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 h
Brara Stoker

mt

Garden Cn v New York

DOUBLE DAY, PAGE & COMPANY
1920
Copyright, 1 397, in the United States of America, according to Act
of Congress, by Foam Stoker.

[JU ri^hls rtstTQidX

 TO

MY DEAR FRIEND

HOMMY-BEG

V
How these papers have been placed in sequence will be made
manifest in the reading of them. All needless matters have
been eliminated, so that a history almost at variance with
the possibilities of later-day belief may stand forth as simple
fact. There is throughout no statement of past things
wherein memory may err, for all the records chosen are ex-
actly contemporary, given from the standpoints and within
the range of knowledge of those who made them. «
,
 CONTENTS

Chapter I.
Page.
Jonathan Harker’s Journal ..... l

Chapter II.

Jonathan Harker’s Journal 15

Chapter III.

Jonathan Harker’s Journal 28

Chapter IV.

Jonathan Harkens Journal 41

Chapter V.

Letters—Lucy and Mina 55

Chapter VI.

Mina Murray’s Journal 64

Chapter VII.

Cutting from “The Dailygraph,” 8 August 77

Chapter VIII.

Mina Murray's Journal 91

Chapter IX.

Mina Mts/ray’s Journal w6

vii
viii Contents
Chapter X.
Page.
Mina Murray’s Journal * 20

Chapter XI.
Lucy Westenra’s Diary *34

Chapter XII.
Dr. Seward’s Diary.. 146

Chapter XIII.
Dr. Seward’s Diary 163

Chapter XIV.
Mina Harker’s Journal 179

Chapter XV.
Dr. Seward’s Diary. 194

Chapter XVI.
Dr. Seward’s Diary 208

Chapter XVII.
Dr. Seward’s Diary 219

Chapter XVIII.
Dr. Seward’s Diary 232

Chapter XIX.

Jonathan Harker’s Journal .. 248

Chapter XX.
Jonathan Harker’s Journal 261

Chapter XXI.
Dr. Seward’s Diary 275
 Contents ix

Chapter XXII.
Page.
Jonathan Harker’s Journal 289

Chapter XXIII.

Dr. Seward’s Diary 302

Chapter XXIV.

Dr. Seward’s Phonograph Diary, spoken by Van Helsing 315

Chapter XXV.

Dr. Seward’s Diary * 329

Chapter XXVI.

Dr. Seward’s Diary 344

Chapter XXVII.

Mina Harker’s Journal 361 r*

. . . k *yp - - -
 DRACULA
CHAPTER I

JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL

(Kept in shorthand.)

3 May. Bistriz . —Left Munich at 8 on 1st May,

:35 p. m.,
arriving at Vienna early next morning should have arrived
;

at 6:46, but train was an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a

wonderful place, from the glimpse which I got of it from the
train and the little I could walk through the streets. I feared
to go very far from the station, as we had arrived late and
would start as near the correct time as possible. The im-
pression I had was that we were leaving the West and en-
tering the East ;
the most western of splendid bridges over
the Danube, which is here of noble width and depth, took us
among the traditions of Turkish rule.
We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to
Klausenburgh. Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel
Royale. I had for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken done
up some way with red pepper, which was very good but
thirsty. {Mem., get recipe for Mina.) I asked the waiter,
and he said it was called “paprika hendl,” and that, as it was
a national dish, I should be able to get it anywhere along
the Carpathians. I found my smattering of German very
useful here; indeed, I don’t know how I should be able to
get on without it.
Having had some time at my disposal when in London, I
had visited the British Museum, and made search among the
books and maps in the library regarding Transylvania; it
had struck me that some foreknowledge of the country could
hardly fail to have some importance in dealing with a noble-
man of that country. I find that the district he named is in thr
(1) *
 ;

2 Dracula
extreme east of the country, just on the borders of three
states, Transylvania, Moldavia and Bukovina, in the midst of
the Carpathian mountains; one of the wildest and least
known portions of Europe, i was not able to light on any
map or work giving the exact locality of the Castle Dracula,
as there are no maps of this country as yet to compare with
our own Ordnance Survey maps; but I found that Bistritz,
the post town named by Count Dracula, is a fairly well-
known place. I shall enter here some of my notes, as they
may refresh my memory when I talk over my travels with
Mina.
In the population of Transylvania there are four distinct
nationalities Saxons in the South, and mixed with them the
:

Wallachs, who are the descendants of the Dacians Magyars

;

in the West, and Szekelys in the East and North. I am going

among the latter, who claim to be descended from Attila and
the Huns. This may be so, for when the Magyars conquered
the country in the eleventh century they found the Huns
settled in it. I read that every known superstition in the
world is gathered into the horseshoe of the Carpathians, as
if it were the centre of some sort of imaginative whirlpool
if so my stay may be very interesting. {Mem., I must ask
the Count all about them.)
I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable
enough, for I had all sorts of queer dreams. There was a
dog howling all night under my window, which may have
had something to do with it or it may have been the paprika,
;

for I had to drink up all the water in my carafe, and was

still thirsty. Towards morning I and was wakened
slept
by the continuous knocking at my door, so I guess I must
have been sleeping soundly then. I had for breakfast more
paprika, and a sort of porridge of maize flour which they
said was “mamaliga,” and egg-plant stuffed with forcemeat,
a very excellent dish, which they call “impletata.” {Mem.,
get recipe for this also.) I had to hurry breakfast, for the
train started a little before eight, or rather it ought to have
done so, for after rushing to the station at 7 130 I had to sit
in the carriage for more than an hour before we began to
move. It seems to me that the further east you go the more
unpunctual are the trains. What ought they to be in China ?
All day long we seemed to dawdle through a country
which was full of beauty of every kind. Sometimes we saw
little towns or castles on the top of steep hills such as we see
 Jonathan Harker’s Journal 3
in old missals; sometimes we ran by rivers and streams
which seemed from the wide stony margin on each side of
them to be subject to great floods. It takes a lot of water,
and running strong, to sweep the outside edge of a river
clear. At every station there were groups of people, some-
times crowds, and in all sorts of attire. Some of them were
just like the peasants at home or those I saw coming through
France and Germany, with short jackets and round hats arid
home-made trousers but others were very picturesque. The
;

women looked -pretty, except when you got near them, but
they were very clumsy about the waist. They had all full
white sleeves of some kind or other, and most of them had
big belts with a lot of strips of something fluttering from
them like the dresses in a ballet, but of course there were pet-
ticoats under them. The strangest figures we saw were
the Slovaks, who were more barbarian than the rest, with
their big cow-boy hats, great baggy dirty-white trousers,
white linen shirts, and enormous heavy leather belts, nearly
a foot wide, all studded over with brass nails. They wore
high boots, with their trousers tucked into them, and had
long black hair and heavy black moustaches. They are very
picturesque, but do not look prepossessing. On the stage
they would be set down at once as some old Oriental band of
brigands. They are, however, I am told, very harmless and
rather wanting in natural self-assertion.
It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz,
which is a very interesting old place. Being practically on
the frontier— for the Borgo Pass leads from it into Buko-
—
vina it has had a very stormy existence, and it certainly
shows marks of it. Fifty years ago a series of great fires
took place, which made terrible havoc on five separate occa-
sions. At the very beginning of the seventeenth century
it underwent a siege of three weeks and lost 13,000 people,

the casualties of war proper being assisted by famine and

disease.
Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone
Hotel, which I found, to my great delight, to be thoroughly
old-fashioned, for of course I wanted to see all I could of
the ways of the country. I was evidently expected, for when
I got near the door I faced a cheery-looking elderly woman
in the usual peasant dress —white undergarment with long
double apron, front, and back, of coloured stuff fitting al-
most too tight for modesty. When I came close she bowed,
 : — :

4 Dracula

and said, “The Herr Englishman ?” “Yes,” 1 said, “Jonathan

Harker.” She smiled, and gave some message to an elderly
man in white shirt-sleeves, who had followed her to the
door. He went, but immediately returned with a letter :

“My —
Friend. Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anx-
iously expecting you. Sleep well to-night. At three to-
morrow the diligence will start for Bukovina a place on it is
;

kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you
and will bring you to me. I trust that your journey from
London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your
stay in my beautiful land.
“Your friend,
“Dracula.”

4 May — I
. found that my
landlord had got a letter from
the Count, directing him to secure the best place on the
coach for me; but on making inquiries as to details he
seemed somewhat reticent, and pretended that he could not
understand my German. This could not be true, because up
to then he had understood it perfectly ; at least, he answered
my questions exactly as if he did. He and his wife, the old
lady who had received me, looked at each other in a fright-
ened sort of way. He mumbled out that the money had been
sent in a letter, and that was all he knew. When I asked him
if he knew Count Dracula, and could tell me anything of his
castle, both he and his wife crossed themselves, and, saying
that they knew nothing at all, simply refused to speak fur-
ther. It was so near the time of starting that I had no time
to ask any one else, for it was all very mysterious and not by
any means comforting.
Just before I was leaving, the old lady came up to my
room and said in a very hysterical way:
“Must you go? Oh! young Herr, must you go?” She
was in such an excited state that she seemed to have lost her
grip of what German she knew, and mixed it all up with
some other language which I did not know at all. I was just
able to follow her by asking many questions. When I told
her tha f I must go at once, and that I was engaged on im-
portant business, she asked again
“Do you know what day it is?” I answered that it was
the fourth of May. She shook her head as she said again
“Oh, yes I know that ! I know that but do you know wha$
!
 !

Jonathan Harker’s Journal 5

day it is?” On my saying that I did not understand, she
went on:
“It is the eve of St. George’s Day. Do you not know that
to-night, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things
in the world will have full sway? Do you know where you
are going, and what you are going to?” She was in such
evident distress that I tried to comfort her, but without ef-
fect. Finally she went down on her knees and implored me
not to go at least to wait a day or two before starting. It
;

was all very ridiculous but I did not feel comfortable. How-
ever, there was business to be done, and I could allow noth-
ing to interfere with it. I therefore tried to raise her up, and
said, as gravely as I could, that I thanked her, but my duty
was imperative, and that I must go. She then rose and dried
her eyes, and taking a crucifix from her neck offered it to
me. I did not know what to do, for, as an English Church-
man, I have been taught to regard such things as in some
measure idolatrous, and yet it seemed so ungracious to re-
fuse an old lady meaning so well and in such a state of mind.
She saw, I suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put the
rosary round my neck, and said, “For your mother’s sake,”
and went out of the room. I am writing up this part of the
diary whilst I am waiting for the coach, which, is, of course,
late; and the crucifix is still round my neck. Whether it is
the old lady’s fear, or the many ghostly traditions of this
place, or the crucifix itself, I do not know, but I am not
feeling nearly as easy in my mind as usual. If this book
should ever reach Mina before I do, let it bring my good-
bye. Here comes the coach

5 May. The Castle . —The

grey of the morning has
passed, and the sun is high over the distant horizon, which
seems jagged, whether with trees or hills I know not, for it is
so far off that big things and little are mixed. I am not
sleepy, and, as I am not to be called till I awake, naturally I
write till sleep comes. There are many odd things to put
down, and, lest who reads them may fancy that I dined too
well before I left Bistritz, let me put down my dinner ex-
actly. I dined on what they call “robber steak” —
bits of
bacon, onion, and beef, seasoned with red pepper, and strung
on sticks and roasted over the fire, in the simple style of the
London cat’s meat! The wine was Golden Mediasch, which
produces a queer sting on the tongue, which is, however, not
 ;

6 Dracula

disagreeable. I had only a couple of glasses of this, and

nothing else.
When got on the coach the driver had not taken his seat,
I
and I saw him talking with the landlady. They were evi-
dently talking of me, for every now and then they looked at
me, and some of the people who were sitting on the bench
—
outside the door which they call by a name meaning “word-
—
bearer” came and listened, and then looked at me, most of
them pityingly. I could hear a lot of words often repeated,
queer words, for there were many nationalities in the crowd
so I quietly got my polyglot dictionary from my bag and
looked them out. I must say they were not cheering to me,
for amongst them were “Ordog” —
Satan, “pokol” hell, —
“stregoica” —
witch, “vrolok” and “vlkoslak” —
both of which
mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the other Ser-
vian for something that is either were-wolf or vampire.
{Mem., I must ask the Count about these superstitions.)
When we started, the crowd round the inn door, which
had by time swelled to a considerable size, all made the
this
sign of the cross and pointed two fingers towards me. With
some difficulty I got a fellow-passenger to tell me what they
meant he would not answ'er at first, but on learning that I
;

was English he explained that it was a charm or guard

against the evil eye. This was not very pleasant for me,
just starting for an unknown place to meet an unknown
man but every one seemed so kind-hearted, and so sorrow-
;

ful, and so sympathetic that I could not but be touched. I

shall never forget the last glimpse which I had of the inn-
yard and its crowd of picturesque figures, all crossing them-
selves, as they stood round the wide archway, with its back-
ground of rich foliage of oleander and orange trees in green
tubs clustered in the centre of the yard. Then our driver,
whose wide linen drawers covered the whole front of the
— —
box-seat “gotza” they call them cracked his big whip over
his four small horses, which ran abreast, and we set off on
our journey.
I soon lost sight and recollection of ghostly fears in the
beauty of the scene as we drove along, although had I known
the language, or rather languages, which my fellow-passen-
gers were speaking, I might not have been able to throw
them off so easily. Before us lay a green sloping land full of
forests and woods, with here and there steep hills, crowned
with clumps of trees or with farmhouses, the blank gable
 —
Jonathan HarkerY Journal 7
end to the road. There was everywhere a bewildering mass
—
of fruit blossom apple, plum, pear, cherry; and as we
drove by I could see the green grass under the trees span-
gled with the fallen petals. In and out amongst these green
hills of what they call here the “Mittel Land” ran the road,
losing itself as it swept round the grassy curve, or was shut
out by the straggling ends of pine woods, which here and
there ran down the hillsides like tongues of flame. The road
was rugged, but still we seemed to fly over
with a fever-
it

ish haste. I could not understand then what the haste meant,
but the driver was evidently bent on losing no time in reach-
ing Borgo Prund. I was told that this road is in summer-
time excellent, but that it had not yet been put in order after
the winter snows. In this respect it is different from the
general run of roads in the Carpathians, for it is an old tra-
dition that they are not to be kept in too good order. Of old
the Hospadars would not repair them, lest the Turk should
think that they were preparing to bring in foreign troops,
and so hasten the war which was always really at loading
point.
Beyond the green swelling hills of the Mittel Land rose
mighty slopes of forest up to the lofty steeps of the Carpa-
thians themselves. Right and left of us they towered, with
the afternoon sun falling full upon them and bringing out all
the glorious colours of this beautiful range, deep blue and
purple in the shadows of the peaks, green and brown where
grass and rock mingled, and an endless perspective of jagged
rock and pointed crags, till these were themselves lost in the
distance, where the snowy peaks rose grandly. Here and
there seemed mighty rifts in the mountains, through which,
as the sun began to sink, we saw now and again the white
gleam of falling water. One of my companions touched my
arm as we swept round the base of a hill and opened up the
lofty, snow-covered peak of a mountain, which seemed, as we
wound on our serpentine way, to be right before us
—
“Look Isten szek !” “God’s seat
!
!”
—
and he crossed him-
:

self reverently.
As we wound on our endless way, and the sun sank
lower and lower behind us, the shadows of the even-
ing began to creep round us. This was emphasised by
the fact that the snowy mountain-top still held the sunset,
and seemed to glow out with a delicate cool pink. Here and
there we passed Cszeks and Slovaks, all in picturesque at*
8 Dracula

tire, but I noticed that goitre was painfully prevalent. By

the roadside were many crosses, and as we swept by, my
companions all crossed themselves. Here and there was a
peasant man or woman kneeling before a shrine, who did not
even turn round as we approached, but seemed in the self-
surrender of devotion to have neither eyes nor ears for the
outer world. There were many things new to me: for in-
stance, hay-ricks in the trees, and here and there very beau-
tiful masses of weeping birch, their white stems shining like
silver through the delicate green of the leaves. Now and
—
again we passed a leiter-wagon- the ordinary peasant’s cart
—
•
with its long, snake-like vertebra, calculated to suit the ine-
qualities of the road. On this were sure to be seated quite a
group of home-coming peasants, the Cszeks with their white,
and the Slovaks with their coloured, sheepskins, the latter
carrying lance-fashion their long staves, with axe at end.
As the evening fell it began to get very cold, and the grow-
ing twilight seemed to merge into one dark mistiness the
gloom of the trees, oak, beech, and pine, though in the valleys
which ran deep between the spurs of the hills, as we as-
cended through the Pass, the dark firs stood out here and
there against the background of late-lying snow. Some-
times, as the road was cut through the pine woods that
seemed in the darkness to be closing down upon us, great
masses of greyness, which here and there bestrewed the
trees, produced a peculiarly weird and solemn effect, which
carried on the thoughts and grim fancies engendered earlier
in the evening, when the falling sunset threw into strange
relief the ghost-like clouds which amongst the Carpathians
seem to wind ceaselessly through the valleys. Sometimes
the hills were so steep that, despite our driver’s haste, the
horses could only go slowly. I wished to get down and walk
up them, as we do at home, but the driver would not hear of
it. “No, no,” he said “you must not walk here the dogs
; ;

are too fierce and then he added, with what he evidently

——
meant for grim pleasantry for he looked round to catch
the approving smile of the rest “and you may have enough
of such matters before you go to sleep.” The only stop he
would make was a moment’s pause to light his lamps.
When it grew dark there seemed to be some excitement
amongst the passengers, and they kept speaking to him, one
after the other, as though urging him to further speed. He
lashed the horses unmercifully with his long whip, and with
 — ;

Jonathan Harker’s Journal 9

wild cries of encouragement urged them on to further exer-
tions. Then through the darkness I could see a sort of patch
of grey light ahead of us, as though there were a cleft in the
hills. The excitement of the passengers grew greater; the
crazy coach rocked on its great leather springs, and swayed
like a boat tossed on a stormy sea. I had to hold on. The
road grew more level, and we appeared to fly along. Then
the mountains seemed to come nearer to us on each side and
to frown down upon us; we were entering on the Borgo
Pass. One by one several of the passengers offered me gifts,
which they pressed upon me with an earnestness which would
take no denial; these were certainly of an odd and varied
kind, but each was given in simple good faith, with a kindly
word, and a blessing, and that strange mixture of fear-mean-
ing movements which I had seen outside the hotel at Bistritz
— the sign of the cross and the guard against the evil eye.
Then, as we flew along, the driver leaned forward, and on
each side the passengers, craning over the edge of the coach,
peered eagerly into the darkness. It was evident that some-
thing very exciting was either happening or expected, but
though I asked each passenger, no one would give me the
slightest explanation. This state of excitement kept on for
some little time and at last we saw before us the Pass open-
;

ing out on the eastern side. There were dark, rolling clouds
overhead, and in the air the heavy, oppressive sense of thun-
der. It seemed as though the mountain range had separated
two atmospheres, and that now we had got into the thunder-
ous one. I was now myself looking out for the convey-
ance which was to take me to the Count. Each moment I
expected to see the glare of lamps through the blackness:
but all was dark. The only light was the flickering rays of
our own lamps, in which the steam from our hard-driven
horses rose in a white cloud. We could now see the sandy
road lying white before us, but there was on it no sign of
a vehicle. The passengers drew back with a sigh of glad-
ness, which seemed to mock my own disappointment. I was
already thinking what I had best do, when the driver, look-
ing at his watch, said to the others something which I could
hardly hear, it was spoken so quietly and in so low a tone
I thought it was “An hour less than the time.” Then turn-
ing to me, he said in German worse than my own :

“There is no carriage here. The Herr is not expected

after all. He will now come on to BukQv|na and return to-
t
 ——— — — ;

IO Dracula

morrow or the next day; better the next day.” Whilst he

was speaking the horses began to neigh and snort and plunge
wildly, so that the driver had to hold them up. Then,
amongst a chorus of screams from the peasants and a uni-
versal crossing of themselves, a caleche, with four horses,
drove up behind us, overtook us, and drew up beside the
coach. I could see from the flash of our lamps, as the rays
fell on them, that the horses were coal-black and splendid
animals. They were driven by a tall man, with a long brown
beard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide his face
from us. I could only see the gleam of a pair of very bright
eyes, which seemed red in the lamplight, as he turned to us.
He said to the driver :

“You are early to-night my friend.” The man stammered

in reply:
“The English Herr was in a hurry,” to which the stranger
replied :

“That is suppose, you wished him to go on to Buko-

why, I
vina. You cannot deceive me, my friend; I know too much,
and my horses are swift.” As he spoke he smiled, and the
lamplight fell on a hard-looking mouth, with very red lips
and sharp-looking teeth, as white as ivory. One of my com-
panions whispered to another the line from Burger’s “Le-
nore :”
“Denn die Todten reiten schnell”
(“For the dead travel fast.”)

The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked

up with a gleaming smile. The passenger turned his face
away, at the same time putting out his two fingers and cross-
ing himself. “Give me the Herr’s luggage,” said the driver
and with exceeding alacrity my bags were handed out and
put in the caleche. Then I descended from the side of the
coach, as the caleche was close alongside, the driver helping
me with a hand which caught my arm in a grip of steel his
;

strength must have been prodigious. Without a word he

shook his reins, the horses turned, and we swept into the
darkness of the Pass. As I looked back I saw the steam
from the horses of the coach by the light of the lamps, and
projected against it the figures of my late companions cross-
ing themselves. Then the driver cracked his whip and called
to his horses, and off they swept on their way to Bukovina.
As they sank into the darkness I felt a strange chill, and a
lonely feeling_came over me ; but a cloak was thrown over
 —
Jonathan Marker's Journal II

my shoulders, and a rug across my knees, and the driver said

in excellent German:
“The night is chill, mein Herr, and my master the Count
bade me take all care of you. There
a flask of slivovitz
is
(the plum brandy of the country) underneath the seat, if you
should require it.” I did not take any, but it was a comfort
to know it was there all the same. I fqlt a little strangely,
and not a little frightened. I think had there been any al-
ternative I should have taken it, instead of prosecuting that
unknown night journey. The carriage went at a hard pace
straight along, then we made a complete turn and went along
another straight road. It seemed to me that we were simply
going over and over the same ground again and so, I took;

note of some salient point, and found that this was so. I
would have liked to have asked the driver what this all
meant, but I really feared to do so, for I thought that, placed
as I was, any protest would have had no effect in case there
had been an intention to delay. By-and-by, however, as I
was curious to know how time was passing, I struck a match,
and by its flame looked at my watch; it was within a few
minutes of midnight. This gave me a sort of shock, for 1
suppose the general superstition about midnight was in-
creased by my recent experiences. I waited with a sick feel-
ing of suspense.
Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far
—
down the road a long, agonised wailing, as if from fear.
The sound was taken up by another dog, and then another
and another, till, borne on the wind which now sighed softly
through the Pass, a wild howling began, which seemed to
come from all over the country, as far as the imagination
could grasp it through the gloom of the night. At the first
howl the horses began to strain and rear, but the driver
spoke to them soothingly, and they quieted down, but shiv-
ered and sweated as though after a run-away from sudden
fright. Then, far off in the distance, from the mountains on
each side of us began a louder and a sharper howling that —
—
of wolves which affected both the horses and myself in the
—
same way for I was minded to jump from the caleche and
run, whilst they reared again and plunged madly, so that
the driver had to use all his great strength to keep them
from bolting. In a few minutes, however, my own ears got
accustomed to the sound, and the horses so far became quiet
that the driver was able to descend and to stand before them.
12 Dracula

He petted and soothed them, and whispered something in

their ears, as I have heard of horse-tamers doing, and with
extraordinary effect, for under his caresses they became
quite manageable again, though they still trembled. The
driver again took his seat, and shaking his reins, started off
at a great pace. This time, after going to the far side of the
Pass, he suddenly turned down a narrow roadway which ran
sharply to the right.
Soon we were hemmed in with trees, which in places
arched right over the roadway till we passed as through a
tunnel; and again great frowning rocks guarded us boldly
on either side. Though we were in shelter, we
could hear
the rising wind, for it moaned and whistled through the
rocks, and the branches of the trees crashed together as we
swept along. It grew colder and colder still, and fine, pow-
dery snow began to fall, so that soon we and all around us
were covered with a white blanket. The keen wind still car-
ried the howling of the dogs, though this grew fainter as we
went on our way. The baying of the wolves sounded nearer
and nearer, as though they were closing round on us from
every side. I grew dreadfully afraid, and the horses shared
my fear. The driver, however, was not in the least dis-
turbed he kept turning his head to left and right, but I
;

could not see anything through the darkness.

Suddenly, away on our left, I saw a faint flickering blue
flame. The
driver saw it at the same moment; he at once
checked the horses and, jumping to the ground, disappeared
into the darkness. I did not know what to do, the less as
the howling of the wolves grew closer but while I wondered
;

the driver suddenly appeared again, and without a word took

his seat, and we resumed our journey. I think I must have
fallen asleep and kept dreaming of the incident, for it seemed
to be repeated endlessly, and now looking back, it is like a
sort of awful nightmare. Once the flame appeared so near
the road, that even in the darkness around us I could watch
the driver’s motions. He went rapidly to where the blue
—
flame arose it must have been very faint, for it did not seem
to illumine the place around it at all — and gathering a few
stones, formed them into some device. Once there appeared
a strange optical effect when he stood between me and the
:

flame he did not obstruct it, for I could see its ghostly flicker
all the same. This startled me, but as the effect was only
momentary, I took it that my eyes deceived me straining
 Jonathan Harkens Journal 13
through the darkness. Then for a time there were no blue
flames, and we sped onwards through the gloom, with the
howling of the wolves around us, as though they were fol-
lowing in a moving circle.
At last there came a time when the driver went further
afield than he had yet gone, and during his absence the
horses began to tremble worse than ever and to snort and
scream with fright. I could not see any cause for it, for the
howling of the wolves had ceased altogether; but just then
the moon, sailing through the black clouds, appeared behind
the jagged crest of a beetling, pine-clad rock, and by its light
I saw around us a ring of wolves, with white teeth and loll-
ing red tongues, with long, sinewy limbs and shaggy hair.
They were a hundred times more terrible in the grim silence
which held them than even when they howled. For myself,
I felt a sort of paralysis of fear. It is only when a man feels
himself face to face with such horrors that he can under
stand their true import.
All at once the wolves began to howl as though the moon-
light had had some peculiar effect on them. The horses
jumped about and reared, and looked helplessly round with
eyes that rolled in a way painful to see but the living ring
;

of terror encompassed them on every side, and they had per-

force to remain within it. I called to the coachman to come,
for it seemed to me that our only chance was to try to break
out through the ring and to aid his approach. I shouted and
beat the side of the caleche, hoping by the noise to scare the
wolves from that side, so as to give him a chance of reaching
the trap. How he came there, I know not, but I heard his
voice raised in a tone of imperious command, and looking
towards the sound, saw him stand in the roadway. As he
swept his long arms, as though brushing aside some impal-
pable obstacle, the wolves fell back and back further still. Just
then a heavy cloud passed across the face of the moon, so
that we were again in darkness.
When I could see again the driver was climbing into the
caleche, and the wolves had disappeared. This was all so
strange and uncanny that a dreadful fear came upon me, and
I was afraid to speak or move. The time seemed intermina-
ble as we swept on our way, now in almost complete dark-
ness, for the rolling clouds obscured the moon. We kept on
ascending, with occasional periods of quick descent, but in
the main always ascending. Suddenly I became conscious of
>4 Dracula
the fact that the driver was in the act of pulling up the
horses in the courtyard of a vast ruined from whose
castle,
tall black windows came no ray of light, and whose broken
battlements showed a jagged line against the moonlit sky.
 CHAPTER XI

Jonathan harker’s journal —continued.

5 May — I
. must have been asleep, for certainly if I had
been fully awake I must have noticed the approach of such a
remarkable place. In the gloom the courtyard looked of
considerable size, and as several dark ways led from it under
great round arches it perhaps seemed bigger than it really
is. I have not yet been able to see it by daylight.
When the caleche stopped the driver jumped down, and
held out his hand to assist me to alight. Again I could not
but notice his prodigious strength. His hand actually seemed
like a steel vice that could have crushed mine if he had
chosen. Then he took out my traps, and placed them on the
ground beside me as I stood close to a great door, old and
studded with large iron nails, and set in a projecting door-
way of massive stone. I could see even in the dim light that
the stone was massively carved, but that the carving had
been much worn by time and weather. As I stood, the
driver jumped again into his seat and shook the reins; the
horses started forward, and trap and all disappeared down
one of the dark openings.
I stood in silence where I was, for I did not know what
to do. Of bell or knocker there was no sign through these ;

frowning walls and dark window openings it was not likely

that my voice could penetrate. The time I waited seemed
endless", and I felt doubts and fears crowding upon me.
What sort of place had I come to, and among what kind of
people? What sort of grim adventure was it on which I
had embarked? Was this a customary 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. Solicitor, —
for just before leaving Lon-
don 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 were awake. It all seemed like a

horrible nightmare to me, and I expected that I should sud-
i5
 — — — — ;

16 Dracula

denly awake, and find myself at home, with the dawn Strugs
gling in through the windows, as I had now and again felt
in the morning after a day of overwork. But my flesh an-
swered the pinching test, and my eyes were not to be de-
ceived. 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 a heavy step
approaching behind the great door, and saw through the
chinks the gleam of a coming light. Then there was the
sound of rattling chains and the clanking of massive bolts
drawn back. A
key was turned with the loud grating noise
of long disuse, and the great door swung back.
Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long
white moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, with-
out a single speck of colour about him anywhere. He held in
his hand an antique silver lamp, in which the flame burned
without chimney or globe of any kind, throwing long quiv-
ering shadows as it flickered in the draught of the open door.
The old man motioned me in with his right hand with a
courtly gesture, saying in excellent English, but with a
strange intonation :

“Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own

will !” He made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood
like a statue, as though his gesture of welcome had fixed him
into stone. The instant, however, that I had stepped over
the threshold, he moved impulsively forward, and holding
out his hand grasped mine with a strength which made me
wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it
—
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 akin to that which I had no-
ticed in the driver, whose face I had not seen, that for a mo-
ment I doubted if it were not the same person to whom I
was speaking so to make sure, I said interrogatively
;
:

“Count Dracula?” He bowed in a courtly way as he re-

plied :

“I am Dracula; and I bid you welcome, Mr. Harker, to

my house. Come in; the night air is chill, and you must
need to eat and rest.” As he was speaking he put the lamp
on a bracket on the wall, and stepping out, took my luggage
 • : —
Jonathan Harker’s Journal 17
he had carried it in before I could forestall him. 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 my self.” He in-
sisted on carrying my traps along the passage, and then up
a great winding stair, and along another great passage, on
whose stone floor our steps rang heavily. At the end of this
he threw open a heavy door, and I rejoiced to see within a
well-lit room in which a table was spread for supper, and on
whose mighty hearth a great fire of logs, freshly replenished,
flamed and flared.
The Count halted, putting down mybags, closed the door,
and crossing the room, opened another door, which led into
a small octagonal room lit by a single lamp, and seemingly
without a window of any sort. Passing through this, he
opened another door, and motioned me to enter. It was a
welcome sight; for here was a great bedroom well lighted
—
and warmed with another log fire, also added to but lately
for the top logs were fresh —
which sent a hollow roar
up the wide chimney. The Count himself left my luggage
inside and withdrew, saying, before he closed the door:
“You will need, after your journey, to refresh yourself by
making your toilet. I trust 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
seemed to have dissipated all my doubts and fears. Having
then reached my normal state, I discovered that I was half
famished with hunger so making a hasty toilet, I went into
;

the other room.

I found supper already laid out. My host, who stood on
one side of the great fireplace, leaning against the stonework,
made a graceful wave of his hand to the table, and said :

“I pray you, be seated and sup how you please. You will,
I trust, excuse me that I do not join you but I have dined
;

already, and I do not sup.”

I handed to him the sealed letter which Mr. Hawkins had
entrusted to me. He opened it and read it gravely; then,
with a charming smile, he handed it to me to read. One
passage of it, at least, gave me a thrlH of pleasure
“I much regret that an attack of gout, from which malady
I am a constant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travelling
on my part for some time to come but I am happy to say I
;

U)
18 Dracula

can send a one in whom I have every

sufficient substitute,
possible confidence. He is a young man, full of energy and
talent in his own way, and of a very faithful disposition. He
is discreet and silent, and has grown into manhood in my
service. He shall be ready to attend on you when you will
during his stay, and shall take your instructions in all mat-
ters/’
The Count himself came forward and took off the cover of
a dish, and I fell to at once on 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 as to my
journey, and I told him by degrees all I had experienced.
By this time I had finished my supper, and by my host’s
desire had drawn up a chair by the fire and begun to smoke a
cigar which he offered me, at the same time excusing him-
self that he did not smoke. I had now an opportunity of ob-
serving him, and found him of a very marked physiognomy.
— —
His face was a strong a very strong aquiline, with high
bridge of the thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils with;

lofty domed forehead, and hair growing scantily round the

temples but profusely elsewhere. His eyebrows were very
massive, almost meeting over the nose, and with bushy hair
that seemed to curl in its own profusion. The mouth, so far
as I could see it under the heavy moustache, was fixed and
rather cruel-looking, with peculiarly sharp white teeth these
;

protruded over the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed

astonishing 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.
Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay-
on his knees in the firelight, and they had seemed rather
white and fine; but seeing them now close to me, I could
—
not but notice that they were rather coarse broad, with
squat fingers. Strange to say, there were hairs in the centre
of the palm. The nails were long and fine, and cut to a
sharp point. As the Count leaned over me and his hands
touched me, I could not repress a shudder. It may have been
that his breath was rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea
came over me, which, do what I would, I could not conceal.
The Count, evidently noticing it, drew back; and with a
grim sort of smile, which showed more than he had yet don©
 — —— — ! <

Jonathan Harker’s Journal 19

his protuberant teeth, sat himself down again on his own
side of the fireplace. We
were both silent for a while ; and
as I looked towards the window I saw the first dim streak
of the coming dawn. There seemed a strange stillness over
everything ; but as I listened I heard as if 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 !” Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face
strange to him, he added :

“Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the
feelings of the hunter.” Then he rose and said :

“But you must be tired. Your bedroom is all ready, and

to-morrow you shall sleep as late as you will. I have to be
away till the afternoon; so sleep well and dream well!”
With a courteous bow, he opened for me himself the door to
the octagonal room, and I entered my bedroom. . . .

I am all in a sea of wonders. 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 again early morning, but I have rested and
.

enjoyed the last twenty-four hours. I slept till late in the

day, and awoke of my own accord. When I had dressed
myself I went into the room where we had supped, and
found a cold breakfast laid out, with coffee kept hot by the
pot being placed on the hearth. There was a card on the ta-
ble, on which was written :

“I have to be absent for a while. Do not wait for me. —

D.” I set to and enjoyed a hearty meal. When I had
done, I looked for a bell, so that I might let the servants
know I had finished; but I could not find one. There are
certainly odd deficiencies in the house, considering the ex-
traordinary evidences of wealth which are round me. The
table service is of gold, and so beautifully wrought that it
must be of immense value. The curtains and upholstery
of the chairs and sofas and the hangings of my bed are of
the costliestand most beautiful fabrics, and must have been
of fabulous value when they were made, for they are centu-
ries old, though in excellent order. I saw something like
them in Hampton Court, but there they were worn and
frayed and moth-eaten. But still in none of the rooms is
there a mirror. There is not even a toilet glass on my table.
 — I

20 Dracula

and I to get the little shaving glass from

had bag be-* my
fore I could either shave or brush hair. my
I have not yet
seen a servant anywhere, or heard a sound near the castle
except the howling of wolves. Some time after I had finished
—
my meal I do not know whether to call it breakfast or din-
ner, for it and six o’clock when I had it
was between five —
looked about for something to read, for I did not like to go
about the castle until I had asked the Count’s permission.
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. The door opposite mine
I tried, but found it locked.
In the library I found, to my great delight, a vast number
of English books, whole shelves full of them, and bound voh
umes of magazines and newspapers. A
table in the centre
was with English magazines and newspapers, though
littered
none of them were of very recent date. The books were of
—
the most varied kind history, geography, politics, political
—
economy, botany, geology, law all relating to England and
English life and customs and manners. There were even
such books of reference as the London Directory, the “Red”
and “Blue” books, Whitaker’s Almanac, the Army and Navy
Lists, and —
it somehow gladdened my heart to see it the —
Law List.
Whilst I was looking door opened, and
at the books, the
the Count entered. He saluted me in a hearty way, and
hoped that I had had a good night’s rest. Then he went
on :

“I am glad you found your way in here, for I am sure there

is much that will interest you. These companions” and
— —
he laid his hand on some of the books “have been good
friends to me, and for some years past, ever since I had the
idea of going to London, have given me many, many hours
of pleasure. Through them I have come to know your great
England; and to know her is to love her. I long to go
through the crowded streets of your mighty 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! as yet I only know your tongue through books.
To you, my friend, I look that I know it to speak.”
“But, Count,” I said, “you know and speak English thor-
oughly He bowed gravely.
!”

