Chapter II

JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL

(continued)

5 May. Evidently, I had been asleep, for certainly if I had been fully awake, I would have noticed the approach of such a remarkable place. In the darkness the courtyard looked very big, and several dark ways led from it under great round arches.

When the carriage stopped, the driver jumped down and held out his hand to help me get off. Then he took out my bags and placed them on the ground beside me as I stood close to a great door, old and studded with large iron nails. As I stood, the driver jumped again into his seat and took the reins; the horses started forward, and the carriage disappeared down one of the dark ways.

I stood in silence where I was, for I did not know what to do. There was no sign of bell or knocker; it was not likely that my voice could be heard behind these thick walls and dark windows. The time I waited seemed endless, and doubts and fears filled me. What sort of place had I come to, and among what kind of people? What sort of grim adventure was awaiting me? Was this a usual 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, 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 was awake. It all seemed like a horrible nightmare to me, and I expected that I would suddenly awake, and find myself at home, with the dawn light in the room. But my flesh answered the pinching test. 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 heavy steps behind the great door. Then there was the sound of rattling chains and the clanking of massive bolts drawn back, and the great door opened.

I saw a tall old man, clean shaven, with a long white moustache, and dressed in black from head to foot. He held in his hand an antique silver lamp, the flame from which threw long quivering shadows as it flickered in the draught of the open door. The old man made a courtly inviting gesture with his right hand and said in excellent English, but with a strange intonation: “Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own will!” He did not move to meet me, but stood like a statue, as though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone. But as I stepped over the threshold, he moved impulsively forward, and grasped my hand with a strength that made me wince. His hand 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 like 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 I said interrogatively: “Count Dracula?” He bowed in a courtly way as he replied: “I am Dracula; and I welcome you, Mr. Harker, to my house. Come in.

The night air is cold, and you must need to eat and rest.” As he was speaking, he stepped out and took my luggage. 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 luggage along the passage, and then up the stair, and along another great passage. At the end of it he opened a heavy door, and I saw a well-lit room in which a table was laid for supper, and a great fire of logs flamed in a great fireplace.

The Count crossed the room, opened another door, which led into a small octagonal room with a single lamp, and, as it seemed, without a window of any sort. When we passed through this, he opened another door, and invited me to enter. It was a welcome sight, for here was a great bedroom well lighted and warmed with another log fire. The Count himself left my luggage inside and said, before he closed the door and went out:

“You will need, after your journey, to refresh yourself. I hope 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 helped me reach my normal state. All my doubts and fears disappeared. I felt that I was very hungry. So I made a hasty toilet and went into the other room.

My host stood there at the fireplace. He said: “Please, be seated and have supper. You will, I hope, excuse me that I do not join you; but I have dined already, and I do not have supper.”

I handed to him the sealed letter which Mr. Hawkins had entrusted to me.

He opened it and read it. Then, with a charming smile, he handed it to me to read. One part of it gave me pleasure.

“I regret that I cannot come myself because of an attack of gout.But I am happy to say I can send an adequate substitute, one in whom I have every confidence. He is a young man, full of energy and talent. He is discreet and silent.He will be ready to serve you during his stay, and will take your instructions in all matters.”

The Count himself came forward and took off the cover of a dish where there was 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 about my journey, and I told him all I had experienced.

When I finished my supper, my host offered me a cigar and we sat by the fire. He excused himself that he did not smoke. I had now an opportunity to see him properly, and found his appearance very remarkable.

He had a very strong aquiline face, with high bridge of the thin nose and unusually arched nostrils, with high domed forehead. His hair grew thinly round the temples but thickly elsewhere. His eyebrows were very massive and bushy, and almost met over the nose. The mouth was firm and rather cruel-looking, with very sharp white teeth; they protruded over the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed surprising 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.

The backs of his hands seemed rather white and fine, but now I could see them properly in the firelight, and I noticed that they were rather coarse – broad, with short and thick fingers. Strange, there were hairs in the centre of the palm. The nails were long and fine, and sharp-pointed. As the Count leaned over me and his hands touched me, I could not suppress a shudder. A horrible feeling of nausea came over me, perhaps, because his breath was foul. Evidently, the Count noticed it and sat down again on his own side of the fireplace, with a grim sort of smile, which showed his protruding teeth. We were both silent for a while, and as I looked towards the window I saw the first grey light of the coming dawn. There was a strange stillness over everything; but as I listened I heard as though 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!”

He saw, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, and added: “Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot understand the feelings of the hunter.” Then he rose and said: “But you must be tired. Your bedroom is all ready, and to-morrow you can sleep as late as you will. I have to be away till the afternoon. So sleep well and dream well!”

With a courtly bow, he opened the door to the octagonal room for me himself, and I entered my bedroom…

I am full of bewilderment. 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 early morning, but I have rested and enjoyed the last twenty-four hours. I slept long and awoke late in the day. When I had dressed myself I went into the room where I had had supper, and found a cold breakfast laid out. Coffee was kept hot in the pot 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.” When I finished my meal, I looked for a bell, so that I might let the servants know that I had, but I could not find one. It seemed certainly strange to me. There are extraordinary evidences of wealth in the house. The table service is of gold, and so beautifully made that it must be very expensive. The curtains and upholstery of the chairs and sofas are of the most expensive and most beautiful fabrics, and, of course, had 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 moth-eaten. But there is no mirror in any of the rooms. I had to get the little shaving glass from my bag before I could either shave or brush my hair. I have not yet seen a servant anywhere, or heard a sound near the castle except the howling of wolves. I did not like to go about the castle until I had asked the Count's permission. I looked about for something to read, but 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.

I was very glad to find in the library a great number of English books, magazines and newspapers. English magazines and newspapers were not of very recent date. The books were of the most varied kind – history, geography, politics, political economy, botany, geology, law – all about England and English life and customs and manners. There were even such reference books as the London Directory, the Army and Navy Lists, the Law List.

While 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 laid his hand on some of the books and said: “These companions have been good friends to me. Through them I have come to know and love your great England. I want very much to go through the crowded streets of your enormous 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! I only know your tongue through books. With your help, my friend, I hope to learn to speak it.”