by Hans De Roos
I walked quickly around the room and examined the heaps. They all looked the same to me. Some coins were flawless, as if freshly minted, but some had blackened. I found none from our time—some of them I didn’t even recognize, while others were Greek or Roman. I am no numismatic expert and therefore cannot judge the antiquarian value of this coin collection, but the price of the precious metal alone would certainly have amounted to many millions of crowns. But that was not all I found.187
I was becoming more curious and started snooping around more when I saw two chests with iron fittings in the middle of the floor. They were not locked, so I was able to peek under the lids. The chests were filled with myriad finery made of gold, silver, jewels and pearls. There were golden drinking bowls, a large casket full of glimmering gemstones,188 and other such valuables.
I also noticed compartments in the walls containing even more precious goods—no less sumptuous than those in the chests—but I had no time to examine them now. I came to realize that people hadn’t exaggerated when they told me the Count was as rich as Croesus, for I had never seen anything like this.
Somehow I felt relieved that nobody had cared to lock the door—even though it was ironclad on both sides—and secure this room, although it contained such immense treasure.
Fjallkonan #33 | 25 August 1900
I BELIEVE I NOW HAVE A CLEARER UNDERSTANDING AS TO why the Count is in so many ways extremely cautious: he must expect robberies and thefts in the house when he’s not around, and thus locks all the doors so carefully.
Next I opened the door on the left. It was a bedroom, slightly larger than my own. By the wall opposite the window stood a four-poster bed with heavy bed curtains. From the bedroom I could see into another room with bookshelves and a large desk in the center. I was quite certain I was now standing in the Count’s private rooms, which matched the other rooms in the castle where I had lodged and moved about thus far.189 I hardly dared to look around, as I suspected the Count or someone else would discover me, and I was unsure what would happen to me if they did. There were two doors in the room and I walked to the largest one. At first I thought it was locked, but when I put more pressure on the handle the door opened, and I was suddenly standing in the large dining room where I usually eat. Now these rooms felt pleasant and welcoming—I felt as if I were coming home, and yet, just a while earlier, I’d felt incarcerated and could think of nothing else but to escape from this place. It seemed many months had passed since I’d been here, though it had only been a few hours. Everything looked as it had before. I went to the window and looked out over the courtyard. To my right side loomed the gate tower,190 where the stairs had led down into the depths of the castle. I realized now that I’d returned here alive by a hair’s breadth.191
I felt a weight lying over me and I needed to wash off the dust, spiderwebs, mould and dirt I was covered in.
I noticed a sore on my throat, just above the artery—and I found bite marks! The rosary had obviously protected me, as it had pressed its shape into my flesh.
No matter how thoroughly I cleaned myself, the mark on my throat could not be erased.
I was becoming ravenously hungry so I returned to the dining room, where I had noticed a cloth on the table when I entered from the Count’s room. Now the old mute woman was there, setting the table. I don’t think I’m mistaken when I say that she startled upon seeing me, as if she was both frightened and surprised; apparently, she didn’t understand how I could have got there. She must have been in my bedroom just moments before to make sure I was not present. She looked at me with fright and glanced at the door I’d come through, and then at the door to the Count’s quarters. When everything was prepared, she invited me to sit down and I happily obliged.
I vigorously began to eat, filling my wineglass and emptying it in one stretch. But then suddenly something so shocking happened that the glass dropped from my hand and shattered on the floor.
I heard the key to the Count’s room turning from the inside. Someone had locked the door.
This incident would have been insignificant to me had circumstances been different, but in this house, everything seems to be pregnant with foreboding.
As far as I knew, this door had been locked from the inside since the day I’d arrived here.
But today it had been unlocked, which was a stroke of luck for me; now it was fastened again, which meant that someone had been behind me or had seen me when I came in from the Count’s room; or the Count had arrived to his room and bolted the door; or the old woman had realized I’d ventured this way and rushed to lock the door so that I wouldn’t enter those chambers again—where I doubtless should not be.
I’d presumed the Count didn’t want me in his chambers, as he’d never offered to show them to me and always kept them locked.
I hadn’t entered these rooms on purpose, but neither can I erase from my memory that I’d been in them all the same.
Should the topic arise, I intend to tell the Count forthrightly what had happened—that I got lost in the castle and found my way back to my room by sheer luck—but I would not let him know the things I’d chanced upon.
Fjallkonan #35 | 8 September 1900
WHEN I GOT UP FROM THE TABLE I LIT A CIGAR AND walked towards the window. I found it rather chilly inside, so I opened the window to enjoy the warmer air that had been heated by the sun and which had settled between the walls of the courtyard.
As I stood smoking, I heard something like a lock being bolted shut and turned around. The mute old lady had entered, but where had she come from? I’d been so tired and absentminded when she first came in that I hadn’t noticed which way she’d come. I could tell that she hadn’t entered through the door to the corridor that runs along the castle.