“I thank you, my friend, for your all too flattering esti-

 ; —— :;

Jonathan Harker’s Journal z\

mate, but yet I fear that I am but a way on the road I

little
would True, I know the
travel. grammar and the words,
but yet I know not how to speak them.”
“Indeed,” I said, “you speak excellently.”
“Not so,” he answered. “Well I know that, did I move
and speak in your London, none there are who would not
know me for a stranger. That is not enough for me. Here
I am noble I am boyar the common people know me, and I
;

am master. But a stranger in a strange land, he is no one

—
men know him not and to know not is to care not for. I
am content if I am like the rest, so that no man stops if he
see me, or pause in his speaking if he hear my words, ‘Ha,
ha a stranger !’ I have been so long master that I would be
!

—
master still or at least that none other should be master of
me. You come to me not alone as agent of my friend Peter
Hawkins, of Exeter, to tell me all about my new estate in
London. You shall, I trust, rest here with me a while, so
that by our talking I may learn the English intonation and ;

I would that you tell me when I make error, even of the

smallest, in my speaking. I am sorry that I had to be away
so long to-day but you will, I know, forgive one who has so
;

many important affairs in hand.”

Of course I said all I could about being willing, and asked
if I might come into that room when I chose. He answered
“Yes, certainly,” and added :

“You may go anywhere you wish in the castle, except

where the doors are locked, where of course you will not
wish to go. There is reason that all things are as they are,
and did you see with my eyes and know with my knowledge,
you would perhaps better understand.” I said I was sure of
this, and then he went on :

“We are in Transylvania; and Transylvania is not Eng-

land. Our ways are not your ways, and there shall be to you
many strange things. Nay, from what you have told me of
your experiences already, you know something of what
strange things there may be.”
This led to much conversation and as it was evident that
;

he wanted to talk, if only for talking’s sake, I asked him

many questions regarding things that had already happened
to me or come within my notice. Sometimes he sheered off
the subject, or turned the conversation by pretending not to
understand; but generally he answered all I asked most
frankly. Then as time went on, and I had got somewhat
 —
22 Dracula

bolder, I asked him of some of the strange things of the pre-

ceding night, as, for instance, why the coachman went to the
places where he had seen the blue flames. He then ex-
plained to me that it was commonly believed that on a certain
—
night of the year last night, in fact, when all evil spirits are
—
supposed to have unchecked sway a blue flame is seen over
any place where treasure has been concealed. “That treasure
has been hidden,” he went on, “in the region through which
you came last night, there can be but little doubt for it was
;

the ground fought over for centuries by the Wallachian, the

Saxon, and the Turk. Why, there is hardly a foot of soil in
all this region that has not been enriched by the blood of
men, patriots or invaders. In old days there were stirring
times, when the Austrian and the Hungarian came up in
—
hordes, and the patriots went out to meet them men and
—
women, the aged and the children too and waited their
coming on the rocks above the passes, that they might sweep
destruction on them with their artificial avalanches. When
the invader was triumphant he found but little, for whatever
there was had been sheltered in the friendly soil.”
“But how,” said I, “can it have remained so long undis-
covered, when there is a sure index to it if men will but take
the trouble to look ?” The Count smiled, and as his lips ran
back over his gums, the long, sharp, canine teeth showed out
strangely he answered
;
:

“Because your peasant is at heart a cow ard and a fool!

r

Those flames only appear on one night and on that night no

;

man of this land will, if he can help it, stir without his doors.
And, dear sir, even if he did he would not know what to do.
Why, even the peasant that you tell me of who marked the
place of the flame would not know where to look in daylight
even for his own work. Even you would not, I dare be
sworn, be able to find these places again ?”
“There you are right,” I said. “I know no more than the
dead where even to look for them.” Then we drifted into
other matters.
“Come,” he said at last, “tell me of London and of the
house which you have procured for me.” With an apology
for my remissness, I went into my own room to get the pa-
pers from my bag. Whilst I was placing them- in order I
heard a rattling of china and silver in the next room, and as
I passed through, noticed that the table had been cleared and
the lamp lit, for it was by this time deep into the dark. The
 — —
Jonathan Harker’ s Journal 23
lamps were also lit in the study or library, and I found the
Count lying on the sofa, reading, of all things in the world,
an English Bradshaw’s Guide. When I came in he cleared
the books and papers from the table; and with him I went
into plans and deeds and figures of all sorts. He was inter-
ested in everything, and asked me a myriad questions about
the place and its surroundings. He clearly had studied be-
forehand all he could get on the subject of the neighbor-
hood, for he evidently at the end knew very much more than
I did. When I remarked this, he answered :

“Well, but, my friend, is it not needful that I should?

When I go there I shall be all alone, and my friend Harker
—
Jonathan nay, pardon me, I fall into my country’s habit of
—
putting your patronymic first my friend Jonathan Harker
will not be by my side to correct and aid me. He will be in
Exeter, miles away, probably working at papers of the law
with my other friend, Peter Hawkins. So!’’
We went thoroughly into the business of the purchase of
the estate at Purfleet. When I had told him the facts and got
his signature to the necessary papers, and had written a let-
ter with them ready to post to Mr. Hawkins, he began to
ask me how I had come across so suitable a place. I read to
him the notes which I had made at the time, and which I in-
scribe here :

“At Purfleet, on a by-road, I came across just such a place

as seemed to be required, and where was displayed a dilapi-
dated notice that the place was for sale. It is surrounded by
a high wall, of ancient structure, built of heavy stones, and
has not been repaired for a large number of years. The
closed gates are of heavy old oak and iron, all eaten with
rust.
“The estate is called Carfax, no doubt a corruption of the
old Quatre Face , as the house is four-sided, agreeing with
the cardinal points of the compass. It contains in all some
twenty acres, quite surrounded by the solid stone wall above
mentioned. There are many trees on it, which make it in
places gloomy, and there is a deep, dark-looking pond or
small lake, evidently fed by some springs, as the water is
clear and flows away in a fair-sized stream. The house is
very large and of all periods back, I should say, to mediaeval
times, for one part is of stone immensely thick, with only a
few windows high up and heavily barred with iron. It looks
like part of a keep, and is close to an old chapel or church.
 —
24 Dracula

I could not enter it, as I had not the key of the door leading
to it from the house, but I have taken with my kodak views
of it from various points. The house has been added to, but
in a very straggling way, and I can only guess at the amount
of ground it covers, which must be very great. There are
but few houses close at hand, one being a very large house
only recently added to and formed into a private lunatic asy-
lum. It is not, however, visible from the grounds.”
When I had finished, he said :

“I am glad that it is old and big. I myself am of an old

family, and to live in a new house would kill me. A house
cannot be made habitable in a day; and, after all, how few
days go to make up a century. I rejoice also that there is a
chapel of old times. We
Transylvanian nobles love not to
think that our bones may lie amongst the common dead. I
seek not gaiety nor mirth, not the bright voluptuousness of
much sunshine and sparkling waters which please the young
and gay. I am no longer young; and my heart, through
weary years of mourning over the dead, is not attuned to
mirth. Moreover, the walls of my castle are broken; the
shadows are many, and the wind breathes cold through the
broken battlements and casements. I love the shade and the
shadow, and would be alone with my thoughts when I may.”
Somehow his words and his look did not seem to accord, or
else it was that his cast of face made his smile look malig-
nant and saturnine.
Presently, with an excuse, he left me, asking me to put all
my papers together. He was some little time away, and I
began to look at some of the books around me. One was an
atlas, which I found opened naturally at England, as if that
map had been much used. On looking at it I found in cer-
tain places little rings marked, and on examining these I
noticed that one was near London on the east side, manifestly
where his new estate was situated the other two were Ex-
;

eter, and Whitby on the Yorkshire coast.

It was the better part of an hour when the Count returned,
“Aha!” he said; “still at your books? Good! But you
must not work always. Come; I am informed that your
supper is ready.” He took my arm, and we went into the
next room, where I found an excellent supper ready on the
table. The Count again excused himself, as he had dined
out on his being away from home. But he sat as on the
previous night, and chatted whilst I ate. After supper I
 —
Jonathan Harker’s Journal 25
smoked, as on the last evening, and the Count stayed with
me, chatting and asking questions on every conceivable sub-
ject, hour after hour. I felt that it was getting very late
indeed, but I did not say anything, for I felt under obligation
to meet my host’s wishes in every way. I was not sleepy,
as the long sleep yesterday had fortified me but I could not
;

help experiencing that chill which comes over one at the com*
ing of the dawn, which is like, in its way, the turn of the
tide. They saythat people who are near death die generally
at the change to the dawn or at the turn of the tide; any
one who has when tired, and tied as it were to his post, ex-
perienced this change in the atmosphere can well believe it.
All at once we heard the crow of a cock coming up with pre-
ternatural shrillness through the clear morning air; Count
Dracula, jumping to his feet, said:
“Why, there is the morning again ! How
remiss I am to
let you stay up so long. You must make your conversation
regarding my dear new country of England, less interesting,
so that I may not forget how time flies by us,” and, with •
courtly bow, he quickly left me.
I went into my
own room and drew the curtains, but there
was little to notice ; my window opened into the courtyard,
all Icould see was the warm grey of quickening sky. So I
pulled the curtains again, and have written of this day.

8 May — I
. wrote in this book that I was
began to fear as I
getting too diffuse*; but now I am glad that I went into
detail from the first, for there is something so strange about
this place and all in it that I cannot but feel uneasy. I wish

I were safe out of it, or that I had never come. It may be

that this strange night-existence is telling on me but would
;

that that were all If there were any one to talk to I could
!

bear it, but there is no one. I have only the Count to speak
with, and he !
—
I fear I am myself the only living soul within
the place. Let me be prosaic so far as facts can be it will ;

help me to bear up, and imagination must not run riot with
me. If it does I am lost. Let me say at once how I stand
—or seem to.
I only slept a few hours when I went to bed, and feeling
that I could not sleep any more, got up. I had hung my
.

shaving glass by the window, and was just beginning to

shave. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder, and heard
the Count’s voice saying to me, “Good-morning.” I started,
26 Dracula

for it amazed me that I had not seen him, since the

reflection of the glass covered the whole room behind me.
In starting I had cut myself slightly, but did not notice it at
the moment. Having answered the Count’s salutation, 1
turned to the glass again to see how I had been mistaken.
This time there could be no error, for the man was close
to me, and I could see him over my shoulder. But there
was no reflection of him in the mirror! The whole room
behind me was displayed; but there was no sign of a man
in it, except myself. This was startling, and, coming on the
top of so many strange things, was beginning to increase that
vague feeling of uneasiness which I always have when the
Count is near but at the instant I saw that the cut had bled
;

a little, and the blood was trickling over my chin. I laid

down the razor, turning as I did so half round to look for
some sticking plaster. When the Count saw my face, his
eyes blazed with a sort of demoniac fury, and he suddenly
made a grab at my throat. I drew away, and his hand
touched the string of beads which held the crucifix. It made
an instant change in him, for the fury passed so quickly that
I could hardly believe that it was ever there.
“Take care,” he said, “take care how you cut yourself. It
it more dangerous than you think in this country.” Then
seizing the shaving glass, he went on: “And this is the
wretched thing that has done the mischief. It is a foul bau-
ble of man’s vanity. Away with it !” and opening the heavy
window with one wrench of his terrible hand, he flung out
the glass, which was shattered into a thousand pidces on the
stones of the courtyard far below. Then he withdrew with-
out a word. It is very annoying, for I do not see how I am
to shave, unless in my watch-case or the bottom of the shav-
ing-pot, which is fortunately of metal.
When I went into the dining-room, breakfast was pre-
pared ;
but I could not find the Count anywhere. So I
breakfasted alone. It is strange that as yet I have not seen
the Count eat or drink. He must be a very peculiar man!
After breakfast I did a little exploring in the castle. I went
out on the stairs and found a room looking towards the
South. The view was magnificent, and from where I stood
there was every opportunity of seeing it. The castle is on
the very edge of a terrible precipice. Astone falling from
the window would fall a thousand feet without touching any-
thing! As far as the eye can reach is a sea of green tree*
 Jonathan Harker’s Journal 27
tops, with occasionally a deep rift where there is a chasm.
Here and there are silver threads where the rivers wind in
deep gorges through the forests.
But I am not in heart to describe beauty, for when I had
seen the view I explored further doors, doors, doors every-
;

where, and all locked and bolted. In no place save from the
windows in the castle walls is there an available exit.
The castle is a veritable prison, and I am a prisoner l
 —

CHAPTER III

Jonathan harker's journal —continued

When found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feeling
I
came over me. I rushed up and down the stairs, trying
every door and peering out of every window I could find;
but after a little the conviction of my helplessness overpow-
ered all other feelings. When I look back after a few hours
I think I must have been mad for the time, for I behaved
much as a rat does in a trap. When, however, the convic-
tion had come to me that I was helpless I sat down quietly
as quietly as I have ever done anything in my life and —
began to think over what was best to be done. I am think-
ing still, and as yet have come to no definite conclusion. Of
one thing only am I certain that it is no use making my
;

ideas known
to the Count. He knows well that I am impris-
oned; and as he has done it himself, and has doubtless his
own motives for it, he would only deceive me if I trusted him
fully with the facts. So far as I can see, my only plan will
be to keep my knowledge and my fears to myself, and my
eyes open. I am, I know, either being deceived, like a baby,
by my own fears, or else I am in desperate straits; and if
the latter be so, I need, and shall need, all my brains to get
through.
had hardly come to this conclusion when I heard the
I
great door below shut, and knew that the Count had re-
turned. He did not come at once into the library, so I went
cautiously to my own **oom and found him making the bed.
This was odd, but only confirmed what I had all along
—
thought that there were no servants in the house. When
later I saw him through the chink of the hinges of the door
laying the table in the dining-room, I was assured of it for ;

if he does himself all these menial offices, surely it is proof

that there is no one else to do them. This gave me a fright,
for if there is no one else in the castle, it must have been the
Count himself who was the driver of the coach that brought
me here. This is a terrible thought for if so, what does it
;

mean that he could control the wolves, as he did, by only

 —
Jonathan Harker’s Journal 29
holding up his hand in silence. How was it that all the
people at Bistritz and on the coach had some terrible fear for
me? What meant the giving of the crucifix, of the garlic,
of the wild rose, of the mountain ash? Bless that good,
good woman who hung the crucifix round my neck for it is !

a comfort and a strength to me whenever I touch it. It is

odd that a thing which I have been taught to regard with
disfavour and as idolatrous should in a time of loneliness
and trouble be of help. Is it that there is something in the
essence of the thing itself, or that it is a medium, a tangible
help, in conveying memories of sympathy and comfort?
Some time, if it may be, I must examine this matter and try
to make up my mind about it. In the meantime I must
find out all I can about Count Dracula, as it may help me to
understand. To-night he may talk of himself, if I turn the
conversation that way. I must be very careful, however,
not to awake his suspicion.

Midnight . —
I have had a long talk with the Count. I
asked him a few questions on Transylvania history, and he
warmed up to the subject wonderfully. In his speaking of
things and people, and especially of battles, he spoke as if
he had been present at them all. This he afterwards ex-
plained by saying that to a boyar the pride of his house and
name is his own pride, that their glory is his glory, that their
fate is his fate. of his house he always
Whenever he spoke
said “we,” 'and spoke almost in the plural, like a king speak-
ing. I wish I could put down all he said exactly as he said
it, for to me it was most fascinating. It seemed to have in
ita whole history of the country. He grew excited as he
spoke, and walked about the room pulling his great white
moustache and grasping anything on which he laid his hands
as though he would crusn it by main strength. One thing he
said which I shall put down as nearly as I can for it tells ;

in its way
the story of his race :

“We Szekelys have a right to be proud, for in our veins

flows the blood of many brave races who fought as the lion
fights, for lordship. Here, in the whirlpool of European
races, the Ugric tribe bore down from Iceland the fighting
spirit which Thor and Wodin gave them, which their Ber-
serkers displayed to such fell intent on the seaboards of Eu-
rope, ay, and of Asia and Africa too, till the peoples though*
that the were wolves themselves had come. Here. too. when
 !

3°
Dracula

they came, they found the Huns, whose warlike fury had
swept the earth like a living flame, till the dying peoples held
that in their veins ran the blood of those old witches, who,
expelled from Scythia had mated with the devils in the
desert. Fools, fools! What devil or what witch was ever
so great as Attila, whose blood is in these veins ?” He held
up his arms. “Is it a wonder that we were a conquering
race that we were proud that when the Magyar, the Lom-
; ;

bard, the Avar, the Bulgar, or the Turk poured his thousands
on our frontiers, we drove them back? Is it strange that
when Arpad and his legions swept through the Hungarian
fatherland he found us here when he reached the frontier;
that the Honfoglalas was completed there? And when the
Hungarian flood swept eastward, the Szekelys were claimed
as kindred by the victorious Magyars, and to us for centuries
was trusted the guarding of the frontier of Turkey-land; ay
and more than that, endless duty of the frontier guard, for,
as the Turks say, ‘water sleeps, and enemy is sleepless.’ Who
more gladly than we throughout the Four Nations received
the ‘bloody sword,’ or at its warlike call flocked quicker to
the standard of the King? When was redeemed that great
shame of my nation, the shame of Cassova, when the flags of
the Wallach and the Magyar went down beneath the Cres-
cent, who was it but one of my own race who as Voivode
crossed the Danube and beat the Turk on his own ground?
This was a Dracula indeed !Woe was it that his own un-
worthy brother, when he had fallen, sold his people to the
Turk and brought the shame of slavery on them! Was it
not this Dracula, indeed, who inspired that other of his race
who in a later age again and again brought his forces over
the great river into Turkey-land; who, when he was beaten
back, came again, and again, and again, though he had to
come alone from the bloody field where his troops were being
slaughtered, since he knew that he alone could ultimately
triumph? They said that he thought only of himself. Bah
what good are peasants without a leader? Where ends the
war without a brain and heart to conduct it ? Again, when,
after the battle of Mohacs, we threw off the Hungarian yoke,
we of the Dracula blood were amongst their leaders, for our
spirit would not brook that we were not free. Ah, young
sir, the Szekelys— and the Dracula as their heart’s blood,
their brains, and their swords —
can boast a record that mush-
room growths like the Hapsburgs and the Romanoffs can
 —
Jonathan Harker’s Journal 31
never reach. The
warlike days are over. Blood is too pre-
cious a thing in these days of dishonourable peace and the ;

glories of the great races are as a tale that is told.”

It was by this time close on morning, and we went to bed.
(Mem. this diary seems horribly like the beginning of the
“Arabian Nights,” for everything has to break off at cock-
—
crow or like the ghost of Hamlet’s father.)

1 2 May —Let me
.
begin with facts —bare, meagre facts,
verified by books and figures, and of which there can be no
doubt. I must not confuse them with experiences which will
have to rest on my own observation, or my memory of them.
Last evening when the Count came from his room he began
by asking me questions on legal matters and on the doing of
certain kinds of business. I had spent the day wearily over
books, and, simply to keep my mind occupied, went over
some of the matters I had been examined in at Lincoln’s
Inn. There was a certain method in the Count’s inquiries,
so I shall try to put them down in sequence the knowledge ;

may somehow or some time be useful to me.

First, he asked if a man in England might have two solici-
tors or more. I told him he might have a dozen if he
wished, but that it would not be wise to have more than
one solicitor engaged in one transaction, as only one could
act at a time, and that to change would be certain to
militate against his interest. He seemed thoroughly to un-
derstand, and went on to ask if there would be any practical
difficulty in having one man to attend, say, to banking, and
another to look after shipping, in case local help were needed
in a place far from the home of the banking solicitor. I
asked him to explain more fully, so that I might not by any
chance mislead him, so he said:
“I shall illustrate. Your
friend and mine, Mr. Peter
Hawkins, from under the shadow of your beautiful cathedral
at Exeter, which is far from London, buys for me through
your good self my place at London. Good Now here let
!

me say frankly, lest you should think it strange that I have

sought the services of one so far ofif from London instead of
some one resident there, that my motive was that no local
interest might be served save my wish only; and as one of
London resident might, perhaps, have some purpose of him-
self or friend to serve, I went thus afield to seek my agent,
whose labours should be only to my interest. Now, suppose
 —
32 Dracula

I, who have much of affairs, wish to ship goods, say, to New-

castle, or Durham, or Harwich, or Dover, might it not be that
it could with more ease be done by consigning to one in

these ports ?” I answered that certainly it would be most

easy, but that we solicitors had a system of agency one for
the other, so that local work could be done locally on instruc •

tion from any solicitor, so that the client, simply placing him-
self in the hands of one man, could have his wishes carried
out by him without further trouble.
“But,” said he, “I could be at liberty to direct myself. Is
it not so ?”

“Of course,” I replied; “and such is often done by men

of business, who do not like the whole of their affairs to be
known by any one person.”
“Good !” he said, and then went on to ask about the means
of making consignments and^the forms to be gone through,
and of all sorts of difficulties which might arise, but by fore-
thought could be guarded against. I explained all these
things to him to the best of my ability, and he certainly left
me under the impression that he would have made a won-
derful solicitor, for there was nothing that he did not think
of or foresee. For a man who was never in the country, and
who did not evidently do much in the way of business, his
knowledge and acumen were wonderful. When he had
satisfied himself on these points of which he had spoken, and
I had verified all as well as I could by the books available, he
suddenly stood up and said :

“Have you written since your first letter to our friend Mr.
Peter Hawkins, or to any other?” It was with some bitter-
ness in my heart that I answered that I had not, that as yet
I had not seen any opportunity of sending letters to anybody.
“Then write now, my young friend,” he said, laying a
heavy hand on my shoulder “write to our friend and to any
;

other and say, if it will please you, that you shall stay with
;

me until a month from now.”

“Do you wish me to stay so long?” I asked, for my heart
grew cold at the thought.
“I desire it much nay, I will take no refusal. When your
;

master, employer, what you will, engaged that some one

should come on his behalf, it was understood that my needs
only were to be consulted. I have not stinted. Is it not
so?”
What could I do but bow acceptance? It was Mr. Haw 1
 — —
Jonathan Harker’s Journal
33
kins’s interest, not mine,and I had to think of him, not my-
self;
and besides, which Count Dracula was speaking, there
was that in his eyes and in his bearing which made me re-
member that I was a prisoner, and that if I wished it I could
have no choice. The Count saw his victory in my bow, and
his mastery in the trouble of my face, for he began at once
to use them, but in his own smooth, resistless way:
“I pray you, my good young friend, that you will not dis-
course of things other than business in your letters. It will-
doubtless please your friends to know that you are well, and
that you look forward to getting home to them. Is it not
so?” As he spoke he handed me three sheets of note-paper
and three envelopes. They were all of the thinnest foreign
post, and looking at them, then at him, and noticing his quiet
smile, with the sharp, canine teeth lying over the red under-
lip, I understood as well as if he had spoken that I should be
careful what I wrote, for he would be able to read it. So I
determined to write only formal notes now, but to write fully
to Mr. Hawkins in secret, and also to Mina, for to her I
could write in shorthand, which would puzzle the Count, if
he did see it. When I had written my two letters I sat quiet,
reading a book whilst the Count wrote several notes, refer-
ring as he wrote them to some books on his table. Then he
took up my two and placed them with his own, and put by
his writing materials, after which, the instant the door had
closed behind him, I leaned over and looked at the letters,
which were face down on the table. I felt no compunction
in doing so, for under the circumstances I felt that I should
protect myself in every way I could.
One of the letters was directed to Samuel F. Billington,
No. 7, The Crescent, Whitby, another to Herr Leutner,
Varna; the third was to Coutts & Co., London, and the
fourth to Herren Klopstock & Billreuth, bankers, Buda-
Pesth. The second and fourth were unsealed. I was just
about to look at them when I saw the door-handle move. I
sank back in my seat, having just had time to replace the
letters as they had been and to resume my book before the
Count, holding still another letter in his hand, entered the
room. He took up the letters on the table and stamped them
carefully, and then turning to me, said
:

“I trust you will forgive me, but I have much work to do

in private this evening. You will, I hope, find all things as
(Z)
 —
34 Dracula

you wish.” At the door he turned, and after a moment’s

pause said :

“Let me advise you, my dear young friend nay, let me—

warn you with all seriousness, that should you leave these
rooms you will not by any chance go to sleep in any other
part of the castle. It is old, and has many memories, and
there are bad dreams for those who sleep unwisely. Be
warned !Should sleep now or ever overcome you, or be like
to do, then haste to your own chamber or to these rooms, for
your rest will then be safe. But if you be not careful in
this respect, then” —
He finished his speech in a gruesome
way, for he motioned with his hands as if he were washing
them. I quite understood my only doubt was as to whether
;

any dream could be more terrible than the unnatural, horrible

net of gloom and mystery which seemed closing round me.

Later . —
endorse the last words written, but this time
I
there is no doubt in question. I shall not fear to sleep in any
place where he is not. I have placed the crucifix over the
—
head of my bed I imagine that my rest is thus freer from
dreams; and there it shall remain.
When he left me I went to my room. After a little while,
not hearing any sound, I came out and went up the stone
stair to where I could look out towards the South. There
was some sense of freedom in the vast expanse, inaccessible
though it was to me, as compared with the narrow darkness
of the courtyard. Looking out on this, I felt that I was in-
deed in prison, and I seemed to want a breath of fresh air,
though it were of the night. I am beginning to feel this
nocturnal existence tell on me. It is destroying my nerve.
I start at my own shadow, and am full of all sorts of horrible
imaginings. God knows that there is ground for my terrible
fear in this accursed place I looked out over the beautiful
!

expanse, bathed in soft yellow moonlight till it was almost

as light as day. In the soft light the distant hills became
melted, and the shadows in the valleys and gorges of velvety
blackness. The mere beauty seemed to cheer me; there
was peace and comfort in every breath I drew. As I leaned
from the window my eye was caught by something moving a
storey below me, and somewhat to my left, where I imagined,
from the order of the rooms, that the windows of the Count’s
own room would look out. The window at which I stood
was tall and deep, stone-mullioned, and though weather^
 —
Jonathan Harker’s Journal 35
worn, was complete; but it was evidently many a day
still
since the case had been there. I drew back behind the stone-
work, and looked carefully out.
What I saw was the Count’s head coming out from the
window. I did not see the face, but I knew the man by the
neck and the movement of his back and arms. In any case
I could not mistake the hands which I had had so many op-
portunities of studying. I was at first interested and some-
what amused, for it is wonderful how small a matter will in-
terest and amuse a man when he is a prisoner. But my
very feelings changed to repulsion and terror when I saw the
whole man slowly emerge from the window and begin to
crawl down the castle wall over that dreadful abyss, face
down with his cloak spreading out around him like great
wings. At first I could not believe my eyes. I thought it
was some trick of the moonlight, some weird effect of
shadow but I kept looking, and it could be no delusion. I
;

saw the fingers and toes grasp the corners of the stones,
worn clear of the mortar by the stress of years, and by thus
using every projection and inequality move downwards with
considerable speed, just as a lizard moves along a wall.
What manner of man is this, or what manner of creature
is it in the semblance of man? I feel the dread of this hor-
rible place overpowering me I am in fear
;
—
in awful fear
and there is no escape for me I am encompassed about with
;

terrors that I dare not think of

15 May — Once more have I seen the

. Count go out in his
lizard fashion. He moved downwards in a sidelong way,
some hundred down, and a good
feet He
deal to the left.
vanished into some hole or window. When his head had
disappeared I leaned out to try and see more, but without
avail —the distance was too great to allow a proper angle of
sight. I knew he had left the castle now, and thought to use
the opportunity to explore more than I had dared to do as
yet. I went back to the room, and taking a lamp, tried all
the doors. They were all locked, as I had expected, and the
locks were comparatively new but I went down the stone
;

stairs to the hall where I had entered originally. I found I

could pull back the bolts easily enough and unhook the great
chains; but the door was locked, and the key was gone!
That key must be in the Count’s room I must watch should
;

his door be unlocked, so that I may get it and escape. I

 Dracula
36
went on to make a thorough examination of the various
stairs and passages, and to try the doors that opened from
them. One or two small rooms near the hall were open, but
there was nothing to see in them except old furniture, dusty
with age and moth-eaten. At last, however, I found one
door at the top of the stairway which, though it seemed to be
locked, gave a little under pressure. I tried it harder, and
found that it was not really locked, but that the resistance
came from the fact that the hinges had fallen somewhat, and
the heavy door rested on the floor. Here was an oppor-
tunity which I might not have again, so I exerted myself,
and with many efforts forced it back so that I could enter.
I was now in a wing of the castle further to the right than
the rooms I knew and a storey lower down. From the win-
dows I could see that the suite of rooms lay along to the
south of the castle, the windows of the end room looking
out both west and south. On the latter side, as well as to
the former, there was a great precipice. The castle was built
on the corner of a great rock, so that on three sides it was
quite impregnable, and great windows were placed here
where sling, or bow, or culverin could not reach, and conse-
quently light and comfort, impossible to a position which
had to be guarded, were secured. To the West was a great
valley, and then, rising far away, great jagged mountain
fastnesses, rising peak on peak, the sheer rock studded with
mountain ash and thorn, whose roots clung in cracks and
crevices and crannies of the stone. This was evidently the
portion of the castle occupied by the ladies in bygone days,
for the furniture had more air of comfort than any I had
seen. The windows were curtainless, and the yellow moon-
light, flooding in through the diamond panes, enabled one
to see even colours, whilst it softened the wealth of dust
which lay over all and disguised in some measure the
ravages of time and the moth. My lamp seemed to be of
little effect in the brilliant moonlight, but I was glad to have
it with me, for there was a dread loneliness in the place

which chilled my heart and made my nerves tremble. Still,

it was better than living alone in the rooms which I had

come to hate from the presence of the Count, and after try-
ing a little to school my nerves, I found a soft quietude
come over me. Here I am, sitting at a little oak table where
in old times possibly some fair lady sat to pen, with much
thought and many blushes, her ill-spelt love-letter, and writ-
 —
Jonathan Harker’s Journal 37
ing in mydiary in shorthand all that has happened since I
closed it last. It is nineteenth century up-to-date with a
vengeance. And yet, unless my senses deceive me, the old
centuries had, and have, powers of their own which mere
“modernity” cannot kill.

Later: the Morning of 16 May —

God preserve iny sanity,
.

for to this I am reduced. Safety and the assurance of safety

are things of the past. Whilst I live on here there is but
one thing to hope for: that I may not go mad, if, indeed, I
be not mad already. If I be sane, then surely it is madden-
ing to think that of all the foul things that lurk in this hate-
ful place the Count is the least dreadful to me that to him
;

alone I can look for safety, even though this be only whilst
I can serve his purpose. Great God merciful God
! Let
!

me be calm, for out of that way lies madness indeed. I be-

gin to get new lights on certain things which have puzzled
me. Up to now I never quite knew what Shakespeare
meant when he made Hamlet say :

“ My tablets quick, my tablets !

!

*
Tis meet that I put it down,” etc.,

for now, feeling as though my own brain were unhinged or

as if the shock had come which must end in its undoing, I
turn to my diary for repose. The habit of entering accu-
rately must help to soothe me.
The Count’s mysterious warning frightened me at the
time; it frightens me more now when I think of it, for in
future he has a fearful hold upon me. I shall fear to doubt
what he may say!
When I had written in my diary and had fortunately re-
placed the book and pen in my pocket I felt sleepy. The
Count’s warning came into my mind, but I took a pleasure
in disobeying it. The sense of sleep was upon me, and with
it the obstinacy which sleep brings as outrider. The soft
moonlight soothed, and the wide expanse without gave a
sense of freedom which refreshed me. I determined not to
return to-night to the gloom-haunted rooms, but to sleep
here, where of old ladies had sat and sung and lived sweet
lives whilst their gentle breasts were sad for their menfolk
away in the midst of remorseless wars. I drew a great
couch out of its place near the corner, so that, as I lay, I
could look at the lovely view to east and south, and unthink-
 — —
•38 Dracula

in g of and uncaring for the dust, composed myself for sleep.

I suppose I must have fallen asleep I hope so, but I fear,
—
;

for all that followed was startlingly real so real that now,
sitting here in the broad, full sunlight of the morning, I can-
not in the least believe that it was all sleep.
I was not alone. The room was the same, unchanged in
any way since I came into it I could see along the floor, in
;

the brilliant moonlight, my own footsteps marked where I

had disturbed the long accumulation of dust. In the moon-
light opposite me were three young women, ladies by their
dress and manner. I thought at the time that I must be
dreaming when I saw them, for, though the moonlight was
behind them, they threw no shadow on the floor. They came
close to me and looked at me for some time, and then whis-
pered together. Two were dark, and had high aquiline
noses, like the Count, and great dark, piercing eyes, that
seemed to be almost red when contrasted with the pale yel-
low moon. The other was fair, as fair as can be, with great
wavy masses of golden hair and eyes like pale sapphires. 1
seemed somehow to know her face, and to know it in con-
nection with some dreamy fear, but I could not recollect at
the moment how or where. All three had brilliant white
teeth, that shone like pearls against the ruby of their volup-
tuous lips. There was something about them that made
me uneasy, some longing and at the same time some deadly
fear. I felt in my heart a wicked, burning desire that they
would kiss me with those red lips. It is not good to note
this down, lest some day it should meet Mina’s eyes and
cause her pain but it is the truth. They whispered together,
;

—
and then they all three laughed such a silvery, musical
laugh, but as hard as though the sound never could have
come through the softness of human lips. It was like the in-
tolerable, tingling sweetness of water-glasses when played
on by a cunning hand. The fair girl shook her head co-
quettishly, and the other two urged her on. One said :

“Go on ! You are first, and we shall follow yours is the

;

right to begin.” The other added :

“He is young and strong there are kisses for us all.” I

;

lay quiet, looking out under my eyelashes in an agony of

delightful anticipation. The fair girl advanced and bent
over me till I could feel the movement of her breath upon
me. Sweet it was in one sense, honey-sweet, and. sent the
same tingling through the nerves as her voice, but with a
 —
Jonathan Harker’s Journal 39
bitter underlying the sweet, a bitter offensiveness, as one
smells in blood.
I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw
perfectly under the lashes. The girl went on her knees,
and bent over me, simply gloating. There was a deliberate
voluptuousness which was both thrilling and repulsive, and
as she arched her neck she actually licked her lips like an
animal, till I could see in the moonlight the moisture shining
on the scarlet lips and on the red tongue as it lapped the
white sharp teeth. Lower and lower went her head as the
lips went below the range of my mouth and chin and seemed
about to fasten on my throat. Then she paused, and I could
hear the churning sound of her tongue as it licked her teeth
and lips, and could feel the hot breath on my neck. Then
the skin of my throat began to tingle as one’s flesh does when
—
the hand that is to tickle it approaches nearer nearer. I
could feel the soft, shivering touch of the lips on the super-
sensitive skin of my throat, and the hard dents of two sharp
teeth, just touching and pausing there. I closed my eyes in
—
a languorous ecstacy and waited waited with beating heart.
But at that instant another sensation swept through me as
quick as lightning. I was conscious of the presence of the
Count, and of his being as if lapped in a storm of fury. As
my eyes opened involuntarily I saw his strong hand grasp
the slender neck of the fair woman and with giant’s power
draw it back, the blue eyes transformed with fury, the white
teeth champing with rage, and the fair cheeks blazing red
with passion. But the Count! Never did I imagine such
wrath and fury, even to the demons of the pit. His eyes
were positively blazing. The red light in them was lurid,
as if the flames of hell-fire blazed behind them. His face
was deathly pale, and the lines of it were hard like drawn
wires; the thick eyebrows that met over the nose now
seemed like a heaving bar of white-hot metal. With a fierce
sweep of his arm, he hurled the woman from him, and then
motioned to the others, as though he were beating them
back; it was the same imperious gesture that I had seen
used to the wolves. In a voice which, though low and al-
most in a whisper seemed to cut through the air and then
ring round the room as he said :

“How dare you touch him, any of you? How dare you
cast eyes on him when I had forbidden it ? Back, I tell you
all! This man belongs to me! Beware how you meddle
 — — !

4o Dracula

with him, or you’ll have to deal with me.” The fair girl,
with a laugh of ribald coquetry, turned to answer him :

“You yourself never loved; you never love!” On this

the other women joined, and such a mirthless, hard, soulless
laughter rang through the room that it almost made me faint
to hear; it seemed like the pleasure of fiends. Then the
Count turned, after looking at my face attentively, and said
in a soft whisper :

“Yes, I too can love; you yourselves can tell it from the
past. Is it not so? Well, now I promise you that when I
am done with him you shall kiss him at your will. Now go
go ! I must awaken him, for there is work to be done.”
“Are we to have nothing to-night?” said one of them, with
a low laugh, as she pointed to the bag which he had thrown
upon the and which moved as though there were some
floor,
living thing within it. For answer he nodded his head.
One of the women jumped forward and opened it. If my
ears did not deceive me there was a gasp and a low wail, as
of a half-smothered child. The women closed round, whilst
I was aghast with horror but as I looked they disappeared,
;

and with them the dreadful bag. There was no door near
them, and they could not have passed me without my notic-
ing. They simply seemed to fade into the rays of the moon-
light and pass out through the window, for I could see out-
side the dim, shadowy forms for a moment before they en-
tirely faded away.
Then the horror overcame me, and I sank down uncon-
scious.
 CHAPTER IV
Jonathan harker's journal —continued
I awoke in my own
bed. If it be that I had not dreamt, the
Count must have carried me here. I tried to satisfy myself
on the subject, but could not arrive at any unquestionable
result. To be sure, there were certain small evidences, such
as that my clothes were folded and laid by in a manner which
was not my habit. My
watch was still unwound, and I am
rigourously accustomed to wind it the last thing before going
to bed, and many such details. But these things are no proof,
for they may have been evidences that my mind was not as
usual, and, from some cause or another, I had certainly been
much upset. I must watch for proof. Of one thing I am
glad if it was that the Count carried me here and undressed
:

me, he must have been hurried in his task, for my pockets

are intact. I am sure this diary would have been a mystery
to him which he would not have brooked. He would have
taken or destroyed it. As I look round this room, although
it has been to me so full of fear, it is now a sort of sanctuary,

for nothing can be more dreadful than those awful women,

— —
who were who are waiting to suck my blood.

