Dracula in Istanbul

by Bram Stoker

  When the blood transfusion was over and Doctor Resuhî was attending to Şadan, I bandaged my wound; I felt as though I were about to faint. As I went downstairs to have a glass of wine upon the advice of Resuhî Bey, the old professor ran after me and said:

  “Remember, you must never mention this operation to anyone. Off you go.”

  I lay down on my side as I drank the wine, wondering how Şadan could have lost so much blood in one night, and fell asleep. But awake or asleep, the small wounds on Şadan’s neck flashed ever before my eyes.

  After sleeping all day, Şadan awoke fairly well, though not nearly so much so as the day before. Seeing her condition, Doctor Resuhî went out for a walk. He warned me not to leave the patient alone for even a moment. I heard Resuhî Bey ask the maid about a telegraph office.

  Şadan chatted with me freely; it was obvious that she was unaware of this new incident. After two hours, Resuhî Bey returned and said:

  “Now go home, eat plenty of nutritious food, and sleep. I am here; do not say anything about the situation here to anyone; I have very important reasons for this. No! Do not ask now, but keep in mind that even impossible things can happen. Good bye!”

  11 September.—Once I felt better, I went to see Şadan. I found the doctor in excellent spirits and Şadan as happy and healthy as Resuhî Bey. After my arrival, a large suitcase from Yakacık arrived for the old professor.

  The doctor opened the suitcase; he presented a rather large bundle of white flowers to Şadan and said:

  “Şadan Hanım, these are for you. But they are not a gift; they are a medicine. Oh little miss, do not frown. Do not be afraid, I shall not boil them and make you drink it. I will put them up like trimming around your windows and make a wreath of them for you to wear around your neck; then you shall be able to sleep soundly.”

  Şadan had every reason to frown; these were nothing but garlic flowers. When Şadan threw the bundle from her hands in disgust, Resuhî Bey knit his eyebrows.

  “Nooo, Şadan Hanım, I do not want such jokes; in everything I do there is a very important and significant purpose,” he said. When the doctor saw Şadan was becoming distressed, he softened his voice and held her hand. “My daughter, my child! I am working for your own good. For God’s sake, for the love of all the people who love you so much, listen to my words… Look, I will put these flowers around your room with my own hands, and I am making your necklace too. But you must never mention these to anyone. Come, Afif, let us decorate the windows and the room. I had them pick these flowers especially from the villages of Yakacık.”

  Doctor Resuhî Bey’s actions were very strange and mysterious. Even I was troubled by this exercise in the name of medicine. Resuhî Bey first closed the windows tightly and put the shutters in place; then he carefully lined the window frames and windows with the flowers. He did the same to the door. Presently I lost my patience and asked my old tutor:

  “Professor, I have never seen you do anything contrary to logic and scientific reason, but if someone saw you here now they would think you were casting a spell on the room to keep out evil spirits.”

  Resuhî Bey, fastening the wreath in his hands, said calmly:

  “Perhaps I am!”

  Then he put the wreath around Şadan’s neck:

  “Do not disturb this; and even if it is very hot tonight, do not open the window or door!”

  When we left the room my old friend turned to me and said:

  “Tonight I can sleep in peace; and sleep I need. Tomorrow, come to my hotel and we will both go to visit our little miss; you will see that my spell will have healed her!” (At this, the doctor laughed strangely.)

  CHAPTER VII

  From Şadan Hanım’s Diary.

  12 September.—I should like to write a few things in my diary while I feel well. Ah, this old doctor Resuhî Bey is a venerable, kind person. I quite love him. What of Doctor Afif? He is really an angel; that is what you call a true friend. I am happy that I am surrounded by such compassionate people as Turan and my mother!

  Oh my God, what were all these struggles I have had against sleep, and those terrible dreams? How blessed are some people who can sleep comfortably. Tonight I hope I may join them. I have never loved garlic but tonight it almost smells delightful. Come, sweet slumber. I entrust all to God. Tonight I will not fear the sound of wings flapping outside my window!

  From Doctor Azmi Bey’s Diary.

