Chapter 3

by Bram Stoker

　　Jonathan Harker's Journal ContinuedWhen I found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feeling cameover me. I rushed up and down the stairs, trying every doorand peering out of every window I could find, but after a littlethe conviction of my helplessness overpowered all other feelings.When I look back after a few hours I think I must have beenmad 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 helplessI sat down quietly, as quietly as I have ever done anythingin 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 ideasknown to the Count. He knows well that I am imprisoned, and ashe 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 myfears 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 brainsto get through.I had hardly come to this conclusion when I heard the great doorbelow shut, and knew that the Count had returned. He did not comeat once into the library, so I went cautiously to my own room andfound him making the bed. This was odd, but only confirmed what Ihad all along thought, that there are no servants in the house.When later I saw him through the chink of the hinges of the doorlaying the table in the dining room, I was assured of it.For if he does himself all these menial offices, surely it is proofthat there is no one else in the castle, it must have been the Counthimself 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 couldcontrol the wolves, as he did, by only holding up his hand for silence?How was it that all the people at Bistritz and on the coach hadsome 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 disfavourand 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 sympathyand comfort? Some time, if it may be, I must examine this matterand try to make up my mind about it. In the meantime I must findout all I can about Count Dracula,as it may help me to understand.Tonight 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 Transylvania history,and he warmed up to the subject wonderfully. In his speakingof things and people, and especially of battles, he spokeas if he had been present at them all. This he afterwardsexplained by saying that to a Boyar the pride of his houseand name is his own pride, that their glory is his glory,that their fate is his fate. Whenever he spoke of hishouse he always said "we", and spoke almost in the plural,like a king speaking. I wish I could put down all he saidexactly 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 pullinghis great white moustache and grasping anything on which he laidhis 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 bloodof many brave races who fought as the lion fights, for lordship.Here, in the whirlpool of European races, the Ugric tribe bore downfrom Iceland the fighting spirit which Thor and Wodin game them,which their Berserkers displayed to such fell intent on the seaboardsof Europe, aye, and of Asia and Africa too, till the peoples thoughtthat the werewolves themselves had come. Here, too, when they came,they found the Huns, whose warlike fury had swept the earth like aliving flame, till the dying peoples held that in their veins ranthe blood of those old witches, who, expelled from Scythia had matedwith the devils in the desert. Fools, fools! What devil or whatwitch 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 Hungarianfatherland he found us here when he reached the frontier, that the Honfoglalaswas completed there? And when the Hungarian flood swept eastward,the Szekelys were claimed as kindred by the victorious Magyars, and to usfor centuries was trusted the guarding of the frontier of Turkeyland.Aye, and more than that, endless duty of the frontier guard, for asthe Turks say, `water sleeps, and the enemy is sleepless.' Who moregladly 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 Danubeand 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 racewho in a later age again and again brought his forces over the great riverinto Turkeyland, who, when he was beaten back, came again, and again,though he had to come alone from the bloody field where his troops werebeing slaughtered, since he knew that he alone could ultimately triumph!They said that he thought only of himself. Bah! What good are peasantswithout a leader? Where ends the war without a brain and heartto conduct it? Again, when, after the battle of Mohacs, we threw offthe 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 theHapsburgs 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 cockcrow,or like the ghost of Hamlet's father.)12 May.--Let me begin with facts, bare, meager facts,verified by books and figures, and of which there can be no doubt.I must not confuse them with experiences which will haveto rest on my own observation, or my memory of them.Last evening when the Count came from his room he beganby asking me questions on legal matters and on the doingof certain kinds of business. I had spent the day wearilyover books, and, simply to keep my mind occupied, went oversome of the matters I had been examined in at Lincoln's Inn.There was a certain method in the Count's inquiries, so I shalltry to put them down in sequence. The knowledge may somehowor 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 notbe 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 certainto militate against his interest. He seemed thoroughly to understand,and went on to ask if there would be any practical difficulty in having oneman to attend, say, to banking, and another to look after shipping, in caselocal help were needed in a place far from the home of the banking solicitor.I asked 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 selfmy place at London. Good! Now here let me say frankly, lest youshould think it strange that I have sought the services of one so faroff from London instead of some one resident there, that my motivewas that no local interest might be served save my wish only,and as one of London residence might, perhaps, have some purposeof 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 couldwith more ease be done by consigning to one in these ports?"I answered that certainly it would