{"id":26,"date":"2019-02-25T20:46:59","date_gmt":"2019-02-25T20:46:59","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.ryerson.ca\/dracula\/chapter\/dracula-2\/"},"modified":"2019-03-18T19:08:39","modified_gmt":"2019-03-18T19:08:39","slug":"2","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/chapter\/2\/","title":{"raw":"Chapter 2 - Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued","rendered":"Chapter 2 – Jonathan Harker’s Journal Continued"},"content":{"raw":"
\r\n\r\n5 May.\u2014I must have been asleep, for certainly if I had been\r\nfully awake I must have noticed the approach of such a remarkable\r\nplace. In the gloom the courtyard looked of considerable size, and\r\nas several dark ways led from it under great round arches, it\r\nperhaps seemed bigger than it really is. I have not yet been able\r\nto see it by daylight.\r\n\r\nWhen the caleche stopped, the driver jumped down and held out\r\nhis hand to assist me to alight. Again I could not but notice his\r\nprodigious strength. His hand actually seemed like a steel vice\r\nthat could have crushed mine if he had chosen. Then he took my\r\ntraps, and placed them on the ground beside me as I stood close to\r\na great door, old and studded with large iron nails, and set in a\r\nprojecting doorway of massive stone. I could see even in the dim\r\nlight that the stone was massively carved, but that the carving had\r\nbeen much worn by time and weather. As I stood, the driver jumped\r\nagain into his seat and shook the reins. The horses started\r\nforward, and trap and all disappeared down one of the dark\r\nopenings.\r\n\r\nI stood in silence where I was, for I did not know what to do.\r\nOf bell or knocker there was no sign. Through these frowning walls\r\nand dark window openings it was not likely that my voice could\r\npenetrate. The time I waited seemed endless, and I felt doubts and\r\nfears crowding upon me. What sort of place had I come to, and among\r\nwhat kind of people? What sort of grim adventure was it on which I\r\nhad embarked? Was this a customary incident in the life of a\r\nsolicitor's clerk sent out to explain the purchase of a London\r\nestate to a foreigner? Solicitor's clerk! Mina would not like that.\r\nSolicitor, for just before leaving London I got word that my\r\nexamination was successful, and I am now a full-blown solicitor! I\r\nbegan to rub my eyes and pinch myself to see if I were awake. It\r\nall seemed like a horrible nightmare to me, and I expected that I\r\nshould suddenly awake, and find myself at home, with the dawn\r\nstruggling in through the windows, as I had now and again felt in\r\nthe morning after a day of overwork. But my flesh answered the\r\npinching test, and my eyes were not to be deceived. I was indeed\r\nawake and among the Carpathians. All I could do now was to be\r\npatient, and to wait the coming of morning.\r\n\r\nJust as I had come to this conclusion I heard a heavy step\r\napproaching behind the great door, and saw through the chinks the\r\ngleam of a coming light. Then there was the sound of rattling\r\nchains and the clanking of massive bolts drawn back. A key was\r\nturned with the loud grating noise of long disuse, and the great\r\ndoor swung back.\r\n\r\nWithin, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white\r\nmoustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single\r\nspeck of colour about him anywhere. He held in his hand an antique\r\nsilver lamp, in which the flame burned without a chimney or globe\r\nof any kind, throwing long quivering shadows as it flickered in the\r\ndraught of the open door. The old man motioned me in with his right\r\nhand with a courtly gesture, saying in excellent English, but with\r\na strange intonation.\r\n\r\n\"Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own free will!\"\r\nHe made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue,\r\nas though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone. The\r\ninstant, however, that I had stepped over the threshold, he moved\r\nimpulsively forward, and holding out his hand grasped mine with a\r\nstrength which made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by\r\nthe fact that it seemed cold as ice, more like the hand of a dead\r\nthan a living man. Again he said.\r\n\r\n\"Welcome to my house! Enter freely. Go safely, and leave\r\nsomething of the happiness you bring!\" The strength of the\r\nhandshake was so much akin to that which I had noticed in the\r\ndriver, whose face I had not seen, that for a moment I doubted if\r\nit were not the same person to whom I was speaking. So to make\r\nsure, I said interrogatively, \"Count Dracula?\"\r\n\r\nHe bowed in a courtly was as he replied, \"I am Dracula, and I\r\nbid you welcome, Mr. Harker, to my house. Come in, the night air is\r\nchill, and you must need to eat and rest.\"As he was speaking, he\r\nput the lamp on a bracket on the wall, and stepping out, took my\r\nluggage. He had carried it in before I could forestall him. I\r\nprotested, but he insisted.\r\n\r\n\"Nay, sir, you are my guest. It is late, and my people are not\r\navailable. Let me see to your comfort myself.\"He insisted on\r\ncarrying my traps along the passage, and then up a great winding\r\nstair, and along another great passage, on whose stone floor our\r\nsteps rang heavily. At the end of this he threw open a heavy door,\r\nand I rejoiced to see within a well-lit room in which a table was\r\nspread for supper, and on whose mighty hearth a great fire of logs,\r\nfreshly replenished, flamed and flared.\r\n\r\nThe Count halted, putting down my bags, closed the door, and\r\ncrossing the room, opened another door, which led into a small\r\noctagonal room lit by a single lamp, and seemingly without a window\r\nof any sort. Passing through this, he opened another door, and\r\nmotioned me to enter. It was a welcome sight. For here was a great\r\nbedroom well lighted and warmed with another log fire, also added\r\nto but lately, for the top logs were fresh, which sent a hollow\r\nroar up the wide chimney. The Count himself left my luggage inside\r\nand withdrew, saying, before he closed the door.