1 8 May —
. I have been down to look at that room again in
daylight, for I must know the truth. When I got to the
doorway at the top of the stairs I found it closed. It had
been so forcibly driven against the iamb that part of the
woodwork was splintered. I could see that the bolt of the
lock had not been shot, but the door is fastened from the
inside. I fear it was no dream, and must act on this sur-
mise.

19 May —
I am surely in the toils.
. Last night the Count
asked me in the suavest tones to write three letters, one say-
ing that my work here was nearly done, and that I should
start for home within a few days, another that I was starting
on the next morning from the time of the letter, and the third
that I had left the castle and arrived at Bistritz. I would
4T
 —
42 Dracula

fain have rebelled, but felt that in the present state of things
it would be madness to quarrel openly with the Count whilst

I am so absolutely in his power; and to refuse would be to

excite his suspicion and to arouse his anger. He knows that
I know too much, and that I must not live, lest I be danger-
ous to him ; my only chance is to prolong my opportunities.
Something may occur which will give me a chance to escape.
I saw in his eyes something of that gathering wrath which
was manifest when he hurled that fair woman from him. He
explained to me that posts were few and uncertain, and that
my writing now would ensure ease of mind to my friends;
and he assured me with so much impressiveness that he
would countermand the later letters, which would be held
over at Bistritz until due time in case chance would admit of
my prolonging my stay, that to oppose him would have been
to create new therefore pretended to fall in with
suspicion. I
his views, and asked him what dates I should put on the let-
ters. He calculated a minute, and then said:
“The first should be June 12, the second June 19, and the
third June 29.” *
I know now the span of my life. God help me!

28 May —
There is a chance of escape, or at any rate of
.

being able to send word home. A band of Szgany have

come to the castle, and are encamped in the courtyard. These
Szgany are gipsies I have notes of them in my book. They
;

are peculiar to this part of the world, though allied to the

ordinary gipsies all the world over. There are thousands of
them in Hungary and Transylvania, who are almost outside
all law. They attach themselves as a rule to some great noble
or boyar, and call themselves by his name. They are fearless
and without religion, save superstition, and they talk only
their own varieties of the Romany tongue.
I shall write some letters home, and shall try to get them
to have them posted. I have already spoken them through
my window to begin
acquaintanceship. They took their
hats off and made obeisance and many signs, which, how-
ever, I could not understand any more than I could their
spoken language

have written the letters. Mina’s is in shorthand, and I

I
simply ask Mr. Hawkins to communicate with her. To her
l have explained my situation, but without the horrors which
 — ——
Jonathan Harker’s Journal 43
I may only surmise. It would shock and frighten her to
death were I to expose my heart to her. Should the letters
not carry, then the Count shall not yet know my secret or the
extent of my knowledge

Ihave given the letters I threw them through the bars of

;

my window with a gold piece, and made what signs I could

to have them posted. The man who took them pressed them
to his heart and bowed, and then put them in his cap. I could
do no more. I stole back to the study, and began to read.
As the Count did not come in, I have written here
The Count has come. He sat down beside me, and said in
his smoothest voice as he opened two letters:
“The Szgany has given me these, of which, though I know
not whence they come, I shall, of course, take care.
—he must have looked at
—“one from you, and
it is
See!”
to my
friend Peter Hawkins ;
the other” — here he caught
sight of
the strange symbols as he opened the envelope, and the dark
look came into his face, and his eyes blazed wickedly “the
—
other is a vile thing, an outrage upon friendship and hospi-
tality ! It is not signed. Well so it cannot matter to us.”
!

And he calmly held letter and envelope in the flame of the

lamp till they were consumed. Then he went on :

—
“The letter to Hawkins that I shall, of course, send on,
since it is yours. Your letters are sacred to me. Your par-
don, my friend, that unknowingly I did break the seal. Will
you not cover it again ?” He held out the letter to me, and
with a courteous bow handed me a clean envelope. I could
only redirect it and hand it to him in silence. When he went
out of the room I could hear the key turn softly. minute A
later I went over and tried it, and the door was locked.
When, an hour or two after, the Count came quietly into
the room his coming wakened me, for I had gone to sleep on
;

the sofa. He was very courteous and very cheery in his

manner, and seeing that I had been sleeping, he said :

“So, my friend, you are tired ? Get to bed. There is the

surest rest. I may not have the pleasure to talk to-night,
since there are many labours to me; but you will sleep, I
pray.” I passed to my room and went to bed, and, strange
to say, slept without dreaming. Despair has its own calms.

31 May . —
This morning when I woke I thought Iwould
provide myself with some paper and envelopes from my bag
 !

44 Dracula

and keep them in my pocket, so that I might write in case I

should get an opportunity; but again a surprise, again a
shock
Every scrap of paper was gone, and with it all my notes,
my memoranda, relating to railways and travel, my letter of
credit, in fact all that might be useful to me were I once out-
side the castle. I sat and pondered a while, and then some
thought occurred to me, and I made search of my portman-
teau and in the wardrobe where I had placed my clothes.
The suit in which I had travelled was gone, and also my
overcoat and rug; I could find no trace of them anywhere.
This looked like some new scheme of villainy. . . .

17 June.— This morning, as I was sitting on the edge of

my bed cudgelling my brains, I heard without a cracking of
whips and pounding and scraping of horses’ feet up the
rocky path beyond the courtyard. With joy I hurried to the
window, and saw drive into the yard two great leiter-wag-
ons, each drawn by eight sturdy horses, and at the head of
each pair a Slovak, with his wide hat, great, nail-studded
belt, dirty sheepskin, and high boots. They had also their
long staves in hand. I ran to the door, intending to descend
and try and join them through the main hall, as I thought
that way might be opened for them. Again a shock: my
door was fastened on the outside.

Then I ran to the window and cried to them. They looked

up at me stupidly and pointed, but just then the “hetman” of
the Szgany came out, and seeing them pointing to my win-
dow, said something, at which they laughed. Henceforth no
effort of mine, no piteous cry or agonised entreaty, would
make them even look at me. They resolutely turned away.
The leiter-wagons contained great, square boxes, with han-
dles of thick rope; these were evidently empty by the ease
with which the Slovaks handled them, and by their resonance
as they were roughly moved. When they were all unloaded
and packed in a great heap in one corner of the yard, the
Slovaks were given some money by the Szgany, and spitting
on it for luck, lazily went each to his horse’s head. Shortly
afterwards I heard the cracking of their whips die away in
the distance.

24 June , before morning . —

Last night the Count left me
early, and locked himself into his own room. As soon as X
 :

Jonathan Harker’s Journal 45

dared I ran up the winding and looked out of the win-
stair,
dow, which opened south. I thought I would watch for the
Count, for there is something going on. The Szgany are
quartered somewhere in the castle, and are doing work of
some kind. I know it, for now and then I hear a far-away,
muffled sound as of mattock and spade, and, whatever it is,
it must be the end of some ruthless villainy.

I had been at the window somewhat less than half an hour,

when I saw something coming out of the Count’s window.
I drew back and watched carefully, and saw the whole man
emerge. It was a new shock to me to find that he had on the
suit of clothes which I had worn whilst travelling here, and
slung over his shoulder the terrible bag which I had seen the
women take away. There could be no doubt as to his quest,
and in my garb, too This, then, is his new scheme of evil
!

that he will allow others to see me, as they think, so that he

may both leave evidence that I have been seen in the towns
or villages posting my own letters, and that any wickedness
which he may do shall by the local people be attributed to
me.
It makes me rage to think that this can go on, and whilst
I am shut up here, a veritable prisoner, but without that pro-
tection of the law which is even a criminal’s right and conso-
lation.
Ithought I would watch for the Count’s return, and for a
long time sat doggedly at the window. Then I began to no-
tice that therewere some quaint little specks floating in the
rays of the moonlight. They were like the tiniest grains of
dust, and they whirled round and gathered in clusters in a
nebulous sort of way. I watched them with a sense of sooth-
ing, and a sort of calm stole over me. I leaned back in the
embrasure in a more comfortable position, so that I could en-
joy more fully the aerial gambolling.
Something made me start up, a low, piteous howling of
dogs somewhere far below in the valley, which was hidden
from my sight. Louder it seemed to ring in my ears, and
the floating motes of dust to take new shapes to the sound
as they danced in the moonlight. I felt myself struggling
to awake to some call of my instincts nay, my very soul was
;

struggling, and my half-remembered sensibilities were striv-

ing to answer the call. I was becoming hypnotised Quicker
!

and quicker danced the dust; the moonbeams seemed to

quiver as they went by me into the mass of gloom bevond.
 —
46 Dracula

More and more they gathered till they seemed to take dim
phantom, shapes. And then I started, broad awake and in
full possession of my senses, and ran screaming from the
place. The phantom shapes, which were becoming gradually
materialised from the moonbeams, were those of the three
ghostly women to whom I was doomed. I fled, and felt
somewhat safer in my own room, where there was no moon-
light and where the lamp was burning brightly.
When a couple of hours had passed I heard something
stirring in the Count’s room, something like a sharp wail
quickly suppressed and then there was silence, deep, awful
;

silence, which chilled me. With a beating heart, I tried the

door but I was locked in my prison, and could do nothing.
;

I sat down and simply cried.

As I sat I heard a sound in the courtyard without the—
agonised cry of a woman. I rushed to the window, and
throwing it up, peered out between the bars. There, indeed,
was a woman with dishevelled hair, holding her hands over
her heart as one distressed with running. She was leaning
against a corner of the gateway. When she saw my face at
the window she threw herself forward, and shouted in a
voice laden with menace :

!”
“Monster, give me my child
She threw herself on her knees, and raising up her hands,
cried the same words in tones which wrung my heart. Then
she tore her hair and beat her breast, and abandoned herself
to all the violences of extravagant emotion. Finally, she
threw herself forward, and, though I could not see her, I
could hear the beating of her naked hands against the door.
Somewhere high overhead, probably on the tower, I heard
She voice of the Count calling in his harsh, metallic whisper.
His call seemed to be answered from far and wide by the
howling of wolves. Before many minutes had passed a pack
of them poured, like a pent-up dam when liberated, through
the wide entrance into the courtyard.
‘There was no cry from the woman, and the howling of the
wolves was but short. Before long they streamed away sin-
gly, licking their lips.
I could not pity her, for I knew now what had become of
her child, and she was better dead.
What shall I do ? what can I do ? How can I escape from
this dreadful thrall of night and gloom and fear?
 ! !

Jonathan Harker’s Journal 47

25 June, morning .
—
No man knows till he has suffered
from the night how sweet and how dear to his heart and eye
the morning can be. When the sun grew so high this morn-
ing that it struck the top of the great gateway opposite my
window, the high spot which it touched seemed to me as if
the dove from the ark had lighted there. My fear fell from
me as if it had been a vapourous garment which dissolved in
the warmth. I must take action of some sort whilst the
courage of the day is upon me. Last night one of my post-
dated letters went to post, the first of that fatal series which
is to blot out the very traces of my existence from the earth.
Let me not think of it. Action
It has always been at night-time that I have been molested
or threatened, or in some way in danger or in fear. I have
not yet seen the Count in the daylight. Can it be that he
sleeps when others wake, that he may be awake whilst they
sleep? If I could only get into his room! But there is no
possible way. The door is always locked, no way for me.
Yes, there is a way, if one dares to take it. Where his
body has gone why may not another body go? I have seen
him myself crawl from his window ? Why
should not I imi-
tate him, and go in by his window? The chances are des-
perate, but my need is more desperate still. I shall risk it.

At the worst it can only be death and a man’s death is not

;

a calf’s, and the dreaded Hereafter may still be open to me.

God help me in my task Good-bye, Mina, if I fail good-
!
;

bye, my faithful friend and second father good-bye, all, and

;

last of all Mina

Same day, later . —

have made the effort, and, God help-
I
ing me, have come safely back to this room. I must put
down every detail in order. I went whilst my courage was
fresh straight to the window on the south side, and at once
got outside on the narrow ledge of stone which runs round
the building on this side. The stones are big and roughly
cut, and the mortar has by process of time been washed
away between them. I took off my boots, and ventured out
on the desperate way. I looked down once, so as to make
sure that a sudden glimpse of the awful depth would not
ovei come me, but after that kept my eyes away from it. I
knew pretty well the direction and distance of the Count’s
window, and made for it as well as I could, having regard
to the opportunities available. I did not feel dizzy— I sup-
48 Dracula

pose I was too excited —and

the time seemed ridiculously
short till I found myself standing on the window-sill and
trying to raise up the sash. I was filled with agitation, how-
ever, when I bent down and foremost in through
slid feet
the window. Then I looked around for the Count, but, with
surprise and gladness, made a discovery. The room was
empty! It was barely furnished with odd things, which
seemed to have never been used; the furniture was some-
thing the same style as that in the south rooms, and was cov-
ered with dust. I looked for the key, but it was not in the
lock, and I could not find it anywhere. The only thing I
—
found was a great heap of gold in one corner gold of all
kinds, Roman, and British, and Austrian, and Hungarian,
and Greek and Turkish money, covered with a film of dust,
as though it had lain long in the ground. None of it that I
noticed was less than three hundred years old. There were
also chains and ornaments, some jewelled, but all of them
old and stained.
At one corner of the room was a heavy door. I tried it,
for, since I could not find the key of the room or the key of
the outer door, which was the main object of my search, I
must make further examination, or all my efforts would be
in vain. It was open, and led through a stone passage to a
circular stairway, which went steeply down. I descended,
minding carefully where I went, for the stairs were dark,
being only lit by loopholes in the heavy masonry. At the
bottom there was a dark, tunnel-like passage, through which
came a deathly, sickly odour, the odour of old earth newly
turned. As I went through the passage the smell grew
closer and heavier. At last I pulled open a heavy door which
stood ajar, and found myself in an old, ruined chapel, which
had evidently been used as a graveyard. The roof was
broken, and in two places were steps leading to vaults, but
the ground had recently been dug over, and the earth placed
in great wooden boxes, manifestly those which had been
brought by the Slovaks. There was nobody about, and I
made search for any further outlet, but there was none.
Then I went over every inch of the ground, so as not to lose
a chance. I went down even into the vaults, where the dim
light struggled, although to do so was a dread to my very
soul. Into two of these I went, but saw nothing except frag-
ments of old coffins and piles of dust in the third, however,
;

I made a discovery.
 — — ;

Jonathan Harker’s Journal 49

There, in one of the great boxes, of which there were fifty
in all, on a pile of newly dug earth, lay the Count! He was
either dead or asleep, I could not say which — for the eyes
were open and stony, but without the glassiness of death—
and the cheeks had the warmth of life through all their pal-
lor the lips were as red as ever.
; But there was no sign of
movement, no pulse, no breath, no beating of the heart. I
bent over him, and tried to find any sign of life, but in vain.
He could not have lain there long, for the earthy smell would
have passed away in a few hours. By the side of the box
was its cover, pierced with holes here and there. I thought
he might have the keys on him, but when I went to search
I saw the dead eyes, and in them, dead though they were,
such a look of hate, though unconscious of me or my pres-
ence, that I fled from the place, and leaving the Count’s room
by the window, crawled again up the castle wall. Regain-
ing my room chamber, I threw myself panting upon the bed
and tried to think

—
29 June. To-day is the date of my last letter, and the
Count has taken steps to prove that it was genuine, for again
I saw him leave the castle by the same window, and in my
clothes. As he went down the wall, lizard fashion, I wished
I had a gun or some lethal weapon, that I might destroy him
but I fear that no weapon wrought alone by man’s hand
would have any effect on him. I dared not wait to see him
return, for I feared to see those weird sisters. I came back
to the library, and read there till I fell asleep.
I was awakened by the Count, who looked at me as grimly
as a man can look as he said :

“To-morrow, my friend, we must part. You return to

your beautiful England, I to some work which may have
such an end that we may never meet. Your letter home has
been despatched to-morrow I shall not be here, but all shall
;

be ready for your journey. In the morning come the Szgany,

who have some labours of their own here, and also come
some Slovaks. When they have gone, my carriage shall
tome for you, and shall bear you to the Borgo Pass to meet
the diligence from Bukovina to Bistritz. But I am in hopes
that I shall see more of you at Castle Dracula.” I suspected
him, and determined to test his sincerity. Sincerity! It
seems like a profanation of the word to write it in connec-
tion with such a monster, so asked him point-blank :
 — — —
5°
Dracula

“Why may not go to-night ?”

I
“Because, dear sir, my coachman and horses are away on
a mission.”
“But I would walk with pleasure. I want to get away at
once.” He smiled, such a soft, smooth, diabolical smile that
I knew there was some trick behind his smoothness. He
said :

“And your baggage?”

“I do not care about it. I can send for it some other
time.”
The Count stood up, and said, with a sweet courtesy which
made me rub my eyes, it seemed so real:
“You English have a saying which is close to my heart,
for its spirit is that which rules our boyars: ‘Welcome the
coming; speed the parting guest/ Come with me, my dear
young friend. Not an hour shall you wait in my house
against your will, though sad am I at your going, and that
you so suddenly desire it. Come !” With a stately gravity,
he, with the lamp, preceded me down the stairs and along
the hall. Suddenly he stopped.
!”
“Hark
Close at hand came the howling of many wolves. It was
almost as if the sound sprang up at the rising of his hand,
just as the music of a great orchestra seems to leap under
the baton of the conductor. After a pause of a moment, he
proceeded, in his stately way, to the door, drew back the pon-
derous bolts, unhooked the heavy chains, and began to draw
it open.

To my intense astonishment I saw that it was unlocked.

Suspiciously I looked all round, but could see no key of any
kind.
As the door began to open, the howling of the wolves
without grew louder and angrier; their red jaws, with
champing teeth, and their blunt-clawed feet as they leaped,
came in through the opening door. I knew; then that to
struggle at the moment against the Count was useless. With
such allies as these at his command, I could do nothing. But
still the door continued slowly to open, and only the Count’s

body stood in the gap. Suddenly it struck me that this might

be the moment and means of my doom I was to be given to
;

the wolves, and at my own instigation. There was a diaboli-

cal wickedness in the idea great enough for the Count, and
as a last chance I cried out ;
 — !

Jonathan Harker’s Journal 51

“Shut the door; wait till morning!” and covered
I shall
my face with my hands to hide my tears of bitter disap-
pointment. With one sweep of his powerful arm, the Count
threw the door shut, and the great bolts clanged and echoed
through the hall as they shot back into their places.
In silence we returned to the library, and after a minute
or two I went to my own room. The last I saw of Count
Dracula was his kissing his hand to me; with a red light of
triumph in his eyes, and with a smile that Judas in hell might
be proud of.
When I was in my room and about to lie down, I thought
I heard a whispering at my door. I went to it softly and
listened. Unless my ears deceived me, I heard the voice of
the Count :

“Back, back, to your own place! Your time is not yet

come. Wait! Have patience! To-night is mine. To-mor-
row night is yours !” There was a low, sweet ripple of
laughter, and in a rage I threw open the door, and saw with-
out the three terrible women licking their lips. As I ap-
peared they all joined in a horrible laugh, and ran away.
I came back to my room and threw myself on my knees.
It is then so near the end ? To-morrow to-morrow ! Lord, !

help me, and those to whom I am dear

30 June, morning . —These may be the words I ever

last
write in this diary. I slept till just before the dawn, and
when Iwoke threw myself on my knees, for I determined
that if Death came he should find me ready.
At last I felt that subtle change in the air, and knew that
the morning had come. Then came the welcome cock-crow,
and I felt that I was safe. With a glad heart, I opened my
door and ran down to the hall. I had seen that the door was
unlocked, and now escape was before me. With hands that
trembled with eagerness, I unhooked the chains and drew
back the massive bolts.
But the door would not move. Despair seized me. I
pulled, and pulled, at the door, and shook it till, massive as it

was, rattled in its casement. I could see the bolt shot. It

it

had been locked after I left the Count.

Then a wild desire took me to obtain that key at any risk,
and determined then and there to scale the wall again and
I
gain the Count’s room. He might kill me, but death now
seemed the happier choice of evils. Without a pause I rushed
S2 Dracula

up to the east window, and scrambled down the wall, as be*

fore, into the Count’s room. It was empty, but that was as
I expected. I could not see a key anywhere, but the heap of
gold remained. I went through the door in the corner and
down the winding stair and along the dark passage to the old
chapel. I knew now well enough where to find the monster
I sought.
The great box was in the same place, close against the
wall, but the lid was laid on it, not fastened down, but with
the nails ready in their places to be hammered home. I
knew I must reach the body for the key, so I raised the lid,
and laid it back against the wall and then I saw something
;

which filled my very soul with horror. There lay the Count,
but looking as if his youth had been half renewed, for the
white hair and moustache were changed to dark iron-grey;
the cheeks were fuller, and the white skin seemed ruby-red
underneath the mouth was redder than ever, for on the lips
;

were gouts of fresh blood, which trickled from the corners

of the mouth and ran over the chin and neck. Even the
deep, burning eyes seemed set amongst swollen flesh, for the
lids and pouches underneath were bloated. It seemed as if
the whole awful creature were simply gorged with blood.
He lay like a filthy leech, exhausted with his repletion. I
shuddered as I bent over to touch him, and every sense in
me revolted at the contact but I had to search, or I was lost.
;

The coming night might see my own body a banquet in a

similar way to those horrid three. I felt all over the body,
but no sign could I find of the key. Then I stopped and
looked at the Count. There was a mocking smile on the
bloated face which seemed to drive me mad. This was the
being I was helping to transfer to London, where, perhaps,
for centuries to come he might, amongst its teeming mil-
lions, satiate his lust for blood, and create a new and ever-
widening circle of semi-demons to batten on the helpless.
The very thought drove me mad. A terrible desire came
upon me to rid the world of such a monster. There was no
lethal weapon at hand, but I seized a shovel which the work-
men had been using to fill the cases, and lifting it high
struck, with the edge downward, at the hateful face. But as
I did so the head turned, and the eyes fell full upon me, with
all their blaze of basilisk horror. The sight seemed to para-
lyse me, and the shovel turned in my hand and glanced from
the face, merely making a deep gash above the forehead.
 !

Jonathan Harker’s Journal 53

The shovel fell from my hand across the box, and as I pulled
it away the flange of the blade caught the edge of the lid,
which over again, and hid the horrid thing from my
fell
sight. The last glimpse I had was of the bloated face, blood-
stained and fixed with a grin of malice which would have
held its own in the nethermost hell.
I thought and thought what should be my next move, but
my brain seemed on fire, and I waited with a despairing feel-
ing growing over me. As I waited I heard in the distance a
gipsy song sung by merry voices coming closer, and through
their song the rolling of heavy wheels and the cracking of
whips the Szgany and the Slovaks of whom the Count had
;

spoken were coming. With a last look around and at the box
which contained the vile body, I ran from the place and
gained the Count's room, determined to rush out at the mo-
ment the door should be opened. With strained ears, I
listened, and heard downstairs the grinding of the key in the
great lock and the falling back of the heavy door. There
must have been some other means of entry, or some one had
a key for one of the locked doors. Then there came the
sound of many feet tramping and dying away in some pas-
sage which sent up a clanging echo. I turned to run down
again towards the vault, where I might find the new en-
trance; but at the moment there seemed to come a violent
puff of wind, and the door to the winding stair blew to with
a shock that set the dust from the lintels flying. When I ran
to push it open, I found that it was hopelessly fast. I was
again a prisoner, and the net of doom was closing round me
more closely.
As Iwrite there is in the passage below a sound of many
tramping feet and the crash of weights being set down heav-
ily, doubtless the boxes, with their freight of earth. There
,

is a sound of hammering; it is the box being nailed down.

Now I can hear the heavy feet tramping again along the hall,
with many other idle feet coming behind them.
The door is shut, and the chains rattle there is a grinding
;

of the key in the lock; I can hear the key withdraw: then
another door opens and shuts; I hear the creaking of lock
and bolt.
Hark ! and down the rocky way the roll
in the courtyard
of heavy wheels, the crack of whips, and the chorus of the
Szgany as they pass into the distance.
I am alone in the castle with those awful women. Faugh
 !

54 Dracula

Mina isa woman, and there is nought in common. They are

devils of the Pit
I shall not remain alone with them I shall try to scale the
;

castle wall farther than I have yet attempted. I shall take

some of the gold with me, lest I want it later. I may find a
way from this dreadful place.
And then away for home! away to the quickest and
nearest train away from this cursed spot, from this cursed
!

land, where the devil and his children still walk with earthly
feet!
At least God’s mercy is better than that of these monsters,
*md the precipice is steep and high. At its foot a man may
—
sleep as a man. Good-bye, all Mina
! 1
 —

CHAPTER V
Letter from Miss Mina Murray to Miss Lucy Westenra .

“q May.
“My dearest Lucy,
“Forgive my long delay in writing, but I have been simply
overwhelmed with work. The life of an assistant schoolmis-
tress is sometimes trying. I am longing to be with you, and
by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our
castles in the air. I have been working very hard lately, be-
cause I want to keep up with Jonathan’s studies, and I have
been practising shorthand very assiduously. When we are
married I shall be able to be useful to Jonathan, and if I can
stenograph well enough I can take down what he wants to
say in this way and write it out for him on the typewriter, at
which also I am practising very hard. He and I sometimes
write letters in shorthand, and he is keeping a stenographic
journal of his travels abroad. When I am with you I shall
keep a diary in the same way. I don’t mean one
of those two-pages-to-the-week-with-Sunday-squeezed-in-a-
corner diaries, but a sort of journal which I can write in
whenever I feel inclined. I do not suppose there will be
much of interest to other people; but it is not intended for
them. I may show it to Jonathan some day if there is in it
anything worth sharing, but it is really an exercise book. I
shall try to do what I see lady journalists do: interviewing
and writing descriptions and trying to remember conversa-
tions. I am told that, with a little practise, one can remember
all that goes on or that one hears said during a day. However
we shall see. I will tell you of my little plans when we meet
I have just had a few hurried lines from Jonathan front
Transylvania. He is well, and will be returning in about a
week. I am longing to hear all his news. It must be so nice
to see strange countries. I wonder if we — I mean Jonathan
—
and I shall ever see them together. There is the ten o’clock
bell ringing. Good-bye.
“Your loving
“ Mina,
55
 — , ;

56 Dracula

“Tell methe news when you write. You have not told
all
me anything for a long time. I hear rumours, and especially
of a tall, handsome, curly-haired man ? ? ?”

Letter, Lucy W estenra to Mina Murray.

“17, Chatham Street

‘ Wednesday .

“My dearest Mina,

“I must say you tax me very unfairly with being a bad
correspondent. I wrote to you twice since we parted, and
your last letter was only your second. Besides, I have noth-
ing to tell you. There is really nothing to interest you.
Town is very pleasant just now, and we go a good deal to
picture-galleries and for walks and rides in the park. As to
the tall, curly-haired man, I suppose it was the one who was
with me at the last Pop. Some one has evidently been telling
tales. That was Mr. Holmwood. He often comes to see us,
and he and mamma get on very well together they have so ;

many things to talk about in common. We

met some time
ago a man that would just do for you, if you were not al-
ready engaged to Jonathan. He is an excellent parti, being
handsome, well off, and of good birth. He is a doctor and
really clever. Just fancy! He is only nine-and-twenty, and
he has an immense lunatic asylum all under his own care.
Mr. Holmwood introduced him to me, and he called here to
see us, and often comes now. I think he is one of the most
resolute men I ever saw, and yet the most calm. He seems
absolutely imperturbable. I can fancy what a wonderful
power he must have over his patients. He has a curious
habit of looking one straight in the face, as if trying to read
one’s thoughts. He tries this on very much with me, but I
flatter myself he has got a tough nut to crack. I know that
from my glass. Do you ever try to read your own face? /
do, and I can tell you it is not a bad study, and gives you
more trouble than you can well fancy if you have never tried
it. Hesays that I afford him a curious psychological study,
and I humbly think I do. I do not, as you know, take suf-
ficient interest in dress to be able to describe the new fash-
ions. Dress is a bore. That is slang again, but never mind
Arthur says that every day. There, it is all out. Mina, we
have told all our secrets to each other since we were chit -
 —
Letters, Etc. 57
dreu; we have and eaten together, and laughed
slept together
and cried together and now, though I have spoken, I would
;

like to speak more. Oh, Mina, couldn’t you guess? I love

him. I am blushing as I write, for although 1 think he loves
me, he has not told me so in words. But oh, Mina, I love
him I love him I love him
; ;
There, that does me good. I
!

wish I were with you, dear, sitting by the fire undressing,

as we used to sit and I would try to tell you what I feel. I
;

do not know how I am writing this even to you. I am afraid

to stop, or I should tear up the letter, and I don’t want to
stop, for I do so want to tell you all. Let me hear from you
at once, and tell me all that you think about it. Mina, I must
stop. Good-night. Bless me in your prayers; and, Mina,
pray for my happiness.
"Lucy.

“P.S. — I need not tell you this is a secret. Good-night

again. L.

Letter, Lucy W estenra to Mina Murray.

“24 May.
"My dearest Mina,
"Thanks, and thanks, and thanks again for your sweet
letter. It was so nice to be able to tell you and to have your
sympathy.
“My dear, it never rains but it pours. How true the old
proverbs are. Here am I, who shall be twenty in Septem-
ber, and yet I never had a proposal till to-day, not a real pro-
posal, and to-day I have had three. Just fancy! Three pro-
posals in one day Isn’t it awful
! I feel sorry, really and
!

truly sorry, for two of the poor fellows. Oh, Mina, I am so

happy that I don’t know what to do with myself. And three
proposals! But, for goodness’ sake, don’t tell any of the
girls, or they would be getting all sorts of extravagant ideas
and imagining themselves injured and slighted if in their
very first day at home they did not get six at least. Some
girls are so vain You and I, Mina dear, who are engaged
!

and are going to settle down soon soberly into old married
women, can despise vanity. Well, I must tell you about the
three, but you must keep it a secret, dear, from every one,
except, of course, Jonathan. You will tell him, because I
would, if I were in your place, certainly tell Arthur. A woman
5* Dracula

—
ought to tell her husband everything don’t you think so,
—
dear? and I must be fair. Men like women, certainly their
wives, to be quite as fair as they are; and women, I am
afraid, are not always quite as fair as they should be. Well,
my dear, number One came just before lunch. I told you of
him, Dr. John Seward, the lunatic-asylum man, with the
strong jaw and the good forehead. He was very cool out-
wardly, but was nervous all the same. He had evidently
been schooling himself as to all sorts of little things, and re-
membered them but he almost managed to sit down on his
;

silk hat, which men don’t generally do when they are cool,
and then when he wanted to appear at ease he kept playing
with a lancet in a way that made me nearly scream. He
spoke to me, Mina, very straightforwardly. He told me how
dear I was to him, though he had known me so little, and
what his life would be with me to help and cheer him. He
was going to tell me how unhappy he would be if I did not
care for him, but when he saw me cry he said that he was a
brute and would not add to my present trouble. Then he
broke off and asked if I could love him in time; and when
I shook my head his hands trembled, and then with some
hesitation he asked me if I cared already for any one else.
He put it very nicely, saying that he did not want to wring
my confidence from me, but only to know, because if a
woman’s heart was free a man might have hope. And then,
Mina, I felt a sort of duty to tell him that there was some
one. I only told him that much, and then he stood up, and
he looked very strong and very grave as he took both my
hands in his and said he hoped I would be happy, and that
if I ever wanted a friend I must count him one of my best.
Oh, Mina dear, I can’t help crying; and you must excuse
this letter being all blotted. Being proposed to is all very
nice and all that sort of thing, but it isn’t at all a happy thing
when you have to see a poor fellow, whom you know loves
you honestly, going away and looking all broken-hearted,
and to know that, no matter what he may say at the moment,
you are passing quite out of his life. My dear, I must stop
here at present, I feel so miserable, though I am so happy.

“Evening.
“Arthur has just gone, and I feel in better spirits than
when I left off, so I can go on telling you about the day.
Well, my dear, number two came after lunch. He is such
 —
Letters, Etc.
59
a nice fellow, an American from Texas, and he looks so
young and so fresh that it seems almost impossible that he
has been to so many places and has had such adventures. I
sympathize with poor Desdemona when she had such a dan-
gerous stream poured in her ear, even by a black man. I
suppose that we women are such cowards that we think a
man will save us from fears, and we marry him. I know
now what Iwould do if I were a man and wanted to make
a girl love me. No, I don’t, for there was Mr. Morris tell-
ing us his stories, and Arthur never told any, and yet
My dear, I am somewhat previous. Mr. Quincey P. Morris
found me alone. It seems that a man always does find a girl
alone. No, he doesn’t, for Arthur tried twice to make a
chance, and I helping him all I could I am not ashamed to
;

say it now. I must tell you beforehand that Mr. Morris

—
doesn’t always speak slang that is to say, he never does so
to strangers or before them, for he is really well educated
—
and has exquisite manners but he found out that it amused
me to hear him talk American slang, and whenever I was
present, and there was no one to be shocked, he said such
funny things. I am afraid, my dear, he has to invent it all,
for it fits exactly into whatever else he has to say. But this
is a way slang has. I do not know myself if I shall ever
speak slang I do not know if Arthur likes it, as I have never
;

heard him use any as yet. Well, Mr. Morris sat down be-
side me and looked as happy and jolly as he could, put I
could see all the same that he was very nervous. He took
my hand in his, and said ever so sweetly :

“
‘Miss Lucy, I know I ain’t good enough to regulate the
fixin’s of your little shoes, but I guess if you wait till you
find a man that is you will go join them seven young women
with the lamps when you quit. Won’t you just hitch up
alongside of me and let us go down the long road together,
driving in double harness?’
“Well, he did look so good-humoured and so jolly that it
didn’t seem half so hard to refuse him as it did poor Dr.
Seward so I said, as lightly as I could, that I did not know
;

anything of hitching, and that I wasn’t broken to harness at

all yet. Then he said that he had spoken in a light manner,
and he hoped that if he had made a mistake in doing so on
so grave, so momentous, an occasion for him, I would for-
give him. He really did look serious when he was saying it,
—
and I couldn’t help feeling a bit serious too I know, Mina,
 — — —
6o Dracula

you will think me —

a horrid flirt though I couldn’t help feel
ing a sort of exultation that he was number two in one day.
And then, my dear, before I could say a word he began pour-
ing out a perfect torrent of love-making, laying his very
heart and soul at my feet. He looked so earnest over it that
I shall never again think that a man must be playful always,
and never earnest, because he is merry at times. I suppose
he saw something in my face which checked him, for he sud-
denly stopped, and said with a sort of manly fervour that I
could have loved him for if I had been free :

“
‘Lucy, you are an honest-hearted girl, I know. I should
not be here speaking to you as I am now if I did not believe
you clean grit, right through to the very depths of your soul.
Tell me, like one good fellow to another, is there any one
else that you care for? And if there is I’ll never trouble
you a hair’s breadth again, but will be, if you will let me, a
very faithful friend.’
“My dear Mina, why are men so noble when we women
are so little worthy of them? Here was I almost making
fun of this great-hearted, true gentleman. I burst into tears
— I am afraid, my dear, you will think this a very sloppy
letter in more ways than one —
and I really felt very badly.
Why can’t they let a girl marry three men, or as many as
want her, and save all this trouble? But this is heresy, and
I must not say it. I am glad to say that, though I was cry-
ing, I was able to look into Mr. Morris’s brave eyes, and I
told him out straight :

“
‘Yes, there is some one I love, though he has not told
me yet that he even loves me.’ I was right to speak to him
so frankly, for quite a light came into his face, and he put
—
out both his hands and took mine I think I put them into
his
“
— and said in a hearty way :

‘That’s my brave girl. It’s better worth being late for a

chance of winning you than being in time for any other girl
in the world. Don’t cry, my dear. If it’s for me, I’m a hard
nut to crack and I take it standing up. If that other fellow
;

doesn’t know his happiness, well, he’d better look for it soon,
or he’ll have to deal with me. Little girl, your honesty and
pluck have made me a friend, and that’s rarer than a lover;
it’s more unselfish anyhow. Mydear, I’m going to have a
walk between this and Kingdom Come. Won’t
pretty lonely
you give me one kiss? It’ll be something to keep off the
darkness now and then. You can, you know, if you like, for
 — ;

Letters, Etc. 61
darkness now and then. You can, you know, if you like, for
that other good fellow — he must be a good fellow, my dear,
—
and a fine fellow, or you could not love him hasn’t spoken
yet.’ That quite won me, Mina, for it was brave and sweet
— —
of him, and noble, too, to a rival wasn’t it ? and he so sad
so I leant over and kissed him. He stood up with my two
hands in his, and as he looked .down into my face I am —
afraid I was blushing very much he said
“
— :

‘Little girl, I hold your hand, and you’ve kissed me, and
if these things don’t make us friends nothing ever will.
Thank you for your sweet honesty to me, and good-bye.’ He
wrung my hand, and taking up his hat, went straight out of
the room without looking back, without a tear or a quiver
or a pause and I am crying like a baby. Oh, why must a
;

man like that be made unhappy when there are lots of girls
about who would worship the very ground he trod on? I
—
know I would if I were free only I don’t want to be free.
My dear, this quite upset me, and I feel I cannot write of
happiness just at once, after telling you of it; and I don’t
wish to tell of the number three until it can be all happy.
“Ever your loving
“Lucy.

