Dracula in Istanbul

by Bram Stoker

  “I began to cry before this good, kind-hearted gentleman while Azmi, with tears in his eyes, kissed the old man’s shaking hands. That is how we met with Rıfat Bey. Now Rıfat Bey has a partner, and the two men are busy at the table all day, examining all sorts of business. However, Azmi is still very weak! My poor husband; can you blame me? He has gone through so much pain. But he does not yet wish to speak about his trip.

  “How is your mother? I hope her health is better. Give her my regards and love; and give her love from Azmi as well. I have written that Azmi is very weak. Even as I was writing this letter he started out of his sleep, and I went to him quickly to calm him. Of course, our happiness and comfort will put an end to all of this. But you see, I have talked all about myself again. Now let us speak of your news: When is your wedding? Do you see Turan Bey a great deal? Tell me all about it. With much love, my dearest Şadan.”

  Letter from Güzin to Şadan.

  (Unopened by her.)

  “18 September.

  “My dear friend Şadan,

  “We have suffered a terrible blow. Many cold-hearted people may see this as boon for us, but you know very well that this is not the truth. Our surrogate father, the most generous protector of our life and future, Rıfat Bey, passed away suddenly. We do not believe we would be so distraught even if our real fathers were alive and had died. This kind-hearted man left us a fortune that we could never imagine earning. This event has had a terrible effect on Azmi, who was already very weak. I am trying my best to distract him with other, more pleasant things. Oh, dear Şadan; here I am, worrying you with all of my troubles. Forgive me, I cannot help it; I have no one to confide in except you. I will come to see you soon. Goodbye, my beautiful.

  “With much love,

  “Güzin”

  From Doctor Afif’s Diary.

  20 September.—Only resolution and the habit of many years allow me to continue writing in this journal. I am too miserable; I have lost all hope. If I were to meet my death today, I would feel not the slightest sorrow for the life I leave behind. Death is already floating all around me. Şadan’s mother died, then Turan’s father; now the unfortunate, sweet Şadan. But let me stop; let me try to record these events while I have them in my mind. As I have said, while Resuhî Bey and Turan were in Şadan’s room, I came in to relieve my old tutor, then attempted to send Turan to his room. At first he did not wish to leave; however, when I explained that we would need him tomorrow, he acquiesced. Doctor Resuhî Bey treated Turan with the compassion of a father. He tried to console him, saying, “Come, my child. Come, my son; you are very tired too. Let us go into the other room; there are two sofas there. We can lie down, and our hearts will comfort and strengthen each other.”

  After a last look at Şadan, her face chalky white as she lay on the bed, he left the room with the doctor. I was alone, and when I looked around I saw that the doctor had arranged everything and had put the garlic flowers in place. The window frames were covered with them, and Şadan wore a chaplet of them around her neck. I looked at her; she was having difficulty breathing. Under the frosted lamp her teeth appeared even sharper than they had been in the morning. It must have been some trick of the light, especially as the canine teeth appeared longer and sharper than the rest. I sat down by the patient; she moved uneasily, and at that moment I heard a noise made by something soft flapping against the window. I went over to it and raised one side of the curtain. The moonlight illuminated the entire scene, and there was a large bat outside the window. It flew away, possibly startled by the light. It began flying in circles and striking the window with its wings. When I came back to the bed, I noticed that Şadan had moved and torn away her wreath of garlic flowers. I replaced them as well as I could, according to Doctor Resuhî Bey’s instructions, and observed the patient. Presently Şadan awoke and I gave her food as the doctor had prescribed, but she ate very little. However, it struck me as curious that the moment she became conscious, she pressed the garlic flowers close to her. It was odd: I noticed that whenever she got into that lethargic state, with the stertorous breathing, she put the flowers from her; but when she awoke, she immediately clutched them and put them around her neck. This went on so many times during my watch that there could be no mistake.

  At six o’clock Resuhî Bey came to relieve me. When he saw Şadan’s face, I again heard that very familiar sigh. With a sharp whisper, he said, “Turn on the lights!” and examined Şadan carefully. He removed the flowers from around her neck, and as he did so he started back, as though afraid. “Oh my God!” he said. I bent over and looked, too, and as I noticed a chill came over me.