\r\n\r\n\"You will need, after your journey, to refresh yourself by\r\nmaking your toilet. I trust you will find all you wish. When you\r\nare ready, come into the other room, where you will find your\r\nsupper prepared.\"\r\n\r\nThe light and warmth and the Count's courteous welcome seemed to\r\nhave dissipated all my doubts and fears. Having then reached my\r\nnormal state, I discovered that I was half famished with hunger. So\r\nmaking a hasty toilet, I went into the other room.\r\n\r\nI found supper already laid out. My host, who stood on one side\r\nof the great fireplace, leaning against the stonework, made a\r\ngraceful wave of his hand to the table, and said,\r\n\r\n\"I pray you, be seated and sup how you please. You will I trust,\r\nexcuse me that I do not join you, but I have dined already, and I\r\ndo not sup.\"\r\n\r\nI handed to him the sealed letter which Mr. Hawkins had\r\nentrusted to me. He opened it and read it gravely. Then, with a\r\ncharming smile, he handed it to me to read. One passage of it, at\r\nleast, gave me a thrill of pleasure.\r\n\r\n\"I must regret that an attack of gout, from which malady I am a\r\nconstant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travelling on my part for\r\nsome time to come. But I am happy to say I can send a sufficient\r\nsubstitute, one in whom I have every possible confidence. He is a\r\nyoung man, full of energy and talent in his own way, and of a very\r\nfaithful disposition. He is discreet and silent, and has grown into\r\nmanhood in my service. He shall be ready to attend on you when you\r\nwill during his stay, and shall take your instructions in all\r\nmatters.\"\r\n\r\nThe count himself came forward and took off the cover of a dish,\r\nand I fell to at once on an excellent roast chicken. This, with\r\nsome cheese and a salad and a bottle of old tokay, of which I had\r\ntwo glasses, was my supper. During the time I was eating it the\r\nCount asked me many question as to my journey, and I told him by\r\ndegrees all I had experienced.\r\n\r\nBy this time I had finished my supper, and by my host's desire\r\nhad drawn up a chair by the fire and begun to smoke a cigar which\r\nhe offered me, at the same time excusing himself that he did not\r\nsmoke. I had now an opportunity of observing him, and found him of\r\na very marked physiognomy.\r\n\r\nHis face was a strong, a very strong, aquiline, with high bridge\r\nof the thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils, with lofty domed\r\nforehead, and hair growing scantily round the temples but profusely\r\nelsewhere. His eyebrows were very massive, almost meeting over the\r\nnose, and with bushy hair that seemed to curl in its own profusion.\r\nThe mouth, so far as I could see it under the heavy moustache, was\r\nfixed and rather cruel-looking, with peculiarly sharp white teeth.\r\nThese protruded over the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed\r\nastonishing vitality in a man of his years. For the rest, his ears\r\nwere pale, and at the tops extremely pointed. The chin was broad\r\nand strong, and the cheeks firm though thin. The general effect was\r\none of extraordinary pallor.\r\n\r\nHitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his\r\nknees in the firelight, and they had seemed rather white and fine.\r\nBut seeing them now close to me, I could not but notice that they\r\nwere rather coarse, broad, with squat fingers. Strange to say,\r\nthere were hairs in the centre of the palm. The nails were long and\r\nfine, and cut to a sharp point. As the Count leaned over me and his\r\nhands touched me, I could not repress a shudder. It may have been\r\nthat his breath was rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea came\r\nover me, which, do what I would, I could not conceal.\r\n\r\nThe Count, evidently noticing it, drew back. And with a grim\r\nsort of smile, which showed more than he had yet done his\r\nprotruberant teeth, sat himself down again on his own side of the\r\nfireplace. We were both silent for a while, and as I looked towards\r\nthe window I saw the first dim streak of the coming dawn. There\r\nseemed a strange stillness over everything. But as I listened, I\r\nheard as if from down below in the valley the howling of many\r\nwolves. The Count's eyes gleamed, and he said.\r\n\r\n\"Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they\r\nmake!\" Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to\r\nhim, he added,\"Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into\r\nthe feelings of the hunter.\" Then he rose and said.\r\n\r\n\"But you must be tired. Your bedroom is all ready, and tomorrow\r\nyou shall sleep as late as you will. I have to be away till the\r\nafternoon, so sleep well and dream well!\" With a courteous bow, he\r\nopened for me himself the door to the octagonal room, and I entered\r\nmy bedroom.\r\n\r\nI am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt. I fear. I think strange\r\nthings, which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if\r\nonly for the sake of those dear to me!\r\n\r\n7 May.\u2014It is again early morning, but I have rested and enjoyed\r\nthe last twenty-four hours. I slept till late in the day, and awoke\r\nof my own accord. When I had dressed myself I went into the room\r\nwhere we had supped, and found a cold breakfast laid out, with\r\ncoffee kept hot by the pot being placed on the hearth. There was a\r\ncard on the table, on which was written\u2014\r\n\r\n\"I have to be absent for a while. Do not wait for me. D.