“P.S. —Oh, —
about number three I needn’t tell you of
number three, need I ? Besides, it was all so confused it ;

seemed only a moment from his coming into the room till
both his arms were round me, and he was kissing me. I am
very, very happy, and I don’t know what I have done to de-
serve it. I must only try in the future to show that I am not
ungrateful to God for all His goodness to me in sendingtome
such a lover, such a husband, and such a friend.
“Good-bye.”

Dr. Seward's Diary.

(Kept in phonograph)

25 May. —Ebb tide in appetite to-day. Cannot eat, cannot

rest, so diary instead. Since my rebuff of yesterday I have
a sort of empty feeling nothing in the world seems of suf-
;

ficient importance to be worth the doing As I

knew that the only cure for this sort. of thing was work, I
went down amongst the patients. I picked out one who has
ifforded me a study of much interest. He is so quaint in hfe
 • — l

62 Dracula

mined tounderstand him as well as I can. To-day I seemed

to get nearer than ever before to the heart of his mystery.
I questioned him more fully than I had ever done, with a
view to making myself master of the facts of his hallucina-
tion. In my manner of doing it there was, I now see, some-
thing of cruelty. I seemed to wish to keep him to the point
—
of his madness a thing which I avoid with the patients as I
would the mouth of hell
(Mem., under what circumstances would not avoid the
I
pit of hell ?) Omnia Romae venalia sunt. Hell has its price
verb. sap. If there be anything behind this instinct it will
be valuable to trace it afterwards accurately, so I had better
commence to do so, therefore
R. M. Renfield, aetat 59. — Sanguine temperament; great
physical strength ;
morbidly excitable periods of gloom,
;

ending in some fixed idea which I cannot make out. I pre-

sume that the sanguine temperament itself and the disturb-
ing influence end in ? mentally-accomplished finish a possi-
;

bly dangerous man, probably dangerous if unselfish. In

selfish men caution is as secure an armour for their foes as
for themselves. What I think of on this point is, when self
is the fixed point the centripetal force is balanced with the
centrifugal when duty, a cause, etc., is the fixed point, the
;

latter force is paramount, and only accident or a series of

accidents can balance it.

Letter, Quincey P. Morris to Hon. Arthur Holmwood.

“25 May
“My dear Art, —
.

We’ve told yarns by the camp-fire in the prairies; and

dressed one another’s wounds
after trying a landing at the
Marquesas; and drunk healths on the shore of Titicaca.
There are more yarns to be told, and other wounds to be
healed, and another health to be drunk. Won’t you let this
be at my camp-fire to-morrow night ? I have no hesitation in
asking you, as I know a certain lady is engaged to a certain
dinner-party, and that you are free. There will only be one
other, our old pal at the Korea, Jack Seward. He’s coming,
too, and we both want to mingle our weeps over the wine-
cup, and to drink a health with all our hearts to the happiest
inan in all the wide world, who has won the noblest heart
 Letters, Etc. 63
that God has made and the best worth winning. We prom-
ise you a hearty welcome, and a loving greeting, and a
health as true as your own right hand. We
shall both swear
to leave you at home if you drink too deep to a certain pair
of eyes. Come I
“Yours, as ever and always,
“Quincey P. Morris/'

Telegram from Arthur Holmwood to Quincey P. Morris.

26 May.
“Count me in every time. I bear messages which will
make both your ears tingle.
 CHAPTER VI
mina Murray's journal

24 July. Whitby . —Lucy met me at the station, looking

sweeter and lovelier than ever, and we drove up to the house
at the Crescent in which they have rooms. This is a lovely
place. The little river, the Esk, runs through a deep val-
ley, which broadens out as it comes near the harbour. A
great viaduct runs across, with high piers, through which
the view seems somehow further away than it really is. The
valley is beautifully green, and it is so steep that when you
are on the high land on either side you look right across it,
unless you are near enough to see down. The houses of the
old town — the side away from us — are all red-roofed, and
seem piled up one over the other anyhow, like the pictures
we see of Nuremberg. Right over the town is the ruin of
Whitby Abbey, which wa's sacked by the Danes, and which
is the scene of part of “Marmion,” where the girl was built
up in the wall. It is a most noble ruin, of immense size, and
full of beautiful and romantic bits there is a legend that a
;

white lady is seen in one of the windows. Between it and

the town there is another church, the parish one, round
which is a big graveyard, all full of tombstones. This is to
my mind the nicest spot in Whitby, for it lies right over the
town, and has a full view of the harbour and all up the bay
to where the headland called Kettleness stretches out into
the sea. It descends so steeply over the harbour that part
of the bank has fallen away, and some of the graves have
been destroyed. In one place part of the stonework of the
graves stretches out over the sandy pathway far below.
There are walks, with seats beside them, through the church-
yard and people go and sit there all day long looking at the
;

beautiful view and enjoying the breeze. I shall come and sit
here very often myself and work. Indeed, I am writing
now, with my book on my knee, and listening to the talk of
three old men who are sitting beside me. They seem to do
nothing all day but sit up here and talk.
The harbour lies below me, with, on the far side, one long
64
 — —
Mina Murray’s Journal 65
granite wall stretching out into the sea, with a curve out-
wards at the end of it, in the middle of which is a lighthouse.
A heavy sea-wall runs along outside of it. On the near side,
the sea-wall makes an elbow crooked inversely, and its end
too has a lighthouse. Between the two piers there is a nar-
row opening into the harbour, which then suddenly widens.
It is nice at high water but when the tide is out it shoals
;

away to nothing, and there is merely the stream of the Esk,

running between banks of sand, with rocks here and there.
Outside the harbour on this side there rises for about half a
mile a great reef, the sharp edge of which runs straight out
from behind the south lighthouse. At the end of it is a buoy
with a bell, which swings in bad weather, and sends in a
mournful sound on the wind. They have a legend here that
when a ship is lost bells are heard out at sea. I must ask the
old man about this he is coming this way
;

He is a funny old man. He must be awfully old, for his

face is all gnarled and twisted like the bark of a tree. He
tells me that he is nearly a hundred, and that he was a sailor
in the Greenland fishing fleet when Waterloo was fought.
He is, I am afraid, a very sceptical person, for when I asked
him about the bells at sea and the White Lady at the abbey
Le said very brusquely :

“l wouldn’t fash masel’ about them, miss. Them things

be all wore out. Mind, I don’t say that they never was, but
I do say that they wasn’t in my time. They be all very well
for comers and trippers, an’ the like, but not for a nice young
lady like you. Them feet-folks from York and Leeds that
be always eatin’ cured herrin’s an’ drinkin’ tea an’ lookin’
out to buy cheap jet would creed aught. I wonder masel’
—
who’d be bothered tellin’ lies to them even the newspapers,
which is full of fool-talk.” I thought he would be a good
person to learn interesting things from, so I asked him if he
would mind telling me something about the whale-fishing
in the old days. He was just settling himself to begin when
the clock struck six, whereupon he laboured to get up, and
said :

“I must gang ageeanwards home now, miss. My

grand-
daughter doesn’t like to be kept waitin’ when the tea is ready,
for it takes me time to crammle aboon the grees, for there
be a many of ’em an’, miss, I lack belly-timber sairly by the
;

clock.”
He hobbled away, and I could see him hurrying, as well
 —
66 Dracula

as he could, down the steps. The steps are a great feature of

the place. They lead from the town up to the church there
—
;

—
are hundreds of them I do not know how many and they
wind up in a delicate curve; the slope is so gentle that a
horse could easily walk up and down them. 1 think they
must originally have had something to do with the abbey.
I go home too. Lucy went out visiting with her mother,
shall
and as they were only duty calls, I did not go. They will be
home by this.

August
i . —
I came up here an hour ago with Lucy, and
we had a most interesting talk with my old friend and the
two others who always come and join him. He is evidently
the Sir Oracle of them, and I should think must have been
in his time a most dictatorial person. He will not admit any-
thing, and downfaces everybody. If he can’t out-argue them
he bullies them, and then takes their silence for agreement
with his views. Lucy was looking sweetly pretty in her
white lawn frock; she has got a beautiful colour since she
has been here. I noticed that the old men did not lose any
time in coming up and sitting near her when we sat down.
She is so sweet with old people I think they all fell in love
;

with her on the spot. Even my old man succumbed and did
not contradict her, but gave me double share instead. I got
him on the subject of the legends, and he went off at once
into a sort of sermon. I must try to remember it and put
it down :

“It be all fool-talk, lock, stock, and barrel that’s what it

;

be, an’ nowt else. These bans an’ wafts an’ boh-ghosts an’
barguests an’ bogles an’ all anent them is only fit to set bairns
an’ dizzy women a-belderin’. They be nowt but air-blebs.
They, an ’all grims an’ signs an’ warnin’s, be all invented
by parsons an’ illsome beuk-bodies an’ railway touters to
skeer an' scunner hafflin’s, an’ to get folks to do somethin’
that they don’t other incline to. It makes me ireful to think
o’ them. Why, it’s them that, not content with printin’ lies
on paper an’ preachin’ them out of pulpits, does want to be
euttin’ them on the tombsteans. Look here all around you
in what airt ye will all them steans, holdin’ up their heads
;

as well as they can out of their pride, is acant —

simply tum-
blin’ down with the weight o’ the lies wrote on them, ‘Here
lies the body* or ‘Sacred to the memory’ wrote on all of
them, an’ yet in nigh half of them there bean’t no bodies a>
 — — —
Mina Murray’s Journal 67
*11 an’ the memories of
; them bean’t cared a pinch of snuff
about, much less sacred. Lies all of them, nothin’ but lies
of one kind or another My gog, but it’ll be a quare scow-
!

derment at the Day of Judgment when they come tumblin’

up in their death-sarks, all jouped together an’ tryin’ to
drag their tombsteans with them to prove how good
they was* some of them trimmlin’ and ditherin’, with their
hands that dozzened an’ slippy from lyin’ in the sea that they
can’t even keep their grup o’ them.”
I could see from the old fellow’s self-satisfied air and the
way in which he looked round for the approval of his cro-
nies that he was “showing off,” so I put in a word to keep
him going:
“Oh, Mr. Swales, you can’t be serious. Surely these tomb-
stones are not wrong?”all
“Yabblins There may be a poorish few not wrong, savin’
!

where they make out the people too good for there be folk
;

that do think a balm-bowl be like the sea, only it be their

if
own. The whole thing be only lies. Now look you here;
you come here a stranger, an’ you see this kirk-garth.” I nod-
ded, for I thought it better to assent, though I did not quite
understand his dialect. I knew it had something to do with
the church. He went on: “And you consate that all these
steans be aboon folk that be happed here, snod an’ snog?”
I assented again. “Then that be just where the lie comes
in. Why, there be scores of these lay-beds that be toom
as old Dun’s ’bacca-box on Friday night.” He nudged one
of his companions, and they all laughed. “Aqd my gog!
how could they be otherwise? Look at that one, the aftest
abaft the bier-bank read it !” I went over and read
;
:

“Edward Spencelagh, master mariner, murdered by

pirates off the coast of Andres, April, 1854, set. 30.” When
I came back Mr. Swales went on :

“Who brought him home, I wonder, to hap him here?

Murdered off the coast of Andres! an’ you consated his
body lay under! Why, I could name ye a dozen whose
bones
— lie in the Greenland seas above” —he
pointed north-
wards “or where the currents may have drifted them.
There be the steans around ye. Ye can, with your young
eyes, read the small-print of the lies from here. This Braith-
—
waite Lowrey I knew his father, lost in the Lively off
Greenland in ’20; or Andrew Woodhouse, drowned in the
same seas in 1777; or John Paxton, drowned off Cape Fare-
 —
68 Dracula

well a year later ;

or old John Rawlings, whose grandfather
sailed with me, drowned in the Gulf of Finland in ’50. Do
ye think that all these men will have to make a rush to
Whitby when the trumpet sounds? I have me antherums
aboot it! I tell ye that when they got here they’d be jom-
mlin’ an’ jostlin’ one another that way that it ’ud be like a
fight up on the ice in the old days, when we’d be at one
another from daylight to dark, an’ tryin’ to tie up our cuts
by the light of the aurora borealis.” This was evidently
local pleasantry, for the old man cackled over it, and his
cronies joined in with gusto.
“But,” I said, “surely you are not quite correct, for you
start on the assumption that all the poor people, or their
spirits, will have to take their tombstones with them on the
Day of Judgment. Do you think that will be really neces-
sary ?”
“Well, what else be they tombstones for? Answer me
!”
that, miss
“To please their relatives, I suppose.” t
“To please their relatives, you suppose!” This he said
with intense scorn. “How will it pleasure their relatives to
know that lies is wrote over them, and that everybody in the
place knows that they be lies ?” He pointed to a stone at our
feet which had been laid down as a slab, on which the seat
was rested, close to the edge of the cliff. “Read the lies on
that thruff-stean,” he said. The letters were upside down
to me from where I sat, but Lucy was more opposite to them,
so she leant over and read :

“Sacred to the memory of George Canon, who died, in the

hope of a glorious resurrection, on July 29, 1873, falling
from the rocks at Kettleness. This tomb is erected by his
sorrowing mother to her dearly beloved son. ‘He was the
”
only son of his mother, and she was a widow.’ “Really,
Mr. Swales, I don’t see anything very funny in that !” She
spoke her comment very gravely and somewhat severely.
“Ye don’t see aught funny ! Ha ha But that’s because
! !

ye don’t gawm the sorrowin’ mother was a hell-cat that hated

—
him because he was acrewk’d a regular lamiter he was an’ —
he hated her so that he committed suicide in order that she
mightn’t get an insurance she put on his life. He blew nigh
the top of his head off with an old musket that they had for
scarin’ the crows with. ’Twarn’t for crows then, for it
brought the clegs and the dowps to him. That’s the way he
 —
Mina Murray’s Journal 69
fell off the rocks. And, as to hopes of a glorious resurrec-
tion, I’ve often heard him say masel’ that he hoped he’d go
to hell, for his mother was so pious that she’d be sure to go
to heaven, an’ he didn’t wan’t to addle where she was. Now
— —
stean at any rate” he hammered it with his stick
isn’t that
as he spoke “a pack of lies? and won’t it make Gabriel
keckle when Geordie comes pantin’ up the grees with the
tombstean balanced on his hump, and asks it to be took as
!”
evidence
I did not know what to say, but Lucy turned the conversa-
tion as she said, rising up :

“Oh, why did you tell us of this? It is my favourite seat,

and I cannot leave it; and now I find I must go on sitting
over the grave of a suicide.”
“That won’t harm ye, my pretty; an’ it may make poor
Geordie gladsome to have so trim a lass sittin’ on his lap.
That won’t hurt ye. Why, I’ve sat here off an’ on for nigh
twenty years past, an’ it hasn’t done me no harm. Don’t ye
fash about them as lies under ye, or that doesn’ lie there
either! It’ll be time for ye to be getting scart when ye see
the tombsteans all run away with, and the place as bare as a
stubble-field. There’s the clock, an’ I must gang. My ser-
vice to ye, ladies!” And off he hobbled.
Lucy and I sat a while, and it was all so beautiful before
us that we took hands as we sat; and she told me all over
again about Arthur and their coming marriage. That made
me just a little heart-sick, for I haven’t heard from Jonathan
for a whole month.

—
The same day I came up here alone, for I am very sad.
.

There was no letter for me. I hope there cannot be any-

thing the matter with Jonathan. The clock has just struck
nine. over the town, sometimes
I see the lights scattered all
in rows where the streets are, and sometimes singly; they
run right up the Esk and die away in the curve of the valley.
To my left the view is cut off by a black line of roof of the
old house next the abbey. The sheep and lambs are bleat-
ing in the fields away behind me, and there is a clatter of a
donkey’s hoofs up the paved road below. The band on the
pier is playing a harsh waltz in good time, and further along
the quay there is a Salvation Army meeting in a back street.
Neither of the bands hears the other, but up here I hear and
7° Dracula

see them both. I wonder where Jonathan is and if he t&

thinking of me ! I wish he were here.

Dr. Seward's Diary.

5 June . —The case of Renfield grows more interesting the

more I get to understand the man. He
has certain qualities
very largely developed selfishness, secrecy, and purpose. 1
;

wish I could get at what is the object of the latter. He

seems to have some settled scheme of his own, but what it is
I do not yet know. His redeeming quality is a love of ani-
mals, though, indeed, he has such curious turns in it that
I sometimes imagine he is only abnormally cruel. His pets
are of odd sorts. Just now his hobby is catching flies. He
has at present such a quantity that I have had myself to
expostulate. To my astonishment, he did not break out into
a fury, as I expected, but took the matter in simple serious-
ness. He thought for a moment, and then said: “May I
have three days? I shall clear them away.” Of course, I
said that would do. I must watch him.

18 June . —
He has turned his mind now to spiders, and has
got several very big fellows in a box. He keeps feeding
them with his flies, and the number of the latter is becoming
sensibly diminished, although he has used half his food in
attracting more flies from outside to his room.

i July . —
His spiders are now becoming as great a nui-
sance as his flies, and to-day I told him that he must get rid
of them. He looked very sad at this, so I said that he must
clear out some of them, at all events. He cheerfully acqui-
esced in this, and I gave him the same time as before for
reduction. He disgusted me much while with him, for when
a horrid blow-fly, bloated with some carrion food, buzzed
into the room, he caught it, held it exultantly for a few mo-
ments between his finger and thumb, and, before I knew
what he was going to do, put it in his mouth and ate it. I
scolded him for it, but he argued quietly that it was very
good and very wholesome that it was life, strong life, and
;

gave life to him. This gave me an idea, or the rudiment of

one. I must watch how he gets rid of his spiders. He has
evidently some deep problem in his mind, for he keeps a
little note-book in which he is always jotting (town some-
thing. Whole pages of it are filled with masses of figures,
generally single numbers added up in batches, and then the
 —— 1;

Mina Murray’s Journal 7

totals added in batches again, as though he were “focussing”
some account, as the auditors put it.

8 July . —There
a method in his madness, and the rudi-
is
mentary idea in my mind is growing. It will be a whole
idea soon, and then, oh, unconscious cerebration! you will
have to give the wall to your conscious brother. I kept
away from my friend for a few days, so that I might notice
if there were any change. Things remain as they were ex-
cept that he has parted with some of his pets and got a new
one. He has managed to get a sparrow, and has already
partially tamed it. His means of taming is simple, for al-
ready the spiders have diminished. Those that do remain,
however, are well fed, for he still brings in the flies by tempt-
ing them with his food.

19 July —We
are progressing.
.
friend has now a My
whole colony of sparrows, and his flies and spiders are al-
most obliterated. When I came in he ran to me and said he
—
wanted to ask me a great favour a very, very great favour
and as he spoke he fawned on me like a dog. I asked him
what it was, and he said, with a sort of rapture in his voice
and bearing:
“A kitten, a nice little, sleek, playful kitten, that I can
play with, and teach, and feed and feed and feed!” I — —
was not unprepared for this request, for I had noticed how
his pets went on increasing in size and vivacity, but I did not
care that his pretty family of tame sparrows should be wiped
out in the same manner as the flies and the spiders so I said ;

I would see about it, and asked him if he would not rather
have a cat than a kitten. His eagerness betrayed him as he
answered :

“Oh, yes, I would like a cat! I only asked for a kitten

lest you should refuse me a cat. No one would refuse me a
kitten, would they ?” I shook my head, and said that at
present I feared it would not be possible, but that I would
see about it. His face fell, and I could see a warning of
danger in it, for there was a sudden fierce, sidelong, look
which meant killing. The man is an undeveloped homicidal
maniac. I shall test him whh his present craving and see
how it will work out ;
then I shall know more.
10 p. m—I have visited him again and found him sitting
.

in a, corner brooding. When I came in he threw himself on

 72 Dracula

his knees before me and implored me

him have a catj
to let
that his salvation depended upon it. I was firm, however,
and told him that he could not have it, whereupon he went
without a word, and sat down, gnawing his fingers, in the
corner where I had found him. I shall see him in the morn-
ing early.

20 July —
Visited Renfield very early, before the attendant'
.

went his rounds. Found him up and humming a tune. He

was spreading out his sugar, which he had saved, in the
window, and was manifestly beginning his fly-catching
again and beginning it cheerfully and with a good grace. I
;

looked around for his birds, and not seeing them, asked him
where they were. He replied, without turning round, that
they had all flown away. There were a few feathers about
the room and on his pillow a drop of blood. I said nothing,
but went and told the keeper to report to me if there were
anything odd about him during the day.

11 a. m —The
. attendant has just been to me to say that
Renfield has been very sick and has disgorged a whole lot
of feathers. “My belief is, doctor,” he said, “that he has
eaten his birds, and that he just took and ate them raw !”

11 p. m — I gave Renfield a
. strong opiate to-night, enough
to make even him sleep, and took away his pocket-book to
look at it. The thought that has been buzzing about my
brain lately is complete, and the theory proved. My homi-
cidal maniac is of a peculiar kind. I shall have to invent a
new classification for him, and call him a zoophagous (life-
eating) maniac what he desires is to absorb as many lives
;

as he can, and he has laid himself out to achieve it in a

cumulative way. He gave many flies to one spider and
*'many spiders to one bird, and then wanted a cat to eat the
many birds. What would have been his later steps? It
would almost be worth while to complete the experiment. It
might be done if there were only a sufficient cause. Men
sneered at vivisection, and yet look at its results to-day!
Why not advance science in its most difficult and vital aspect
— the knowledge of the brain? Had I even the secret of
—
one such mind did I hold the key to the fancy of even one
lunatic — I might advance my own branch of science to a
pitch compared with which Burdon-Sanderson’s physiology
or Ferrier’s brain-knowledge would be as nothing. *
If onb*
 ! —
Mina Murray’s Journal 73
there were a sufficient cause I must not think too much of
!

this, or I may be tempted a good cause might turn the scale

;

with me, for may not I too be of an exceptional brain, con-

genitally ?
How well the man reasoned; lunatics always do within
their own scope. I wonder at how many lives he values a
man, or if at only one. He has closed the account most
accurately, and to-day begun a new record. many of How
us begin a new record with each day of our lives?
To me it seems only yesterday that my whole life ended
with my new hope, and that truly I began a new record. So
it will be until the Great Recorder sums me up and closes

my ledger account with a balance to profit or loss. Oh,

Lucy, Lucy, I cannot be angry with you, nor can I be angry
with my friend whose happiness is yours; but I must only
wait on hopeless and work. Work work !

If I only could have as strong a cause as my poor mad

—
friend there a good, unselfish cause to make me work
that would be indeed happiness.

Mina Murray’s Journal

26 July . — I am soothes me to express my-
anxious, and it

self here;
it is like whispering to one’s self and listening at

the same time. And there is also something about the short-
hand symbols that makes it different from writing. I am
unhappy about Lucy and about Jonathan. I had not heard
from Jonathan for some time, and was very concerned but ;

yesterday dear Mr. Hawkins, who is always so kind, sent

me a letter from him. I had written asking him if he had
heard, and he said the enclosed had just been received. It
is only a line dated from Castle Dracula, and says that he is
just starting for home. That is not like Jonathan I do not ;

understand it, and it makes me uneasy. Then, too, Lucy,

although she is so well, has lately taken to her old habit of
walking in her sleep. Her mother has spoken to me about
it, and we have decided that I am to lock the door of our

room every night. Mrs. Westenra has got an idea that

sleep-walkers always go out on roofs of houses and along
the edges of cliffs, and then get suddenly wakened and fall
over with a despairing cry that echoes all over the place.
Poor dear, she is naturally anxious about Lucy, and she tells
me that her husband, Lucy’s father, had the same habit;
&at he would get up in the night and dress himself and go
74 Dracula

out, he were not stopped. Lucy is to be married in the

if
autumn, and she is already planning out her dresses and how
her house is to be arranged. I sympathise with her, for I
do the same, only Jonathan and I will start in life in a very
simple way, and shall have to try to make both ends meet.
—
Mr. Holmwood he is the Hon. Arthur Holmwood, only son
—
of Lord Godaiming is coming up here very shortly as —
soon as he can leave town, for his father is not very well, and
I think dear Lucy is counting the moments till he comes.
She wants to take him up to the seat on the churchyard cliff
and show him the beauty of Whitby. I daresay it is the.
waiting which disturbs her; she will be all right when he
arrives.

27 July . —
No news from Jonathan. I am getting quite
uneasy about him, though why I should I do not know but ;

I do wish that he would write, if it were only a single line.

Lucy walks more than ever, and each night I am awakened
by her moving about the room. Fortunately, the weather is
so hot that she cannot get cold but still the anxiety and the
;

perpetually being wakened is beginning to tell on me, and

I am getting nervous and wakeful myself. Thank God,
Lucy’s health keeps up. Mr. Holmwood has been sud-
denly called to Ring to see his father, who has been taken
seriously ill. Lucy frets at the postponement of seeing him,
but it does not touch her looks; she is a trifle stouter, and
her cheeks are a lovely rose pink. She has lost that anaemic
look which she had. I pray it will all last.

3 August —
Another
. week gone, and no news from Jona-
than, not even to Mr. Hawkins, from whom
have heard
I
Oh, I do hope he is not ill. He surely would have written.
I look at that last letter of his, but somehow it does not
satisfy me. It does not read like him, and yet it is hi?
writing. There is no mistake of that. Lucy has not walked
much in her sleep the last week, but there is an odd concen-
tration about her which I do not understand; even in her
sleep she seems to be watching me. She tries the door, and
finding it locked, goes about the room searching for the key.

6 August —
Another three days, and no news. This sus-
.

pense is getting dreadful. If I only knew where to write to

or where to go to, I should feel easier but no one has heard
;

a word of Jonathan since that last letter. I must only pray

 — —
Mina Murray’s Journal 73
to God for patience. Lucy
more excitable than ever, but
is
is otherwise well. Last night was very threatening, and the
fishermen say that we are in for a storm. I must try to
watch it and learn the weather signs. To-day is a grey day,
and the sun as I write is hidden in thick clouds, high over
Kettleness. —
Everything is grey except the gr^en grass,
which seems like emerald amongst it; grey earthy rock;
grey clouds, tinged with the sunburst at the far edge, hang
over the grey sea, into which the sand-points stretch like grey
fingers. The sea is tumbling in over the shallows and the
sandy flats with a roar, muffled in the sea-mists drifting in-
land. The horizon is lost in a grey mist. All is vastness;
the clouds are piled up like giant rocks, and there is a “brool”
over the sea that sounds like some presage of doom. Dark
figures are on the beach here and there, sometimes half
shrouded in the mist, and seem “men like trees walking.”
The fishing-boats are racing for home, and rise and dip in
the ground swell as they sweep into the harbour, bending
to the scuppers. Here comes old Mr. Swales. He is mak-
ing straight for me, and I can see, by the way he lifts his hat,
that he wants to talk

have been quite touched by the change

I in the poor old
man. When he sat down beside me, he said in a very gentle
way :

“I want to say something to you, miss.” I could see he

was not at ease, so I took his poor old wrinkled hand in
mine and asked him to speak fully so he said, leaving his
;

hand in mine :

“I’m afraid, my deary, that I must have shocked you by

all the wicked things Fve been sayin’ about the dead, and
such like, for weeks past but I didn’t mean them, and I
;

want ye to remember that when I’m gone. We aud folks

that be daffled, and with one foot abaft the krok-hooal,
don’t altogether like to think of it, and we don’t want to feel
scart of it; an’ that’s why I’ve took to makin light of
it,

so that I’d cheer up my own heart a bit. But, Lord love

ye,

miss, I ain’t afraid of dyin’, not a bit only I don’t want to

;

die if I can help it. My

time must be nigh at hand now, for
I be aud, and a hundred years is too
much for any man to
expect; and I’m so nigh it that the Aud Man is already
habit of
whettin’ his scythe. Ye see, I can’t get out o’ the
callin’ about it all at once ; the chafts will wag as they be
 76 Dracula

used to. Some day soon the Angel of Death will sound his
trumpet for me. But don’t ye dooal an’ greet, my deary l”
— for he saw that I was crying
—
“if he should come this very
night I’d not refuse to answer his call. For life be, after all,
only a waitin’ for somethin’ else than what we’re doin’ ; and
death be all that we can rightly depend on. But I’m content,
for it’s cornin’ to me, my deary, and cornin’ quick. It may be
cornin’ while we be lookin’ and wonderin’. Maybe it’s in
that wind out over the sea that’s bringin’ with it loss and
wreck, and sore distress, and sad hearts. Look! look!” he
cried suddenly. “There’s something in that wind and in
the hoast beyont that sounds, and looks, and tastes, and
smells like death. It’s in the air; I feel it cornin’. Lord,
make me answer cheerful when my call comes !” He held
up his arms devoutly, and raised his hat. His mouth moved
as though he were praying. After a few minutes’ silence,
he got up, shook hands with me, and blessed me, and said
good-bye, and hobbled off. It all touched me, and upset me
very much.
I was glad when the coastguard came along, with his spy-
glass under his arm. He stopped to talk with me, as he
always does, but all the time kept looking at a strange ship.
“I can’t make her out,” he said ;
“she’s a Russian, by the
look of her; but she’s knocking about in the queerest way.
She doesn’t know her mind a bit she seems to see the storm
;

coming, but can’t decide whether to run up north in the

open, or to put in here. Look there again ! She is steered
mighty strangely, for she doesn’t mind the hand on the
"wheel ;
changes about with every puff of wind. We’ll heaf
more of her before this time to-morrow.”
 CHAPTER VII

CUTTING FROM “THE DAILYGRAPH," 8 AUGUST.

(Pasted in Mina Murray's Journal.)

From a Correspondent.
Whitby.
One of the greatest and suddenest storms on record has
just been experienced here, with results both strange and
unique. The weather had been somewhat sultry, but not to
any degree uncommon in the month of August. Saturday
evening was as fine as was ever known, and the great body of
holiday-makers laid out yesterday for visits to Mulgrave
Woods, Robin Hood's Bay, Rig Mill, Runswick, Staithes,
and the various trips in the neighbourhood of Whitby. The
steamers Emma and Scarborough made trips up and down
the coast, and there was an unusual amount of “tripping"
both to and from Whitby. The day was unusually fine till
the afternoon, when some of the gossips who frequent the
East Cliff churchyard, and from that commanding eminence
watch the wide sweep of sea visible to the north and east,
called attention to a sudden show of “mares’-tails" high in
the sky to the north-west. The wind was then blowing from
the south-west in the mild degree which in barometrical lan-^
guage is ranked “No. 2 light breeze." The coastguard on
:

duty at once made report, and one old fisherman, who for
more than half a century has kept watch on weather signs
from the East Cliff, foretold in an emphatic manner the com-
ing of a sudden storm. The approach of sunset was so very
beautiful, so grand in its masses of splendidly-coloured
clouds, that there was quite an assemblage on the walk along
the cliff in the old churchyard to enjoy the beauty. Before
the sun dipped below the black mass of Kettleness, standing
boldly athwart the western skv, its downward way was
—
marked by myriad clouds of every sunset-colour flame, pur-
ple, pink, green, violet, and all the tints of gold ; with here
and there masses not large, but of seemingly absolute black-
ness, in all sorts of shapes, as well outlined as colossal sil*
77
78 Dracula*

houettes. The experience was not on the painters, and

lost
doubtless some of the sketches of the '‘Prelude to the Great
Storm” will grace the R. A. and R. I. walls in May next.
More than one captain made up his mind then and there that
his “cobble” or his “mule,” as they term the different classes
of boats, would remain in the harbour till the storm had
passed. The wind fell away entirely during the evening,
and at midnight there was a dead calm, a sultry heat, and
that prevailing intensity which, on the approach of thunder,
affects persons of a sensitive nature. There were but few
lights in sight at sea, for even the coasting steamers, which
usually “hug” the shore so closely, kept well to seaward, and
but few fishing-boats were in sight. The only sail noticeable
was a foreign schooner with all sails set, which was seem-
ingly going westwards. The foolhardiness or ignorance of
her officers was a prolific theme for comment whilst she re-
mained in sight, and efforts were made to signal her to re-
duce sail in face of her danger. Before the night shut down
she was seen with sails idly flapping as she gently rolled on
the undulating swell of the sea,
“ As idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean."

