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!
CHAPTER III
JONATHAN BARKER’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 help-
less 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 conclu-
sion. 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 impris-
oned; and as he has done it himself, and has doubtless his own
motives for it, he would only deceive me if I trusted him fully
with the facts. So far as I can see, my only plan will be to keep
my knowledge and my fears to myself, and my eyes open. I
am, I know, either being deceived, like a baby, by my own fears,
or else I am in desperate straits; and if the latter be so, I need,
and shall need, all my brains to get through.
I had hardly come to this conclusion when I heard the great
door below shut, and knew that the Count had returned. He
did not come at once into the library, so I went 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 were
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 to do them. This gave
me a fright, for if 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 hold-
ing up his hand in silence. How was it that all the people at Bis-
tritz and on the coach had some terrible fear for me? What
meant the giving of the crucifix, of the garlic, of the wild rose,