by Hans De Roos
I let this be a lesson and I am sure I must have fallen asleep.64 When the calèche halted once more, the moonlight had become clear and I saw that we had arrived at a large courtyard, fenced in by a high wall, which in some places had started to crack.
7 MAY, MORNING
I WILL CONTINUE WHERE I LEFT OFF WRITING ABOUT THE events of the last few days.65
Although I have not yet seen it in daylight, the courtyard of the castle seems unusually large to me.
Upon arrival here at the castle, the driver helped me out of the calèche, and again I saw what a hellishly large fellow66 he was. I am more than six feet tall67 and of matching build, but I felt as though he could toss me away like a glove. He took my luggage from the calèche and put it down beside me. Ahead of me was a stone staircase leading up to an ornamental gate.
The driver tugged on the bell rope and the sound reverberated in the distance. Then he jumped onto the calèche, struck the horses, and in an instant disappeared through some passageway in the walls.
From the castle no sound could be heard, nor could light be seen in the windows. As I stood there kicking my heels, I considered waking up the residents by banging on the door when I heard footsteps on the stone floor inside, and then the gate opened.
An old woman appeared, wearing what seemed like national Hungarian dress—or the attire of some other nation found in this region. She bowed, looking at me with a strange smile, which gave me the impression that she was deaf and dumb—as was later confirmed.68 But I didn’t take too much notice of her, as I soon spotted the man behind her—who drew all my attention.
He was tall and old with white hair and a long white moustache. He, too, was wearing some kind of folk costume, dark and trimmed with galloons.69 He held an old silver lamp in his hand, and even before I had reached the top of the staircase, he greeted me very politely in fluent, slightly accented English, saying,
“Welcome to my house! Enter freely and merrily.”70
As I stepped over the threshold he grasped my hand tightly. His grip was so forceful that it made me wince, especially because his hand was so cold, and the chill shot right to the bone. He then welcomed me again, and although I presumed that this was my prospective client, I felt compelled to ask,
“Count Dracula?”
He nodded and replied in a friendly tone,
“I am Dracula. Yes, please be welcome, Mr. Harker; I have eagerly been awaiting your arrival. But you are tired and cold—you have travelled a long way in the night and you are not used to such journeys. You could do with some rest and refreshments.”71
He motioned to the old woman and she rushed out to fetch my luggage.
Fjallkonan #4 | 3 February 1900
LAMP IN HAND, THE COUNT LED ME TO AN IRON-SHOD door, which he opened wide. We entered a well-lit living room, where the table had already been set and a fire was burning in the fireplace.
The Count went into a windowless octagonal chamber, where he opened a further door, inviting me into a large room—this would be my bedroom. On the table stood two lit wax candles in silver candlesticks, while another fire was crackling cosily in the open hearth.
“You are tired,” said the Count. “I assume you’ll want to tidy yourself up a bit before you eat, so I shall wait for you in the living room.”
I did as he said and then hurried back to the living room.
Dinner was on the table and the Count offered me a seat. “Please, eat whatever you like, but you must excuse me for not joining you, for I have had dinner already.”
I handed him the letter from my employer, Mr. Hawkins. He read it and handed it back to me with a genial smile. I, too, enjoyed the letter, as it stated:
“Sir Count,72
I am terribly sorry for not personally tending to you, but I am suffering from gout, which for some time forbids me to make any journeys. Fortunately, I can send someone else in my place; someone whom I fully trust as a reliable, hard-working and energetic man. He is a young but very promising lawyer whom I have known since he was a boy, and he now works as an assistant in my law firm. I can absolutely guarantee that his proficiency in this field is excellent, and that he is silent as the grave. You may therefore discuss with him any legal particulars regarding the planned real estate purchase. I have informed him well, but to prepare for this journey he has also acquired a great deal of the necessary knowledge himself. Therefore, I highly recommend him, and am yours with humble respect,
Peter Hawkins.”
The Count lifted the lid of the tray on the table and again invited me to sit down. I didn’t need to be told a third time, and without further delay I began to eat. Although it was quite peppered, it was the best chicken fillet I have ever had.73There was also a good salad, cheese, bread and butter, and an old bottle of sweet Tokay wine,74 which all tasted ambrosial75—as famished as I was. The exhaustion lifted from me, and when my client, presenting me with a cigar, offered me an armchair by the fireplace, I became so comfortable that I could have talked with him all night.
The Count sat right up against the light, directly in front of the fireplace, giving me a good vantage point to observe him. With eyes that lay deep beneath his beetle-brows and a nose like a vulture’s beak, his features appeared very harsh. He had a domed forehead peering out from the grey hair that ran down onto his shoulders; a white moustache that covered his mouth, in which I detected a hardness, or even cruelty, that disappeared when he spoke or laughed; impeccable teeth, except for his unusually long canines;76 and white and elegant hands, though hairier than any man’s I have ever seen.
We talked about anything and everything,77 including my journey to the castle and current political issues, about which he was very well informed. We also briefly touched upon the purpose of my trip, but he said that we would discuss it the next day.