Shortly before ten o’clock the stillness of the air grew

quite oppressive, and the silence was so marked that the
bleating of a sheep inland or the barking of a dog in the town
was distinctly heard, and the band on the pier, with its lively
French air, was like a discord in the great harmony of na-
ture’s silence. A little after midnight came a strange sound
from over the sea, and high overhead the air began to carry
a strange, faint, hollow booming.
Then without warning the tempest broke. With a rapidity
which, at the time, seemed incredible, and even afterwards
is impossible to realise, the whole aspect of nature at once
became convulsed. The waves rose in growing fury, each
overtopping its fellow, till in a very few minutes the lately
glassy sea was like a roaring and devouring monster. White-
crested waves beat madly on the level sands and rushed up
the. shelving cliffs ;
others broke over the piers, and with
their spume swept the lanthorns of the lighthouses which
rise from the end of either pier of Whitby Harbour. The
wind roared like thunder, and blew with such force that it
was with difficulty that even strong men kept their feet, or
clung with grim clasp to the iron stanchions. It was founj
 Cutting from “ The Dailygraph **
79
necessary to clear the entire piers from the mass of onlook-
ers, or else the fatalities of the night would have been in-
creased manifold. To add to the difficulties and dangers of
—
the time, masses of sea-fog came drifting inland white, wet
clouds, which swept by in ghostly fashion, so dank and damp
and cold that it needed but little effort of imagination to
think that the spirits of those lost at sea were touching their
living brethren with the clammy hands of death, and many a
one shuddered as the wreaths of sea-mist swept by. At times
the mist cleared, and the sea for some distance could be seen
which now came thick and fast,
in the glare of the lightning,
followed by such sudden peals of thunder that the whole sky
overhead seemed trembling under the shock of the footsteps
of the storm.
Some of the scenes thus revealed were of immeasurable
—
grandeur and of absorbing interest the sea, running moun-
tains high, threw skywards with each wave mighty masses
of white foam, which the tempest seemed to snatch at and
whirl away into space here and there a fishing-boat, with a
;

rag of sail, running madly for shelter before the blast now;

and again the white wings of a storm-tossed sea-bird. On

the summit of the East Cliff the new searchlight was ready
for experiment, but had not yet been tried. The officers in
charge of it got it into working order, and in the pauses of
the inrushing mist swept with it the surface of the sea. Once
or twice its service was most effective, as when a fishing-
boat, with gunwale under water, rushed into the harbour,
able, by the guidance of the sheltering light, to avoid the
danger of dashing against the piers. As each boat achieved
the safety of the port there was a shout of joy from the mass
of people on shore, a shout which for a moment seemed to
cleave the gale and was then swept away in its rush.
Before long the searchlight discovered some distance away
a schooner with all sails set, apparently the same vessel which
had been noticed earlier in the evening. The wind had by
this time backed to the east, and there was a shudder
amongst the watchers on the cliff as they realised the terri-
ble danger in which she now was. Between her and the port
lay the great flat reef on which so many good ships have
from time to time suffered, and, with the wind blowing from
its present quarter, it would be quite impossible that she
should fetch the entrance of the harbour. It was now nearly
the hour of high tide, but the waves were so great that in
 •

8o Dracula

their troughs the shallows of the shore were almost visible,

and the schooner, with all sails set, was rushing with such
speed that, in the words of one old salt, “she must fetch up
,,
somewhere, if it was only in hell. Then came another rush
—
of sea- fog, greater than any hitherto a mass of dank mist,
which seemed to close on all things like a grey pall, and left
available to men only the organ of hearing, for the roar of
the tempest, and the crash of the thunder, and the booming
of the mighty billows came through the damp oblivion even
louder than before. The rays of the searchlight were kept
fixed on the harbour mouth across the East Pier, where the
shock was expected, and men waited breathless. The wind
suddenly shifted to the north-east, and the remnant of the
sea-fog melted in the blast and then, mirabile dictu, between
;

the piers, leaping from wave to wave as it rushed at headlong

speed, swept the strange schooner before the blast, with all
sail set, and gained the safety of the harbour. The search-
light followed her, and a shudder ran through all who saw
her, for lashed to the helm was a corpse, with drooping head,
which swung horribly to and fro at each motion of the ship.
No other form could be seen on deck at all. A great awe
came on all as they realised that the ship, as if by a miracle,
had found the harbour, unsteered save by the hand of a dead
man ! However, all took place more quickly than it takes
to write these words. The schooner paused not, but rushing
across the harbour, pitched herself on that accumulation of
sand and gravel washed by many tides and many storms into
the south-east corner of the pier jutting under the East Cliff,
known locally as Tate Hill Pier.
There was of course a considerable concussion as the
vessel drove up on the sand heap. Every spar, rope, and
stay was strained, and some of the “top-hammer” came
crashing down. But, strangest of all, the very instant the
shore was touched, an immense dog sprang up on deck from
below, as if shot up by the concussion, and running forward,
jumped from the bow on the sand. Making straight for the
steep cliff, where the churchyard hangs over the laneway to
the East Pier so steeply that some of the flat tombstones —
“thruff-steans” or “through-stones,” as they call them in the
—
Whitby vernacular actually project over where the sustain-
ing cliff has fallen away, it disappeared in the darkness,
which seemed intensified just beyond the focus of the search-
light.
 Cutting from “ The Dailygraph 99
8 i

It so happened that there was no one at the moment on

Pate Hill Pier, as all those whose houses are in close prox-
imity were either in bed or were out on the heights above.
Thus the coastguard on duty on the eastern side of the har-
bour, who at once ran down to the little pier, was the first to
climb on board. The men working the searchlight, after
scouring the entrance of the harbour without seeing any-
thing, then turned the light on the derelict and kept it there.
The coastguard ran aft, and when he came beside the wheel,
bent over to examine it, and recoiled at once as though under
some sudden emotion. This seemed to pique general curi-
osity, and quite a number of people began to run. It is a
good way round from the West Cliff by the Drawbridge to
Tate Hill Pier, but your correspondent is a fairly good run-
ner, and came well ahead of the crowd. When I arrived,
however, I found already assembled on the pier a crowd,
whom the coastguard and police refused to allow to come on
board. By the courtesy of the chief boatman, I was, as your
correspondent, permitted to climb on deck, and was one of a
small group who saw the dead seaman whilst actually lashed
to the wheel.
It was no wonder that the coastguard was surprised, or
even awed, for not often can such a sight have been seen.
The man was simply fastened by his hands, tied one over the
other, to a spoke of the wheel. Between the inner hand and
the wood was a crucifix, the set of beads on which it was fas-
tened being around both wrists and wheel, and all kept fast
by the binding cords. The poor fellow may have been
seated at one time, but the flapping and buffeting of the sails
had worked through the rudder of the wheel and dragged
him to and fro, so that the cords with which he was tied had
cut the flesh to the bone. Accurate note was made of the
state of things, and a doctor —
Surgeon J. M. Caffyn, of 33,
—
East Elliot Place who came immediately after me, declared,
after making examination, that the man must have been dead
for quite two days. In his pocket was a bottle, carefully
corked, empty save for a little roll of paper, which proved to
be the addendum to the log. The coastguard said the man
must have tied up his own hands, fastening the knots with
his teeth. The fact that a coastguard was the first on board
may save some complications, later on, in the Admiralty
Court ; for coastguards cannot claim the salvage which is the
right of the first civilian entering on a derelict. Already,
82 Dracula

however, the legal tongues are wagging, and one young law
student is loudly asserting that the rights of the owner are
already completely sacrificed, his property being held in con-
travention of the statutes of mortmain, since the tiller, as em-
blemship, if not proof, of delegated possession, is held in a
dead hand. It is needless to say that the dead steersman has
been reverently removed from the place where he held his
—
honourable watch and ward till death a steadfastness as
—
noble as that of the young Casabianca and placed in the
mortuary to await inquest.
Already the sudden storm is passing, and its fierceness is
abating; crowds are scattering homeward, and the sky is
beginning to redden over the Yorkshire wolds. I shall
send, in time for your next issue, further details of the dere-
lict ship which found her way so miraculously into harbour
in the storm.
Whitby.
9 August . —
The sequel to the strange arrival of the dere-
lict in the storm last night is almost more startling than the
thing itself. It turns out that the schooner is a Russian
from Varna, and is called the Demeter . She is almost en-
tirely in ballast of silver sand, with only a small amount of
—
cargo a number of great wooden boxes filled with mould.
This cargo was consigned to a Whitby solicitor, Mr. S. F.
Billington, of 7, The Crescent, who this morning went
aboard and formally took possession of the goods consigned
to him. The Russian consul, too, acting for the charter-
party, took formal possession of the ship, and paid all har-
bour dues, etc. Nothing is talked about here to-day except
the strange coincidence; the officials of the Board of Trade
have been most exacting in seeing that every compliance has
been made with existing regulations. As the matter is to be
a “nine days’ wonder,” they are evidently determined that
there shall be no cause of after complaint. A good deal of
interest was abroad concerning the dog which landed when
the ship struck, and more than a few of the members of the
S. P. C. A., which is very strong in Whitby, have tried to
befriend the animal. To the general disappointment, how-
ever, it was not to be found ;
it seems to have disappeared

entirely from the town. It may be that it was frightened

and made its way on to the moors, where it is still hiding in
terror. There are some who look with dread on such a pos-
sibility, lest later on it should in itself become a danger, for
 Cutting from “The Dailygraph ” 83
it evidently a fierce brute.
is Early this morning a large
uOg, a half-bred mastiff belonging to a coal merchant close to
Tate Hill Pier, was found dead in the roadway opposite to
master’s yard. It had been fighting, and manifestly had had
a savage opponent, for its throat was torn away, and its belly
was slit open as if with a savage claw.
Later. —By the kindness of the Board of Trade
inspector,
I have been permitted to look over the log-book of the
Demeter, which was in order up to within three days, but
contained nothing of special interest except as to facts of
missing men. The greatest interest, however, is with regard
to the paper found in the bottle, which was to-day produced
at the inquest; and a more strange narrative than the two
between them unfold it has not been my lot to come across.
As there is no motive for concealment, I am permitted to
use them, and accordingly send you a rescript, simply omit-
ting technical details of seamanship and supercargo. It al-
most seems as though the captain had been seized with some
kind of mania before he had got well into blue water, and that
this had developed persistently throughout the voyage. Of
course my statement must be taken cum grano, since I am
writing from the dictation of a clerk of the Russian consul,
who kindly translated for me, time being short.
LOG OF THE "DEMETER.”
Varna to Whitby.
Written 18 July, things so strange happening, that I shall
keep accurate note henceforth till we land .

On 6 July we finished taking in cargo, silver sand and

boxes of earth. At noon set sail. East wind, fresh. Crew,
five hands, .... two mates, cook, and myself (captain).

On 11 July at dawn
entered Bosphorus. Boarded by
Turkish Customs officers. Backsheesh. All correct. Under
way at 4 p. m.
On
12 July through Dardanelles. More Customs officers
and flagboat of guarding squadron,. Backsheesh again.
Work of officers thorough, but quick. Want us off soon.
At dark passed into Archipelago.
On 13 July passed Cape Matapan. Crew dissatisfied about
something. Seemed scared, but would not speak out.
 ;

84 Dracula

On 14 July was somewhat anxious about crew. Men all

steady fellows, who sailed with me before. Mate could not
make out what was wrong; they only told him there was
something, and crossed themselves. Mate lost temper with
one of them that day and struck him. Expected fierce quar-
rel, but all was quiet.

On 16 July mate reported in the morning that one of crew,

Petrofsky, was missing. Could not account for it. Took
larboard watch eight bells last night; was relieved by
Abramoff, but did not go to bunk. Men more downcast than
ever. All said they expected something of the kind, but
would not say more than that there was something aboard.
Mate getting very impatient with them; feared some trou-
ble ahead.

On 17 July, yesterday, one of the men, Olgaren, came to

my cabin, and in an awestruck way confided to me that hf
thought there was a strange man aboard the ship. He said
that in his watch he had been sheltering behind the deck-
house, as there was a rain-storm, when he saw a tall, thin
man, who was not like any of the crew, come up the com-
panion-way, and go along the deck forward, and disappear*
He followed cautiously, but when he got to bows found no
one, and the hatchways were all closed. He was in a panic
of superstitious fear, and I am afraid the panic may spread.
To allay it, I shall to-day search entire ship carefully from
stem to stern.

Later in the day I got together the whole crew, and told
them, as they evidently thought there was some one in the
ship, we would search from stem to stern. First mate angry
said it was folly, and to yield to such foolish ideas would de-
moralise the men said he would engage to keep them out of
;

trouble with a handspike. I let him take the helm, while the
rest began thorough search, all keeping abreast, with lan-
terns ; we left no corner unsearched. As there were only
the big wooden boxes, there were no odd corners where a
man could hide. Men much relieved when search over, and
went back to work cheerfully. First mate scowled, but said
nothing.

22 July . —Rough weather last three days, and allhands

bmy with —no time to
sails be frightened. Men seem to
 . ;

Cutting from “ The Dailygraph n 85

have forgotten their dread. Mate cheerful again, and all on
good terms. Praised men for work in bad weather. Passed
Gibraltar and out through Straits. All well.

24 July —
There seems some doom over this ship. Already
a hand short, and entering on the Bay of Biscay with wild
weather ahead, and yet last night another man lost dis- —
appeared. Like the first, he came off his watch and was not
seen again. Men all in a panic of fear sent a round robin,
;

asking to have double watch, as they fear to be alone. Mate

angry. Fear there will be some trouble, as either he or the
men will do some violence.
—
28 July. Four days in hell, knocking about in a sort of
maelstrom, and the wind a tempest. No sleep for any one.
Men worn out. Hardly know how to set a watch, since
all
no one fit to go on. Second mate volunteered to steer and
watch, and let men snatch a few hours’ sleep. Wind abat-
ing seas still terrific, but feel them less, as ship
;
is steadier.

—
29 July. Another tragedy. Had single watch to-night,
as crew too tired to double. When morning watch came on
deck could find no one- except steersman. Raised outcry,
and all came on deck. Thorough search, but no one found.
Are now without second mate, and crew in a panic. Mate
and I agreed to go armed henceforth and wait for any sign
of cause.

30 July. —Last night.

Rejoiced we are nearing England.
Weather fine, all sails set. Retired worn out slept soundly ;

awaked by mate telling me that both man of watch and

steersman missing. Only self and mate and two hands left
to work ship.

August.
1 —Two days of
and not a sail sighted. Had
fog,
hoped when in the English Channel to be able to signal for
help or get in somewhere. Not having power to work sails,
have to run before wind. Dare not lower, as could not raise
them again. We seem to be drifting to some terrible doom.
Mate now more demoralised than either of men. His
stronger nature seems to have worked inwardly against him-
self. Men are beyond fear, working stolidly and patiently,
with minds made up to worst. They are Russian, he Rou-
manian.
86 Dracula

2 August, midnight . —
Woke up from few minutes’ sleej
oy hearing a cry, seemingly outside my port. Could see
nothing in fog. Rushed on deck, and ran against mate. Tells
me heard cry and ran, but no sign of man on watch. One
more gone. Lord, help us! Mate says we must be past
Straits of Dover, as in a moment of fog lifting he saw North
Foreland, just as he heard the man cry out. If so we are
now off in the North Sea, and only God can guide us in the
fog, which seems to move with us; and God seems to have
deserted us.

3 August . —
At midnight I went to relieve the man at the
wheel, and when I got to it found no one there. The wind
was steady, and as we ran before it there was no yawing. ]
dared not leave it, so shouted for the mate. After a few
seconds he rushed up on deck in his flannels. He looked
wild-eyed and haggard, and I greatly fear his reason has
given way. He came close to me and whispered hoarsely,
with his mouth to my ear, as though fearing the very air
might hear : “It is here I know it, now. On the watch last
;

night I saw It, like a man, tall and thin, and ghastly pale.
It was in the bows, and looking out. I crept behind It, and
gave It my knife but the knife went through It, empty as
;

the air.” And as he spoke he took his knife and drove it sav-
agely into space. Then he went on: “But It is here, and
I’ll find It. It is in the hold, perhaps in one of those boxes.
I’ll unscrew them one by one and see. You work the helm.”
And, with a warning look and his finger on his lip, he went
below. There was springing up a choppy wind, and I could
not leave the helm. I saw him come out on deck again with
a tool-chest and a lantern, and go down the forward hatch-
way. He is mad, stark, raving mad, and it’s no use my try-
ing to stop him. He can’t hurt those big boxes they are in- :

voiced as “clay,” and to pull them about is as harmless a

thing as he can do. So here I stay, and mind the helm, and
write these notes. I can only trust in God and wait till the
fog clears. Then, if I can’t steer to any harbour with the
wind that is, I shall cut down sails and lie by, and signal for
help

It is nearly all over now. Just as I was beginning to hope

ftiat the mate would come out calmer —
for I heard him
knocking away at something in the hold, and work is good,
 Cutting from “The Daily graph **
87
for him —there
came up the hatchway a sudden, startled
scream, which made my blood run cold, and up on the deck
—
he came as if shot from a gun a raging madman, with his
eyes rolling and his face convulsed with fear. “Save me!
save me !” he cried, and then looked round on the blanket of
fog. His horror turned to despair, and in a steady voice he
said: “You had better come too, captain, before it is too
late. He is there. I know the secret now. The sea will save
me from Him, and it is all that is left!” Before I could say
a word, or move forward to seize him, he sprang on the bul-
wark and deliberately threw himself into the sea. I sup-
pose I know the secret too, now. It was this madman who
had got rid of the men one by one, and now he has followed
them himself. God help me How am I to account for all
!

these horrors when I get to port ? When I get to port! Will

that ever be ?

4 August. — Still fog, which the sunrise cannot pierce. I

know there sunrise because I am a sailor, why else I know
is
not. I dared not go below, I dared not leave the helm; so
here all night I stayed, and in the dimness of the night I saw
It— Him God forgive me, but the mate was right to jump
!

overboard. It was better to die like a man to die like a ;

sailor in blue water no man can object. But I am captain,

and I must not leave my ship. But I shall baffle this fiend
or monster, for I shall tie my hands to the wheel when my
strength begins to fail, and along with them I shall tie that
which He It — —
dare not touch and then, come good wind
!
;

or foul, I shall save my soul, and my honour as a captain.

I am growing weaker, and the night is coming on. If He
can look me in the face again, I may not have time to act. .
. . . If we are wrecked, mayhap this bottle may be found,
and those who findmay understand; if not,
it . . . .

well, then all men shall know that I have been true to my
trust. God andthe Blessed Virgin and the saints help a
poor ignorant soul trying to do his duty

Of course the verdict was an open one. There is no evi-

dence to adduce and whether or not the man himself com-
;

mitted the murders there is now none to say. The folk here
hold almost universally that the captain is simply a hero, and
he is to be given a public funeral. Already it is arranged
that his body is to be taken with a train of boats up the Esk
 !

88 Dracute

for a piece and then brought back to Tate Hill Pier and up
the abbey steps; for he is to be buried in the churchyard on
the cliff. The owners of more than a hundred boats have
already given in their names as wishing to follow him to the
grave.
No trace has ever been found of the great dog; at which
there is much mourning, for, with public opinion in its pres-
ent state, he would, I believe, be adopted by the town. To-
morrow will see the funeral ; and so will end this one more
“mystery of the sea

Mina Murray's Journal .

8 August .—Lucy was very restless all night, and I, too,

could not sleep. The storm was fearful, and as it boomed
loudly among the chimney-pots, it made me shudder. When
a sharp puff came it seemed to be like a distant gun.
Strangely enough, Lucy did not wake but she got up twice
;

and dressed herself. Fortunately, each time I awoke in time,

and managed to undress her without waking her, and got
her back to bed. It is a very strange thing, this sleep-walk-
ing, for as soon as her will is thwarted in any physical way,
her intention, if there be any, disappears, and she yields her-
selfalmost exactly to the routine of her life.
Early in the morning we both got up and went down to
the harbour to see if anything had happened in the night.
There were very few people about, and though the sun was
bright, and the air clear and fresh, the big, grim-looking
waves, that seemed dark themselves because the foam that
topped them was like snow, forced themselves in through
—
the narrow mouth of the harbour like a bullying man go-
ing through a crowd. Somehow I felt glad that Jonathan
was not on the sea last night, but on land. But, oh, is he on
land or sea ? Where is he, and how ? I am getting fearfully
anxious about him. If I only knew what to do, and could
do anything

io August . —The
funeral of the poor sea-captain to-day
was most touching. Every boat in the harbour seemed to
be there, and the coffin was carried by captains all the way
from Tate Hill Pier up to the churchyard. Lucy came with
me, and we went early to our old seat, whilst the cortege of
boats went up the river to the Viaduct and came down again.
We had a lovely view* and saw the j>ro£ession nearly all the
 Cutting from “ The Dailygraph ” 89
way. The poor fellow was laid to rest quite near our seat,
so that we stood on it when the time came and saw every-
thing. Poor Lucy seemed much upset. She was restless
and uneasy all the time, and cannot but think that her
I
dreaming at night is telling on her. She is quite odd in one
thing: she will not admit to me that there is any cause for
restlessness; or if there be, she does not understand it her-
self. There is an additional cause in that poor old Mr.
Swales was found dead this morning on our seat, his neck
being broken. He had evidently, as the doctor said, fallen
back in the seat in some sort of fright, for there was a look
of fear and horror on his face that the men said made them
shudder. Poor dear old man ! Perhaps he had seen Death
with his dying eyes ! Lucy is so sweet and sensitive that she
feels influences more acutely than other people do. Just
now she was quite upset by a little thing which I did not
much heed, though I am myself very fond of animals. One
of the men who came up here often to look for the boats was
followed by his dog. The dog is always with him. They are
both quiet persons, and I never saw the man angry, nor
heard the dog bark. During the service the dog would not
come to its master, who was on the seat with us, but kept a
few yards off, barking and howling. Its master spoke to it
gently, and then harshly, and then angrily; but it would
neither come nor cease to make a noise. It was in a sort of
fury, with its eyes savage, and all its hairs bristling out like
a cat’s tail when puss is on the war-path. Finally the man,
too, got angry, and jumped down and kicked the
dog, and then took it by the scruff of the neck and
half dragged and half threw it on the tombstone on which the
seat is fixed. The moment it touched the stone the poor
thing became quiet and fell all into a tremble. It did not try
to get away, but crouched down, quivering and cowering,
and was in such a pitiable state of terror that I tried, though
without effect, to comfort it. Lucy was full of pity, too, but
she did not attempt to touch the dog, but looked at it in an
agonised sort of way. I greatly fear that she is of too super-
sensitive a nature to go through the world without trouble.
She will be dreaming of this to-night, I am sure. The whole
—
agglomeration of things the ship steered into port by a
dead man his attitude, tied to the wheel with a crucifix and
;

beads the touching funeral the dog, now furious and now
;

—
;

in terror will all afford material for her dreams.

90 Dracula
I think it will be best for her to go
bed tired out physi-
to
cally, so I shall take her for a long walk by the cliffs to Robin
Hood’s Bay and back. She ought not to have much inclina-
tion for sleep-walking then.
 CHAPTER Vin
mina Murray's journal
Same day, 1 1 o’clock p.m . —Oh, but I am tired ! If it were
not that had made my diary a duty I should not open it to-
I
night. We had a lovely walk. Lucy, after a while, was in
gay spirits, owing, I think, to some dear cows who came
nosing towards us in a field close to the lighthouse, and
frightened the wits out of us. I believe we forgot every-
thing, except, of course, personal fear, and it seemed to wipe
the slate clean and give us a fresh start. had a capital We
“severe tea” at Robin Hood’s Bay in a sweet little old-fash-
ioned inn, with a bow-window right over the seaweed-cov-
ered rocks of the strand. I believe we should have shocked
the “New Woman” with our appetites. Men are more tole-
rant, bless them Then we walked home with some, or
!

rather many, stoppages to rest, and with our hearts full of a

constant dread of wild bulls. Lucy was really tired, and
we intended to creep off to bed as soon as we could. The
young curate came in, however, and Mrs. Westenra asked
him to stay for supper. Lucy and I had both a fight for it
with the dusty miller I know it was a hard fight on my part,
;

and I am quite heroic. I think that some day the bishops

must get together and see about breeding up a new class of
curates, who don’t take supper, no matter how they may be
pressed to, and who will know when girls are tired. Lucy
is asleep and breathing softly. She has more colour in her
cheeks than usual, and looks, oh, so sweet. If Mr. Holm-
wood fell in love with her seeing her only in the drawing-
room, I wonder what he would say if he saw her now. Some
of the “New Women” writers will some day start an idea
that men and women should be allowed to see each other
asleep before proposing or accepting. But I suppose the
New Woman won’t condescend in future to accept ; she will
do the proposing herself. And a nice job she will make of
it, too! There’s some consolation in that. I am so happy
to-night, because dear Lucy seems better. I really believe
she has turned the corner, and that we are over her troubles
92 Dracula

with dreaming. I should be quite happy if I only knew il

Jonathan .... God bless and keep him.

11 August 3 a.m —Diary again.

,
. No now, so I may
sleep
as well write. am
too agitated to sleep.
I We have had such
an adventure, such an agonising experience. I fell asleep as
soon as I had closed my diary Suddenly I be-
came broad awake, and sat up, with a horrible sense of fear
upon me, and of some feeling of emptiness around me. The
room was dark, so I could not see Lucy’s bed I stole across ;

and felt for her. The bed was empty. I lit a match, and
found that she was not in the room. The door was shut, but
not locked, as I had left it. I feared to wake her mother,
who has been more than usually ill lately, so threw on some
clothes and got ready to look for her. As I was leaving the
room it struck me that the clothes she wore might give me
some clue to her dreaming intention. Dressing-gown would
mean house dress, outside. Dressing-gown and dress were
;

both in their places. “Thank God,” I said to myself, “she

cannot be far, as she is only in her nightdress.” I ran down-
stairs and looked in the sitting-room. Not there! Then I
looked in all the other open rooms of the house, with an ever-
growing fear chilling my heart. Finally I came to the hall-
door and found it open. It was not wide open, but the catch
of the lock had not caught. The people of the house are
careful to lock the door every night, so I feared that Lucy
must have gone out as she was. There was no time to think
of what might happen a vague, overmastering fear obscured
;

all details. I took a big, heavy shawl and ran out. The clock
was striking one as I was in the Crescent, and there was not
a soul in sight. I ran along the North Terrace, but could see
no sign of the white figure which I expected. At the edge
of the West Cliff above the pier I looked across the harbour
to the East Cliff, in the hope or fear —
I don’t know which-^-*
of seeing Lucy in our favourite seat. There was a bright
full moon, with heavy black, driving clouds, which threw
the whole scene into a fleeting diorama of light and shade
as they sailed across. For a moment or two I could see noth-
ing, as the shadow of a cloud obscured St. Mary's Church
and all around it. Then as the cloud passed I could see the
ruins of the abbey coming into view ; and as the edge of a
narrow band of light as sharp as a sword-cut moved along,
the church and the churchyard became gradually visible.
 I

Mina Murray’s Journal 93

Whatever my expectation was, it was not disappointed, for
there, on our favourite seat, the silver light of the moon
struck a half-reclining figure, snowy white. The coming
of the cloud was too quick for me to see much, for shadow
shut down on light almost immediately but it seemed to me
;

as though something dark stood behind the seat where the

white figure shone, and bent over it. What it was, whether
man or beast, I could not did not wait to catch an-
tell; I
other glance, but flew down the steep steps to the pier and
along by the fish-market to the bridge, which was the only
way to reach the East Cliff. The town seemed as dead, for
not a soul did I see; I rejoiced that it was so, for I wanted
no witness of poor Lucy’s condition. The time and dis-
tance seemed endless, and my knees trembled and my breath
came laboured as I toiled up the endless steps to the abbey.
Tmust have gone fast, and yet it seemed to me as if my feet
were weighted with lead, and as though every joint in my
body were rusty. When I got almost to the top I could see
the seat and the white figure, for I was now close enough to
distinguish it even through the spells of shadow. There was
undoubtedly something, long and black, bending over the
half-reclining white figure. I called in fright, “Lucy!
Lucy and something raised a head, and from where I was
!”

I could see a white face and red, gleaming eyes. Lucy did
not answer, and I ran on to the entrance of the churchyard.
As I entered, the church was between me and the seat, and
for a minute or so I lost sight of her. When I came in view
again ;he cloud had passed, and the moonlight struck so
brilliantly that I could see Lucy half reclining with her
head lying over the back of the seat. She was quite alone,
and there was not a sign of any living thing about.
When I bent over her I could see that she was still
asleep. —
Her lips were parted, and she was breathing not
softly, as usual with her, but in long, heavy gasps, as though
striving to get her lungs full at every breath. As I came
close, she put up her hand in her sleep and pulled the collar
of her nightdress close around her throat. Whilst she did so
there came a little shudder through her, as though she felt
the cold. I flung the warm shawl over her, and drew the
edges tight round her neck, for I dreaded lest she should
get some deadly chill from the night air, unclad as she was*
I feared to wake her all at once, so, in order to have my
hands free tliat I might help her, I fastened the shawl at he*
94 Dracula

throat with a big safety-pin: but I must have been clumsy

in my anxiety and pinched or pricked her with it, for by-
and-by, when her breathing became quieter, she put her hand
to her throat again and moaned. When I had her carefully
wrapped up I put my shoes on her feet, and then began very
gently to wake her. At first she did not respond but gradu-
;

ally she became more and more uneasy in her sleep, moan-
ing and sighing occasionally. At last, as time was passing
fast, and, for many other reasons, I wished to get her home
at once, I shook her more forcibly, till finally she opened her
eyes and awoke. She did not seem surprised to see me, as,
of course, she did not realise all at once where she was. Lucy
always wakes prettily, and even at such a time, when her
body must have been chilled with cold, and her mind some-
what appalled at waking unclad in a churchyard at night,
be did not lose her grace. She trembled a little, and clung
to me when
;
I told her to once with me home she
come at
rose without a word, with the obedience of a child. As we
passed along, the gravel hurt my feet, and Lucy noticed me
wince. She stopped and wanted to insist upon my taking
my shoes; but I would not. However, when we got to the
pathway outside the churchyard, where there was a puddle
of water remaining from the storm, I daubed my feet with
mud, using each foot in turn on the other, so that as we went
home no one, in case we should meet any one, should notice
my bare feet.
Fortune favoured us, and we gor home without meeting a
soul. Once we saw a man, who seemed not quite sober, pass-
ing along a street in front of us but we hid in a door till he
;

had disappeared up an opening such as there are here, steep

little closes, or “wynds,” as they call them in Scotland. My
heart beat so loud all the time that sometimes I thought I
should faint. I was filled with anxiety about Lucy, not only
for her health, lest she should suffer from the exposure, but
for her reputation in case the story should get wind. When
we got in, and had washed our feet, and had said a prayer of
thankfulness together, I tucked her into bed. Before falling
asleep she asked — —
even implored me not to say a word to
any one, even her mother, about her sleep-walking adven-
ture. I hesitated at first to promise but on thinking of the
;

state of her mother’s health, and how the knowledge of such

a thing would fret her, and thinking, too, of how such a
fitory might become distorted — —
nay, infallibly would in cas«
 Mina Murray's Journal 95
it should leak out, I thought it wiser to do so. I hope I did
right. I have locked the door, and the key is tied to my
wrist, so perhaps I shall not be again disturbed. Lucy is
sleeping soundly ; the reflex of the dawn is high and far over
the sea

Same —
noon All goes well. Lucy slept till I woke
day, .

her, and seemed not to have even changed her side. The ad-
venture of the night does not seem to have harmed her on ;

the contrary, has benefited her, for she looks better this
it
morning than she has done for weeks. I was sorry to notice
that my clumsiness with the safety-pin hurt her. Indeed,
it might have been serious, for the skin of her throat was

pierced. I must have pinched up a piece of loose skin and

have transfixed it, for there are two little red points like pin-
pricks, and on the band of her nightdress was a drop of
blood. When I apologised and was concerned about it, she
laughed and petted me, and said she did not even feel it.
Fortunately it cannot leave a scar, as it is so tiny.

Sameday, night . —We

passed a happy day. The air was
clear, and the sun bright, and there was a cool breeze. We
took our lunch to Mulgrave Woods, Mrs. Westenra driving
by the road and Lucy and I walking by the cliff-path and
joining her at the gate. I felt a little sad myself, for I could
not but feel how absolutely happy it would have been had
Jonathan been with me. But there I must only be patient.
!

In the evening we strolled in the Casino Terrace, and heard

some good music by Spohr and Mackenzie, and went to bed
early. Lucy seems more restful than she has been for some
time, and fell asleep at once. I shall lock the door and se-
cure the key the same as before, though I do not expect any
trouble to-night.

12 August . —My expectations were wrong, for twice dur-

ing the night I was wakened by Lucy trying
to get out. She
seemed, even in her sleep, to be a little impatient at finding
the door shut, and went back to bed under a sort of protest.
I woke with the dawn, and heard the birds chirping outside
of the window. Lucy woke, too, and, I was glad to see,
was even better than on the previous morning. All her old
gaiety of manner seemed have come back, and she came
to
and snuggled in beside me. and told me all about Arthur,: /
 -

96 Dracula

told her how anxious I was about Jonathan, and then she
tried to comfort me.Well, she succeeded somewhat, for,
though sympathy can’t alter facts, it can help to make them
more bearable.

13 August . —Another quiet day, and bed with the key

to
on my wrist as before. Again I awoke in the night, and
found Lucy sitting up in bed, still asleep, pointing to the
window. I got up quietly, and pulling aside the blind, looked
out. It was brilliant moonlight, and the soft effect of the
light over the sea and sky —
merged together in one great,
silent mystery —
was beautiful beyond words. Between me
and the moonlight flitted a great bat, coming and going in
great, whirling circles. Once or twice it came quite close,
but was, I suppose, frightened at seeing me, and flitted away
across the harbour towards the abbey. When I came back
from the window Lucy had lain down again, and was sleep-
ing peacefully. She did not stir again all night.

14 August . —On the East Cliff, reading and writing all

day. Lucy seems to have become as much in love with the
spot as I am, and it is hard to get her away from it when it
is time to come home for lunch or tea or dinner. This after-
noon she made a funny remark. We
were coming home for
dinner, and had come to the top of the steps up from the
West Pier and stopped to look at the view, as we generally
do. The setting sun, low down in the sky, was just dropping
behind Kettleness ; the red light was thrown over on the
East Cliff and the old abbey, and seemed to bathe every-
thing in a beautiful rosy glow. We
were silent for a while,
and suddenly Lucy murmured as if to herself : —
“His red eyes again! They are just the same.” It was
such an odd expression, coming apropos of nothing, that it
quite startled me. I slewed round a little, so as to see Lucy
well without seeming to stare at her, and saw that she was
in a half-dreamy state, with an odd look on her face that I
could not quite make out; so I said nothing, but followed
her eyes. She appeared to be looking over at our own seat,
whereon was a dark figure seated alone. I was a little start-
led myself, for it seemed for an instant as if the stranger
had great eyes Jike burning flames but a second look dis-
;

pelled the illusion. The red sunlight was shining on the

windows of St. Mary’s Church behind our seat, and as the
 Mina Murray’s Journal 97
sun dipped there was just sufficient change in the refraction
and reflection to make it appear as if the light moved. I
called Lucy’s attention to the peculiar effect, and she became
herself with a start, but she looked sad all the same ; it maj
have been that she was thinking of that terrible night up
there. We never refer to it; so I said nothing, and we went
home to dinner. Lucy had a headache and went early to bed.
I saw her asleep, and went out for a little stroll myself ; I
walked along the cliffs to the westward, and was full of
sweet sadness, for I was thinking of Jonathan. When com-
—
ing home it was then bright moonlight, so bright that,
though the front of our part of the Crescent was in shadow,
—
everything could be well seen I threw a glance up at our
window, and saw Lucy’s head leaning out. I thought that
perhaps she was looking out for me, so I opened my hand-
kerchief and waved it. She did not notice or make any
movement whatever. Just then, the moonlight crept round
an angle of the building, and the light fell on the window.
There distinctly was Lucy with her head lying up against
the side of the window-sill and her eyes shut. She was fast
asleep, and by her, seated on the window-sill, was something
.

that looked like a good-sized bird. I was afraid she might

get a chill, so I ran upstairs, but as I came into the room she
was moving back to her bed, fast asleep, and breathing
heavily ; she was holding her hand to her throat, as though
to protect it from cold.
I did not wake her, but tucked her up warmly; I have
taken care that the door is locked and the window securely
fastened.
She looks so sweet as she sleeps but she is paler than is
;

her wont, and there is a drawn, haggard look under her eyes
which I do not like. I fear she is fretting about something.
I wish I could find out what it is.

15 August . —Rose than usual. Lucy was languid

later
and tired, and slept on after we had been called. We had
a happy surprise at breakfast. Arthur’s father is better, and
wants the marriage to come off soon. Lucy is full of quiet
joy, and her mother is glad and sorry at once. Later on in
the day she told me the cause. She is grieved to lose Lucy
as her very own, but she is rejoiced that she is soon to have
some one to protect her. Poor dear, sweet lady She con- !

fided to me that she has got her death-warrant. She has not
( 7)
98 Dracula

told Lucy, and made me promise secrecy; her doctor told

her that within a few months, at most, she must die, for her
heart is weakening. At any time, even now, a sudden shock
would be almost sure to kill her. Ah, we were wise to keep
from her the affair of the dreadful night of Lucy’s sleep-
walking.

17 August. —
No diary for two whole days. I have not
had the heart to write. Some sort of shadowy pall seems
to be coming over our happiness. No news from Jonathan,
and Lucy seems to be growing weaker, whilst her mother’s
hours are numbering to a close. I do not understand Lucy’s
fading away as she is doing. She eats well and sleeps well,
and enjoys the fresh air; but all the time the roses in her
cheeks are fading, and she gets weaker and more languid
day by day at night I hear her gasping as if for air. I keep
;

the key of our door always fastened to my wrist at night, but

she gets up and walks about the room, and sits at the open
window. Last night I found her leaning out when I woke
up, and when I tried to wake her I could not she was in a
;

faint. When I managed to restore her she was as weak as

water, and cried silently between long, painful struggles for
breath. When I asked her how she came to be at the win-
dow she shook her head and turned away. I trust her feel-
ing ill may not be from that unlucky prick of the safety pin.
I looked at her throat just now as she lay asleep, and the tiny
wounds seem not to have healed. They are still open, and,
if anything, larger than before, and the edges of them are
faintly white. They are like little white dots with red cen-
tres. Unless they heal within a day or two, I shall insist on
the doctor seeing about them.

Letter, Samuel F. Billington &Son, Solicitors, Whitby, to

Messrs. Carter, Paterson & Co., London.

“17 August.
“Dear Sirs,—
“Herewith please receive invoice of goods sent by Great
Northern Railway. Same are to be delivered at Carfax,
near Purfleet, immediately on receipt at goods station King’s
Cross. The house is at present empty, but enclosed please
find keys, all of which are labelled.
“You will please deposit the boxes, fifty in number, which
 —
Mina Murray’s Journal 99
form the consignment, in the partially ruined building form-
ing part of the house and marked ‘A’ on rough diagram en-
closed. Your agent will easily recognise the locality, as it is

the ancient chapel of the mansion. The goods leave by the

train at 9:30 to-night, and
be due at King’s Cross at
will
4:30 to-morrow afternoon. As our client wishes the de-
livery made as soon as possible, we shall be obliged by your
having teams ready at King’s Cross at the time named and
forthwith conveying the goods to destination. In order to
obviate any delays possible through any routine require-
ments as to payment in your departments, we enclose cheque
herewith for ten pounds (£10), receipt of which please ac-
knowledge. Should the charge be less than this amount,
you can return balance; if greater, we shall at once send
cheque for difference on hearing from you. You are to
leave the keys on coming away in the main hall of the house,
where the proprietor may get them on his entering the house
by means of his duplicate key.
“Pray do not take us as exceeding the bounds of business
courtesy in pressing you in all ways to use the utmost ex-
pedition. “We are, dear Sirs,
“Faithfully yours,
“Samuel F. Billington & Son.