\" I set\r\nto and enjoyed a hearty meal. When I had done, I looked for a bell,\r\nso that I might let the servants know I had finished, but I could\r\nnot find one. There are certainly odd deficiencies in the house,\r\nconsidering the extraordinary evidences of wealth which are round\r\nme. The table service is of gold, and so beautifully wrought that\r\nit must be of immense value. The curtains and upholstery of the\r\nchairs and sofas and the hangings of my bed are of the costliest\r\nand most beautiful fabrics, and must have been of fabulous value\r\nwhen they were made, for they are centuries old, though in\r\nexcellent order. I saw something like them in Hampton Court, but\r\nthey were worn and frayed and moth-eaten. But still in none of the\r\nrooms is there a mirror. There is not even a toilet glass on my\r\ntable, and I had to get the little shaving glass from my bag before\r\nI could either shave or brush my hair. I have not yet seen a\r\nservant anywhere, or heard a sound near the castle except the\r\nhowling of wolves. Some time after I had finished my meal, I do not\r\nknow whether to call it breakfast of dinner, for it was between\r\nfive and six o'clock when I had it, I looked about for something to\r\nread, for I did not like to go about the castle until I had asked\r\nthe Count's permission. There was absolutely nothing in the room,\r\nbook, newspaper, or even writing materials, so I opened another\r\ndoor in the room and found a sort of library. The door opposite\r\nmine I tried, but found locked.\r\n\r\nIn the library I found, to my great delight, a vast number of\r\nEnglish books, whole shelves full of them, and bound volumes of\r\nmagazines and newspapers. A table in the center was littered with\r\nEnglish magazines and newspapers, though none of them were of very\r\nrecent date. The books were of the most varied kind, history,\r\ngeography, politics, political economy, botany, geology, law, all\r\nrelating to England and English life and customs and manners. There\r\nwere even such books of reference as the London Directory, the\r\n\"Red\" and \"Blue\" books, Whitaker's Almanac, the Army and Navy\r\nLists, and it somehow gladdened my heart to see it, the Law\r\nList.\r\n\r\nWhilst I was looking at the books, the door opened, and the\r\nCount entered. He saluted me in a hearty way, and hoped that I had\r\nhad a good night's rest. Then he went on.\r\n\r\n\"I am glad you found your way in here, for I am sure there is\r\nmuch that will interest you. These companions,\" and he laid his\r\nhand on some of the books, \"have been good friends to me, and for\r\nsome years past, ever since I had the idea of going to London, have\r\ngiven me many, many hours of pleasure. Through them I have come to\r\nknow your great England, and to know her is to love her. I long to\r\ngo through the crowded streets of your mighty London, to be in the\r\nmidst of the whirl and rush of humanity, to share its life, its\r\nchange, its death, and all that makes it what it is. But alas! As\r\nyet I only know your tongue through books. To you, my friend, I\r\nlook that I know it to speak.\"\r\n\r\n\"But, Count,\" I said, \"You know and speak English thoroughly!\"\r\nHe bowed gravely.\r\n\r\n\"I thank you, my friend, for your all too-flattering estimate,\r\nbut yet I fear that I am but a little way on the road I would\r\ntravel. True, I know the grammar and the words, but yet I know not\r\nhow to speak them.\r\n\r\n\"Indeed,\" I said, \"You speak excellently.\"\r\n\r\n\"Not so,\" he answered. \"Well, I know that, did I move and speak\r\nin your London, none there are who would not know me for a\r\nstranger. That is not enough for me. Here I am noble. I am a [pb_glossary id=\"118\"]Boyar.[\/pb_glossary]\r\nThe common people know me, and I am master. But a stranger in a\r\nstrange land, he is no one. Men know him not, and to know not is to\r\ncare not for. I am content if I am like the rest, so that no man\r\nstops if he sees me, or pauses in his speaking if he hears my\r\nwords, `Ha, ha! A stranger!' I have been so long master that I\r\nwould be master still, or at least that none other should be master\r\nof me. You come to me not alone as agent of my friend Peter\r\nHawkins, of Exeter, to tell me all about my new estate in London.\r\nYou shall, I trust, rest here with me a while, so that by our\r\ntalking I may learn the English intonation. And I would that you\r\ntell me when I make error, even of the smallest, in my speaking. I\r\nam sorry that I had to be away so long today, but you will, I know\r\nforgive one who has so many important affairs in hand.\" Of course I\r\nsaid all I could about being willing, and asked if I might come\r\ninto that room when I chose. He answered, \"Yes, certainly,\" and\r\nadded.\r\n\r\n\"You may go anywhere you wish in the castle, except where the\r\ndoors are locked, where of course you will not wish to go. There is\r\nreason that all things are as they are, and did you see with my\r\neyes and know with my knowledge, you would perhaps better\r\nunderstand.\" I said I was sure of this, and then he went on.\r\n\r\n\"We are in Transylvania, and Transylvania is not England. Our\r\nways are not your ways, and there shall be to you many strange\r\nthings. Nay, from what you have told me of your experiences\r\nalready, you know something of what strange things there may\r\nbe.\"\r\n\r\nThis led to much conversation, and as it was evident that he\r\nwanted to talk, if only for talking's sake, I asked him many\r\nquestions regarding things that had already happened to me or come\r\nwithin my notice. Sometimes he sheered off the subject, or turned\r\nthe conversation by pretending not to understand, but generally he\r\nanswered all I asked most frankly. Then as time went on, and I had\r\ngot somewhat bolder, I asked him of some of the strange things of\r\nthe preceding night, as for instance, why the coachman went to the\r\nplaces where he had seen the blue flames. He then explained to me\r\nthat it was commonly believed that on a certain night of the year,\r\nlast night, in fact, when all evil spirits are supposed to have\r\nunchecked sway, a blue flame is seen over any place where treasure\r\nhas been concealed.\r\n\r\n\"That treasure has been hidden,\" he went on, \"in the region\r\nthrough which you came last night, there can be but little doubt.\r\nFor it was the ground fought over for centuries by the Wallachian,\r\nthe Saxon, and the Turk. Why, there is hardly a foot of soil in all\r\nthis region that has not been enriched by the blood of men,\r\npatriots or invaders. In the old days there were stirring times,\r\nwhen the Austrian and the Hungarian came up in hordes, and the\r\npatriots went out to meet them, men and women, the aged and the\r\nchildren too, and waited their coming on the rocks above the\r\npasses, that they might sweep destruction on them with their\r\nartificial avalanches. When the invader was triumphant he found but\r\nlittle, for whatever there was had been sheltered in the friendly\r\nsoil.