  13 September.—I called on Doctor Resuhî Bey; we got into an automobile and went to see Şadan Hanım. After passing the sweet smell of the garden on this lovely morning, we met Şadan’s mother, always an early riser, downstairs. The woman said with a cheerful expression:

  “I congratulate and thank you, doctors; Şadan is very well. In fact, seeing as she is not yet up, she must be sleeping perfectly. I did not enter her room lest I should disturb her. But doctors, do not claim all the credit for yourselves. I woke up in the night and went into her room to check on her. She was sleeping like an angel, but the room was full of foul-smelling flowers. Şadan even had a wreath of them around her neck. I took them all away so that this foul smell would not bother my daughter, and opened a window to let in some air. Have I not done well, gentlemen?”

  Upon saying this, she went away to her room. I looked at the old professor; his face instantly turned white. He remained calm in front of this poor woman who was susceptible to death from the slightest shock. But the moment she left, he grasped my hand in great anger and took me into one of the rooms and closed the door.

  Then, for the first time, I saw this calm man break down under the weight of hardship and sorrow! He raised his hands, beat them upon his knees, sat down in a chair, and in a quiet but terrible voice began to sob like a desperate child. This went on for a minute or two. Resuhî Bey raised his hands again and screamed as though appealing to the whole universe.

  “My God, my God, my God! What have we done? What has this poor girl done to suffer so much tragedy? Has the pagan world of old sent its evil spirits to us? Are we yet dealing with a talisman of doom?

  “This poor woman, in order to make her comfortable, is unknowingly destroying her dear daughter’s life, blood, and soul! The worst is, we can tell her nothing…”

  Then he leapt up suddenly:

  “Come, Afif; we must see and act. Be it demon or magic, we will fight this evil and not lose hope.”

  He took his bag; we went into Şadan’s room. When Doctor Resuhî saw her, he said, “Just as I thought… she is unconscious again!” He locked the door from the inside and began removing his instruments from the bag. There would be a third blood transfusion.

  This time we transferred some of my generous and brave tutor’s blood into Şadan’s veins. The poor girl began to breathe normally again. Her white lips and cheeks grew redder and she fell into a healthy sleep. Before leaving her to rest, Resuhî Bey saw Şadan’s mother and warned her sternly not to touch anything in the patient’s room.

  I consider myself a good doctor, but I do not understand any of this. Is it because all the worry, fear, and distress is making me dimwitted?

  From Şadan’s Diary.

  17 September.—I have had peace for four days and four nights. I am recovering very quickly, as though I have been spared from a long and dark nightmare. Now I barely remember the hours of waiting and dreading. My God, what was it? I was falling into an oblivion of darkness and amnesia at night, and opening my eyes tired and nearly dead in my bed. After the dear Doctor Resuhî Bey’s mental treatments, I am free of all of my troubles. I no longer hear the flapping wings of a big, dark bird at night. I no longer hear distant, strange, and harsh orders telling me to do things against my will. Now I can fall asleep without being afraid. I have grown accustomed to the smell of garlic flowers; Doctor Resuhî Bey brings baskets of them every day. I decorate my room with the flowers and close up everything. I awoke twice last night. Resuhî Bey was asleep on the sofa; and even though I heard the angry sound of wings flapping, I easily fell asleep
again.

  17 September, night.—I write these lines to leave an exact record of what has happened. Let it be clear that if I die, no one is responsible. Yes… I feel that I am about to die soon of exhaustion. However, I will keep writing with all of my remaining strength. I will even die with the pen in my hand.