There was a pause in our conversation, and when I cast a glance out the window I saw that dawn was breaking. All was quiet, until suddenly I heard the rushing sound of wolves. It was as though a streak of lightning flickered in the Count’s eyes, which glistened like a carrion bird’s.
“Hear, hear,” he said, “the children of the night—what tuneful tones!”78 I thought the sounds were horrible, but he laughed gently and said, “Oh, dear Sir! You city dwellers cannot understand the sentiments of an old hunter.”79
Then he stood up, saying, “You must be tired; I beg your pardon for keeping you awake this long. Your bedroom is ready and you may go to bed whenever you please. Feel free to sleep until after noon—you must rest yourself. It just so happens that I have to leave the castle and will probably not return until evening. You may be at ease. Sleep well and have pleasant dreams.”
He opened the door and bowed courteously, and I bid him good night, but I didn’t sleep until the sun had already risen high.
After waking up rather late in the day,80 I reviewed what had happened the day before and chuckled at how adventurous my travel story would sound to Wilma when I came home.
I began looking around the bedroom. The bed curtains were made of heavy old silk and there were very expensive-looking tapestries on the walls. As for the furniture, one couldn’t get by with less than what was present; nevertheless, all the furnishings appear to be precious and antique. The wash-bowl, for example, was unusually small but made of solid gold.81
When I was dressed and ready I went into the room where I had dined the night before. It was a big hall with more tapestries on the walls. Cold food and wine were on the table, and as I came nearer I saw that it had only been set for one person. The Count had left me a note on the table, reading,
“I will be away from home for most of the day, but hope that you shall kindly forgive me for this impoliteness, which I cannot help. If you could arrange all your documents, we can talk upon my return.
Much obliged, your D–a”82
After I had eaten—the meal was good, though seasoned and cooked in a different way than I’m used to—I looked for a bell to call the servants but found nothi
ng of the sort. I then tried to open the door to the corridor and was surprised to find it locked. Strange are the habits of this house.
All was silent as the grave. I looked out the window and saw the old woman from the night before fetching water. It was between four and five o’clock, so I went back to my bedroom and began looking through and sorting the papers relating to the property purchase. Then I returned to the dining room and tried to open two of the other doors, but they were also solidly locked. The third door, however, was unbolted and led to a large corner room where the sun shone in. As I entered, I saw that it was the Count’s library. There were large shelves with books—some still handwritten, and some very old—that seemed to cover topics such as astrology, alchemy83 and magic of the Middle Ages; they were written in various languages that I didn’t understand, but what surprised me most was the large collection of English volumes I found—old and new, covering a variety of subjects, from poetry, old tales and sagas, to scientific publications and ordinary reference books. Markings and reader comments showed that all of them had been read. On the table lay English newspapers and magazines.
I began to entertain myself with the books and sat with them until the sun went down. The sunset was the most glorious I have ever seen—incomparable to any I have enjoyed in other places, except perhaps in the Highlands of Scotland.84 But when the sun sank beneath the horizon, everything changed in a heartbeat; the air became cold and moisture-laden, while the colors faded under the pale shimmer of the rising moon. The swallows disappeared and in their place came bats, which are plentiful around here. One flew in through the window, and as I am disgusted by these creatures I hurried to close it.85
When I looked back from the window I was startled—I was not alone. It was dusk now, and although it was not as bright as day, the moon shone through the window, casting light onto the scene.
At the table in the middle of the room stood a woman, slender and dressed in light colors. She rested one hand on a chair near the table, and with the other she held a shawl to her shoulder. She was young and fair-skinned, and she seemed to be looking at me with curiosity.
I bowed and said in my best German,
“Please forgive me, Miss—I was expecting the Count.”86
As I said this, she moved closer to me and replied in German, with traces of an exotic accent, “You are the foreigner we were expecting. Be welcome. It is lonely in the castle; lonely in these mountains.”
Her voice was curiously clear. It felt as though the sound of her words pierced my every nerve, but I was not sure whether it was a pleasant or unpleasant feeling. All I knew was that she caressed some strings within me that before had been untouched, and it flustered me quite a bit. I felt my heartbeat quicken, as if I had a fever.87
I’m not quick to be overcome by women—in fact I’m considered rather impassive and reserved, and since I was a boy I have never loved anyone else but my Wilma. But as I watched this woman while she spoke to me, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
She stood in front of me in the moonlight, and I couldn’t recall ever seeing a girl of such breathtaking beauty. I won’t provide a detailed description, as words can do her no justice, but she had golden-blonde hair, which was bound in a chignon. Her eyes: blue and large.88 Her dress resembled those worn by beauty icons from the turn of the century—like Queen Josephine89—with her neck and upper chest revealed. Around her neck she wore a necklace of glittering90 diamonds.
“You admire the view,” she said. “They say that our mountains are beautiful. Indeed they are. But they are so barren, so barren. Here one lives like a prisoner, wanting to go out into the world—to the big world … to men. There are no men here, and I am so fond of men.” She reached out as she said this, as if overcome, and her eyes appeared to flash in the moonlight.