I was convinced she must have entered another way, and that somewhere there had to be a secret door that she regularly used.192 I had often tried in vain to talk to her with gestures; she simply could not understand me, staring at me in bewilderment, almost as if she were afraid. The only way to find out was to watch precisely whence she came, and where she went.
I saw her peering at me from the corner of her eye, but I pretended not to notice. Turning to the window, I glanced over my shoulder to watch what she was doing. I was sure somewhere in this dining room was the door to the exit I’d sought for so long, hoping to escape my imprisonment.
Quickly and skilfully, she took the cloth off the table and put the tableware into a wall cabinet I hadn’t noticed before. After picking up the pieces of glass lying on the floor, I saw her hesitate, not moving. She looked in my direction, and I could tell she was suspicious of me. I pretended not to notice anything but observed her all the more closely. However, a moment later, I happened to look out the window at the swallows flying over the courtyard, and I heard the same whistling sound as before. When I looked back the old woman had vanished … This time, I clearly heard the sound coming from the small octagonal room between the dining room and my bedroom. I had left the door to the dining room open.
The secret door had to be there.
Quickly, I charged into the tiny cabin to examine the room.
I checked it as thoroughly as I could but found nothing. As the space is without windows and a shimmer from the adjoining rooms is its only light source, it was very dim. I decided to have another, more thorough, look later and stopped groping around for now.
I was also quite tired from wandering about the castle earlier in the day, so I went to bed and fell asleep at once, but I woke up again after an hour, feeling well and rested. I expected the Count to be home by now, so I went into his library, but he was not there. To pass the time I started writing in my journal, and it all seemed so unbelievable—more dream than reality—were it not for the tangible evidence, which cannot be contested. I hardly know what to believe, but worst of all I cannot trust the Count. Why is he buying himself a house in London and moving there? My employer is a thoroughly honest person, and it would damage his reputation were he t
o facilitate the migration of shady scoundrels to London—there are enough of them in the city already.
The Count should arrive any moment now. The sun is setting, and that lovely valley is fraught with evening scent and the same gentle beauty as the first time I saw it. I should go up to the top floor, as there must be an even more captivating view from the portrait gallery and the tower. Shouldn’t I …?193
12 MAY
GOD SAVE ME! I HARDLY KNOW WHETHER I AM AWAKE OR asleep! Why do I see and hear things that are not real? Is it the solitude? Is it because everything here is so different from what I am used to? It was probably just a dream, but God grant that I never have such a nightmare again.
The Count told me that he found me fully clothed and fast asleep in my bed when he came home, and that it seemed as if I’d had a nightmare. He said that I’d been mumbling and tossing wildly around in my sleep, so he had woken me up. My first thought was to believe he would report correctly,194 for I had indeed woken up in the middle of the night, lying on my bed, fully clothed, with a light burning on the table and the Count standing next to me, glowering at me with his black eyes. I was exhausted, as if I’d drunk sleeping medicine, so I silently obeyed him when he told me to take off my clothes. I must have fallen asleep directly thereafter, as from that point on, I was dead to the world around me until quite late the next day.
Fjallkonan #36 | 17 September 1900
BUT ONE THING IS SURE: WHEN I WOKE UP, I CLEARLY remembered everything that had happened the day before and into the night, but it doesn’t at all match what the Count would have me believe. He maintains that he found me in my bedroom. However, I cannot understand why he does not just tell me the truth. He had previously warned me not to dwell in the empty rooms on the higher floors after sunset, but last night I had totally forgotten about that.195 I have to accept—as he told me—that the air in this old castle is not healthy, though it may be difficult to identify the afflictive agents. People speculate about contagious mental diseases, but why shouldn’t they just as well imagine mental infections that weaken one’s mind and disposition in the same way that cholera and diphtheria bacteria weaken the body?196 And nothing speaks against the possibility that such germs can be in a dormant state for years or even centuries on end.197 I am neither a psychologist nor a doctor, but I can give my opinion. I am unable and uneager to put it into words, but I can feel it clearly: In the same way that various external factors can make one ill, so have I been affected. Whether these causes are mental or not, they have provoked visions and emotions in me that I’ve not had before—and which are of a rather nocuous sort!
The Count says that I have only dreamt things, and that would be the most logical explanation. I was tired that evening, my nerves were on edge, and my imagination was sickly after all that had happened to me since noon. I had fallen asleep with all my clothes on. No, I shall swear that I had not!
I was sitting at the table, in the library, just as I am now, when I suddenly felt the urge to go up to the top floor to have a better view of the sunset. I threw my pen down and took my book with me to the bedroom; then I ran up the stairs. When I came to the tower next to the portrait gallery, the sun had not yet set. The view from up there truly is better than from any other place in the castle. I went to all the windows and finally stood by the one that gave me the best view, and—as there are benches in all the alcoves—I sat down, opened the window, and completely immersed myself in the beauty of nature. I lit a cigar and leaned back.
