. that it seemed as cold as ice more like
the hand of a dead than a living man. Again he said:
«Welcome to my house. Come 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 wind-
16 Dracula
ing 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 with-
out a window of any sort. Passing through this, he opened an-
other door, and motioned me to enter. It was a welcome sight;
for here was a great bedroom well lighted and warmed with
another log fire, also added to but lately, for the top logs were
fresh which sent a hollow roar up the wide chimney. The Count
himself left my luggage inside and withdrew, saying, before he
closed the door:
«You will need, after your journey, to refresh yourself by
making your toilet. I trust you will find all you wish. When you
are ready, come into the other room, where you will find your
supper prepared.»
The light and warmth and the Count’s courteous welcome
seemed to have dissipated all my doubts and fears. Having then
reached my normal state, I discovered that I was half famished
with hunger; so making a hasty toilet, I went into the other room.
I found supper already laid out. My host, who stood on one
side of the great fireplace, leaning against the stonework, made
a graceful wave of his hand to the table, and said:
«I pray you, be seated and sup how you please. You will, I
trust, excuse me that I do not join you; but I have dined already,
and I do not sup.»
I handed to him the sealed letter which Mr. Hawkins had en-
trusted 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 1
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 confi-
dence. 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
Jonathan Harker’s Journal 17
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 de-
sire had drawn up a chair by the fire and begun to smoke a cigaf
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-jnDJUs^Ux^'^aj.^ecr’and ratheTTriiel-looking, with
peculiarly sharp ~^bffiL&&pEKese protnifer"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 extraor-
dinary 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 pahn. 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 o\ er me, which, do what I would, I could not con-
ceal. The Count, evidently noticing it, drew back; and with a
grim sort of smile, which showed more than he had yet done his
protuberant teeth, sat himself down again on his own side of
the fireplace. We were both silent for a while; and as I looked
towards the window I saw the first dim streak of the coming
dawn. There seemed a strange stillness over everything; but as
I listened I heard as if fr^m 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:
i8 Dracula
«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 to-
morrow you shall sleep as late as you will. I have to be away
till the afternoon; so sleep well and dream well!» With a cour-
teous 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!
f
7 May. It is again early morning, but I have rested and en-
joyed 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
heartK. 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 beauti-
fully 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 there they were worn and frayed
and moth-eaten. But still in none of the rooms is there a mirror.
There is not even a toilet glass on my table, and I had to get the
little shaving glass from my bag before I could either shave or
brush my hair. I have not yet seen a servant anywhere, or heard
a sound near the castle except the howling of wolves. Some time
after I had finished my meal I do not know whether to call it
breakfast or dinner, for it was between five and six o’clock when
I had it I looked about for something to read, for I did not like
to go about the castle until I had asked the Count’s permission.
There was absolutely nothing in the room, book, newspaper, or
even writing materials; so I opened another door in the room and
found a sort of library. The door opposite mine I tried, but found
it locked.
In the library I found, to my great delight, a vast number of
Jonathan Marker’s Journal 19
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 cus-
toms and manners. There were even such books of reference as
the London Directory, the «Red» and «Blue» books, Whit-
aker’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 tr^p
Count entered. He saluted me in a hearty way, and hoped that
I had had a good night’s rest. Then he went on:
«I am glad you found your way in here, for I am sure there is
much that will interest you. These companions» and he laid
his hand on some of the books «have been good friends to me,
and for some years past, ever since I had the idea of going to
London, have given me many, many hours of pleasure. Through
them I have come to know your great England; and to know her
is to love her. I long to go through the crowded streets of your
mighty London, to be in the midst of the whirl and rush of
humanity, to share its life, its change, its death, and all that
makes it what it is. But alas! as yet I only know your tongue
through books. To you, my friend, I look that I know it to
speak.»
«But, Count,» I said, «you know and speak English thor-
oughly!» 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 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