“I am glad that you have come here,” she said. “You look so handsome and masculine—that is an advantage91 here in the Carpathians. It will be our pleasure to get to know you.”92
I didn’t know how to respond, as I was completely beside myself—my foremost desire was to take her in my arms and kiss her. I moved closer to her, but she disappeared when the Count suddenly entered the room with a lamp in his hand. She must have snuck out behind him, or gone through a secret door in the room.
Fjallkonan #5 | 9 February 1900
“MY DEAR MR. HARKER, I AM TRULY DISTRAUGHT THAT I wasn’t able to be here with you today. You must think poorly of the hospitality in this old house. Unfortunately, I could not come sooner and now I find you here in the dark. I sincerely ask for your forgiveness—my servants are not used to guests. Please excuse how primitive things are here in the Carpathians.” He lit the candles and closed the shutters. “I hope that you have now recovered from your journey. I am glad that you have found your way in here, for there is a lot here that may interest you. These books,” he said, pointing out the English volumes, “have been my friends for years; ever since I began to think about going to London—should I have the opportunity. It is thanks to them that I know about England, your pretty and powerful country. I long for London with its crowds and its commotion, its infinite activities, all that makes that big city what it is. I have lived alone for long enough. I want to get to know people.”
It was almost exactly what the mysterious girl had said, yet I felt a kind of cruelty in his voice. For a moment, it was as if I was looking upon a beast stalking its prey, and it sent shivers down my spine. The Count seemed to have noticed that I was a bit unnerved, because his strange eastern eyes93 looked up at me from beneath his brows before he said in a changed tone,
“And how have you been during my absence?”
I said that I had slept for most of the day, at which he nodded and reassured me that it had been a good idea to sleep off my exertions.
“But what have you been doing since then?”
I told him truthfully that I had arranged my documents and found that the doors were locked. It had been mere chance that I had come across this reading room, and I hoped that he was not angry with me for entering.
“No, not at all! Here you are always welcome, and I hope that you will spend most of your time in this room while you are in my house. This is my usual place as well. I beg you to excuse me for locking the door to the corridor—I always do that out of old habit. You are, of course, welcome to look around our castle as much as you’d like. Unfortunately, most of the rooms are empty now and have been so for many years, while dust falls on a heap of relics from ancient times. Some of the rooms are locked, however, for reasons that no one needs to know. Old houses like this contain many things that outsiders are not meant to see, and I hope that you will respect that. Transylvania is not England—there is much here that British people will not understand.”
I bowed, so as to show my consent, but noticed that he was observing me persistently.
“I live here now,” he said, “like an old hermit in the house of my ancestors. I live in hoary memories, but I also observe what happens in the outside world—hearing merely the echo of it, here in this deserted corner of the earth. You might find it surprising that, although my hair is white, my heart is young, and it wants to take part in life outside these castle walls, where the destinies of nations are forged and the wars of this world are fought. I once played a role in this game and pulled quite a few of the strings.” His voice grew cold. “To rule, my young friend, to rule—that is the only thing worth living for, whether it be over people’s wills—or their hearts.”94
He was silent for a moment, and then he spoke again.
“So you have been here most of the evening? It shortens the hours to read my books—but you had to wait for me in the twilight. I hope that you have managed to get some sleep?”
It was as if he was trying to find out whether I had noticed something unusual, and as I suspected it would be best95 not to conceal anything from him, I told him the truth.
“I was admiring the sun setting over your mountains, as I have never seen anythi
ng more magnificent. And the air—the fragrance of the forest—was like a heady wine, intoxicating. I couldn’t step away from the window.”
“The window,” he said. “You have opened the window. The view is indeed stunning; these mountains are unique. But by Jove, assure me, you did close the window again before sundown?”
Fjallkonan #7 | 21 February 1900
“A FEW MINUTES LATER, YES, I DID. FIVE, OR PERHAPSTEN minutes later—I don’t remember so precisely,”
I replied, surprised by his fervor.
“What the devil!” he said viciously, rising halfway from his chair. The thought flashed through my mind that he might dart at me and bite my throat, so I jumped up, ready to defend myself.96 But the Count quickly calmed down, and then he said in his usual tone, “Forgive me, dear Harker—I tend to be a little irritable. But please understand this, my friend: There is a rule in this house that must never be disregarded—especially when we have guests. No window shall be left open after the close of day. There are harmful vapors—toxic gasses, or whatever they call them—that make the evening air here unhealthy for strangers. This you must always remember from now on. You may not wander these rooms and hallways once darkness closes in, and, for my sake, do not sleep in the unoccupied chambers, as this could have grave repercussions for the both of us. That aside—I hope nothing bad has happened to you. You are sure that you closed the window?”
“Yes, I did. The air was getting colder and was swarming with bats, the most disgusting creatures I know,” I said frankly. “And I must confess—one of these vile things managed to get in through the window. I haven’t been able to find it yet, but it must be here somewhere.”
The Count sat very still, rubbed his hands together, and looked at me with a peculiar, observant gaze.