  After seeing that the flowers had been placed as Doctor Resuhî Bey directed, I went to sleep in peace. I awoke suddenly in the middle of the night. Outside the window I heard the sound of flapping wings that had begun the night my dear friend Güzin found me by the seaside in Bakırköy. I did not have the same fear and strange feeling of helplessness, but I would have liked Resuhî Bey to be here in the next room. I tried to sleep, but it was impossible. Presently the old fear of sleep returned, and I determined to keep awake. As if in spite, drowsiness began to come over me. I got out of bed and looked against my will toward the window. A large bat was visible in the darkness, buffeting its wings against the glass from time to time. I decided to go back to bed, although not to sleep, but just at that moment my mother came into the room and sat on the bed beside me. She kissed my cheeks and said, “I was worried about you, my girl!” I was afraid that she might be cold because of her thin nightdress. So I convinced her to sleep next to me. As we lay there, the flapping of wings came to the window again. My mother was startled a little and asked, “What is that?” I tried to pacify her but I could almost hear the heavy beating of her heart.

  A minute later the flapping sound grew louder. With one last blow, the window shattered into the room and a strong wind blew the curtains toward us. My mother pointed at the window and screamed. For there, a red-eyed, gaunt old wolf—yes, a real wolf—was staring at us with bared teeth. My mother uttered a silent groan following her scream and afterward fell still; but at that moment she clutched the wreath of flowers around my neck and broke it apart. I could not think clearly about anything; my eyes were fixed on the broken window. The wolf drew his head back, and the wind filled the room with thousands of glittering specks and spots of dust. These shiny things scattered, swirled, and formed strange shapes. I wanted to move but I was anchored in place as if by some invisible force. The cold body of my mother, who had died because her heart could not withstand the terror, lay on my chest. After this I blacked out completely for some time.

  When I opened my eyes, my whole body was shaking and I lay with my mother’s dead body. I was barely able to write these lines in the diary beneath my head. There, those bright spots, those tiny specks are beginning to float again… My God, my God, protect me. My brave lover Turan, where are you? Farewell Turan, my eyes are closing, I am getting worse. I do not think I can write any more… my God…

  From Doctor Afif’s Diary.

  18 September.—When I approached the door of Şadan’s house this morning, I saw Resuhî Bey stepping out of an automobile. There was a great commotion in the house, and even crying. My old tutor’s face was completely white.

  We went straight to Şadan’s door without a word to anyone. Oh God, how can I describe the scene we saw there!

  Two women lay on the bed: Şadan and her mother. The old woman was surely dead. With her deathly pale face, Şadan looked no different. Her throat was bare; those two eerie wounds were visible on her neck, but this time the area around them was badly mangled. Resuhî Bey began carefully listening to her chest. Then he stepped back suddenly and cried out:

  “We still have a chance. Quick, quick! Bring me that bottle!”

  I leapt up and brought the medicine bottle from the bag left near the door; the doctor moistened Şadan’s lips, gums, wrists, and forehead. As we worked, one of the servants entered the room slowly and informed us that a man sent by Turan Bey was waiting. I said simply, “Take him upstairs!” and returned to what I was doing. I have never seen Resuhî Bey work so earnestly. He massaged Şadan very gently, as though he were afraid to break her. At that moment, he turned to me and said these incomprehensible words:

  “If it would only end in death, by God’s will, I would leave this poor girl to the angel of death. But what might come next is horrible, very horrible.”

  After continuing his work with great care and vigor he said: “We are winning, we have won the first round; her body temperature is normalizing. But there is a problem: Şadan needs another blood transfusion, and very quickly. If not, the poor girl shall not live an hour. However, we have taken your blood, and I am useless after giving blood the last time. Now, where will we find the brave man who will open his veins and spill his blood for Şadan one more time?”

  At that very moment, we heard a powerful voice from the doorway. The words, spoken with an Aydın accent, filled my heart with joy:

  “Very well, what’s wrong with me?”

  We both turned; there, with his tall frame, sunburn, shining black eyes, and handsome face, was my friend from Germany and the War of Independence, Özdemir Bey.

  My old tutor started when he heard this loud voice, but when I said, “Ah, Özdemir, is it you?” and reached out to him, Resuhî Bey’s frown disappeared. Özdemir Bey took a long, sorrowful look at the bed; his face turned pale, but he held himself with his usual superhuman steadfastness:

  “Turan sent me. He said that he has not heard from you for three days; he is worried sick about Şadan Hanım. However, his father is very ill; the old man does not let his son out of his sight for a moment. That is why he had to send me instead.”