Letter, Messrs. Carter, Paterson &

Co., London, to Messrs.
Billington &
Son, Whitby.
“21 August.
“Dear Sirs,
“We beg to acknowledge £10 received and to return
cheque £1 1 js. 9 d., amount of overplus, as shown in receipted
account herewith. Goods are delivered in exact accordance
with instructions, and keys left in parcel in main hall, as di-
rected. “We are, dear Sirs,
“Yours respectfully,
<(
Pro Carter, Paterson & Co/'

Mina Murray's Journal

18 August. —
I am happy to-day, and write sitting on the
seat in the churchyard. Lucy is ever so much better. Last
night she slept well all night, and did not disturb me once.
The roses seem coming back already to her cheeks, though
ehe is still sadly pale and wan-looking. If she were in any
 — •

too Dracula

way anaemic I could understand it, but she is not. She is i ft

gay spirits and full of life and cheerfulness. All the morbid
reticence seems to have passed from her, and she has just
reminded me, as if I needed any reminding, of that night,
and that it was here, on this very seat, I found her asleep.
As she told me she tapped playfully with the heel of her boot
on the stone slab and said :

“My poor little feet didn’t make much noise then I dare-
!

say poor old Mr. Swales would have told me that it was be-
cause I didn’t want to wake up Geordie.” As she was in
such a communicative humour, I asked her if she had
dreamed at all that night. Before she answered, that sweet,
puckered look came into her forehead, which Arthur I call—
—
him Arthur from her habit says he loves; and, indeed, I
don’t wonder that he does. Then she went on in a half-
dreaming kind of way, as if trying to recall it to herself : —
“I didn’t quite dream but it all seemed to be real. I only
—
;

wanted to be here in this spot I don’t know why, for I was

—
afraid of something I don’t know what. I remember
though I suppose I was asleep, passing through the streets
and over the bridge. A fish leaped as I went by, and I
leaned over to look at it, and I heard a lot of dogs howling
— the whole town seemed as if it must be full of dogs all
—
howling at once as I went up the steps. Then I had a
vague memory of something long and dark with red eyes,
just as we saw in the sunset, and something very sweet and
very bitter all around me at once; and then I seemed sink-
ing into deep green water, and there was a singing in my
ears, as I have heard there is to drowning men; and then
everything seemed passing away from me my soul seemed
;

to go out from my body and float about the air. I seem to

remember'that once the West Lighthouse was right under
me, and then there was a sort of agonising feeling, as if I
were in an earthquake, and I came back and found you shak-
ing my body. I saw you do it before I felt you.”
Then she began to laugh. It seemed a little uncanny to
me, and I listened to her breathlessly. I did not quite like
it, and thought it better not to keep her mind on the subject,

so we drifted on to other subjects, and Lucy was like her

old self again. When we got home the fresh breeze had
braced her up, and her pale cheeks were really more rosy.
Her mother rejoiced when she saw her, and we all spent a
»rery happy evening together.
 —
Mina Murray's Journal tot
\

—
19 August. Joy, joy, joy! although not all joy. At last,
news of Jonathan. The dear fellow has been ill; that is why
he did not write. I am not afraid to think it or say it, now
that I know. Mr. Hawkins sent me on the letter, and wrote
himself, oh, so kindly. I am to leave in the morning and
go over to Jonathan, and to help to nurse him if necessary,
and to bring him home. Mr. Hawkins says it would not be
a bad thing if we were to be married out there. I have
cried over the good Sister’s letter till I can feel it wet against
my bosom, where it lies. It is of Jonathan, and must be next
my heart, for he is in my heart. My journey is all mapped
out, and my luggage ready. I am only taking one change
of dress Lucy will bring my trunk to London and keep it
;

till I send for it, for it may be that - ... I must write
no more; I must keep it to say to Jonathan, my husband.
The letter that he has seen and touched must comfort me till
we meet.

Letter, Sister Agatha, Hospital of St. Joseph and Ste. Mary,

Buda-Pesth, to Miss Wilhelmina Murray.

“12 August .

“Dear Madam,
“I write by desire of Mr. Jonathan Harker, who is him-
self not strong enough to write, though progressing well,
thanks to God and St. Joseph and Ste. Mary. He has been
under our care for nearly six weeks, suffering from a violent
brain fever. He wishes me to convey his love, and to say
that by this post I write for him to Mr. Peter Hawkins, Exe-
ter, to say, with his dutiful respects, that he
sorry for his
is

delay, and that all of his work is completed. He will require

some few weeks’ rest in our sanatorium in the hills, but will
then return. He wishes me to say that he has not sufficient
money with him, and that he would like to pay for his stay-
ing here, so that others who need shall not be wanting for
help. “Believe me,
“Yours, with sympathy and all blessings,
“Sister Agatha.

“P.S. —My patient being asleep, I open this to let you

know something more. He has told me all about you, and
that you are shortly to be his wife. All blessings to you
both ! He has had some fearful shock— so says our doctor
 —
102 Dracula

—and in his delirium his ravings have been dreadful of ;

wolves and poison and blood of ghosts and demons and I

; ;

fear to say of what. Be careful with him always that there

may be nothing to excite him of this kind for a long time
to come; the traces of such an illness as his do not lightly
die away. We should have written long ago, but we knew
nothing of his friends, and there was on him nothing that
any one could understand. He came in the train from Klau-
senburg, and the guard was told by the station-master there
that he rushed into the station shouting for a ticket for home.
Seeing from his violent demeanour that he was English, they
gave him a ticket for the furthest station on the way thither
that the train reached.
“Be assured that he well cared for.
is He has won all
hearts by his sweetness and gentleness. He is truly getting
on well, and I have no doubt will in a few weeks be all him-
self. But be careful of him for safety’s sake. There are, I
pray God and St. Joseph and Ste. Mary, many, many, happy
years for you both.”

Dr. Seward's Diary.

19 August .
— Strange and sudden change in Renfield last
night. About eight o’clock he began to get excited and to
sniff about as a dog does when setting. The attendant was
struck by his manner, and knowing my interest in him, en-
couraged him to talk. He is usually respectful to the at-
tendant, and but to-night, the man tells me,
at times servile ;

he was quite haughty; Would not condescend to talk with

him at all. All he would say was :

“I don’t want to talk to you: you don’t count now; the

Master is at hand.”
, The attendant thinks it is some sudden form of religious
mania which has seized him. If so, we must look out for
squalls, for a strong man with homicidal and religious mania
at once might be dangerous. The combination is a dreadful
one. At nine o’clock I visited him myself. His attitude to
me was the same as that to the attendant in his sublime ;

self-feeling the difference between myself and attendant

seemed to him as nothing. It looks like religious mania, and
he will soon think that he himself is God. These infinitesi-
mal distinctions between man and man are too paltry for an
Omnipotent Being. How these madmen give themselves
 — — !

Mina Murray’s Journal 1

03
away! The God
taketh heed lest a sparrow fall; but
real
the God created from human vanity sees no difference be-
tween an eagle and a sparrow. Oh, if men only knew
For half an hour or more Renfield kept getting excited in
greater and greater degree. I did not pretend to be watch-
ing him, but I kept strict observation all the same. All at
once that shifty look came into his eyes which we always see
when a madman has seized an idea, and with it the shifty
movement of the head and back which asylum attendants
come to know so well. He became quite quiet, and went and
sat on the edge of his bed resignedly, and looked into space
with lack-lustre eyes. I thought I would find out if his
apathy were real or only assumed, and tried to lead him to
talk of his pets, a theme which had never failed to excite his
attention. At first he made no reply, but at length said
testily :

“Bother them don’t care a pin about them.”

all ! I
“What?” I said. “You don’t mean to tell me you don’t
care about spiders?” (Spiders at present are his hobby, and
the note-book is filling up with columns of small figures.)
To this he answered enigmatically:
“The bride-maidens rejoice the eyes that wait the coming
of the bride; but when the bride draweth nigh, then the
maidens shine not to the eyes that are filled.”
He would not explain himself, but remained obstinately
seated on his bed all the time I remained with him.
I am weary to-night and low in spirits. I cannot but think

of Lucy, and how different things might have been. If I

don’t sleep at once, chloral, the modern Morpheus—
C HCL
8 O. 8 O! H I must be careful not to let it grow into
a habit. No, I shall take none to-night I have thought of
!

Lucy, and I shall not dishonour her by mixing the two. If

need be, to-night shall be sleepless

Later . —Glad I made

the resolution gladder that I kept to
;

it. I had lain tossing about, and had heard the clock strike
only twice, when the night-watchman came to me, sent up
from the ward, to say that Renfield had escaped. I threw on
my clothes and ran down at once my patient is too danger-
;

ous a person to be roaming about. Those ideas of his might

work out dangerously with strangers. The attendant was
waiting for me. He said he had seen him not ten minutes
before, seemingly asleep in his bed, when he had looked
 — !

104 Dracula

through the observation-trap in the door. His attention wa9

called by the sound of the window being wrenched out. He
ran back and saw his feet disappear through the window, and
had at once sent up for me. He was only in his night-gear,
and cannot be far off. The attendant thought it would be
more useful to watch where he should go than to follow him,
as he might lose sight of him whilst getting out of the build-
ing by the door. He is a bulky man, and couldn't get through
the window. I am thin, so, with his aid, I got out, but feet
foremost, and, as we were only a few feet above ground,
landed unhurt. The attendant told me the patient had gone
to the left, and had taken a straight line, so I ran as quickly
as I could. As I got through the belt of trees I saw a white
figure scale the high wall which separates our grounds from
those of the deserted house.
I ran back at once, told the watchman to get three or four
men immediately and follow me into the grounds of Carfax,
in case our friend might be dangerous. I got a ladder my-
self, and crossing the wall, dropped down on the other side.
I could see Renfield’s figure just disappearing behind the
angle of the house, so I ran after him. On the far side of
the house I found him pressed close against the old iron-
bound oak door of the chapel. He was talking, apparently
to some one, but I was afraid to go near enough to hear what
he was saying, lest I might frighten him, and he should run
off. Chasing an errant swarm of bees is nothing to follow-
ing a naked lunatic, when the fit of escaping is upon him
After a few minutes, however, I could see that he did not
take note of anything around him, and so ventured to draw
—
nearer to him the more so as my men had now crossed the
wall and were closing him in. I heard him say :

“I am here to do Your bidding, Master. I am Your slave,

and You will reward me, for I shall be faithful. I have wor-
shipped You long and afar off. Now that You are near, I
await Your commands, and You will not pass me by, will
You, dear Master, in Your distribution of good things?"
He is a selfish old beggar anyhow. He thinks of the loaves
and fishes even when he believes he is in a Real Presence.
His manias make a startling combination. When we closed
in on him he fought like a tiger. He is immensely strong,
and he was more like a wild beast than a man. I never saw
a lunatic in such a paroxysm of rage before ; and I hope I
shall not again. It is a mercy that we have found out his
 ——

Mina Murray’s Journal 105

strength and his danger in good time. With strength and
determination like his, he might have done wild work before
he was caged. He is safe now at any rate. Jack Sheppard
himself couldn’t get free from the strait-waistcoat that keeps
him restrained, and he’s chained to the wall in the padded
room. His cries are at times awful, but the silences that fol-
low are more deadly still, for he means murder in every turn
and movement.
Just now he spoke coherent words for the first time:
“I shall be patient, Master.
l”
It is coming —
coming
coming
So I took the hint, and came too.was too excited to
I
sleep, but this diary has quieted me, and I feel I shall get
some sleep to-night.
 —

CHAPTER IX
Letter, Mina Harker to Lucy Westenra .

“Buda-Pesth, 24 August .

“My dearest Lucy,

“I know you will be anxious to hear all that has happened
since we parted at the railway station at Whitby. Well, my
dear, I got to Hull all right, and caught the boat to Hom-
burg, and then the train on here. I feel that I can hardly
recall anything of the journey, except that I knew I was
coming to Jonathan, and, that as I should have to do some
nursing, I had better get all the sleep I could I found
my dear one, oh, so thin and pale and weak-looking. All
the resolution has gone out of his dear eyes, and that quiet
dignity which I told you was in his face has vanished. He is
only a wreck of himself, and he does not remember anything
that has happened to him for a long time past. At least, ho
wants me to believe so, and I shall never ask. He has had
some terrible shock, and I fear it might tax his poor brain if
he were to try to recall it. Sister Agatha, who is a good
creature and a born nurse, tells me that he raved of dreadful
things whilst he was off his head. I wanted her to tell me
what they were but she would only cross herself, and say
;

she would never tell that the ravings of the sick were the
;

secrets of God, and that if a nurse through her vocation

should hear them, she should respect her trust. She is a
sweet, good soul, and the next day, when she saw I was trou-
bled, she opened up the subject again, and after saying that
3he could never mention what my poor dear raved about,
added: T can tell you this much, my dear: that it was not
about anything which he has done wrong himself and you, ;

as his wife to be, have no cause to be concerned. He has not

forgotten you or what he owes to you. His fear was of great
and terrible things, which no mortal can treat of.’ I do be-
lieve the dear soul thought I might be jealous lest my poor
dear should have fallen in love with any other girl." The
idea of my being jealous about Jonathan! And yet, my
dear, let me whisper, I felt a thrill of joy through me when
J knew that no other woman was a cause of trouble. I am
*06
 —

Letters, Etc. 1
07
now sitting by his bedside, where I can see his face while he
sleeps. He is waking! ....
“When he woke he asked me for his coat, as he wanted to
get something from the pocket I asked Sister Agatha, and
;

she brought all his things. I saw that amongst them was
his note-book, and was going to ask him to let me look at it
— for I knew then that I might find some clue to his trouble
— but I suppose he must have seen my wish in my eyes, for
he sent me over to the window, saying he wanted to be quite
alone for a moment. Then he called me back, and when I
came he had his hand over the note-book, and he said to me
very solemnly:
“
—
‘Wilhelmina’ I knew then that he was in deadly ear-
nest, for he has never called me by that name since he asked
me to marry him— ‘you know, dear, my ideas of the trust
between husband and wife: there should be no secret, no
concealment. I have had a great shock, and when I try to
think of what it is I feel my head spin round, and I do not
know if it was all real or the dreaming of a madman. You
know I have had brain fever, and that is to be mad. The
secret is here, and I do not want to know it. I want to take
up my life here, with our marriage/ For, my dear, we had
decided to be married as soon as the formalities are complete.
‘Are you willing, Wilhelmina, to share my ignorance? Here
is the book. Take it and keep it, read it if you will, but
never let me know unless, indeed, some solemn duty should
;

come upon me to go back to the bitter hours, asleep or awake,

sane or mad, recorded here/ He fell back exhausted, and I
put the book under his pillow, and kissed him I have asked
Sister Agatha to beg the Superior to let our wedding be this
afternoon, and am waiting her reply

“She has come and told me

that the chaplain of the Eng-
lish mission church has been sent for. We
are to be married
in an hour, or as soon after as Jonathan awakes

“Lucy’ the time has come and gone. I feel very solemn, but
very, very happy. Jonathan woke a little after the hour, and
all was ready, and he sat up in bed, propped up with pillows.
He answered his T will’ firmly and strongly. I could hardly
speak my heart was so full that even those words seemed to
;

choke me. The dear sisters were so kind. Please God, I

$hall never, never forget them, nor the grave and sweet tw
 ;

'108 Dracula

sponsibilities I must tell you of my

have taken upon me. I
wedding present. When the chaplain and the sisters had
left me alone with my husband —
oh, Lucy, it is the first time
I have written the words ‘my husband’ left me alone with—
my husband, I took the book from under his pillow, and
wrapped it up in white paper, and tied it with a little bit of
pale blue ribbon which was round my neck, and sealed it over
the knot with sealing-wax, and for my seal I used my wed-
ding ring. Then I kissed it and showed it to my husband,
and told him that I would keep it so, and then it would be
an outward and visible sign for us all our lives that we
trusted each other that I would never open it unless it were
;

for his own dear sake or for the sake of some stem duty.
Then he took my hand in his, and oh, Lucy, it was the first
time he took his wife's hand, and said that it was the dearest
thing in all the wide world, and that he would go through all
the past again to win it, if need be. The poor dear meant
to have said a part of the past ;
but he cannot think of time
yet, and I shall not wonder if at first he mixes up not only
the month, but the year.
“Well, my dear, what couldcould only tell him
I say? I
that I was the happiest woman in all the wide world, and that
I had nothing to give him except myself, my life, and my
trust, and that with these went my love and duty for all the
days of my life. And, my dear, when he kissed me, and
drew me to him with his poor weak hands, it was like a very
solemn pledge between us
“Lucy dear, do you know why I tell you all this? It is
not only because it is all sweet to me, but because you have
been, and are, very dear to me. It was my privilege to be
your friend and guide when you came from the schoolroom
to prepare for the world of life. I want you to see now, and
with the eyes of a very happy wife, whither duty has led me
so that in your own married life you too may be all happy
as I am. My dear, please Almighty God, your life may be
all it promises a long day of sunshine, with no harsh wind,
:

no forgetting duty, no distrust. I must not wish you no

pain, for that can never be but I do hope you will be always
;

as happy as I am now. Good-bye, my dear. I shall post

this at once, and, perhaps, write you very soon again. I must
stop, for Jonathan is waking —
I must attend to my husband 1
“Your ever-loving
“Mina Harker."
 — —,

Letters, Etc. 109

Letter, Lucy Westenra to Mina Harker.

‘ Whitby 30 August.
“My dearest Mina,
“Oceans of love and millions of kisses, and may you soon
be in your own home with your husband. I wish you could
be coming home soon enough to stay with us here. The
strong air would soon restore Jonathan it has quite restored
;

me. I have an appetite like a cormorant, am full of life, and

sleep well. You will be glad to know that I have quite given
up walking in my sleep. I think I have not stirred out of
my bed for a week, that is when I once got into it at night.
Arthur says I am getting fat. By the way, I forgot to tell
you that Arthur is here. We have such walks and drives,
and rides, and rowing, and tennis, and fishing together and ;

I love him more than ever. He tells me that he loves me

more, but I doubt that, for at first he told me that he couldn’t
love me more than he did then. But this is nonsense. There
he is, calling to me. So no more just at present from your
loving “Lucy.
“P. S. —Mother sends her She seemslove. better, poor
dear.

“P. P. —We are be married on 28 September.”

S. to

Dr. Seward's Diary.

20 August . —The case of Renfield grows even more inter-

esting. He has now
so far quieted that there are spells of
cessation from his passion. For the first week after his at-
tack he was perpetually violent. Then one night, just as
the moon rose, he grew quiet, and kept murmuring to him-
self: “Now I can wait; now I can wait.” The attendant
came to tell me, so I ran down at once to have a look at him.
He was still in the strait-waistcoat and in the padded room,
but the suffused look had gone from his face, and his eyes
had something of their old pleading —
I might almost say,
—
“cringing” softness, I was satisfied with his present condi-
tion, and directed him to be relieved. The attendants hesi-
tated, but finally carried out my wishes without protest. It

was a strange thing that the patient had humour enough to

see their distrust, for, coming close to me, he said in a whis-
per, all the while looking furtively at them:
 1 *

1 o Dracula

“They think I could hurt you! Fancy me hurting youf

The fools !” £ _
It was soothing, somehow, to the feelings to
find myself
dissociated even in the mind of this poor madman from the
others but all the same I do not follow his thought. Am I
;

to take it with him, so that

that I have anything in common
we are, as it were, to stand together or has he to gain from ;

me some good so stupendous that my well-being is needful

to him? I must find out later on. To-night he will not
speak. Even the offer of a kitten or even a full-grown cat
will not tempt him. He will only say: “I don’t take any
stock in cats. I have more to think of now, and I can wait ;
I can wait.”
After a while I left him. The attendant tells me that he
was quiet until just before dawn, and that then he began to
get uneasy, and at length violent, until at last he fell into a
paroxysm which exhausted him so that he swooned into a
sort of coma.

. Three nights has the same thing happened

. . .
—
violent all day then quiet from moonrise to sunrise. I wish
I could get some clue to the cause. It would almost seem as
if there was some influence which came and went. Happy
thought We shall to-night play sane wits against mad ones.
!

He escaped before without our help to-night he shall escape ;

with it. We shall give him a chance, and have the men
ready to follow in case they are required

23 August .
—“The
always happens.” How
unexpected
well Disraeli knew life. Our bird when he found the cage
open would not fly, so all our subtle arrangements were for
nought. At any rate, we have proved one thing; that the
spells of quietness last a reasonable time. We shall in future
be able to ease his bonds for a few hours each day. I have
given orders to the night attendant merely to shut him in the
padded room, when once he is quiet, until an hour before
sunrise. The poor soul’s body will enjoy the relief even if
his mind cannot appreciate it. Hark! The unexpected
again I am called! the patient has once more escaped.
;

Later . —Another night adventure. Renfield artfully waited

until the attendant was entering the room to inspect. Then
W dashed out past him and flew down the passage. I sent
 —
Letters, Etc. nr
word for the attendants to follow. Again he went into the
grounds of the deserted house, and we found him in the
*ame place, pressed against the old chapel door. When he
*aw me he became furious, and had not the attendants seized
him in time, he would have tried to kill me As we were
holding him a strange thing happened. He suddenly re-
doubled his efforts, and then as suddenly grew calm. I
looked round instinctively, but could see nothing. Then I
caught the patient’s eye and followed it, but could trace
nothing as it looked into the moonlit sky except a big bat,
which was flapping its silent and ghostly way to the West.
Bats usually wheel and flit about, but this one seemed to go
straight on, as if it knew where it was bound for or had some
intention of its own. The patient grew calmer every instant,
and presently said :

“You needn’t tie me; I shall go quietly !” Without trou-

ble we came back to the house. I feel there is something
ominous in his calm, and shall not forget this night

Lucy Westenra’s Diary

Hillingham, 24 August —
must imitate Mina, and keep
. I
writing things down. Then we can have long talks when we
do meet. I wonder when it will be. I wish she were with
me again, for I feel so unhappy. Last night I seemed to be
dreaming again just as I was at Whitby. Perhaps it is the
change of air, or getting home again. It is all dark and hor-
rid to me, for I can remember nothing; but I am full of
vague fear, and I feel so weak and worn out. When Arthur
came to lunch he looked quite grieved when he saw me, and
I hadn’t the spirit to try to be cheerful. I wonder if I could
sleep in mother’s room to-night. I shall make an excuse
and try.

25 August . —Another bad night.

Mother did not seem to
take to my proposal. She seems not too well herself, and
doubtless she fears to worry me. I tried to keep awake, and
succeeded for a while ;
but when the clock struck twelve it

waked me from a doze, so I must have been falling asleep.

There was a sort of scratching or flapping at the window, but
I did not mind it, and as I remember no more, I suppose I
must then have fallen asleep. More bad dreams. I wish I
could remember them. This morning I am horribly weak.
My face is ghastly pale, and my throat pains me. It mu-s*
 — — .

f 12 Dracula

be something wrong with my lungs, for I don’t seem ever to

get air enough. I shall try to cheer up when Arthur comes,
or else I know he will be miserable to see me so.

Letter, Arthur Holmwood to Dr. Seward.

te
Albemarle Hotel, 31 August.
“My dear Jack,
“Iwant you to do me a favour. Lucy is ill that is, she ;

has no special disease, but she looks awful, and is getting

worse every day. I have asked her if there is any cause I ;

do not dare to ask her mother, for to disturb the poor lady’s
mind about her daughter in her present state of health would
be fatal. Mrs. Westenra has confided to me that her doom is
—
spoken disease of the heart—though poor Lucy does not
know it yet. I am sure that there is something preying on
my dear girl’s mind. I am almost distracted when I think
of her to look at her gives me a pang. I told her I should
;

ask you to see her, and though she demurred at first I know —
—
why, old fellow she finally consented. It will be a painful
task for you, I know, old friend, but it is for her sake, and I
must not hesitate to ask, or you to act. You are to come to
lunch at Hillingham to-morrow, two o’clock, so as not to
arouse any suspicion in Mrs. W
estenra, and after lunch Lucy
will take an opportunity of being alone with you. I shall
come in for tea, and we can go away together; I am filled
with anxiety, and want to consult with you alone as soon as
I can after you have seen her. Do not fail “Arthur.”
!

Telegram, Arthur Holmwood to Seward.

“1 September.

“Am summoned to see my father, who worse.is Am

writing. Write me fully by to-night’s post to Ring. Wire
me if necessary.”

Letter from Dr. Seward to Arthur Holmwood

“2 September.
“My dear old fellow,
“With regard to Miss Westenra’s health I hasten to let
• you know at once that in my opinion there is not any func-
tional disturbance or any malady that I know of. At the
 —

Letters, Etc. 113

same time, I am
not by any means satisfied with her appear-
ance she is woefully different from what she was when I
;

saw her last. Of course you must bear in mind that I did
not have full opportunity of examination such as I should
wish our very friendship makes a little difficulty which not
;

even medical science or custom can bridge over. I had bet-

ter tell you exactly what happened, leaving you to draw, in a
measure, your own conclusions. I shall then say what I
have done and propose doing.
“I found Miss Westenra in seemingly gay spirits. Her
mother was present, and in a few seconds I made up my
mind that she was trying all she knew to mislead her mother
and prevent her from being anxious. I have no doubt she
guesses, if she does not know, what need of caution there is.
We lunched alone, and as we all exerted ourselves to be
cheerful, we got, as some kind of reward for our labours,
some real cheerfulness amongst us. Then Mrs. Westenra
went to lie down, and Lucy was left with me. We went into
her boudoir, and till we got there her gaiety remained, for
the servants were coming and going. As soon as the door
was closed, however, the mask fell from her face, and she
sank down into a chair with a great sigh, and hid her eyes
with her hand. When I saw that her high spirits had failed,
I at once took advantage of her reaction to make a diagnosis.
She said to me very sweetly :

“ T cannot tell you how I loathe talking about myself/ I

reminded her that a doctor’s confidence was sacred, but that
you were grievously anxious about her. She caught on to
my meaning at once, and settled that matter in a word. ‘Tell
Arthur everything you choose. I do not care for myself,
but all for him !’ So I am quite free.
“I could easily see that she is somewhat bloodless, but I
could not see the usual anaemic signs, and by a chance I was
actually able to test the quality of her blood, for in opening a
window which was stiff a cord gave way, and she cut her
hand slightly with broken glass. It was a slight matter in
itself, but it gave me an evident chance, and I secured a few
drops of the blood and have analysed them. The qualitative
analysis gives a quite normal condition, and shows, I should
infer, in itself a vigorous state of health. In other physical
matters I was quite satisfied that there is no need for anxi-
ety; but as there must be a cause somewhere, I have come ,

to the conclusion that it must be something mental. She

W
 — —
^4 Dracula

complains of difficulty in breathing satisfactorily at times,

and of heavy, lethargic sleep, with dreams that frighten her,
but regarding which she can remember nothing. She says
that as a child she used to walk in her sleep, and that when in
Whitby the habit came back, and that once she walked out in
the night and went to the East Cliff, where Miss Murray
found her but she assures me that of late the habit has not
;

returned. I am in doubt, and so have done the best thing 1

know of I have written to my old friend and master, Pro-
;

fessor Van Helsing, of Amsterdam, who knows as much

about obscure diseases as any one in the world. I have
asked him to come over, and as you told me that all things
were to be at your charge, I have mentioned to him who you
are and your relations to Miss Westenra. This, my dear
fellow, is in obedience to your wishes, for I am only too
proud and happy to do anything I can for her. Van Helsing
would, I know, do anything for me for a personal reason.
So, no matter on what ground he comes, we must accept his
wishes. He is a seemingly arbitrary man, but this is be-
cause he knows what he is talking about better than any one
else. He is a philosopher and a metaphysician, and one of
the most advanced scientists of his day; and he has, I be-
lieve, an absolutely open mind. This, with an iron nerve, a
temper of the ice-brook, an indomitable resolution, self-com-
mand and toleration exalted from virtues to blessings, and
the kindliest and truest heart that beats —these form his
equipment for the noble work that he is doing for mankind
work both in theory and practice, for his views are as wide
as his all-embracing sympathy. I tell you these facts that
you may know why I have such confidence in him. I have
asked him to come at once. I shall see Miss Westenra to-
morrow again. She is to meet me at the Stores, so that I
may not alarm her mother by too early a repetition of my
call. “Yours always,
“John Seward."
Letter, Abraham Van Helsing, M. D., D. Ph., D. Lit., etc.,
etc., to Dr. Seward.
“2 September
“My good Friend,
“When I have received your letter I am already coming to
you. By good fortune I can leave just at once, without
wrong to any of those who have trusted me. Were fortune
 — 5
:

Letters, Etc. 1
1

Other, then it were bad for those who have trusted, for I
come to my friend when he call me to aid those he holds
dear. Tell your friend that when that time you suck from
my wound so swiftly the poison of the gangrene from that
knife that our other friend, too nervous, let slip, you did
more for him when he wants my aids and you call for them
than great fortune could do. But it is pleasure added
all his
to do for him, your friend it is to you that I come.
; Have
then rooms for me at the Great Eastern Hotel, so that I mi,?
be near to hand, and please it so arrange that we may sre
the young lady not too late on to-morrow, for it is likely that
I may have to return here that night. But if need be I shall
come again in three days, and stay longer if it must. Till
then good-bye, my friend John. “Van Helsing/'
Letter, Dr. Seward to Hon. Arthur Holmwood.

“3 September.
“My dear Art,
“Van Helsing has come and gone. He came on with me
to Hillingham, and found that, by Lucy’s discretion, her
mother was lunching out, so that we were alone with her.
Van Helsing made a very careful examination of the patient.
He is to report to me, and I shall advise you, for of course
I was not present all the time. He is, I fear, much con-
cerned, but says he must think. When I told him of our
friendship and how you trust to me in the
matter, he said
‘You must tell him all you think. Tell him what I think,
if you can guess it, if you will. Nay, I am not jesting. This
is no jest, but life and death, perhaps more/ I asked what
he meant by that, for he was very serious. This was when
we had come back to town, and he was having a cup of tea
before starting on his return to Amsterdam. He would not
give me any further clue. You must not be angry with me,
Art, because his very reticence means that all his brains are
working for her good. He will speak plainly enough when
the time comes, be sure. So I told him I would simply write
an account of our visit, just as if I were doing a descriptive
special article for The Daily Telegraph. He seemed not to
notice, but remarked that the smuts in London were not quite
so bad as they used to be when he was a student here. I am
to get his report to-morrow if he can possible make it. In
any case I am to have a letter
 6 —
1 1 Dracula

“Well, as to the visit. Lucy was more cheerful than on

the day I first saw her, and certainly looked better. She had
lostsomething of the ghastly look that so upset you, and her
breathing was normal. She was very sweet to the professor
(as she always is), and tried to make him feel at ease;
though I could see that the poor girl was making a hard
struggle for it. I believe Van Helsing saw it, too, for I saw
the quick look under his bushy brows that I knew of old.
Then he began to chat of. all things except ourselves and dis-
eases and with such an infinite geniality that I could see poor
Lucy’s pretense of animation merge into reality. Then, with-
out any seeming change, he brought the conversation gently
round to his visit, and suavely said :

“
‘My dear young miss, I have the so great pleasure be-
cause you are much beloved. That is much, my dear, even
were there that which I do not see. They told me you were
down in the spirit, and that you were of a ghastly pale. To
9
them I say “Pouf I” : And he snapped his fingers at me
and went on ‘But you and I shall show them how wrong
:

—
they are. How can he’ and he pointed at me with the same
look and gesture as that with which once he pointed me out

—
to his class, on, or rather after, a particular occasion which
he never fails to remind me of ‘know anything of a young
ladies? He has his madams to play with, and to bring
them back to happiness and to those that love them. It is
much to do, and, oh, but there are rewards, in that we can
bestow such happiness. But the young ladies ! has no He
wife nor daughter, and the young do not tell themselves to
the young, but to the old, like me, who have known so many
sorrows and the causes of them. So, dear, we will sendmy
him away to smoke the cigarette in the garden, whiles you
and I have little took the hint, and
talk all to ourselves/ I
strolled about, and presently the professor came to the win-
dow and called me in. He looked grave, but said ‘I have :

made careful examination, but there is no functional cause.

With you I agree that there has been much blood lost it has ;

been, but is not. But the conditions of her are in no way

anaemic. I have asked her to send me her maid, that I may
ask just one or two question, that so I may not chance to
miss nothing. I know well what she will say. And yet
there is cause ; there is always cause for everything. I must
go back home and think. You must send to me the telegram
every day; and if there be cause I shall come again. The
 7

Letters, Etc. 1
1

disease— for not to be all well is a disease —

interest me, and
the sweet young dear, she interest me too. She charm me,
and for her, if not for you or disease, I come.’
“As I tell you, he would not say a word more, even when
we were alone. And so now, Art, you know all I know. I
shall keep stern watch. I trust your poor father is rallying.
It must be a terrible thing to you, my dear old fellow, to be
placed in such a position between two people who are both
so dear to you. I know your idea of duty to your father, and
you are right to stick to it but, if need be, I shall send you
;

word to come at once to Lucy; so do not be over-anxious

unless you hear from me”

Dr. Seward's Diary.

4 September . —Zoophagous patient still keeps up our in-

terest in him. He
had only one outburst and that was yes-
terday at an unusual time. Just before the stroke of noon
he began to grow restless. The attendant knew the symp-
toms, and at once summoned aid. Fortunately the men came
at a run, and were just in time, for at the stroke of noon he
became so violent that it took all their strength to hold him.
In about five minutes, however, he began to get more and
more quiet, and finally sank into a sort of melancholy, in
which state he has remained up to now. The attendant tells
i*ne that his screams whilst in the paroxysm were really ap-
palling ;
I found my hands full when I got in, attending to
some of the other patients who were frightened by him.
Indeed, I can quite understand the effect, for the sounds dis-
turbed even me, though I was some distance away. It is
now after the dinner-hour of the asylum, and as yet my pa-
tient sits in a corner brooding, with a dull, sullen, woe-be-
gone look in his face, which seems rather to indicate than
to show something directly. I cannot quite understand it.

Later. —
Another change in my patient. At five o’clock I
looked in on him, and found him seemingly as happy and
contented as he used to be. He was catching flies and eating
them, and was keeping note of his capture by making nail-
marks on the edge of the door between the ridges of padding.
When he saw me, he came over and apologised for his bad
conduct, and asked me in a very humble, cringing way to be
led back to his own room and to have his note-book again. I
thought it well to humour him so he is back in his room.
;
 8 —
1 1 Dracula

with tne window open. He has the sugar of his tea spread
out on the window-sill, and is reaping quite a harvest of flies.
He is not now eating them, but putting them into a box, as of
old, already examining the corners of his room to find
and is
a spider. I tried to get him to talk about the past few days,
for any clue to his thoughts would be of immense help to
me but he would not rise. For a moment or two he looked
;

very sad, and said in a sort of far-away voice, as though say-

ing it rather to himself than to me :

“All over! all over! Fie has deserted me. No hope for
me now unless I do it for myself !” Then suddenly turning
to me in a resolute way, he said: “Doctor, won’t you be
very good to me and let me have a little more sugar ? I think
it would be good for me.”
“And the flies?” I said.
“Yes ! The flies like it, too, and I like the flies therefore
;

I like it.” And there

are people who know so little as to
think that madmen do
not argue. I procured him a double
supply, and left him as happy a man as, I suppose, any in the
world. I wish I could fathom his mind.

Midnight —
Another change in him. I had been to see
.

Miss Westenra, whom I found much better, and had just

returned, and was standing at our own gate looking at the
sunset, when once moreheard him yelling. As his room
I
is on this side of the house, I could hear it better than in the
morning. It was a shock to me to turn from the wonderful
smoky beauty of a sunset over London, with its lurid lights
and inky shadows and all the marvellous tints that come on
foul clouds even as on foul water, and to realise all the grim
sternness of my own cold stone building, with its wealth of
breathing misery, and my own desolate heart to endure it all.
I reached him just as the sun was going down, and from his
window saw the red disc sink. As it sank he became less
and less frenzied; and just as it dipped he slid from the
hands that held him, an inert mass, on the floor. It is won-
derful, however, what intellectual recuperative power luna-
tics have, for within a few minutes he stood up
quite calmly
and looked around him. I signalled to the attendants not to
hold him, for I was anxious to see what he would do. He
went straight over to the window and brushed out the
crumbs of sugar then he took his fly-box and emptied it
;

CMJtside, and threw away the box then he shut the window.
;
 Letters, Etc. 119
and crossing over, sat down on his bed. All this surprised
me, so I asked him: “Are you not going to keep flies any
more ?”
“No,” said he ;
“I am
sick of all that rubbish !” He cer-
tainly is a wonderfully interesting study. I wish I could get
some glimpse of his mind or of the cause of his sudden
passion. Stop ; there may be a clue after all, if we can find
why to-day his paroxysms came on at high noon and at sun-
set. Can it a malign influence of the sun at
be that there is
periods which affects certain natures as at times the moon —
does others? We
shall see.

Telegram , Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam.

“4 September. —Patient still better to-day.”

Telegram, Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam.

“5 September —Patient greatly improved. Good appetite;

sleeps naturally ;
good spirits ;
colour coming back.”

Telegram, Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam.

—
“6 September. Terrible change for the worse. Come at
once do not lose an hour. I hold over telegram to Holm-
;

wood till have seen you.”

 — —

CHAPTER X
Letter, Dr, Seward to Hon. Arthur Holmwood.
“6 September,
“My dear Art,
“My news to-day is not so good. morning ha<$ Lucy this
gone back a bit. There is, however, one good thing which
has arisen from it; Mrs. Westenra was naturally anxious
concerning Lucy, and has consulted me professionally about
her. I took advantage of the opportunity, and told her that
my old master. Van Helsing, the great specialist, was coming
to stay with me, and that I would put her in his charge con-
jointly with myself; so now we can come and go without
alarming her unduly, for a shock to her would mean sudden
death, and this, in Lucy's weak condition, might be disas-
trous to her. We are hedged in with difficulties, all of us,
my poor old fellow but, please God, we shall come through
;

them all right. If any need I shall write, so that, if you do

not hear from me, take it for granted that I am simply wait-
ing for news. In haste. Yours ever,
“John Seward."
Dr. Seward's Diary.