\"\r\n\r\n\"But how,\" said I, \"can it have remained so long undiscovered,\r\nwhen there is a sure index to it if men will but take the trouble\r\nto look? \"The Count smiled, and as his lips ran back over his gums,\r\nthe long, sharp, canine teeth showed out strangely. He\r\nanswered.\r\n\r\n\"Because your peasant is at heart a coward and a fool! Those\r\nflames only appear on one night, and on that night no man of this\r\nland will, if he can help it, stir without his doors. And, dear\r\nsir, even if he did he would not know what to do. Why, even the\r\npeasant that you tell me of who marked the place of the flame would\r\nnot know where to look in daylight even for his own work. Even you\r\nwould not, I dare be sworn, be able to find these places\r\nagain?\"\r\n\r\n\"There you are right,\" I said. \"I know no more than the dead\r\nwhere even to look for them.\" Then we drifted into other\r\nmatters.\r\n\r\n\"Come,\" he said at last, \"tell me of London and of the house\r\nwhich you have procured for me.\" With an apology for my remissness,\r\nI went into my own room to get the papers from my bag. Whilst I was\r\nplacing them in order I heard a rattling of china and silver in the\r\nnext room, and as I passed through, noticed that the table had been\r\ncleared and the lamp lit, for it was by this time deep into the\r\ndark. The lamps were also lit in the study or library, and I found\r\nthe Count lying on the sofa, reading, of all things in the world,\r\nand English [pb_glossary id=\"119\"]Bradshaw's Guide[\/pb_glossary]. When I came in he cleared the books\r\nand papers from the table, and with him I went into plans and deeds\r\nand figures of all sorts. He was interested in everything, and\r\nasked me a myriad questions about the place and its surroundings.\r\nHe clearly had studied beforehand all he could get on the subject\r\nof the neighborhood, for he evidently at the end knew very much\r\nmore than I did. When I remarked this, he answered.\r\n\r\n\"Well, but, my friend, is it not needful that I should? When I\r\ngo there I shall be all alone, and my friend Harker Jonathan, nay,\r\npardon me. I fall into my country's habit of putting your\r\npatronymic first, my friend Jonathan Harker will not be by my side\r\nto correct and aid me. He will be in Exeter, miles away, probably\r\nworking at papers of the law with my other friend, Peter Hawkins.\r\nSo!\"\r\n\r\nWe went thoroughly into the business of the purchase of the\r\nestate at Purfleet. When I had told him the facts and got his\r\nsignature to the necessary papers, and had written a letter with\r\nthem ready to post to Mr. Hawkins, he began to ask me how I had\r\ncome across so suitable a place. I read to him the notes which I\r\nhad made at the time, and which I inscribe here.\r\n\r\n\"At Purfleet, on a by-road, I came across just such a place as\r\nseemed to be required, and where was displayed a dilapidated notice\r\nthat the place was for sale. It was surrounded by a high wall, of\r\nancient structure, built of heavy stones, and has not been repaired\r\nfor a large number of years. The closed gates are of heavy old oak\r\nand iron, all eaten with rust.\r\n\r\n\"The estate is called Carfax, no doubt a corruption of the old\r\nQuatre Face, as the house is four sided, agreeing with the cardinal\r\npoints of the compass. It contains in all some twenty acres, quite\r\nsurrounded by the solid stone wall above mentioned. There are many\r\ntrees on it, which make it in places gloomy, and there is a deep,\r\ndark-looking pond or small lake, evidently fed by some springs, as\r\nthe water is clear and flows away in a fair-sized stream. The house\r\nis very large and of all periods back, I should say, to mediaeval\r\ntimes, for one part is of stone immensely thick, with only a few\r\nwindows high up and heavily barred with iron. It looks like part of\r\na keep, and is close to an old chapel or church. I could not enter\r\nit, as I had not the key of the door leading to it from the house,\r\nbut I have taken with my Kodak views of it from various points. The\r\nhouse had been added to, but in a very straggling way, and I can\r\nonly guess at the amount of ground it covers, which must be very\r\ngreat. There are but few houses close at hand, one being a very\r\nlarge house only recently added to and formed into a private\r\nlunatic asylum. It is not, however, visible from the grounds.\"\r\n\r\nWhen I had finished, he said, \"I am glad that it is old and big.\r\nI myself am of an old family, and to live in a new house would kill\r\nme. A house cannot be made habitable in a day, and after all, how\r\nfew days go to make up a century. I rejoice also that there is a\r\nchapel of old times. We Transylvanian nobles love not to think that\r\nour bones may lie amongst the common dead. I seek not gaiety nor\r\nmirth, not the bright voluptuousness of much sunshine and sparkling\r\nwaters which please the young and gay. I am no longer young, and my\r\nheart, through weary years of mourning over the dead, is attuned to\r\nmirth. Moreover, the walls of my castle are broken. The shadows are\r\nmany, and the wind breathes cold through the broken battlements and\r\ncasements. I love the shade and the shadow, and would be alone with\r\nmy thoughts when I may.\" Somehow his words and his look did not\r\nseem to accord, or else it was that his cast of face made his smile\r\nlook malignant and saturnine.\r\n\r\nPresently, with an excuse, he left me, asking me to pull my\r\npapers together. He was some little time away, and I began to look\r\nat some of the books around me. One was an atlas, which I found\r\nopened naturally to England, as if that map had been much used. On\r\nlooking at it I found in certain places little rings marked, and on\r\nexamining these I noticed that one was near London on the east\r\nside, manifestly where his new estate was situated. The other two\r\nwere Exeter, and Whitby on the Yorkshire coast.