No More Learning

He went rapidly to where
the blue flame rose--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 circle.

At last there came a time when the driver went further afield than he
had yet done, 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 altogether; 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 that 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 darkness.

When I could see again the driver was climbing into the caleche, and
the wolves had disappeared. 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 moonlit
sky.




CHAPTER II.

/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 to 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 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, 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 solicitor! 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 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 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 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 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 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 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, 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 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 much 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 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
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 to-morrow you
shall sleep as late as you will. I have to be away till the afternoon;
so sleep well and dream well! " and, 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. " So 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 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
for the howling of wolves. When 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 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 manners. There were even such books of reference as the
London Directory, the "Red" and "Blue" books, Whitaker's Almanack, 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 you. These friends"--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 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 _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 pause in
his speaking if he hear my words, to say, '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 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 experiences already, you know something
of what strange things here 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 we had seen the
blue flames. Was it indeed true that they showed where gold was hidden?
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 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. 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 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, 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 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 were 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 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 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 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 that there is a chapel of old times. We Transylvanian nobles
love not to think that our bones may be 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 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 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
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 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 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 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 quickening sky. 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 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 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 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 that 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 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 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. 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 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 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 things. 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 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 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 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. To-night 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 Transylvanian history, and he warmed up to the subject
wonderfully. 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,
ay, and of Asia and Africa, too, till the peoples thought that the
were-wolves 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 Turkey-land;
ay, and more than that, endless duty of the frontier guard, for, as
the Turks say, 'water sleeps, and 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 Turkey-land; who, when he was beaten back, came again, and 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 triumph? 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 cock-crow--or like the ghost of Hamlet's
father. )

_12 May. _--Let me begin with facts--bare, meagre 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 inquires, 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 him to explain more fully, so that I might not by
any chance mislead him, so he said:--

"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.
Good! 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 resident 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 refusal. When your master,
employer, what you will, engaged that some one 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's 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 notepaper 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 under-lip, I
understood as well as if he had spoken that I should be 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 in 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.