7 September . —The first thing Van Helsing said to me

when we met at Liverpool street was :

“Have you said anything to our young friend the lover

of her?"
“No," I said. “I waited till I had seen you, as I said in
my telegram. wrote him a letter simply telling him that
I
you were coming, as Miss Westenra was not so well, and that
I should let him know if need be."
“Right, my friend," he said, “quite right Better he not !

know as yet perhaps he shall never know. I pray so but

; ;

if it be needed, then he shall know all. And, my good friend

John, let me caution you. You deal with the madmen. All
men are mad in some way or the other and inasmuch as you ;

deal discreetly with your madmen, so deal with God’s mad-

—
men, too the rest of the world. You tell not your madmen
what you do nor why you do it you tell them not what you
;

120
 — — ;

Letters, Etc. 121

think. So you shall keep knowledge in its place, where it
—
may rest where it may gather its kind around it and breed.
You and I shall keep as yet what we know here, and here.”
He touched me on the heart and on the forehead, and then
touched himself the same way. “I have for myself thoughts
at the present. Later I shall unfold to you.”
“Why not now?” I asked. “It may do some good; we
may arrive at some decision.” He stopped and looked at
me, and said :

“My friend John, when

the corn is grown, even before it
—
has ripened while the milk of its mother-earth is in him,
and the sunshine has not yet begun to paint him with his
gold, the husbandman he pull the ear and rub him between
his rough hands, and blow away the green chaff, and say to
you ‘Look he’s good corn he will make good crop when
: !
;

the time comes/ ” I did not see the application, and told
him so. For reply he reached over and took my ear in his
hand and pulled it playfully, as he used long ago to do at lec-
tures, and said “The good husbandman tell you so then be-
:

cause he knows, but not till then. But you do not find the
good husbandman dig up his planted com to see if he grow
that is for the children who play at husbandry, and not for
those who take it as of the work of their life. See you now,
friend John? I have sown my corn, and Nature has her
work to do in making it sprout if he sprout at all, there’s
;

some promise and I wait till the ear begins to swell.” He

;

broke off, for he evidently saw that I understood. Then he

went on, and very gravely :

“You were always a careful student, and your case-book

was ever more full than the rest. You were only student
then now you are master, and I trust that good habit have
;

not fail. Remember, my friend, that knowledge is stronger

than memory, and we should not trust the weaker. Even if
you have not kept the good practise, let me tell you that this
—
case of our dear miss is one that may be mind, I say may be
— of such interest to us and others that all the rest may not
make him kick the beam, as your peoples say. Take then
good note of it. Nothing is too small. I counsel you, put
down in record even your doubts and surmises. Hereafter
it may be of interest to you to see how true you guess.
!”
We
learn from failure, not from success
—
When I described Lucy’s symptoms the same as before,
but infinitely more marked— he looked very grave, but said
 —

122 Dracula

nothing. He took with him a bag in which were many itv

struments and drugs, “the ghastly paraphernalia of our bene-
ficial trade,” as he once called, in one of his lectures, the
equipment of a professor of the healing craft. When we
were shown in, Mrs. Westenra met us. She was alarmed,
but not nearly so much as I expected to find her. Nature
in one of her beneficent moods has ordained that even death
has some antidote to its own terrors. Here, in a case where
any shock may prove fatal, matters are so ordered that, from
—
some cause or other, the things not personal even the terri-
ble change in her daughter to whom she is so attached
do not seem to reach her. It is something like the way
Dame Nature gathers round a foreign body an envelope of
some insensitive tissue which can protect from evil that
which it would otherwise harm by contact. If this be an
ordered selfishness, then we should pause before we condemn
any one for the vice of egoism, for there may be deeper roots
for its causes ton we have knowledge of.
I used my knowledge of this phase of spiritual pathology,
and laid down a rule that she should not be present with
Lucy or think of her illness more than was absolutely re-
quired. She assented readily, so readily that I saw again
the hand of Nature fighting for life. Van Helsing and I
were shown up to Lucy’s room. If I was shocked when I
saw her yesterday, I was horrified when I saw her to-day.
She was ghastly, chalkily pale the red seemed to have gone
;

even from her lips and gums, and the bones of her face stood
out prominently her breathing was painful to see or hear.
;

Van Helsing’s face grew set as marble, and his eyebrows

converged they almost touched over his nose. Lucy lay
till

motionless and did not seem to have strength to speak, so

for a while we were all silent. Then Van Helsing beckoned
to me, and we went gently out of the room. The instant we
had closed the door he stepped quickly along the passage to
the next door, which was open. Then he pulled me quickly
in with him and closed the door. “My God !” he said “this
;

is dreadful. There is no time to be lost. She will die for

sheer want of blood to keep the heart’s action as it should be.
There must be transfusion of blood at once. Is it you or
me?”
“I am younger and stronger, Professor. It must be me.”
“Then get ready at once, I will bring up my bag. I am
prepared.”
 — — ——
Letters, Etc. 123
I went downstairs with him, and as we were going there
was a knock at the hall-door. When we reached the hall the
maid had just opened the door, and Arthur was stepping
quickly in. He rushed up to me, saying in an eager whis-
per :

“Jack, I was so anxious.

read between 'the lines of your
I
letter, and have been in an agony. The dad was better, so I
ran down here to see for myself. Is not that gentleman Dr.
Van Helsing? I am so thankful to you, sir, for coming.”
When first the Professor’s eye had lit upon him he had been
angry at my interruption at such a time but now, as he took
;

in his stalwart proportions and recognised the strong young

manhood which seemed to emanate from him, his eyes
gleamed. Without a pause he said to him gravely as he
held out his hand :

“Sir, you have come in time. You are the lover of our
dear miss. She is bad, very, very bad. Nay, my child, do
not go like that.” For he suddenly grew pale and sat down
in a chair almost fainting. “You are to help her. You can
do more than any that live, and your courage is your best
help.”
“What can I do?” asked Arthur hoarsely.
“Tell me,
and I shall do it. My
life is hers, and I would give the last
drop of blood in my body for her.” The Professor has a
strongly humourous side, and I could from old knowledge
detect a trace of its origin in his answer :

“My young sir, I do not ask so much as that not the —

last!”
“What shall I do?” There was fire in his eyes, and his
open nostril quivered with intent. Van Helsing slapped him
on the shoulder. “Come !” he said. “You are a man, and it
is a man we want. You are better than me, better than my
friend John.” Arthur looked bewildered, and the Professor
went on by explaining in a kindly way :

“Young miss is bad, very bad. She wants blood, and

blood she must have or die. My friend John and I have con-
sulted and we are about to perform what we call transfusion
;

—
of blood to transfer from full veins of one to the empty
veins which pine for him. John was to give his blood, as he
is the more young and strong than me”
——
here Arthur took
my hand and wrung it hard in silence “but, now you are
here, you are more good than us, old or young, who toil
much in the world of thought. Our nerves are not so calm
 — : —
1 24 Dracula

and our blood not so bright than yours !” Arthur turned to

him and said :

“If you only knew how gladly I would die for her you
”
would understand
He stopped, with a sort of choke in his voice.
“Good boy!” said Van Helsing. “In the not-so-far-off
you will be happy that you have done all for her you love.
Come now and be silent. You shall kiss her once before it is
done, but then you must go and you must leave at my sign.
;

Say no word to Madame; you know how it is with her!

There must be no shock; any knowledge of this would be
one. Come !”
We allwent up to Lucy’s room. Arthur by direction re-
mained outside. Lucy turned her head and looked at us, but
said nothing. She was not asleep, but shfe was simply too
weak to make the effort. Her eyes spoke to us that was all.
;

Van Helsing took some things from his bag and laid them
on a little table out of sight. Then he mixed a narcotic, and
coming over to the bed, said cheerily :

“Now, little miss, here is your medicine. Drink it off, like

a good child. See, I lift you so that to swallow is easy.
Yes.” She had made the effort with success.
It astonished me how long the drug took to act. This, in
fact, marked the extent of her weakness. The time seemed
endless until sleep began to flicker in her eyelids. At last,
however, the narcotic began to manifest its potency and she
;

fell into a deep sleep. When the Professor was satisfied he

called Arthur into the, room, and bade him strip off his coat.
Then he added “You may take that one little kiss whiles I
:

bring over the table. Friend John, help to me !” So neither

of us looked whilst he bent over her.
Van Helsing turning to me, said
“He is so young and strong and of blood so pure that we
need not defibrinate it.”
Then with swiftness, but with absolute method, Van Hel-
sing performed the operation. As the transfusion went
on something like life seemed to come back to poor Lucy’s
cheeks, and through Arthur’s growing pallor the joy of his
face seemed absolutely to shine. After a bit I began to grow
anxious, for the loss of blood was telling on Arthur, strong
man as he was. It gave me an idea of what a terrible strain
Lucy’s system must have undergone that what weakened
Arthur only partially restored her. But the Professor’s face
 — —
Letters, Etc, 1
25
was and he stood watch in hand and with his eyes fixed
set,
.
now on the patient and now on Arthur. I could hear my
own heart beat.
Presently he said in a soft voice “Do not
:

stir an instant. It is enough. You attend him; I will look

to her.” When all was over I could see how much Arthur
was weakened. I dressed the wound and took his arm to
bring him away, when Van Helsing spoke without turning
—
round the man seems to have eyes in the back of his
head :

“The brave lover, I think deserve another kiss, which he

shall have presently.” And as he had now finished his op-
eration, he adjusted the pillow to the patient’s head. As he
did so the narrow black velvet band which she seems always
to wear round her throat, buckled with an old diamond
buckle which her lover had given her, was dragged a little
up, and showed a red mark on her throat. Arthur did not
notice it, but I could hear the deep hiss of indrawn breath
which is one of Van Helsing’s ways of betraying emotion.
He said nothing at the moment, but turned to me, saying:
“Now take down our brave young lover, give him of the
port wine, and let him lie down a while. He must then go
home and rest, sleep much and eat much, that he may be
recruited of what he has so given to his love. He must not
stay here. Hold! a moment. I may take it, sir, that you
are anxious of result. Then bring it with you that in all
ways the operation is successful. You have saved her life
this time, and you can go home and rest easy in mind that
all that can be is. I shall tell her all when she is well she ;

shall love you none the less for what you have done. Good-
bye.”
When went back to the room. Lucy
Arthur had gone I
was sleeping gently, but her breathing was stronger I could ;

see the counterpane move as her breast heaved. By the bed-

side sat Van Helsing, looking at her intently. The velvet
band again covered the red mark. I asked the Professor in
a whisper :

“What do you make of that mark on her throat?”

“What do you make of it?”
“I have not examined it yet,” I answered, and then and
there proceeded to loose the band. Just over the external
jugular vein there were two punctures, not large, but not
wholesome-looking. There was no sign of disease, but the
edges were white and worn-looking, as if by some tritura-
 —
126 Dracula

tion. once occurred to me that this wound, or what*

It at
ever it was, might be the means of that manifest loss of
blood but I abandoned the idea as soon as formed, for such
;

a thing could not be. The whole bed would have been
drenched to a scarlet with the blood which the girl must
have lost to leave such a pallor as she had before the trans-
fusion.
“Well?” said Van Helsing.
“Well,” said I, “I can make nothing of it.” The Pro-
fessor stood up. “I must go back to Amsterdam to-night,”
he said. “There are books and things there which I want.
You must remain here all the night, and you must not let
your sight pass from her.”
“Shall I have a nurse?” I asked.
“We are the best nurses, you and I. You keep watch all
night see that she is well fed, and that nothing disturbs her.
;

You must not sleep all the night. Later on we can sleep, you
and I. I shall be back as soon as possible. And then we
may begin.”
“May begin?” I said. “What
on earth do you mean?”
“We shall see !” he answered as he hurried out. He came
back a moment later and put his head inside the door and
said with warning finger held up :

“Remember, she is your charge. If you leave her, and

!”
harm befall, you shall not sleep easy hereafter

Dr. Seward's Diary — continued.

8 September . — up
night with Lucy. The opiate
I sat all
worked itself off towards dusk, and she waked naturally;
she looked a different being from what she had been before
the operation. Her spirits even were good, and she was full
of a happy vivacity, but I could see evidences of the absolute
prostration which she had undergone. When I told Mrs.
Westenra that Dr. Van Helsing had directed that I should sit
up with her she almost pooh-poohed the idea, pointing out
her daughter’s renewed strength and excellent spirits. I
was firm, however, and made preparations for my long vigil.
When her maid had prepared her for the night I came in,
having in the meantime had supper, and took a seat by the
bedside. She did not in any way make objection, but looked
at me gratefully whenever I caught her eye. After a long
spell she seemed sinking off to sleep, but with an effort
seemed to pull herself togot^^r and shook it off. This was
 — :

Letters, Etc. 127

repeated several times, with greater effort and with shorter
pauses as the time moved on. It was apparent that she did
not want to sleep, so I tackled the subject at once:
“You do not want to go to sleep ?”
“No ;
am
afraid.”
I
“Afraid to go to sleep! Why so? It is the boon we all
oave for.”
“Ah, not if you were like me — if sleep was to you a pre*
sage of horror!”
“A presage of horror What on
earth do you mean ?”
!

“I don’t know oh, I don’t know. ; And that is what is

so terrible. All this weakness comes to me in sleep; until I
dread the very thought.”
“But, my dear girl, you may sleep to-night. I am here
watching you, and I can promise that nothing will happen.”
“Ah, I can trust you !” I seized the opportunity, and said
“I promise you that if I see any evidence of bad dreams I
will wake you at once.”
“You will? Oh, will you really? good you are to How
me. Then I will sleep !” And almost at the word she gave a
deep sigh of relief, and sank back, asleep.
All night long I watched by her. She never stirred, but
slept on and on in a deep, tranquil, life-giving, health-giving
sleep. Her lips were slightly parted, and her breast rose and
fell with the regularity of a pendulum. There was a smile on
her face, and it was evident that no bad dreams had come to
disturb her peace of mind.
In the early morning her maid came, and I left her in her
care and took myself back home, for I was anxious about
many things. I sent a short wire to Van Helsing and to
Arthur, telling them of the excellent result of the operation.
My own work, with its manifold arrears, took me all day to
clear off it was dark when I was able to inquire about my
;

zoophagous patient. The report was good; he had been

quite quiet for the past day and night. A telegram came
from Van Helsing at Amsterdam whilst I was at dinner, sug-
gesting that I should be at Hillingham to-night, as it might
be well to be at hand, and stating that he was leaving by the
night mail and would join me early in the morning.

9 September . —
was pretty tired and worn out when I got
I
to Hillingham. For two nights I had hardly had a wink of
sleep, and my brain was beginning to feel that numbness
 —
128 Dracula
which marks cerebral exhaustion. Lucy was up and in
cheerful spirits. When she shook hands with me she looked
sharply in my face and said :

“No sitting up to-night for you. You are worn out. I am

quite well again; indeed, I am; and if there is to be any
sitting up, it is I who will sit up with you.” I would not ar-
gue the point, but went and had my supper. Lucy came with
me, and, enlivened by her charming presence, I made an ex-
cellent meal, and had a couple of glasses of the more than
excellent port. Then Lucy took me upstairs, and showed me
a room next her own, where a cosy fire was burning. “Now,”
she said, “you must stay here. I shall leave this door open
and my door too. You can lie on the sofa for I know that
nothing would induce any of you doctors to go to bed whilst
there is a patient above the horizon. If I want anything I
shall call out, and you can come to me at once.” I could not
but acquiesce, for I was “dob-tired,” and could not have sat
up had I tried. So, on her renewing her promise to call me
if she should want anything, I lay on the sofa, and forgot
all about everything.

Lucy West eras Diary.

9 September . —
I feel so happy to-night. I have been so
miserably weak, that to be able to think and move about is
like feelingsunshine after a long spell of east wind out of a
steel sky. Somehow Arthur feels very, very close to me. I
seem to feel his presence warm about me. I suppose it is
that sickness and weakness are selfish things and turn our
inner eyes and sympathy on ourselves, whilst health and
strength give Love rein, and in thought and feeling he can
wander where he wills. I know where my thoughts
If are.
Arthur only knew ! My
dear, my
dear, your ears must tingle
&.s you sleep, as mine do waking. Oh, the blissful rest of
last night! How I slept, with that dear, good Dr. Seward
watching me. And to-night I shall not fear to sleep, since
he is close at hand and within call. Thank everybody for
being so good to me Thank God
! Good-night Arthur.
!

Dr. Seward's Diary.

10 September —
I was conscious of the Professor’s hand
.

on my head, and started awake all in a second. That is one

t>f the things that we learn in an asylum, at any rate.
 —
Letters, Etc. 120
“And how is our patient?”
“Well, when I left her, or rather when she left me,” I an-
swered.
“Come, let us see,” he said. And together we went into
the room.
The blind was down, and I went over to raise it gently,
whilst Van Helsing stepped, with his soft, cat-like tread,
over to the bed.
As I raised the blind, and the morning sunlight flooded
the room, I heard the Professor’s low hiss of inspiration, and
knowing its rarity, a deadly fear shot through my heart. As
I passed over he moved back, and his exclamation of horror,
“Gott in Himmel !” needed no enforcement from his ago-
nised face. He raised his hand and pointed to the bed, and
his iron face was drawn and ashen white. I felt my knees
begin to tremble.
There on the bed, seemingly in a swoon, lay poor Lucy,
more horribly white and wan-looking than ever. Even the
lips were white, and the gums seemed to have shrunken back
from the teeth, as we sometimes see in a corpse after a pro-
longed illness. Van Helsing raised his foot to stamp in an-
ger, but the instinct of his life and all the long years of habit
stood to him, and he put it down again softly. “Quick !” he
said. “Bring the brandy.” I flew to the dining-room, and
returned with the decanter. He wetted the poor white lips
with it, and together we rubbed palm and wrist and heart.
He felt her heart, and after a few moments of agonising
suspense said :

“It is not too late. though but feebly. All our

It beats,
work is undone; we must begin again. There is no young
Arthur here now I have to call on you yourself this time,
;

friend John.” As he spoke, he was dipping into his bag and

producing the instruments for transfusion; I had taken off
my coat and rolled up my shirt-sleeve. There was no pos-
sibility of an opiate just at present, and no need of one; and
so, without a moment’s delay, we began the operation. After
—
a time it did not seem a short time either, for the draining
away of one’s blood, no matter how willingly it be given, is
—
a terrible feeling Van Helsing held up a warning finger.
“Do not stir,” he said, “but I fear that with growing strength
she may wake; and that would make danger, oh, so much
danger. But I shall precaution take. I shall give hypo-
dermic injection of morphia.” He proceeded then, swiftly
 —— —
13° Dracula

and deftly, to carry out his intent. The effect on Lucy was
not bad, for the faint seemed to merge subtly into the nar-
cotic sleep. It was with a feeling of personal pride that I
could see a faint tinge of colour steal back into the pallid
cheeks and lips. No man knows till he experiences it, what
it is to feel his own life-blood drawn away into the veins of

the woman
he loves.
The Professor watched me critically. “That will do,”
he said. “Already?” I remonstrated. “You took a great
deal more from Art.” To which he smiled a sad sort of
smile as he
replied :

“He is her lover, her fiance. You have work, much work,
to do for her and for others and the present will suffice.”
;

When we stopped the operation, he attended to Lucy,

whilst I applied digital pressure to my own incision. I laid
down, whilst I waited his leisure to attend to me, for I felt
faint and a little sick. By-and-by he bound up my wound,
and sent me downstairs to get a glass of wine for myself.
As I was leaving the room, he came after me, and half whis-
pered :

“Mind, nothing must be said of this. If our young lover

should turn up unexpected, as before, no word to him. It
would at once frighten him and en jealous him, too. There
must be none. So !”
When I came back he looked at me carefully, and then
said :

“You are not much the worse. Go into the room, and lie
on your sofa, and rest awhile; then have much breakfast,
and come here to me.”
I followed out his orders, for I knew how right and wise
they were. I had done my part, and now my next duty was
to keep up my strength. I felt very weak, and in the weak-
ness lost something of the amazement at what had occurred.
I fell asleep on the sofa, however, wondering over and over
again how Lucy had made such a retrograde movement, and
how she could have been drained of so much blood with no
sign anywhere to show for it. I think I must have continued
my wonder in my dreams, for, sleeping and waking, my
thoughts always came back to the little punctures in her
throat and the ragged, exhausted appearance of their edges
— tiny though they were.
Lucy slept well into the day and when she woke she was
L

* irly well and strong, though

not nearly so much so as the.*
 —
Letters, Etc. 131

day before. When Van Helsing had seen her, he went out
for a walk, leaving me in charge, with strict injunctions that
1 was not to leave her for a moment. I could hear his voice
in the hall, asking the way to the nearest telegraph office.
Lucy chatted with me freely, and seemed quite uncon-
scious that anything had happened. I tried to keep her
amused and interested. When
her mother came up to see
her, she did not seem to notice any change whatever, but
said to megratefully :

'‘We owe you so much, Dr. Seward, for all you have done,
but you really must now take care not to overwork yourself.
You are looking pale yourself. You want a wife to nurse
and look after you a bit that you do !” As she spoke, Lucy
;

turned crimson, though it was only momentarily, for her

poor wasted veins could not stand for long such an unwonted
drain to the head. The reaction came in excessive pallor as
she turned imploring eyes on me. I smiled and nodded, and
laid my finger on my lips with a sigh, she sank back amid
;

her pillows.
Van Helsing returned in a couple of hours, and presently
said to me: “Now you go home, and eat much and drink
enough. Make yourself strong. I stay here to-night, and I
shall sit up with little miss myself. You and I must watch
the case, and we must have none other to know. I have
grave reasons. No, do not ask them think what you will. Do ;

not fear to think even the most not-probable. Good-night.”

In the hall two of the maids came to me, and asked if
they or either of them might not sit up with Miss Lucy. They
implored me to let them; and when I said it was Dr. Van
Helsing’s wish that either he or I should sit up, they asked
me quite piteously to intercede with the “foreign gentle-
man.” I was much touched by their kindness. Perhaps it is
because I am weak at present, and perhaps because it was on
Lucy’s account, that their devotion was manifested for over ;

and over again have I seen similar instances of woman’s

kindness. I got back here in time for a late dinner; went
—
my rounds all well and set this down whilst waiting for
;

sleep. It is coming.

1 1 September . —This afternoon

went over to Hillingham.
I

Found Van Helsing in excellent spirits, and Lucy much bet-

ter. Shortly after I had arrived, a big parcel from abroad
came for the Professor. He opened it with much impress-
 — —

132 Dracula

ment —assumed, of course —and showed a great bundle ol

white flowers.
“These are for you, Miss Lucy,” he said.
!”
“For me ? Oh, Dr. Van Helsing
“Yes, my dear, but not for you to play with. These are
medicines.” Here Lucy made a wry face. “Nay, but they
are not to take in a decoction or in nauseous form, so you
need not snub that so charming nose, or I shall point out to
my friend Arthur what woes he may have to endure in see-
ing so much beauty that he so loves so much distort. Aha,
my pretty miss, that bring the so nice nose all straight again,
This is medicinal, but you do not know how. I put him in
your window, I make pretty wreath, and hang him round
your neck, so that you sleep well. Oh yes! they, like the
lotus flower, make your trouble forgotten. It smell so like
the waters of Lethe, and of that fountain of youth that the
Conquistodores sought for in the Floridas, and find him all
too late.”
Whilst he was speaking, Lucy had been examining the
flowers and smelling them. Now she threw them down,
saying, with half-laughter and half-disgust:
“Oh, Professor, I believe you are only putting up a joke
on me. Why, these flowers are only common garlic.”
To my surprise, Van Helsing rose up and said with all his
sternness, his iron jaw set and his bushy eyebrows meet-
ing:

“No trifling with me I never jest There is grim pur-

! !

pose in all I do and I warn you that you do not thwart me.
;

Take care, for the sake of others if not for your own.” Then
seeing poor Lucy scared, as she might well be, he went on
more gently “Oh, little miss, my dear, do not fear me. I
:

only do for your good but there is much virtue to you in

;

those so common flowers. See, I place them myself in your

room. I make myself the wreath that you are to wear. But
hush no telling to others that make so inquisitive questions.
!

We must obey, and silence is a part of obedience; and obe-

dience is to bring you strong and well into loving arms that
wait for you. Now sit still awhile. Come with me, friend
John, and you shall help me deck the room with my garlic,
which is all the way from Haarlem, where my friend Van-
derpool raise herb in his glass-houses all the year. I had to
telegraph yesterday, or they would not have been here.”
We went into the room, taking the flowers with us. The
 —— —
Letters, Etc. 133
Professor’s actions were certainly odd and not to be found
in any pharmacopoeia that I ever heard of. First he fastened
up the windows and latched them securely; next, taking a
handful of the flowers, he rubbed them all over the sashes,
as though to ensure that every whiff of air that might get in
would be laden with the garlic smell. Then with the wisp
he rubbed all over the jamb of the door, above, below, and at
each side, and round the fireplace in the same way. It all
seemed grotesque to me, and presently I said :

“Well, Professor, I know you always have a reason for

what you do, but this certainly puzzles me. It is well we
have no sceptic here, or he would say that you were working
some spell to keep out an evil spirit.”
“Perhaps I am !” he answered quietly as he began to make
the wreath which Lucy was to wear round her neck.
We then waited whilst Lucy made her toilet for the night,
and when she was in bed he came and himself fixed the
wreath of garlic round her neck. The last words he said to
her were:
“Take care you do not disturb it; the room
and even if
feel close, do not to-night open the window or the door.”
“I promise,” said Lucy, “and thank you both a thousand
times for all your kindness to me !Oh, what have I done to
be blessed with such friends ?”
As we left the house in my fly, which was waiting, Van
Helsing said :

“To-night I can sleep in peace, and sleep I want two —

nights of travel, much reading in the day between, and much
anxiety on the day to follow, and a night to sit up, without
to wink. To-morrow in the morning early you call for me,
and we come together to see our pretty miss, so much more
!”
strong for my ‘spell’ which I have work. Ho ho !

He seemed so confident that I, remembering my own con-

fidence two nights before and with the baneful result, felt
awe and vague terror. It must have been my weakness that
made me hesitate to tell it to my friend, but I felt it all the
more, like unshed tears.
 —

CHAPTER XI
Lucy Westenra’s Diary .

12 September . —
How good they all are to me. I quite lov©
that dear Dr. Van Helsing. I wonder why he was so anx-
ious about these flowers. He positively frightened me, he
was so fierce. And
must have been right, for I feel
yet he
comfort from them Somehow, I do not dread being
already.
alone to-night, and I can go to sleep without fear. I shall
not mind any flapping outside the window. Oh, the terri-
ble struggle that I have had against sleep so often of late;
the pain of the sleeplessness, or the pain of the fear of sleep,
with such unknown horrors as it has for me blessed ! How
are some people, whose lives have no fears, no dreads to ;

whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly, and brings

nothing but sweet dreams. Well, here I am to-night, hop-
ing for sleep, and lying like Ophelia in the play, with “vir-
gin crants and maiden strewments.” I never liked garlic

before, but to-night it is delightful There is peace in its

!

smell I feel sleep coming already. Good-night, everybody.

;

Dr. Seward's Diary.

13 September . —
Called at the Berkeley and found Van
Helsing, as usual, up to time. The carriage ordered from
the hotel was waiting. The Professor took his bag, which
he always brings with him now.
Let all be put down exactly. Van Helsing and I arrived
at Hillingham at eight o’clock. It was a lovely morning the ;

bright sunshine and all the fresh feeling of early autumn

seemed like the completion of nature’s annual work. The
leaves were turning to all kinds of beautiful colours, but had
not yet begun to drop from the trees. When we entered we
met Mrs. Westenra coming out of the morning room. She
is always an early riser. She greeted us warmly and said :

“You will be glad to know that Lucy is better. The dear

child is still asleep. I looked into her room and saw her, but
did not go in, lest I should disturb her.” The Professor
134
 — —

Letters, Etc. 135

smiled, and looked quite jubilant. He rubbed his hands to-
gether, and said :

“Aha !thought I had diagnosed the case.

I My treatment
is working/’ to which she answered :

“You must not takethe credit to yourself, doctor.

all
Lucy’s state this morning is due in part to me.”
“How do you mean, ma’am?” asked the Professor.
“Well, I was anxious about the dear child in the night,
and went into her room. She was sleeping soundly so —
soundly that even my coming did not wake her. But the
room was awfully stuffy. There were a lot of those horrible,
strong-smelling flowers about everywhere, and she had ac-
tually a bunch of them round her neck. I feared that the
heavy odour would be too much for the dear child in her
weak state, so I took them all away and opened a bit of the
window to let in a little fresh air. You will be pleased with
ner, I am sure.”
She moved off into her boudoir, where she usually break-
fasted early. As she had spoken, I watched the Professor’s
face, and saw it turn ashen grey. He had been able to retain
his self-command whilst the poor lady was present, for he
knew her state and how mischievous a shock would be; he
actually smiled on her as he held open the door for her to
pass into her room. But the instant she had disappeared he
pulled me, suddenly and forcibly, into the dining-room and
closed the door.
Then, for the first time in my life, I saw Van Helsing
break down. He raised his hands over his head in a sort of
mute despair, and then beat his palms together in a helpless
way; finally he sat down on a chair, and putting his hands
before his face, began to sob, with loud, dry sobs that seemed
to come from the very racking of his heart. Then he raised
his arms again, as though appealing to the whole universe.
“God God God !” he said. “What have we done, what has
! !

this poor thing done, that we are so sore beset? Is there fate
amongst us still, sent down from the pagan world of old, that
such things must be, and in such way? This poor mother,
all unknowing, and all for the best as she think, does such
thing as lose her daughter body and soul and we must not
;

tell her, we must not even warn her, or she die, and then
both die. Oh, how we are beset How are all the powers
!

of the devils against us !” Suddenly he jumped to his feet.

“Come,” he said, “come, we must see and act. Devils or no
13 6 Dracula

devils, or all the devils at once, it matters not ; we fight him

all the same.” went to the hall-door for his bag;
He and
together we went up to Lucy's room.
Once again I drew up the blind, whilst Van Helsing went
towards the bed. This time he did not start as he looked on
the poor face with the same awful, waxen pallor as before.
He wore a look of stern sadness and infinite pity.
“As I expected,” he murmured, with that hissing inspira-
tion of his which meant so much. Without a word he went
and locked the door, and then began to set out on the little
table the instruments for yet another operation of transfu-
sion of blood. I had long ago recognised the necessity, and
begun to take off my coat, but he stopped me with a warning
hand. “No !” he said. “To-day you must operate. I shall
provide. You are weakened already.” As he spoke he took
off his coat and rolled up his shirt-sleeve;.
Again the operation; again the narcotic; again some re-
turn of colour to the ashy cheeks, and the regular breathing
of healthy sleep. This time I watched whilst Van Helsing
recruited himself and rested.
Presently he took an opportunity of telling Mrs. Westenra
that she must not remove anything from Lucy’s room with-
out consulting him that the flowers were of medicinal value,
;

and that the breathing of their odour was a part of the sys-
tem of cure. Then he took over the care of the case him-
self, saying that he would watch this night and the next and
would send me word when to come.
After another hour Lucy waked from her sleep, fresh and
bright and seemingly not much the worse for her terrible
ordeal.
What does it all mean? I am beginning to wonder if my
long habit of life amongst the insane is beginning to tell upon
my own brain,
Lucy Westenra’s Diary.

17 September . —
Four days and nights of peace. I am get-
ting so strong again that I hardly know myself. It is as if I
had passed through some long nightmare, and had just
awakened to see the beautiful sunshine and feel the fresh
air of the morning around me. I have a dim half-remem-
brance of long, anxious times of waiting and fearing dark-
;

ness in which there was not even the pain of hope to make
present distress more poignant and then long spells of oh-
;
 — ;

Letters, Etc. ^ 137

livion, and the rising back to life as a diver coming up
through a great press of water. Since, however, Dr. Van
Helsing has been with me, all this bad dreaming seems to
have passed away; the noises that used to frighten me out
of my wits —the flapping against the windows, the distant
voices which seemed so close to me, the harsh sounds that
came from I know not where and commanded me to do I
—
know not what have all ceased. I go to bed now without
any fear of sleep. I do not even try to keep awake. I have
grown quite fond of the garlic, and a boxful arrives for me
every day from Haarlem. To-night Dr. Van Helsing is go-
ing away, as he has to be for a day in Amsterdam. But I
need not be watched; I am well enough to be left alone.
Thank God for mother’s sake, and dear Arthur’s, and for
all our friends who have been so kind I shall not even feel
!

the change, for last night Dr. Van Helsing slept in his chair
a lot of the time. I found him asleep t%ice when I awoke
but I did not fear to go tqjpleep again, although the boughs
or bats or something flapped almost angrily against the win-
dow-panes.
”
“The Pall Mall Gazette 18 September.

THE ESCAPED WOLF.

PERILOUS ADVENTURE OF OUR INTERVIEWER.
Interview with the Keeper in the Zoological Gardens.