\r\n\r\nIt was the better part of an hour when the Count returned.\r\n\"Aha!\" he said. \"Still at your books? Good! But you must not work\r\nalways. Come! I am informed that your supper is ready.\" He took my\r\narm, and we went into the next room, where I found an excellent\r\nsupper ready on the table. The Count again excused himself, as he\r\nhad dined out on his being away from home. But he sat as on the\r\nprevious night, and chatted whilst I ate. After supper I smoked, as\r\non the last evening, and the Count stayed with me, chatting and\r\nasking questions on every conceivable subject, hour after hour. I\r\nfelt that it was getting very late indeed, but I did not say\r\nanything, for I felt under obligation to meet my host's wishes in\r\nevery way. I was not sleepy, as the long sleep yesterday had\r\nfortified me, but I could not help experiencing that chill which\r\ncomes over one at the coming of the dawn, which is like, in its\r\nway, the turn of the tide. They say that people who are near death\r\ndie generally at the change to dawn or at the turn of the tide.\r\nAnyone who has when tired, and tied as it were to his post,\r\nexperienced this change in the atmosphere can well believe it. All\r\nat once we heard the crow of the cock coming up with preternatural\r\nshrillness through the clear morning air.\r\n\r\nCount Dracula, jumping to his feet, said, \"Why there is the\r\nmorning again! How remiss I am to let you stay up so long. You must\r\nmake your conversation regarding my dear new country of England\r\nless interesting, so that I may not forget how time flies by us,\"\r\nand with a courtly bow, he quickly left me.\r\n\r\nI went into my room and drew the curtains, but there was little\r\nto notice. My window opened into the courtyard, all I could see was\r\nthe warm grey of quickening sky. So I pulled the curtains again,\r\nand have written of this day.\r\n\r\n8 May.\u2014I began to fear as I wrote in this book that I was\r\ngetting too diffuse. But now I am glad that I went into detail from\r\nthe first, for there is something so strange about this place and\r\nall in it that I cannot but feel uneasy. I wish I were safe out of\r\nit, or that I had never come. It may be that this strange night\r\nexistence is telling on me, but would that that were all! If there\r\nwere any one to talk to I could bear it, but there is no one. I\r\nhave only the Count to speak with, and he\u2014 I fear I am myself the\r\nonly living soul within the place. Let me be prosaiac so far as\r\nfacts can be. It will help me to bear up, and imagination must not\r\nrun riot with me. If it does I am lost. Let me say at once how I\r\nstand, or seem to.\r\n\r\nI only slept a few hours when I went to bed, and feeling that I\r\ncould not sleep any more, got up. I had hung my shaving glass by\r\nthe window, and was just beginning to shave. Suddenly I felt a hand\r\non my shoulder, and heard the Count's voice saying to me, \"Good\r\nmorning.\" I started, for it amazed me that I had not seen him,\r\nsince the reflection of the glass covered the whole room behind me.\r\nIn starting I had cut myself slightly, but did not notice it at the\r\nmoment. Having answered the Count's salutation, I turned to the\r\nglass again to see how I had been mistaken. This time there could\r\nbe no error, for the man was close to me, and I could see him over\r\nmy shoulder. But there was no reflection of him in the mirror! The\r\nwhole room behind me was displayed, but there was no sign of a man\r\nin it, except myself.\r\n\r\nThis was startling, and coming on the top of so many strange\r\nthings, was beginning to increase that vague feeling of uneasiness\r\nwhich I always have when the Count is near. But at the instant I\r\nsaw the the cut had bled a little, and the blood was trickling over\r\nmy chin. I laid down the razor, turning as I did so half round to\r\nlook for some sticking plaster. When the Count saw my face, his\r\neyes blazed with a sort of demoniac fury, and he suddenly made a\r\ngrab at my throat. I drew away and his hand touched the string of\r\nbeads which held the crucifix. It made an instant change in him,\r\nfor the fury passed so quickly that I could hardly believe that it\r\nwas ever there.\r\n\r\n\"Take care,\" he said, \"take care how you cut yourself. It is\r\nmore dangerous that you think in this country.\" Then seizing the\r\nshaving glass, he went on, \"And this is the wretched thing that has\r\ndone the mischief. It is a foul bauble of man's vanity. Away with\r\nit!\" And opening the window with one wrench of his terrible hand,\r\nhe flung out the glass, which was shattered into a thousand pieces\r\non the stones of the courtyard far below. Then he withdrew without\r\na word. It is very annoying, for I do not see how I am to shave,\r\nunless in my watch-case or the bottom of the shaving pot, which is\r\nfortunately of metal.\r\n\r\nWhen I went into the dining room, breakfast was prepared, but I\r\ncould not find the Count anywhere. So I breakfasted alone. It is\r\nstrange that as yet I have not seen the Count eat or drink. He must\r\nbe a very peculiar man! After breakfast I did a little exploring in\r\nthe castle. I went out on the stairs, and found a room looking\r\ntowards the South.\r\n\r\nThe view was magnificent, and from where I stood there was every\r\nopportunity of seeing it. The castle is on the very edge of a\r\nterrific precipice. A stone falling from the window would fall a\r\nthousand feet without touching anything! As far as the eye can\r\nreach is a sea of green tree tops, with occasionally a deep rift\r\nwhere there is a chasm. Here and there are silver threads where the\r\nrivers wind in deep gorges through the forests.\r\n\r\nBut I am not in heart to describe beauty, for when I had seen\r\nthe view I explored further. Doors, doors, doors everywere, and all\r\nlocked and bolted. In no place save from the windows in the castle\r\nwalls is there an available exit. The castle is a veritable prison,\r\nand I am a prisoner!\r\n\r\n<\/div>","rendered":"
\n