  The wounds on her neck had completely disappeared!

  My old tutor stared at Şadan’s face carefully for fully five minutes, and then he turned to me and said:

  “She is dying. It will not be long. Now listen carefully, there is a great difference whether she dies conscious or in her sleep. Go and wake that poor boy, your unfortunate friend, so that he may see his lover’s final moments. We must let him know!”

  I went quickly. I woke Turan, and when he leapt from the sofa and saw the morning light he cried out: “Have I slept too long? My God!” I assured him that Şadan was still asleep, but told him as gently as I could the outcome that both Doctor Resuhî Bey and I feared. Without a word, the poor child put his face in his hands and fell on his knees. His shoulders shook from sobbing. I held his hand gently, saying, “Come, my dear brother; come, we are at a time when we need all of your strength and courage!”

  When we entered the room, Şadan opened her eyes, and when she saw Turan she said in a weak voice:

  “Turan, my love, how good of you to come!”

  Turan was leaning over his fiancée to give her a kiss; Doctor Resuhî Bey intercepted him with a swift motion and said:

  “No, not yet. Hold her hand; it will comfort her more!” Turan held that dear hand and knelt beside her bed. At that moment Şadan looked as fresh and beautiful as an angel.

  However, slowly her eyes closed and she fell asleep. For a brief moment she breathed lightly; her chest rose and fell like a tired child’s. Then there came that strange change in her face which I had noticed on my watch. Her breathing grew stertorous, the mouth opened, and the pale gums, drawn back, made the teeth appear longer and sharper than ever. She opened her eyes, half-awake, half-asleep; those eyes which a moment before shone like an angel’s were now both glassy and hard. With a soft, voluptuous voice that I had never heard from her lips, she said:

  “Oh, Turan, my lover, I am glad you have come… Kiss me, kiss me!”

  Turan leaned over his lover for a kiss; but at that moment Resuhî Bey swooped upon him like an eagle upon its prey, clutched him by the shoulders with a strength I never thought he could have possessed, and hurled him across the room.

  “Do not dare, for your life and the safety of her soul!”

  The old professor roared these words and stood before Turan. Turan was so taken aback that for a minute he could not speak. And although a momentary cloud of anger passed over his face, he thought better of it and contained himself. Both Doctor Resuhî Bey and I turned our eyes to Şadan. We saw a spasm as of rage and hatred flit like a shadow over her face; the sharp teeth champed together. Then her eyes began to close and her difficult breathing began again. It was not five minutes later when Şadan reopened her eyes, but this time her face once more had a sweet, angelic glow. The poor girl reached out her thin, weak arm, held Doctor Resuhî Bey’s large, dark hands, and kissed them with respect and gratitude. Then, in a faint voice, but with unspeakable pathos:

  “Ah, a true friend to Turan and me!” she said. “Protect and comfort him!”

  The old professor knelt beside her, and in a deep and majestic voice said:

  “I swear it!” He then turned to Turan: “Come, my son, take her hand and kiss her on the forehead, but only once.”

  Turan kissed his lover’s forehead, and Şadan’s eyes closed slowly. Resuhî Bey, who was now watching Ş
adan, held Turan’s arm and took him outside. When he returned, her breathing became more stertorous. Then, suddenly, it ceased. The old doctor, in a faint voice, said:

  “It is all over… She is dead!”

  When I opened the door, I saw Turan on his knees, sobbing. I hurried back into the room. Resuhî Bey was examining her face with a stern and grim expression. How strange! Death had returned this poor girl’s beauty. Her face and lips became pink and almost rejuvenated. I stood beside the professor:

  “Poor child,” I said. “At least she finally found peace; her suffering has ended.”

  The professor shook his head solemnly:

  “Not so, not so! We are at the beginning of pain and trouble.”

  I asked what he meant, and he only said:

  “We can do nothing as yet. Wait and see.”

  CHAPTER VIII

  FROM DOCTOR AFİF BEY’S DIARY—continued.