  Doctor Resuhî Bey suddenly strode forward, grasped Özdemir’s powerful hands, and looked him straight in the eyes:

  “Özdemir Bey, when a woman is in trouble, the most effective medicine is a man’s blood! I see you are one of the bravest and most honest men in these Turkish lands. No matter how much the devil fights us, God always sends us men when we want them.”

  I will not go into detail; we performed the blood transfusion once again. However, this time Şadan had been too depleted; even though Özdemir’s veins were pumping out more blood than any of ours had done, the action of her heart and lungs was barely detectable. I took the exhausted Özdemir to another room and set him on the bed to rest, after first giving him something to drink. When I returned to Şadan’s room, Doctor Resuhî Bey was holding a little notebook; he had evidently read it for he was deep in thought. He looked up for a moment; he had the harsh, bitter countenance of someone who has just assumed the burden of some cryptic thing. He passed the notebook to me, saying only:

  “I found this on Şadan’s bed!”

  Upon reading the notebook, I turned to him and asked, “For the love of God, tell me, what does all of this mean? Is Şadan mad? What kind of ominous and terrible danger is this?” Resuhî Bey took the diary from me.

  “Do not trouble about it now,” he said, “you shall understand everything when the time comes.”

  I could ask no more of my tutor; there was not time enough anyway. I went to the post office immediately, sending a telegram to Turan informing him that Şadan’s mother was dead, but that Şadan had regained her health. A few hours later, Özdemir Bey had revived. He sat me down by his side, took my hand, looked at me, and said:

  “Afif, Turan Bey told me everything. One by one we all fell in love with Şadan Hanım and wished to marry her; the lottery chose Turan and they both deserve each other, and may God make them happy. However, I am ever prepared to sacrifice my life for Şadan. Our friendship amid hundreds of deaths has placed this duty on your shoulders and mine. But as I understand, the heroic-looking old Doctor upstairs also gave his blood to Şadan Hanım. Please tell me, what has caused this girl to lose so much blood?”

  I did not know myself. I could not speak of the strange things I had seen after Resuhî Bey’s warning, even to Özdemir. I wanted to judiciously deflect the question by using complicated medical terms. I think Özdemir realized this, but he did not press the matter. He shook my hand again and said: “Look at me, Afif; you are all honest, reliable people. I believe you and I am happy that I am your friend. However, one last word: count on me for any
thing, even to put my life on the line. Do not forget that you may share your work and your problems with me!”

  I shook the hand of this gold-hearted young Turk with all earnestness; I could not hold back the tears provoked by my intense emotions.

  19 September.—Tonight we took turns watching Şadan with Doctor Resuhî. Özdemir was not in the room, but I knew what he was doing. He spent all night walking around the house in the garden. When morning came, we saw how exhausted and haggard the poor girl was. Her gums had receded like a corpse’s; her teeth looked sharper. Although when she awoke, her innocent eyes softened her countenance, when she slept she appeared stronger; and sometimes her features resembled a cruel smile. Doctor Resuhî Bey observed all these changes closely. Frankly, she is becoming disconnected from life. We are losing Şadan. In the afternoon I sent a telegram to Turan and two hours later he had come. Now Doctor Resuhî Bey and Turan are with Şadan and I am writing these lines in my notebook. I shall take over the watch from Resuhî Bey in fifteen minutes.

  Letter from Güzin to Şadan.

  “17 September.

  “Dear Şadan,

  “I know how great my faults are, and you have every right to complain, but I have not been able to find a free moment to write. Let me explain. First, I met my dear husband, my Azmi, at the station, and our dear elder Rıfat Bey was waiting for us with an automobile. He took us to his home above the office.

  “ ‘My children,’ he said, ‘yes, you are indeed my children. You know that although I have wealth, I have no one else except you. I have raised Azmi as my own son. Güzin, I raised you in part as well, as you were entrusted to me by my closest friend, your father. Since you are now husband and wife, you shall live together and make my last days brighter and happier. In my will I have left Azmi everything. Now, is this situation understood?’