5 May.\u2014I must have been asleep, for certainly if I had been
\nfully awake I must have noticed the approach of such a remarkable
\nplace. In the gloom the courtyard looked of considerable size, and
\nas several dark ways led from it under great round arches, it
\nperhaps seemed bigger than it really is. I have not yet been able
\nto see it by daylight.<\/p>\n

When the caleche stopped, the driver jumped down and held out
\nhis hand to assist me to alight. Again I could not but notice his
\nprodigious strength. His hand actually seemed like a steel vice
\nthat could have crushed mine if he had chosen. Then he took my
\ntraps, and placed them on the ground beside me as I stood close to
\na great door, old and studded with large iron nails, and set in a
\nprojecting doorway of massive stone. I could see even in the dim
\nlight that the stone was massively carved, but that the carving had
\nbeen much worn by time and weather. As I stood, the driver jumped
\nagain into his seat and shook the reins. The horses started
\nforward, and trap and all disappeared down one of the dark
\nopenings.<\/p>\n

I stood in silence where I was, for I did not know what to do.
\nOf bell or knocker there was no sign. Through these frowning walls
\nand dark window openings it was not likely that my voice could
\npenetrate. The time I waited seemed endless, and I felt doubts and
\nfears crowding upon me. What sort of place had I come to, and among
\nwhat kind of people? What sort of grim adventure was it on which I
\nhad embarked? Was this a customary incident in the life of a
\nsolicitor’s clerk sent out to explain the purchase of a London
\nestate to a foreigner? Solicitor’s clerk! Mina would not like that.
\nSolicitor, for just before leaving London I got word that my
\nexamination was successful, and I am now a full-blown solicitor! I
\nbegan to rub my eyes and pinch myself to see if I were awake. It
\nall seemed like a horrible nightmare to me, and I expected that I
\nshould suddenly awake, and find myself at home, with the dawn
\nstruggling in through the windows, as I had now and again felt in
\nthe morning after a day of overwork. But my flesh answered the
\npinching test, and my eyes were not to be deceived. I was indeed
\nawake and among the Carpathians. All I could do now was to be
\npatient, and to wait the coming of morning.<\/p>\n