The air was sultry and I expected the night to bring thunderstorms. I was tired and didn’t feel like lifting a finger;198 instead, I felt called upon to enjoy the splendor of the scenery. After the sun had set, a glowing evening redness spread across the heavens; it was as if the whole sky was ablaze! Then, with black-blue and reddish misty streaks in the east, goldish clouds came dashing in, high up in the sky, driven by the upper air streams. I started to feel curiously thrilled,199 as if anticipating something, but I didn’t know what. Never in my life have I felt like that before. I cannot describe it, but it was as if I was half drunk. Darkness slid over, yet the same stifling heat remained, filling the air with a floral scent from the valley. I arranged the pillows on the bench to be more comfortable, stretched myself out even more, and stared steadily into the distance, wondering why the tempest hadn’t broken yet.
I must have fallen asleep, because I clearly remember waking up to a feeling as though an electric current were passing through me, and I sensed that I was not alone. It was growing as dark as it can on a summer’s night in this region.200 The windows were hardly visible, and I could barely distinguish any of the furniture around me. At first I couldn’t figure out where I was. I thought I had arrived in some kind of unknown world, and that a voice was whispering to me, “Love, which burns like bitter hatred, and hatred that burns like love!”
Those were the words the Count had used when he was showing me the paintings, but now they were being spoken by an utterly different voice—some seductive voice. Half unconscious, I sank back into the bench.
At that same moment, two flashes of lightning burst forth, casting their light into the room. In this light I saw her right next to me. She was just as she had been the first time I met her. When the light vanished I lost sight of her, but I could feel her coming closer and bending over me. I turned feeble, unable to move—
Lightning struck again, and I saw her face right next to mine; she stared straight into my eyes, her lips parted. I saw the necklace around her neck, which was bare right down to her bosom. I could see that she’d sank down on her knees by the bench on which I sat.201 Then unbroken blackness surrounded me once more and I seemed to be tumbling down somewhere into the deep, half unconscious. The flowery fragrance had half numbed me, but I could still feel her soft feminine arms wrap around me; her breath on my face and her lips pressing to my throat—
I don’t know how much time had passed, but suddenly I woke up with a shock. It felt as though she were slipping from my arms and a great grief engulfed my body. In that moment I saw a light flare up—not from a lightning bolt, but from a lamp carried by the Count as he entered the room. He shouted something—it sounded like a curse in a language I did not know. He came straight to me and lit up my face.
“What by all the devils are you doing here? Why do you not obey me?” he barked at me in German, trembling with anger despite his efforts to control himself. “Here, at this hour! You should know that Dracula is master of this house.”
He closed the window. He had left the lamp on the floor, and from below it cast a ghostly—or rather, demonic—hue onto his face. His hair stood up on his head like that of an angry lion.
I rose—about to stammer some excuse—as he stood, staring at me, as if considering something.
Then he said in a commanding tone: “Lie down.”
Automatically, I obeyed and lay back on the pillow.
He took the lamp and examined my face and neck carefully. Then he laughed a cold laugh.
“Good friend,” he said, his voice suddenly gentle, “you should have remembered that I warned you against being up here when it starts to get dark. This you have forgotten, of course, but in this matter I must caution you again. You have put yourself at risk, falling asleep in front of the open window. Have you been attacked in your sleep?”
He stroked my forehead and the top of my throat.
After that, I cannot remember anything before waking up in my bed, fully clothed and with the Count standing next to me, saying he’d woken me because I’d had a bad dream; that it was past bedtime and that it would be best to undress.202 I obeyed him and didn’t wake up again until much later in the day.
Fjallkonan #37 | 24 September 1900
I HAVE NOW WRITTEN DOWN EVERYTHING THAT HAS HAPPENED to me, and although it’s but a few words, it’s clear enough to convince me that this was no dream—or at least no ordinary dream. To be certain, I went to the top floor in broad daylight and had a look around. I went into the tower
room and everything appeared just as it had the night before. The furnishings were untouched and nothing had been moved. The pillows on the window-bench were in a pile, exactly as I recall arranging them so that I would be more comfortable, and I no doubt recognized the silk that the benches were lined with. It was all exactly as I remembered it to be. I found cigar ash on the window sill, which I had left there while smoking. I also saw footprints in the dust on the floor, which apparently had not been swept in a very long time, and traces left as if by a light dress. Thus I have no doubt that my memories are accurate. I know that I was up there that evening, although the Count denies it. But I cannot understand why he does so. It would be more understandable were he to reproach me for violating his instructions not to go up there.203 Perhaps then I might accept the idea that everything I believe has happened to me may have been but a dream.204
When we met last night the Count had already arrived in the library, quite contrary to his habit. He was most amiable in manner and had taken a number of English and Austrian lawbooks from the bookcase to show me, to help make my evening as pleasant as possible. It is truly amazing how much his English has improved in such a short time. He must have a keen ear, as he catches on to pronunciation at a staggering pace. By now it’s hardly possible to hear that he isn’t an Englishman, save for single words in which the intonation is too difficult for him. I praised him for this, and it appeared he’d appreciated the compliment.