be most easy, but that wesolicitors had a system of agency one for the other, so that localwork 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 consignmentsand the forms to be gone through, and of all sorts of difficultieswhich might arise, but by forethought could be guarded against.I explained all these things to him to the best of my ability, and hecertainly left me under the impression that he would have made a wonderfulsolicitor, 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 domuch 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 letterto 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 heavyhand on my shoulder, "write to our friend and to any other,and say, if it will please you, that you shall stay with meuntil a month from now.""Do you wish me to stay so long?" I asked, for my heart grew coldat the thought."I desire it much, nay I will take no refusal. When your master,employer, what you will, engaged that someone 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'interest, not mine, and I had to think of him, not myself,and besides, while Count Dracula was speaking, there was thatin his eyes and in his bearing which made me remember that Iwas a prisoner, and that if I wished it I could have no choice.The Count saw his victory in my bow, and his mastery inthe 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 notdiscourse 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 note paper andthree 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 underlip,I understood as well as if he had spoken that I should bemore careful what I wrote, for he would be able to read it.So I determined to write only formal notes now, but to write fullyto Mr. Hawkins in secret, and also to Mina, for to her I couldwrite shorthand, which would puzzle the Count, if he did see it.When I had written my two letters I sat quiet, reading a bookwhilst the Count wrote several notes, referring as he wrote themto some books on his table. Then he took up my two and placedthem with his own, and put by his writing materials, after which,the instant the door had closed behind him, I leaned overand looked at the letters, which were face down on the table.I felt no compunction in doing so for under the circumstancesI felt that I should protect myself in every way I could.One of the letters was directed to Samuel F. Billington, No. 7,The Crescent, Whitby, another to Herr Leutner, Varna. The thirdwas to Coutts & Co., London, and the fourth to Herren Klopstock& Billreuth, bankers, Buda Pesth. The second and fourth were unsealed.I was just about to look at them when I saw the door handle move.I sank back in my seat, having just had time to resume my book beforethe Count, holding still another letter in his hand, entered the room.He took up the letters on the table and stamped them carefully,and then turning to me, said,"I trust you will forgive me, but I have much work to do in privatethis evening. You will, I hope, find all things as you wish."At the door he turned, and after a moment's pause said, "Let me advise you,my dear young friend. Nay, let me warn you with all seriousness,that should you leave these rooms you will not by any chance go to sleepin any other part of the castle. It is old, and has many memories,and there are bad dreams for those who sleep unwisely. Be warned!Should sleep now or ever overcome you, or be like to do, then hasteto your own chamber or to these rooms, for your rest will then be safe.But if you be not careful in this respect, then," He finished his speechin a gruesome way, for he motioned with his hands as if he were washing them.I quite understood. My only doubt was as to whether any dream couldbe more terrible than the unnatural, horrible net of gloom and mysterywhich seemed closing around me.Later.--I endorse the last words written, but this time there is no doubtin question. I shall not fear to sleep in any place where he is not.I have placed the crucifix over the head of my bed, I imagine that myrest is thus freer from dreams, and there it shall remain.When he left me I went to my room. After a little while,not hearing any sound, I came out and went up the stone stairto where I could look out towards the South. There was somesense of freedom in the vast expanse, inaccessible though itwas to me,as compared with the narrow darkness of the courtyard.Looking out on this, I felt that I was indeed in prison, and Iseemed to want a breath of fresh air, though it were of the night.I am beginning to feel this nocturnal existence tell on me.It is destroying my nerve. I start at my own shadow, and amfull of all sorts of horrible imaginings. God knows that thereis ground for my terrible fear in this accursed place!I looked out over the beautiful expanse, bathed in softyellow moonlight till it was almost as light as day.In the soft light the distant hills became melted,and the shadows in the valleys and gorges of velvety blackness.The mere beauty seemed to cheer me. There was peace and comfortin every breath I drew. As I leaned from the window my eyewas caught by something moving a storey below me, and somewhatto my left, where I imagined, from the order of the rooms,that the windows of the Count's own room would look out.The window at which I stood was tall and deep,stone-mullioned, and though weatherworn, was still complete.But it was evidently many a day since the case had been there.I drew back behind the stonework, and looked carefully out.What I saw was the Count's head coming out from the window.I did not see the face, but I knew the man by the neck and themovement of his back and arms. In any case I could not mistakethe hands which I had had some many opportunities of studying.I was at first interested and somewhat amused, for it is wonderfulhow small a matter will interest and amuse a man when he is a prisoner.But my very feelings changed to repulsion and terror when I saw the wholeman slowly emerge from the window and begin to crawl down the castlewall over the dreadful abyss, face down with his cloak spreading outaround him like great wings. At first I could not believe my eyes.I thought it was some trick of the moonlight, some weird effectof shadow, but I kept looking, and it could be no delusion.I saw the fingers and toes grasp the corners of the stones,worn clear of the mortar by the stress of years, and by thus usingevery projection and inequality move downwards with considerable speed,just as a lizard moves along a wall.What manner of man is this, or what manner of creature, is it in the semblanceof man? I feel the dread of this horrible place overpowering me.I am in fear, in awful fear, and there is no escape for me.I am encompassed about with terrors that I dare not think of.15 May.