Just as I had come to this conclusion I heard a heavy step
\napproaching behind the great door, and saw through the chinks the
\ngleam of a coming light. Then there was the sound of rattling
\nchains and the clanking of massive bolts drawn back. A key was
\nturned with the loud grating noise of long disuse, and the great
\ndoor swung back.<\/p>\n

Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white
\nmoustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single
\nspeck of colour about him anywhere. He held in his hand an antique
\nsilver lamp, in which the flame burned without a chimney or globe
\nof any kind, throwing long quivering shadows as it flickered in the
\ndraught of the open door. The old man motioned me in with his right
\nhand with a courtly gesture, saying in excellent English, but with
\na strange intonation.<\/p>\n

“Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own free will!”
\nHe made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue,
\nas though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone. The
\ninstant, however, that I had stepped over the threshold, he moved
\nimpulsively forward, and holding out his hand grasped mine with a
\nstrength which made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by
\nthe fact that it seemed cold as ice, more like the hand of a dead
\nthan a living man. Again he said.<\/p>\n

“Welcome to my house! Enter freely. Go safely, and leave
\nsomething of the happiness you bring!” The strength of the
\nhandshake was so much akin to that which I had noticed in the
\ndriver, whose face I had not seen, that for a moment I doubted if
\nit were not the same person to whom I was speaking. So to make
\nsure, I said interrogatively, “Count Dracula?”<\/p>\n

He bowed in a courtly was as he replied, “I am Dracula, and I
\nbid you welcome, Mr. Harker, to my house. Come in, the night air is
\nchill, and you must need to eat and rest.”As he was speaking, he
\nput the lamp on a bracket on the wall, and stepping out, took my
\nluggage. He had carried it in before I could forestall him. I
\nprotested, but he insisted.<\/p>\n

“Nay, sir, you are my guest. It is late, and my people are not
\navailable. Let me see to your comfort myself.”He insisted on
\ncarrying my traps along the passage, and then up a great winding
\nstair, and along another great passage, on whose stone floor our
\nsteps rang heavily. At the end of this he threw open a heavy door,
\nand I rejoiced to see within a well-lit room in which a table was
\nspread for supper, and on whose mighty hearth a great fire of logs,
\nfreshly replenished, flamed and flared.<\/p>\n

The Count halted, putting down my bags, closed the door, and
\ncrossing the room, opened another door, which led into a small
\noctagonal room lit by a single lamp, and seemingly without a window
\nof any sort. Passing through this, he opened another door, and
\nmotioned me to enter. It was a welcome sight. For here was a great
\nbedroom well lighted and warmed with another log fire, also added
\nto but lately, for the top logs were fresh, which sent a hollow
\nroar up the wide chimney. The Count himself left my luggage inside
\nand withdrew, saying, before he closed the door.<\/p>\n

“You will need, after your journey, to refresh yourself by
\nmaking your toilet. I trust you will find all you wish. When you
\nare ready, come into the other room, where you will find your
\nsupper prepared.”<\/p>\n

The light and warmth and the Count’s courteous welcome seemed to
\nhave dissipated all my doubts and fears. Having then reached my
\nnormal state, I discovered that I was half famished with hunger. So
\nmaking a hasty toilet, I went into the other room.<\/p>\n

I found supper already laid out. My host, who stood on one side
\nof the great fireplace, leaning against the stonework, made a
\ngraceful wave of his hand to the table, and said,<\/p>\n

“I pray you, be seated and sup how you please. You will I trust,
\nexcuse me that I do not join you, but I have dined already, and I
\ndo not sup.”<\/p>\n

I handed to him the sealed letter which Mr. Hawkins had
\nentrusted to me. He opened it and read it gravely. Then, with a
\ncharming smile, he handed it to me to read. One passage of it, at
\nleast, gave me a thrill of pleasure.<\/p>\n

“I must regret that an attack of gout, from which malady I am a
\nconstant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travelling on my part for
\nsome time to come. But I am happy to say I can send a sufficient
\nsubstitute, one in whom I have every possible confidence. He is a
\nyoung man, full of energy and talent in his own way, and of a very
\nfaithful disposition. He is discreet and silent, and has grown into
\nmanhood in my service. He shall be ready to attend on you when you
\nwill during his stay, and shall take your instructions in all
\nmatters.”<\/p>\n

The count himself came forward and took off the cover of a dish,
\nand I fell to at once on an excellent roast chicken. This, with
\nsome cheese and a salad and a bottle of old tokay, of which I had
\ntwo glasses, was my supper. During the time I was eating it the
\nCount asked me many question as to my journey, and I told him by
\ndegrees all I had experienced.<\/p>\n

By this time I had finished my supper, and by my host’s desire
\nhad drawn up a chair by the fire and begun to smoke a cigar which
\nhe offered me, at the same time excusing himself that he did not
\nsmoke. I had now an opportunity of observing him, and found him of
\na very marked physiognomy.<\/p>\n

His face was a strong, a very strong, aquiline, with high bridge
\nof the thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils, with lofty domed
\nforehead, and hair growing scantily round the temples but profusely
\nelsewhere. His eyebrows were very massive, almost meeting over the
\nnose, and with bushy hair that seemed to curl in its own profusion.
\nThe mouth, so far as I could see it under the heavy moustache, was
\nfixed and rather cruel-looking, with peculiarly sharp white teeth.
\nThese protruded over the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed
\nastonishing vitality in a man of his years. For the rest, his ears
\nwere pale, and at the tops extremely pointed. The chin was broad
\nand strong, and the cheeks firm though thin. The general effect was
\none of extraordinary pallor.<\/p>\n

Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his
\nknees in the firelight, and they had seemed rather white and fine.
\nBut seeing them now close to me, I could not but notice that they
\nwere rather coarse, broad, with squat fingers. Strange to say,
\nthere were hairs in the centre of the palm. The nails were long and
\nfine, and cut to a sharp point. As the Count leaned over me and his
\nhands touched me, I could not repress a shudder. It may have been
\nthat his breath was rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea came
\nover me, which, do what I would, I could not conceal.<\/p>\n

The Count, evidently noticing it, drew back. And with a grim
\nsort of smile, which showed more than he had yet done his
\nprotruberant teeth, sat himself down again on his own side of the
\nfireplace. We were both silent for a while, and as I looked towards
\nthe window I saw the first dim streak of the coming dawn. There
\nseemed a strange stillness over everything. But as I listened, I
\nheard as if from down below in the valley the howling of many
\nwolves. The Count’s eyes gleamed, and he said.<\/p>\n

“Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they
\nmake!” Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to
\nhim, he added,”Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into
\nthe feelings of the hunter.” Then he rose and said.<\/p>\n

“But you must be tired. Your bedroom is all ready, and tomorrow
\nyou shall sleep as late as you will. I have to be away till the
\nafternoon, so sleep well and dream well!” With a courteous bow, he
\nopened for me himself the door to the octagonal room, and I entered
\nmy bedroom.<\/p>\n

I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt. I fear. I think strange
\nthings, which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if
\nonly for the sake of those dear to me!<\/p>\n

7 May.\u2014It is again early morning, but I have rested and enjoyed
\nthe last twenty-four hours. I slept till late in the day, and awoke
\nof my own accord. When I had dressed myself I went into the room
\nwhere we had supped, and found a cold breakfast laid out, with
\ncoffee kept hot by the pot being placed on the hearth. There was a
\ncard on the table, on which was written\u2014<\/p>\n

“I have to be absent for a while. Do not wait for me. D.” I set
\nto and enjoyed a hearty meal. When I had done, I looked for a bell,
\nso that I might let the servants know I had finished, but I could
\nnot find one. There are certainly odd deficiencies in the house,
\nconsidering the extraordinary evidences of wealth which are round
\nme. The table service is of gold, and so beautifully wrought that
\nit must be of immense value. The curtains and upholstery of the
\nchairs and sofas and the hangings of my bed are of the costliest
\nand most beautiful fabrics, and must have been of fabulous value
\nwhen they were made, for they are centuries old, though in
\nexcellent order. I saw something like them in Hampton Court, but
\nthey were worn and frayed and moth-eaten. But still in none of the
\nrooms is there a mirror. There is not even a toilet glass on my
\ntable, and I had to get the little shaving glass from my bag before
\nI could either shave or brush my hair. I have not yet seen a
\nservant anywhere, or heard a sound near the castle except the
\nhowling of wolves. Some time after I had finished my meal, I do not
\nknow whether to call it breakfast of dinner, for it was between
\nfive and six o’clock when I had it, I looked about for something to
\nread, for I did not like to go about the castle until I had asked
\nthe Count’s permission. There was absolutely nothing in the room,
\nbook, newspaper, or even writing materials, so I opened another
\ndoor in the room and found a sort of library. The door opposite
\nmine I tried, but found locked.<\/p>\n

In the library I found, to my great delight, a vast number of
\nEnglish books, whole shelves full of them, and bound volumes of
\nmagazines and newspapers. A table in the center was littered with
\nEnglish magazines and newspapers, though none of them were of very
\nrecent date. The books were of the most varied kind, history,
\ngeography, politics, political economy, botany, geology, law, all
\nrelating to England and English life and customs and manners. There
\nwere even such books of reference as the London Directory, the
\n“Red” and “Blue” books, Whitaker’s Almanac, the Army and Navy
\nLists, and it somehow gladdened my heart to see it, the Law
\nList.<\/p>\n

Whilst I was looking at the books, the door opened, and the
\nCount entered. He saluted me in a hearty way, and hoped that I had
\nhad a good night’s rest. Then he went on.<\/p>\n

“I am glad you found your way in here, for I am sure there is
\nmuch that will interest you. These companions,” and he laid his
\nhand on some of the books, “have been good friends to me, and for
\nsome years past, ever since I had the idea of going to London, have
\ngiven me many, many hours of pleasure. Through them I have come to
\nknow your great England, and to know her is to love her. I long to
\ngo through the crowded streets of your mighty London, to be in the
\nmidst of the whirl and rush of humanity, to share its life, its
\nchange, its death, and all that makes it what it is. But alas! As
\nyet I only know your tongue through books. To you, my friend, I
\nlook that I know it to speak.”<\/p>\n

“But, Count,” I said, “You know and speak English thoroughly!”
\nHe bowed gravely.<\/p>\n

“I thank you, my friend, for your all too-flattering estimate,
\nbut yet I fear that I am but a little way on the road I would
\ntravel. True, I know the grammar and the words, but yet I know not
\nhow to speak them.<\/p>\n

“Indeed,” I said, “You speak excellently.”<\/p>\n

“Not so,” he answered. “Well, I know that, did I move and speak
\nin your London, none there are who would not know me for a
\nstranger. That is not enough for me. Here I am noble. I am a