  A strange thing: Doctor Resuhî Bey’s behavior has taken a mysterious turn. In particular, the look he gave the poor, gentle, innocent Şadan after her death appeared almost spiteful. Of course, I could not expect Resuhî Bey to shed many tears, since he had not loved this precious girl as I had. However, although the old professor behaved strangely from time to time and held some fantastical beliefs, he now became even more peculiar.

  After Şadan and her mother’s funerals, Resuhî Bey said in a grave and thoughtful tone:

  “We will make ourselves comfortable tonight. Unfortunately there is nothing to be done for now, but tomorrow afternoon you will bring me a set of post-mortem knives. And no one must hear of the things I shall tell you.”

  “My dear tutor, what must we do now; will we perform an autopsy?”

  “Yes and no! I wish to operate, but not as you think. I shall cut off Şadan’s head and remove her heart!”

  I thought Doctor Resuhî had suddenly gone mad. He continued with great conviction and composure:

  “Look at that, you are among the bravest surgeons, and yet so shocked, eh? You even tremble. I am sorry, my friend Afif, I had forgotten that you loved this poor girl. However, you shall not perform the operation. I shall, and you must only help. In fact, I would like to do it tonight, but for Turan’s sake I must not. He is busy just now with his father’s funeral. Yet it is also necessary that he not see Şadan. Ah, if only it were possible to open the coffin secretly and perform the operation now.”

  I still thought that I was dreaming or that the old professor had gone insane. I said angrily:

  “But why do it at all? The girl is dead and gone. Why would you mutilate a poor woman’s body in such a horrible way? If it will do no good to her or to science, it is monstrous.”

  The professor interrupted me quickly:

  “My friend Afif, I pity your heart, wounded by sorrow and love. I respect your feelings. However, there are so many things that you do not know. You shall learn about them when the time comes, and although they are unpleasant, you will thank me. Afif, my son, you have worked and lived with me for many years, and yet did you ever see me do anything foolish, against conscience or law? Let me remind you of a small incident: when I prevented Turan from kissing Şadan as she was about to die, you were angry with me. But did you not see how Şadan thanked me for it with her beautiful eyes and her weak voice once she regained consciousness? Did she not kiss my hand and commit Turan to my protection? You have believed in me for many years, trusted me throughout this strange and horrible incident. Now, my child, I want you to continue to trust me for a week or two more!”

  He stopped for a minute. Then he continued solemnly:

  “My son Afif, there are strange and terrible days before us. Let us not be two, but one, so that we may work toward a good end. Will you not have faith in me?”

  I took the hands of my dear tutor, whose good intentions I did not doubt. I kissed his hands and, withstanding intense emotions, promised that I would listen to him and trust him.

  The next day Turan called before noon. The grief over his father and lover had had a noticeable effect on this young man, who was as strong as a rock! A few moments later, Resuhî Bey also joined us and we dined at my home. The old doctor had the compassion almost of a father for Turan. After a short time, the bond between them had grown even stronger. At dinner the doctor said to Turan:

  “I know you were very angry at me for preventing you from kissing Şadan; however, both you and I were correct. You could not have trusted me and I could not have acted any other way. But one day I shall ask for your absolute and total trust. Prepare yourself for that moment. Later you shall thank me, both for your own sake and for the sake of your loved one. Remember that Şadan has entrusted you to my protection. In these times the gates of the truth are opened to those who are soon to meet with death.

  “From now on, you are a son to me like Afif. We all knew the Major Turan Bey who rose to fame in the epic victories of our national struggle in Anatolia; but now I ask for the right to call you simply ‘Turan,’ as though you were my son.”

  Turan sprung from his chair and respectfully bowed over the still-strong hands of the professor. Resuhî Bey continued in a manner that I did not understand:

  “Turan, I was just telling Afif that we have gone through a great deal. Especially you; you are in a more agonizing position than either of us. However, there are more evil and painful days—and more heartbreaking episodes—ahead of us. But if we walk together to the end, we will see the light at the end of the tunnel.”