--Once more I have seen the count go out in his lizard fashion.He moved downwards in a sidelong way, some hundred feet down,and a good deal to the left. He vanished into some hole or window.When his head had disappeared, I leaned out to try and see more,but without avail. The distance was too great to allow a proper angleof sight. I knew he had left the castle now, and thought to usethe opportunity to explore more than I had dared to do as yet.I went back to the room, and taking a lamp, tried all the doors.They were all locked, as I had expected, and the locks werecomparatively new. But I went down the stone stairs to the hallwhere I had entered originally. I found I could pull back the boltseasily enough and unhook the great chains. But the door was locked,and the key was gone! That key must be in the Count's room.I must watch should his door be unlocked, so that I may get it and escape.I went on to make a thorough examination of the various stairsand passages, and to try the doors that opened from them.One or two small rooms near the hall were open, but there was nothingto see in them except old furniture, dusty with age and moth-eaten.At last, however, I found one door at the top of the stairway which,though it seemed locked, gave a little under pressure.I tried it harder, and found that it was not really locked,but that the resistance came from the fact that the hingeshad fallen somewhat,and the heavy door rested on the floor.Here was an opportunity which I might not have again, so I exertedmyself,and with many efforts forced it back so that I could enter.I was now in a wing of the castle further to the right than the roomsI knew and a storey lower down. From the windows I could seethat the suite of rooms lay along to the south of the castle,the windows of the end room looking out both west and south.On the latter side, as well as to the former, there was a great precipice.The castle was built on the corner of a great rock, so that onthree sides it was quite impregnable, and great windows wereplaced here where sling, or bow, or culverin could not reach,and consequently light and comfort, impossible to a position whichhad to be guarded, were secured. To the west was a great valley,and then, rising far away, great jagged mountain fastnesses,rising peak on peak, the sheer rock studded with mountain ash and thorn,whose roots clung in cracks and crevices and crannies of the stone.This was evidently the portion of the castle occupied by the ladiesin bygone days, for the furniture had more an air of comfort thanany I had seen.The windows were curtainless, and the yellow moonlight,flooding in through the diamond panes, enabled one to seeeven colours, whilst it softened the wealth of dust which lay overall and disguised in some measure the ravages of time and moth.My lamp seemed to be of little effect in the brilliant moonlight,but I was glad to have it with me, for there was a dread lonelinessin the place which chilled my heart and made my nerves tremble.Still, it was better than living alone in the rooms which I hadcome to hate from the presence of the Count, and after tryinga little to school my nerves, I found a soft quietude come over me.Here I am, sitting at a little oak table where in old timespossibly some fair lady sat to pen, with much thought andmany blushes, her ill-spelt love letter, and writing in my diaryin shorthand all that has happened since I closed it last.It is the nineteenth century up-to-date with a vengeance.And yet, unless my senses deceive me, the old centuries had,and have, powers of their own which mere "modernity" cannot kill.Later: The morning of 16 May.--God preserve my sanity, for to this Iam reduced. Safety and the assurance of safety are things of the past.Whilst I live on here there is but one thing to hope for,that I may not go mad, if, indeed, I be not mad already.If I be sane, then surely it is maddening to think that of allthe foul things that lurk in this hateful place the Count isthe least dreadful to me, that to him alone I can look for safety,even though this be only whilst I can serve his purpose. Great God!Merciful God, let me be calm, for out of that way lies madness indeed.I begin to get new lights on certain things which have puzzled me.Up to now I never quite knew what Shakespeare meant when he madeHamlet say, "My tablets! Quick, my tablets! `tis meet that Iput it down," etc., For now, feeling as though my own brain wereunhinged or as if the shock had come which must end in its undoing,I turn to my diary for repose. The habit of entering accuratelymust help to soothe me.The Count's mysterious warning frightened me at the time. It frightens memore not when I think of it, for in the future he has a fearful hold upon me.I shall fear to doubt what he may say!When I had written in my diary and had fortunately replacedthe book and pen in my pocket I felt sleepy. The Count's warningcame into my mind, but I took pleasure in disobeying it.The sense of sleep was upon me, and with it the obstinacy which sleepbrings as outrider. The soft moonlight soothed, and the wideexpanse without gave a sense of freedom which refreshed me.I determined not to return tonight to the gloom-haunted rooms,but to sleep here, where, of old, ladies had sat and sungand lived sweet lives whilst their gentle breasts were sadfor their menfolk away in the midst of remorseless wars.I drew a great couch out of its place near the corner, so thatas I lay, I could look at the lovely view to east and south,andunthinking of and uncaring for the dust, composed myself for sleep.I suppose I must have fallen asleep. I hope so, but I fear,for all that followed was startlingly real, so real that nowsitting here in the broad, full sunlight of the morning,I cannot in the least believe that it was all sleep.I was not alone. The room was the same, unchanged in anyway since I came into it. I could see along the floor,in the brilliant moonlight, my own footsteps marked where I haddisturbed the long accumulation of dust. In the moonlight oppositeme were three young women, ladies by their dress and manner.I thought at the time that I must be dreaming when I saw them,they threw no shadow on the floor. They came close to me,and looked at me for some time, and then whispered together.Two were dark, and had high aquiline noses, like the Count,and great dark, piercing eyes, that seemed to be almost redwhen contrasted with the pale yellow moon. The other wasfair,as fair as can be, with great masses of golden hairand eyes like pale sapphires. I seemed somehow to knowher face, and to know it in connection with some dreamy fear,but I could not recollect at the moment how or where.All three had brilliant white teeth that shone like pearlsagainst the ruby of their voluptuous lips. There wassomething about them that made me uneasy, some longing and atthe same time some deadly fear. I felt in my heart a wicked,burning desire that they would kiss me with those red lips.It is not good to note this down, lest some day it shouldmeet Mina's eyes and cause her pain, but it is the truth.They whispered together, and then they all three laughed,such a silvery, musical laugh, but as hard as though the soundnever could have come through the softness of human lips.It was like the intolerable, tingling sweetness of waterglasseswhen played on by a cunning hand. The fair girl shook herhead coquettishly, and the other two urged her on.One said, "Go on! You are first, and we shall follow.Yours' is the right to begin."The other added, "He is young and strong. There are kisses for us all."I lay quiet, looking out from under my eyelashes in an agonyof delightful anticipation. The fair girl advanced and bentover me till I could feel the movement of her breath upon me.Sweet it was in one sense, honey-sweet, and sent the same tinglingthrough the nerves as her voice, but with a bitter underlyingthe sweet, a bitter offensiveness, as one smells in blood.I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw perfectly underthe lashes. The girl went on her knees, and bent over me, simply gloating.There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both thrilling and repulsive,and as she arched her neck she actually licked her lips like an animal,till I could see in the moonlight the moisture shining on the scarletlips and on the red tongue as it lapped the white sharp teeth.Lower and lower went her head as the lips went below the range of mymouth and chin and seemed to fasten on my throat. Then she paused,and I could hear the churning sound of her tongue as it lickedher teeth and lips, and I could feel the hot breath on my neck.Then the skin of my throat began to tingle as one's flesh does when the handthat is to tickle it approaches nearer, nearer. I could feel the soft,shivering touch of the lips on the super sensitive skin of my throat,and the hard dents of two sharp teeth, just touching and pausing there.I closed my eyes in languorous ecstasy and waited, waited with beating heart.But at that instant, another sensation swept through me as quickas lightning. I was conscious of the presence of the Count,and of his being as if lapped in a storm of fury. As my eyesopened involuntarily I saw his strong hand grasp the slenderneck of the fair woman and with giant's power draw it back,the blue eyes transformed with fury, the white teeth champingwith rage, and the fair cheeks blazing red with passion.But the Count! Never did I imagine such wrath and fury,even to the demons of the pit. His eyes were positively blazing.The red light in them was lurid, as if the flames of hell fireblazed behind them. His face was deathly pale, and the linesof it were hard like drawn wires. The thick eyebrows that metover the nose now seemed like a heaving bar of whitehot metal.With a fierce sweep of his arm, he hurled the woman from him,and then motioned to the others, as though he were beating them back.It was the same imperious gesture that I had seen used to the wolves.In a voice which, though low and almost in a whisper seemedto cut through the air and then ring in the room he said,"How dare you touch him, any of you? How dare you cast eyeson him when I had forbidden it? Back, I tell you all!This man belongs to me! Beware how you meddle with him,or you'll have to deal with me."The fair girl, with a laugh of ribald coquetry, turned to answer him."You yourself never loved. You never love!" On this the otherwomen joined,and such a mirthless, hard, soulless laughterrang through the room that it almost made me faint to hear.It seemed like the pleasure of fiends.Then the Count turned, after looking at my face attentively,and said in a soft whisper, "Yes, I too can love.You yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it not so?Well, now I promise you that when I am done with him you shallkiss him at your will. Now go! Go! I must awaken him,for there is work to be done.""Are we to have nothing tonight?" said one of them, with a low laugh,as she pointed to the bag which he had thrown upon the floor,and which moved as though there were some living thing within it.For answer he nodded his head. One of the women jumpedforward and opened it. If my ears did not deceive me therewas a gasp and a low wail, as of a half smothered child.The women closed round, whilst I was aghast with horror.But as I looked, they disappeared, and with them the dreadful bag.There was no door near them, and they could not have passedme without my noticing. They simply seemed to fade intothe rays of the moonlight and pass out through the window,for I could see outside the dim, shadowy forms for a momentbefore they entirely faded away.Then the horror overcame me,and I sank down unconscious.