  I almost forgot to write here: Doctor Resuhî Bey told me privately that the surgical knives would not be necessary for the present.

  From Güzin Hanım’s Diary.

  20 September.—How short the time has been since the first entry in my journal. Much has happened, good and bad, between these dates. When I wrote those first lines, Azmi was on his accursed trip to Transylvania and I was dealing with the sorrow of not hearing from him. Now Azmi has returned, I have become his wife, and dear Rıfat Bey has passed away and been buried. Azmi has taken over as the owner and manager of the business. However, he has still not fully recovered. One particular incident occurred a day ago that put him in bed again. Now I record it in my journal, which has been my confidant in sad and lonely times.

  Two days ago, near evening, I forced Azmi to get up from his desk, as the weather was warm and very pleasant, and I took him to Sarayburnu Park, very close to our home in Cağaloğlu, to get some air. I love the high eastern side overlooking the Straits, the Sea of Marmara, Çamlıca, and the Prince Islands, and the beautiful blue currents of the Bosphorus that have flowed for centuries. Sitting there in silence for half an hour refreshes and strengthens the soul considerably. So I took Azmi’s hand and brought him there. The garden was quiet. As I gazed at the Marmara currents, Azmi suddenly clutched my arm and muttered, “Oh my God!” I turned my head instantly. His face had turned pale. His eyes were like those of a child who has seen something terrifying. And those hard eyes were fixed on a tall, slim, hawk-nosed man with a black mustache and pointed beard. This man in black was staring intently at a beautiful young girl. He was so focused on the girl that he did not notice us looking at him. Therefore I had the chance to observe him for some time. His face was hard, cruel, and—how should I put this?—almost lustful. His excessively red lips made his teeth appear even whiter, and they were pointed like an animal’s. Azmi stared at him blankly in terror and amazement; I was afraid the man might notice and said:

  “Azmi, do you feel ill?”

  Azmi evidently thought that I knew this man as well as he did because he replied:

  “Do you see who it is?”

  “I don’t know him; who is it?”

  His answer sent a cold shiver through my body, for it was said as if he did not know that it was me, his wife Güzin, to whom he was speaking:

  “It is the man himself!”

  Poor Azmi was evidently terrified and excited. For if I had not been supporting him with all of my strength, he would have collapsed. At that mom
ent, the young woman or girl saw some other people and walked to them; and the man followed behind. My husband’s look of fear lingered until the man disappeared. Then he whispered to himself:

  “That man is the Count. Count Dracula! But he is younger… Oh my God, if what I saw is true… If this is true! Ah, if only I knew… if I knew…”

  My husband was in such a sad state of distress and excitement that I was terribly frightened. We returned home quickly, and I sat him down on a sofa and put his head on my shoulder. A minute later he fell asleep, breathing calmly. When he woke, it was as though he did not remember the incident; he smiled at me with loving eyes and said, “I fell asleep, Güzin; how long I must have kept you waiting.” It makes me so sad that Azmi has these episodes of fear and forgetfulness. This may eventually lead to some disaster. I have made a resolution; when I found him in the hospital in Edirne, he gave me his journal and made me promise not to read it unless he permitted it or it was deemed necessary for our happiness. And I have kept it. I have not read it, even though Azmi insisted on saying nothing about his strange journey. Have I the right to read it?

  The same evening.—My God, what a terrible tragedy! I just received the news of the death of both Şadan and her mother; I am bursting into tears. I do not have the strength to write any more…

  From Doctor Afif’s Diary.

  22 September.—Silence and loneliness… Poor Turan, he has gone with Özdemir Bey to his mansion in Göztepe. This Özdemir is such a brave and noble fellow! I have no doubt that he is as upset about the terrible death of Şadan as Turan and I are; however, he can hide his feelings very well. It’s as though he wears a steel mask. Who need fear for the future of the Turkish nation and Turkish lands when the mountains and highlands of Anatolia continue to raise such lionhearted, pure, and sensitive children? Doctor Resuhî Bey is sleeping in the other room; tonight he will go to Yakacık, stay there one night, and return. He said there are some preparations that only he can make.