After many and almost as many refusals, and

inquiries
perpetually using the words '‘Pall Mall Gazette” as a sort of
talisman, I managed to find the keeper of the section of the
Zoological Gardens in which the wolf department is in-
cluded. Thomas Bilder lives in one of the cottages in the
enclosure behind the elephant-house, and was just sitting
down to his tea when found him. Thomas and his wife
I
are hospitable folk, elderly, and without children, and if the
specimen I enjoyed of their hospitality be of the average
kind, their lives must be pretty comfortable. The keeper
would not enter on what he called “business” until* the supper
was over, and we were all satisfied. Then when the table
was cleared, and he had lit his pipe, he said :

“Now, sir, you can go on and arsk me what you want. You’ll
excoose me refoosin’ to talk of perfeshunal subjects afore
meals. I gives the wolves and the jackals and the hyenas in
 ;

1 38 Dracula

all our section their tea afore I begins to arsk them ques-
tions.”
“How do you mean, ask them questions?” I queried, wish-
ful to get him into a talkative humour.
“
’Ittin’ of them over the ’ead with a pole is one way
scratchin’ of their hears is another, when gents as is flush
wants a a show-orf to their gals. I
bit of don’t so much
—
mind the fust the ’ittin’ with a pole afore I chucks in their
dinner but I waits till they’ve ’ad their sherry and kawffee,
;

so to speak, afore I tries on with the ear-scratchin’. Mind

you,” he added philosophically, “there’s a deal of the same
nature in us as in them theer animiles. Here’s you a-comin’
and arksin’ of me questions about my business, and I that
grumpy-like that only for your bloomin’ ’arf-quid I’d ’a’
seen you blowed fust ’fore I’d answer. Not even when you
arsked me sarcastic-like if I’d like you to arsk the Superin-
tendent if you might arsk me auestions. Without offence,
did I tell yer to go to ’ell?”
“You did.”
“An’ when you said you’d report me for usin’ of obscene
language that was ’ittin’ me over the ’ead but the ’arf-quid
;

made that all right. I weren’t a-goin’ to fight, so I waited

for the food, and did with my ’owl as the wolves, and lions,
and tigers does. But, Lor’ love yer ’art, now that the old
’ooman has stuck a chunk of her tea-cake in me, an’ rinsed
me out with her bloomin’ old teapot, and I’ve lit hup, you
may scratch my ears for all you’re worth, and won’t git even
a growl out of me. Drive along with your questions. I
know what yer a-comin’ at, that ’ere escaped wolf.”
“Exactly. I want you to give me your view of it. Just tell
me how it happened and when I know the facts I’ll get you
;

to say what you consider was the cause of it, and how you
think the whole affair will end.”
“All right, guv’nor. This ’ere is about the ’ole story. That
’ere wolf what we called Bersicker was one of three grey
ones that came from Norway to Jamrach’s, which we
bought off him four year ago. He was a nice well-behaved
wolf, that never gave no trouble to talk of. I’m more sur-
prised at ’im lor wantin’ to get out nor any other animile in
the place. But, there, you can’t trust wolves no more nor
women.”
“Don’t you mind him, sir!” broke in Mrs. Tom, with a
“
cheery laugh. ’E’s got mindin’ the animiles so long tha*
 Letters, Etc. 139
blest if he ain’t like a old wolf ’isself! But there ain’t no
’arm in ’im.”
“Well, sir, it was about two hours after feedin’ yesterday
when I first hear my disturbance. I was makin’ up a litter in
the monkey-house for a young puma which is ill but when ;

I heard the yelpin’ and ’owlin’ I kem away straight. There

was Bersicker a-tearin’ like a mad thing at the bars as if he
wanted to get out. There wasn’t much people about that
day, and close at hand was only one man, a tall, thin chap,
with a ’00k nose and a pointed beard, with a few white hairs
runnin’ through it. He had a ’ard, cold look and red eyes,
and I took a sort of mislike to him, for it seemed as if it was
’im as they was hirritated at. He ’ad white kid gloves on ’is
’ands, and he pointed out the animiles to me and says:
‘Keeper, these wolves seem upset at something.’
“
‘Maybe it’s you,’ says 1, for I did not like the airs as he
give ’isself. He didn’t git angry, as I ’oped he would, but
he smiled a kind of insolent smile, with a mouth full o*
white, sharp teeth. ‘Oh no, they wouldn’t like me,’ ’e says.
“
‘Ow yes, they would,’ says I, a-imitatin’ of him. ‘They
always likes a bone or two to clean their teeth on about tea-
time, which you ’as a bagful.’
“Well, it was a odd thing, but when the animiles see us
a-talkin’ they lay down, and when I went over to Bersicker
he let me stroke his ears same as ever. That there man kem
over, and blessed but if he didn’t put in his hand and stroke
the old wolf’s ears too!
“
‘Tyke care,’ says I. ‘Bersicker is quick.’
“ !’
‘Never mind,’ he says. ‘I’m used to ’em
“
‘Are you in the business yourself ?’ I says, tyking off my
’at, for a man what trades in wolves, anceterer, is a good
friend to keepers.
“
‘No.’ says he, ‘not exactly in the business, but I ’ave
made pets of several.’ And with that he lifts his ’at as per-
lite as a lord, and walks away. Old Bersicker kep’ a-lookin’
arter ’im till ’e was out of sight, and then went and lay down
in a corner, and wouldn’t come hout the ’ole hevening. Well,
larst night, so soon as the moon was hup, the wolves here
all began a-’owling. There warn’t nothing for them to ’owl
at. There warn’t no one near, except some one that was
evidently a-callin’ a dog somewheres out back of the gar-
dings in the Park road. Once or twice I went out to see
that all was right, and it was, and then the ’owling stopped
 —
140 Dracula

Just before twelve o’clock I just took a look round afore

turnin’ in, an’, bust me, but when I kem opposite to old Ber-
sickens cage I see the rails broken and twisted about and
the cage empty. And that’s all I know for certing.”
“Did any one else see anything?”
“One was a-comin’ ’ome about that time
of our gard’ners
from a ’armony, when he sees a big grey dog cornin’ out
through the garding ’edges. At least, so he says but I don’t ;

give much for it myself, for if he did ’e never said a word

about it to his missis when ’e got ’ome, and it was only after
the escape of the wolf was made known, and we had been up
all night-a-huntin’ of the Park for Bersicker, that he remem-
bered seein’ anything. My own belief was that the ’armony
’ad got into his ’ead.”
“Now, Mr. Bilder, can you account in any way for the es-
cape of the wolf ?”
“Well, sir,” he said, with a suspicious sort of modesty,
“I think I can; but I don’t know as ’ow you’d be satisfied
with the theory.”
“Certainly I shall. If a man like you, who knows the ani-
mals from experience, can’t hazard a good guess at any rate,
who is even to try?”
“Well then, sir, I accounts for it this way it seems to me
that ’ere wolf escaped —
simply because he wanted to get
;

out.”
From the hearty way that both Thomas and his wife
laughed at the joke I could see that it had done service be-
fore, and that the whole explanation was simply an elabo-
rate sell. I couldn’t cope in badinage with the worthy
Thomas, but I thought I knew a surer way to his heart, so I
said :

“Now, Mr. Bilder, we’ll consider that first half-sovereign

worked off, and this brother of his is waiting to be claimed
when you’ve told me what you think will happen.”
“Right y’are, sir,” he said briskly. “Ye’ll excoose me, I
know, for a-chaffin’ of ye, but the old woman here winked at
me, which was as much as telling me to go on.”
“Well, I never!” said the old lady.
“My opinion is this: that ’ere wolf is a-’idin’ of, some-
wheres. The gard’ner wot didn’t remember said he was
a-gallopin’ northward faster than a horse could go; but I
don’t believe him, for, yer see, sir, wolves don’t gallop no
wore nor dogs does, they not bein’ built that way. Wolves
 —
Letters, Etc. 141
is fine things in a story-book, and I dessa'y when they gets
in packs and does be chivyin’ somethin’ that’s more afeared
than they is they can make a devil of a noise and chop it up,
whatever it is. But, Lor' bless you, in real life a wolf is only
a low creature, not half so clever or bold as a good dog; and
not half a quarter so much fight in ’im. This one ain’t been
used to fightin’ or even to providin’ for hisself, and more like
he’s somewhere round the Park a-’idin’ an’ a-shiverin’ of,
and, if he thinks at all, wonderin’ where he is to get his
breakfast from or maybe he’s got down some area and is in
;

a coal-cellar. My eye, won’t some cook get a rum start when

she sees his green eyes a-shining at her out of the dark! If
he can’t get food he’s bound to look for it, and mayhap he
may chance to light on a butcher’s shop in time. If he
doesn’t, and some nursemaid goes a-walkin’ orf with a sol-
dier, leavin’ of the hinfant in the perambulator —
well then I
shouldn’t be surprised if the census is one babby the less.
That’s all.”
I was handing him the half-sovereign, when something
came bobbing up against the window, and Mr. Bilder’s face
doubled its natural length with surprise.
“God bless me!” he said. “If there ain’t old Bersicker
!”
come back by ’isself
He went
to the door and opened it a most unnecessary
;

proceeding it seemed to me. I have always thought that a

wild animal never looks so well as when some obstacle of
pronounced durability is between us; a personal experience
has intensified rather than diminished that idea.
After all, however, there is nothing like custom, for
neither Bilder nor his wife thought any more of the wolf
than I should of a dog. The animal itself was as peaceful
and well-behaved as that father of all picture-wolves Red —
Riding Hood’s quondam friend, whilst moving her confi-
dence in masquerade.
The whole scene was an unutterable mixture of comedy
and pathos. The wicked wolf that for half a day had par-
alysed London and set all the children in the town shivering
in their shoes, was there in a sort of penitent mood, and was
received and petted like a sort of vulpine prodigal son. Old
Bilder examined him all over with most tender solicitude,
and when he had finished with his penitent said :

“There, I knew the poor old chap would get into some
kind of trouble ; didn’t I say it all along? Here’s his head all
 !

142 Dracula

cut and of broken glass. ’E’s been a-gettin’ over some

full
bloomin’ wall or other. It’s a shyme that people are allowed
to top their walls with broken bottles. This ’ere’s what
comes of it. Come along, Bersicker.”
He took the wolf and locked him up in a cage, with a piece
of meat that satisfied, in quantity at any rate, the elementary
conditions of the fatted calf, and went off to report.
I came off, too, to report the only exclusive information
that is given to-day regarding the strange escapade at the
Zoo.
Dr. Seward's Diary.

1 7 September . — I was engaged after dinner in my study

posting up my
books, which, through press of other work
and the many visits to Lucy, had fallen sadly into arrear.
Suddenly the door was burst open, and in rushed my pa-
tient, with his face distorted with passion. I was thunder-
struck, for such a thing as a patient getting of his own ac-
cord into the Superintendent’s study is almost unknown.
Without an instant’s pause he made straight at me. He had
a dinner-knife in his hand, and, as I saw he was dangerous.
I tried to keep the table between us. He was too quick and
too strong for me, however; for before I could get my bal-
ance he had struck at me and cut my left wrist rather se-
verely. Before he could strike again, however, I got in my
right, and he was sprawling on his back on the floor. My
wrist bled freely, and quite a little pool trickled on to the
carpet. I saw that my friend was not intent on further ef~
fort, and occupied myself binding up my wrist, keeping a
wary eye on the prostrate figure all the time. When the at-
tendants rushed in, and we turned our attention to him, his
employment positively sickened me. He was lying on his
belly on the floor licking up, like a dog, the blood which had
fallen from my wounded wrist. He was easily secured, and,
to my surprise, went with the attendants quite placidly, sim-
ply repeating over an(J over again “The blood is the life
:

!”
the blood is the life
I cannot afford to lose blood just at present: I have lost
too much of late for my physical good, and then the pro-
longed strain of Lucy’s illness and its horrible phases is tell-
ing on me. I am over-excited and weary, and I need rest,
rest, rest. Happily Van Helsing has not summoned me, so
I need not forego mv sleep; to-night I could not well do
without it.
 Letters, Etc. 143
Telegram , Van Helsing Antwerp
, ,
to Seward, Carfax.

( Sent to Carfax, Sussex, as no county given ;

delivered late
by twenty-two hours*)

—
“17 September. Do not fail to be at Hillingham to-night.
If not watching all the time, frequently visit and see that
flowers are as placed very important do not fail. Shall be
; ;

with you as soon as possible after arrival.”

Dr. Seward's Diary.

18 September. —Just off for train to London. The arrival

of Van Helsing’s telegram filled me with dismay. whole A
night lost, and I know by bitter experience what may happen
in a night. Of course it is possible that all may be well, but
what may have happened? Surely there is some horrible
doom hanging over us that every possible accident should
thwart us in all we try to do. I shall take this cylinder with
me, and then I can complete my entry on Lucy’s phono-
graph.
Memorandum left by Lucy JVestenra.
17 September. Night. —
I write this and leave it to be
seen, so that no one may by any chance get into trouble
through me. This is an exact record of what took place to-
night. I feel I am dying of weakness, and have barely
strength to write, but it must be done if I die in the doing.
I went to bed as usual, taking care that the flowers were
placed as Dr. Van Helsing directed, and soon fell asleep.
I was waked by the flapping at the window, which had
begun after that sleep-walking on the cliff at Whitby when
Mina saved me, and which now I know so well. I was not
afraid, but I did wish that Dr. Seward was in the next room
— as Dr. Van Helsing said he would be —
so that I might
have called him. I tried to go to sleep, but could not. Then
there came to me the old fear of sleep, and I determined to
keep awake. Perversely sleep would try to come then when
I did not want it; so, as I feared to be alone, I opened my
door and called out “Is there anybody there ?” There was
:

no answer. I was afraid to wake mother, and so closed my

door again. Then outside in the shrubbery I heard a sort of
howl like a dog’s, but more fierce and deeper. I weqt to the
window and looked out, but could see nothing, except a big
 —
i 44 Dracula

bat, which had evidently been buffeting its wings against

the window. So I went back to bed again, but determined
not to go to sleep. Presently the door opened, and mother
looked in seeing by my moving that I was not asleep, came
;

in, and sat by me. She said to me even more sweetly and
softly than her wont :

“I was uneasy about you, darling, and came in to see that

you were all right”
I feared she might catch cold sitting there, and asked her
to come in and sleep with me, so she came into bed, and lay
down beside me she did not take off her dressing gown, for
;

she said she would only stay a while and then go back to her
own bed. As she lay there in my arms, and I in hers, the
flapping and buffeting came to the window again. She was
startled and a little frightened, and cried out: “What is
that?” I tried to pacify her, and at last succeeded, and she
lay quiet but I could hear her poor dear heart still beating
;

terribly. After a while there was the low howl again out in
the shrubbery, and shortly after there was a crash at the
window, and a lot of broken glass was hurled on the floor.
The window blind blew back with the wind that rushed in,
and in the aperture of the broken panes there was the head
of a great, gaunt grey wolf. Mother cried out in a fright,
and struggled up into a sitting posture, and clutched wildly
at anything that would help her. Amongst other things, she
clutched the wreath of flowers that Dr. Van Helsing insisted
on my wearing round my neck, and tore it away from me.
For a second or two she sat up, pointing at the wolf, and
there was a strange and horrible gurgling in her throat then ;

she fell over, as if struck with lightning, and her head hit
my forehead and made me dizzy for a moment or two. The
room and all round seemed to spin round. I kept my eyes
fixed on the window, but the wolf drew his head back, and
a whole myriad of little specks seemed to come blowing in
through the broken window, and wheeling and circling
round like the pillar of dust that travellers describe when
there a simoom in the desert. I tried to stir, but there
is
was some spell upon me, and dear mother’s poor body, which
—
seemed to grow cold already for her dear heart had ceased
to beat —weighed me down ; and I remembered no more for
a while.
The time did not seem long, but very, very awful, till I
recovered consciousness again. Somewhere near, a passing
 !

Letters, Etc. 145

bell was
tolling; the dogs all round the neighborhood were
howling; and in our shrubbery, seemingly just outside, a
nightingale was I was dazed and stupid with pain
singing.
and terror and weakness, but the sound of the nightingale
seemed like the voice of my dead mother come back to com-
fort me. The sounds seemed to have awakened the maids,
too, for I could hear their bare feet pattering outsidemy
door.
I called to them, and they came in, and when they saw what
had happened, and what it was that lay over me on the bed,
they screamed out. The wind rushed in through the broken
window, and the door slammed to. They lifted off the body
of my dear mother, and laid her, covered up with a sheet, on
the bed after I had got up. They were all so frightened and
nervous that I directed them to go to the dining-room and
have each a glass of wine. The door flew open for an instant
and closed again. The maids shrieked, and then went in
a body to the dining-room and I laid what flowers I had on
;

my dear mother’s breast. When they were there I remem-

bered what Dr. Van Helsing had told me, but I didn’t like to
remove them, and, besides, I would have some of the ser-
vants to sit up with me now. I was surprised that the maids
did not come back. I called them, but got no answer, so I
went to the dining-room to look for them.
My heart sank when I saw what had happened. They all
four lay helpless on the floor, breathing heavily. The de-
canter of sherry was on the table half full, but there was a
queer, acrid smell about. I was suspicious, and examined
the decanter. It smelt of laudanum, and looking on the
sideboard, I found that the bottle which mother’s doctor uses
—
for her oh did use
! —
was empty. What am I to do? what
am I to do ? Iam back in the room with mother. I cannot
leave her, and I am alone, save for the sleeping servants,
whom some one has drugged. Alone with the dead I dare !

not go out, for I can hear the low howl of the wolf through
the broken window.
The air seems full of specks, floating and circling in the
draught from the window, and the lights burn blue and
dim. What am I to do? God shield me from harm this
night ! I shall hide this paper in my breast, where they shall
find it when they come to lay me out. My dear mother gone
It is time that I go too. Good-bye, dear Arthur, if I should
not survive this night. God keep you, dear, and God help
me!
lie)
 — —

CHAPTER XII

dr. seward's diary

18 September . — drove at once to Hillingham and arrived

I
early. Keeping my cab at the gate, I went up the avenue
alone. I knocked gently and rang as quietly as possible, for
I feared to disturb Lucy or her mother, and hoped to only
bring a servant to the door. After a while, finding no re-
sponse, I knocked and rang again still no answer.
; I cursed

the laziness of the servants that they should lie abed at such
—
an hour for it was now ten o'clock and so rang and —
knocked again, but more impatiently, but still without re-
sponse. Hitherto I had blamed only the servants, but now a
terrible fear began to assail me. Was this desolation but
another link in the chain of doom which seemed drawing
tight around us? Was it indeed a house of death to which I
had come, too late? I knew that minutes, even seconds, of
delay might mean hours of danger to Lucy, if she had had
again one of those frightful relapses and I went round the
;

house to try if I could find by chance an entry anywhere.

I could find no means of ingress. Every window and door
was fastened and locked, and I returned baffled to the porch.
As I did so, I heard the rapid pit-pat of a swiftly driven
horse’s feet. They stopped at the gate, and a few seconds
later I met Van Helsing running up the avenue. When he
saw me, he gasped out :

“Then it was you, and just arrived. How is she? Are

we too late? Did you not get my telegram?”
I answered as quickly and coherently as I could that I had
only got his telegram early in the morning and had not lost a
minute in coming here, and that I could not make any one in
the house hear me. He paused and raised his hat as he said
solemnly :

“Then I fear we are too late. God’s will be done !” With

his usual recuperative energy, he went on “Come. If there
:

be no way open to get in, we must make one. Time is all in

all to us now.”
We went round to the back of the house, where there was
a kitchen window. The Professor took a small surgical saw
146
 — — :

Dr. Seward's Diary 147

from his case, and handing it to me, pointed to the iron bars
which guarded the window. I attacked them at once and
had very soon cut through three of them. Then with a long,
thin knife we pushed back the fastening of the sashes and
opened the window. I helped the Professor in, and followed
him. There was no one in the kitchen or in the servants*
rooms, which were close at hand. We tried all the rooms as
we went along, and in the dining-room, dimly lit by rays
of light through the shutters, found four servant-women ly-
ing on the floor. There was no need to think them dead, for
their stertorous breathing and the acrid smell of laudanum
in the room left no doubt as to their condition. Van Helsing
and I looked at each other, and as we moved away he said
“We can attend to them later.” Then we ascended to Lucy’s
room. For an instant or two we paused at the door to listen,
but there was no sound that we could hear. With white
faces and trembling hands, we opened the door gently, and
entered the room.
How shall I describe what we saw? On the bed lay two
women, Lucy and her mother. The latter lay farthest in,
and she was covered with a white sheet, the edge of which
had been blown back by the draught through the broken win-
dow, showing the drawn, white face, with a look of terror
fixed upon it. By her side lay Lucy, with face white and still
more drawn. The flowers which had been round her neck
we found upon her mother’s bosom, and her throat was bare,
showing the two little wounds which we had noticed before,
but looking horribly white and mangled. Without a word
the Professor bent over the bed, his head almost touching
poor Lucy’s breast then he gave a quick turn of his head, as
;

of one who listens, and leaping to his feet, he cried out to

me :

“It is not yet too late! Quick! quick! Bring the

!”
brandy
I and returned with it, taking care to smell
flew downstairs
and taste it, lest it, too, were drugged like the decanter of
sherry which I found on the table. The maids were still
breathing, but more restlessly, and I fancied that the narcotic
was wearing off. I did not stay to make sure, but returned
to Van Helsing. He rubbed the brandy, as on another oc-
casion, on her lips and gums and on her wrists and the palms
of her hands. He said to me :

“I can do this, all that can be at the present. You go wake

 — —
148 Dracula

those maids. Flick them in the face with a wet towel, and
flick them hard. Make them get heat and fire and a warm
bath. This poor soul is nearly as cold as that beside her.
She will need be heated before we can do anything more.”
I went at once, and found little difficulty in waking three
of the women. The fourth was only a young girl, and the
drug had evidently affected her more strongly, so I lifted her
on the sofa and let her sleep. The others were dazed at first,
but as remembrance came back to them they cried and sobbed
in a hysterical manner. I was stern with them, however,
and would not let them talk. I told them that one life was
bad enough to lose, and that if they delayed they would sac-
rifice Miss Lucy. So, sobbing and crying, they went about
their way, half clad as they were, and prepared fire and
water. Fortunately, the kitchen and boiler fires were still
alive, and there was no lack of hot water. We
got a bath,
and carried Lucy out as she was and placed her in it. Whilst
we were busy chafing her limbs there was a knock at the hall-
door. One of the maids ran off, hurried on some more
clothes, and opened it. Then she returned and whispered to
us that there was a gentleman who had come with a message
from Mr. Holmwood. I bade her simply tell him that he
must wait, for we could see no one now. She went away
with the message, and, engrossed with our work, I clean for-
got about him.
all
I never saw in all my experience the Professor work in
— —
such deadly earnest. I knew as he knew that it was a
stand-up fight with death, and in a pause told him so. He
answered me in a way that I did not understand, but with the
sternest look that his face could wear :

“If that were all, I would stop here where we are now,
and let her fade away into peace, for I see no light in lif*
over her horizon.” He went on with his work with, if pos-
sible,renewed and more frenzied vigour.
Presently we both began to be conscious that the heat was
beginning to be of some effect. Lucy’s heart beat a trifle
more audibly to the stethoscope, and her lungs had a per-
ceptible movement. Van Helsing’s face almost beamed, and
as we lifted her from the bath and rolled her in a hot sheet
to dry her he said to me :

“The first gain is ours Check to the King !”

!

We took Lucy into another room, which had by now been

prepared, and laid her in bed and forced a few drops of
 — —— —
Dr. Seward’s Diary 149
brandy down her throat. noticed that Van Helsing tied a
I
soft silk handkerchief round her throat. She was still un-
conscious, and was quite as bad as, if not worse than, we had
ever seen her.
Van Helsing called in one of the women, and told her to
stay with her and not to take her eyes off her till we returned,
and then beckoned me out of the room.
“We must consult as to what is to be done,” he said as
we descended the stairs. In the hall he opened the dining-
room door, and we passed in, he closing the door carefully
behind him. The shutters had been opened, but the blinds
were already down, with that obedience to the etiquette of
death which the British woman of the lower classes always
rigidly observes. The room was, therefore, dimly dark. It
was, however, light enough for our purposes. Van Helsing’s
sternness was somewhat relieved by a look of perplexity.
He was evidently torturing his mind about something, so I
waited for an instant, and he spoke :

“What are we to do now ? Where are we to turn for help ?

We must have another transfusion of blood, and that soon,
or that poor girl’s life won’t be worth an hour’s purchase.
You are exhausted already; I am exhausted too. I fear to
trust those women, even if they would have courage to sub-
mit. What are we to do for some one who will open his
veins for her?”
“What’s the matter with me, anyhow ?”
The voice came from the sofa across the room, and its
tones brought relief and joy to my heart, for they were those
of Quincey Morris. Van Helsing started angrily at the first
sound, but his face softened and a glad look came into his
eyes as I cried out “Quincey Morris !” and rushed towards
:

him with outstretched hands.

“What brought you here ?” I cried as our hands met.
“I guess Art is the cause.”
He handed me a telegram :

“Have not heard from Seward for three days, and am ter-
ribly anxious. Cannot leave. Father still in same condi-
tion. Send me word how Lucy is. Do not delay. Holm-
wood.”
“I think I came just in the nick of time. You know you
have only to tell me what to do.”
Van Helsing strode forward and took his hand, looking
him straight in the eyes as he said :
 —
150 Dracula

'‘A brave man’s blood is the best thing on this earth when
e woman is in trouble. You’re a man and no mistake. Well,
the devil may work against us for all he’s worth, but God
sends usmen when we want them.”
Once again we went through that ghastly operation. I
have not the heart to go through with the details. Lucy had
got a terrible shock and it told on her more than before, for
though plenty of blood went into her veins, her body did not
respond to the treatment as well as on the other occasions.
Her struggle back into life was something frightful to see
and hear. However, the action of both heart and lungs im-
proved, and Van Helsing made a subcutaneous injection of
morphia, as before, and with good effect. Her faint became
a profound slumber. The Professor watched whilst I went
downstairs with Quincey Morris, and sent one of the maids
to pay off one of the cabmen who were waiting. I left Quin-
cey lying down after having a glass of wine, and told the
cook to get ready a good breakfast. Then a thought struck
me, and I went back to the room where Lucy now was.
When I came softly in, I found Van Helsing with a sheet or
two of note-paper in his hand. He had evidently read it, and
was thinking it over as he sat with his hand to his brow.
There was a look of grim satisfaction in his face, as of one
who has had a doubt solved. He handed me the paper say-
ing only “It dropped from Lucy’s breast when we carried
:

her to the bath.”

When I had read it, I stood looking at the Professor, and
after a pause asked him : “In God’s name, what does it all
mean ? Was she, or is she, mad or what sort of horrible
;

danger is it ? I was so bewildered that I did not know what

to say more. Van Helsing put out his hand and took the
paper, saying:
“Do not trouble about it now. Forget it for the present.
You shall know and understand it all in good time but it
;

will be later. And now what is it that you came to me to

say?” This brought me back to fact, and I was all myself
again.
“I came to speak about the certificate of death. If we do
not act properly and wisely, there may be an inquest, and that
paper would have to be produced. I am in hopes that we
need have no inquest, for if we had it would surely kill poor
Lucy, nothing else did. I know, and you know, and the
if
other doctor who attended her knows, that Mrs. Westenra
 — —— !•

Dr. Seward’s Diary 151

had disease of the heait, and we can certify that she died of
it. Let us fill up the certificate at once, and I shall take it
myself to the registrar and go on to the undertaker.”
“Good, oh my friend John! Well thought of! Truly
Miss Lucy, if she be sad in the foes that beset her, is at least
happy in the friends that love her. One, two, three, all open
their veins for her, besides one old man. Ah yes, I know,
friend John I am not blind
;
I love you all the more for it
!

Now go.”
In the hall I met Quincey Morris, with a telegram for Ar-
thur telling him that Mrs. Westenra was dead; that Lucy
also had been ill, but was now going on better; and that Van
Helsing and I were with her. I told him where I was going,
and he hurried me out, but as I was going said :

“When you come back, Jack, may I have two words with
you all to ourselves?” I nodded in reply and went out. I
found no difficulty about the registration, and arranged with
the local undertaker to come up in the evening to measure
for the coffin and to make arrangements.
When I got back Quincey was waiting for me. I told him
I would him as soon as I knew about Lucy, and went up
see
to her room. She was still sleeping, and the Professor seem-
ingly had not moved from his seat at her side. From his
putting his finger to his lips, I gathered that he expected her
to wake before long and was afraid of forestalling nature.
So I went down to Quincey and took him into the breakfast-
room, where the blinds were not drawn down, and which was
a little more cheerful, or rather less cheerless, than the other
rooms. When we were alone, he said to me :

“Jack Seward, I don’t want to shove myself in anywhere

where I’ve no right to be but this is no ordinary case. You
;

know I loved that girl and wanted to marry her; but, al-
though that’s all past and gone, I can’t help feeling anxious
about her all the same. What is it that’s wrong with her?
—
The Dutchman and a fine old fellow he is I can see that ;
—
said, that time you two came into the room, that you must
have another transfusion of blood, and that both you and he
were exhausted. Now I know well that you medical men
speak in camera, and that a man must not expect to know
what they consult about in private. But this is no common
matter, and, whatever it is, I have done my part. Is not
that so ?”
'That’s so,” I said, and he went on :
 152 Dracula

“I take it that both you and Van Helsing had done al-
ready what I did to-day. Is not that so?”
“That’s so.”
“And I guess Art was in it too. When I saw him four
days ago down at his own place he looked queer. I have not
seen anything pulled down so quick since I was on the Pam-
pas and had a mare that I was fond of go to grass all in a
night. One of those big bats that they call vampires had got
at her in the night, and, what with his gorge and the vein left
open, there wasn’t enough blood in her to let her stand up,
and I had to put a bullet through her as she lay. Jack, if
you may tell me without betraying confidence, Arthur was
the first is not that so ?” As he spoke the poor fellow looked
;

terribly anxious. He was in a torture of suspense regarding

the woman he loved, and his utter ignorance of the terrible
mystery which seemed to surround her intensified his pain.
His very heart was bleeding, and it took all the manhood
—
of him and there was a royal lot of it, too to keep him —
from breaking down. I paused before answering, for I felt
that I must not betray anything which the Professor wished
kept secret but already he knew so much, and guessed so
;

much, that there could be no reason for not answering, so I

answered in the same phrase: “That’s so.”
“And how long has this been going on?”
^
“About ten days.”
'
“Ten days! Then guess, Jack Seward, that that pool
I
pretty creature that we all love has had put into her veins
within that time the blood of four strong men. Man alive,
her whole body wouldn’t hold it.” Then, coming close tc
me, he spoke in a fierce half- whisper “What took it out?”
:

I shook my head. “That,” I said, “is the crux. Van

Helsing is simply frantic about it, and I am at my wits’ end.
I can’t even hazard a guess. There has been a series of little
circumstances which have thrown out all our calculations as
to Lucy being properly watched. But these shall not occur
again. Here we stay until all be well or ill.” Quincey —
held out his hand. “Count me in,” he said. “You and the
Dutchman will tell me what to do, and do it.”
I’ll
When she woke late in the afternoon, Lucy’s first move-
ment was to feel in her breast, and, to my surprise, produced
the paper which Van Helsing had given me to read. The
careful Professor had replaced it where it had come from,
test on waking she should be alarmed. Her eye then lit on
 - ;

Dr. Seward’s Diary 153

Van Helsing and on me too, and gladdened. Then she
looked around the room, and seeing where she was, shud-
dered she gave a loud cry, and put her poor thin hands be-
;

fore her pale face. We both understood what that meant —

that she had realised to the full her mother’s death; so we
tried what we could to comfort her. Doubtless sympathy
eased her somewhat, but she was very low in thought and
spirit, and wept silently and weakly for a long time. We
told her that either or both of us would now remain with her
all the time, and that seemed to comfort her. Towards dusk
she fell into a doze. Here a very odd thing occurred.
Whilst still asleep she took the paper from her breast and
tore it in two. Van Helsing stepped over and took the
pieces from her. All the same, however, she went on with
the action of tearing, as though the material were still in her
hands; finally she lifted her hands and opened them as
though scattering the fragments. Van Helsing seemed sur-
prised, and his brows gathered as if in thought, but he said
nothing.

19 'September . —
All last night she slept fitfully, being
always afraid to sleep, and something weaker when she woke
from it. The Professor and I took it in turns to watch, and
we never left her for a moment unattended. Quincey Mor-
ris said nothing about his intention, but I knew that all night
long he patrolled round and round the house.
When the day came, its searching light showed the rav-
ages in poor Lucy’s strength. She was hardly able to turn
her head, and the little nourishment which she could take
seemed to do her no good. At times she slept, and both Van
Helsing and I noticed the difference in her, between sleeping
and waking. Whilst asleep she looked stronger, although
more haggard, and her breathing was softer; her open
mouth showed the pale gums drawn back from the teeth,
which thus looked positively longer and sharper than usual
when she woke the softness of her eyes evidently changed
the expression, for she looked her own self, although a dying
one. In the afternoon she asked for Arthur, and we tele-
graphed for him. Quincey went off to meet him at the sta-
tion.
When he arrived was nearly six o’clock, and the sun was
it

setting full and warm, and the red light streamed in through
the window and gave more colour to the pale cheeks. When
 — — ;

154 Dracula

he saw her, Arthur was simply choking with emotion, and

none of us could speak. In the hours that had passed, the fits
of sleep, or the comatose condition that passed for it, had
grown more frequent, so that the pauses when conversation
was possible were shortened. Arthur’s presence, however,
seemed to act as a stimulant she rallied a little, and spoke
;

to him more brightly than she had done since we arrived.

He too pulled himself together, and spoke as cheerily as he
could, so that the bestwas made of everything.
It was now nearly one o’clock, and he and Van Helsing are
sitting with her. I am to relieve them in a quarter of an
hour, and I am entering this on Lucy’s phonograph. Until
six o’clock they are to try to rest. I fear that to-morrow
willend our watching, for the shock has been too great ; the
poor child cannot rally. God help us all.

Letter, Mina Harker to Lucy Westenra.

(Unopened by her.)
“17 September .

“My dearest Lucy,

“It seems an age since I heard from you, or indeed since I
wrote. You will pardon me, I know, for all my faults when
you have read all my budget of news. Well, I got my hus-
band back all right when we arrived at Exeter there was a
;

carriage waiting for us, and in it, though he had an attack of

gout, Mr* Hawkins. He took us to his house, where there
were rooms for us all nice and comfortable, and we dined
together. After dinner Mr. Hawkins said :

“
My dears, I want to drink your health and prosperity
‘

and may every blessing attend you both. I know you both
from children, and have, with love and pride, seen you grow
up. Now I want you to make your home here with me. I
have left to me neither chick nor child all are gone, and in
;

my will I have left you everything.’ I cried, Lucy dear, as

Jonathan and the old man clasped hands. Our evening was
a very, very happy one.
“So here we are, installed in this beautiful old house, and
from both my bedroom and the drawing-room I can see the
great elms of the cathedral close, with their great black stems
standing our against the old yellow stone of the cathedral
and I can hear the rooks overhead cawing and cawing and
 —
Dr. Seward’s Diary 155
chattering and gossiping all day, after the manner of rooks
— and humans. I am busy, I need not tell you, arranging
things and housekeeping. Jonathan and Mr. Hawkins are
busy all day for, now that Jonathan is a partner, Mr. Haw-
;

kins wants to tell him all about the clients.

“How is your dear mother getting on? I wish I could
run up to town for a day or two to see you, dear, but I dare
not go yet, with so much on my shoulders; and Jonathan
wants looking after still. He is beginning to put some flesh
on his bones again, but he was terribly weakened by the long
illness; even now he sometimes starts out of his sleep in a
sudden way and awakes all trembling until I can coax him
back to his usual placidity. However, thank God, these oc-
casions grow less frequent as the days go on, and they will in
time pass away altogether, I trust And now I have told you
my news, let me ask yours. When are you to be married,
and where, and who is to perform the ceremony, and what
are you to wear, and is it to be a public or a private wedding ?
Tell me all about it, dear; tell me all about everything, for
there is nothing which interests you which will not be dear to
me. Jonathan asks me to send his ‘respectful duty/ but I
do not think good enough from the junior partner of
that is
the important firm Hawkins & Harker and so, as you love
;

me, and he loves me, and I love you with all the moods and
tenses of the verb, I send you simply his ‘love’ instead.
Good-bye, my dearest Lucy, and all blessings on you.
“Yours,
“Mina Harker."

Report from Patrick Hennessey, M. D., M* R. C. S. L. K.

Q C. P. I., etc., etc., to John Seward, M. D.
.

“20 September.
“My dear Sir,
“In accordance with your wishes, I enclose report of the
conditions of everything left in my charge With re-
gard to patient, Renfield, there is more to say. He has had
anothei outbreak which might have had a dreadful ending,
but which, as it fortunately happened, was unattended with
any unhappy results. This afternoon a carrier’s cart with
two men made a call at the empty house whose grounds abut
—
on ours the house to which, you will remember, the patient
156 Dracula

twice ran away. The men stopped at our gate to ask the
porter their way, as they were strangers. I was myself look-
ing out of the study window, having a smoke after dinner,
and saw one of them come up to the house. As he passed
the window of Renfield’s room, the patient began to rate him
from within, and called him all the foul names he could lay
his tongue to. The man, who seemed a decent fellow
enough, contented himself by telling him to “shut up for a
foul-mouthed beggar,” whereon our man accused him of
robbing him and wanting to murder him and said that he
would hinder him if he were to swing for it. I opened the
window and signed to the man not to notice, so he contented
himself after looking the place over and making up his mind
as to what kind of a place he had got to by saying: ‘Lor'
bless yer, sir, I wouldn’t mind what was said to me in a
bloomin’ madhouse. I pity ye and the guv’nor for havin’ to
live in the house with a wild beast like that.’ Then he asked
his way civilly enough, and I told him where the gate of the
empty house was; he went away, followed by threats and
curses and revilings from our man. I went down to see if I
could make out any cause for his anger, since he is usually
such a well-behaved man, and except his violent fits nothing
of the kind had ever occurred. I found him, to my astonish-
ment, quite composed and most genial in his manner. I
tried to get him to talk of the incident, but he blandly asked
me questions as to what I meant, and led me to believe that
he was completely oblivious of the affair. It was, I am
sorry to say, however, only another instance of his cunning,
for within half an hour I heard of him again. This time he
had broken out through the window of his room, and was
running down the avenue. I called to the attendants to
follow me, and ran after him, for I feared he was intent on
some mischief. My fear was justified when I saw the same
cart which had passed before coming down the road, having
on it some great wooden boxes. The men were wiping their
foreheads, and were flushed in the face, as if with violent
exercise. Before I could get up to him the patient rushed at
them, and pulling one of them off the cart, began to knock
his head against the ground. If I had not seized him
just at the moment I believe he would have killed the man
there and then. The other fellow jumped down and struck
him over the head with the butt-end of his heavy whip. It
was a terrible blow: but he did not seem to rnind it, but
 :

Dr. Seward’s Diary 157

seized him and struggled with the three of us, pulling
also,
us to and fro as if we were kittens. You know I am no light
weight, and the others were both burly men. At first he was
silent in his fighting but as we began to master him, and the
;

attendants were putting a strait-waistcoat on him, he began

to shout Til frustrate them
: !They shan’t rob me tl ey
!

shan’t murder me by inches! I’ll fight for my Lord and

Master !’
and all sorts of similar incoherent ravings. It was
with very considerable difficulty that they got him back to
the house and putJiim in the padded room. One of the at-
tendants, Hardy, had a finger broken. However, I set it all
right and he is going on well.
;

“The two carriers were at first loud in their threats of ac*

lions for damages, and promised to rain all the penalties of
the law on us. Their threats were, however, mingled with
some sort of indirect apology for the defeat of the two of
them by a feeble madman. They said that if it had not been
for the way their strength had been spent in carrying and
raising the heavy boxes to the cart they would have made
short work of him. They gave as another reason for their
defeat the extraordinary state of drouth to which they had
been reduced by the dusty nature of their occupation and the
reprehensible distance from the scene of their labours of any
place of public entertainment. I quite understood their drift,
and after a stiff glass of grog, or rather more of the same,
and with each a sovereign in hand, they made light of the
attack, and swore that they would encounter a worse mad-
man any day for the pleasure of meeting so ‘bloomin’ good a
bloke’ as your correspondent. I took their names and ad-
dresses, in case they might be needed. They are as follows
— Jack Smollet, of Dudding’s Rents, King George’s Road,
Great Walworth, and Thomas Snelling, Peter Farley’s Row,
Guide Court, Bethnal Green. They are both in the employ-
ment of Harris & Sons, Moving and Shipment Company,
Orange Master’s Yard, Soho.
“I shall report to you any matter of interest occurring
here, and shall wire you at once if there is anything of im-
portance.
“Believe me, dear Sir,
“Yours faithfully,
“Patrick Hennessey.”
 —
158 Dracula

Letter, Mina Harker to Lucy W estenr a.

(Unopened by her.)
"18 September .

“My dearest Lucy,

“Such a sad blow has befallen us. Mr. Hawkins has died
very suddenly. Some may not think it so sad for us, but
we had both come to so love him that it really seems as
though we had lost a father. I never knew either father or
mother, so that the dear old man’s death is a real blow to me.
Jonathan is greatly distressed. It is not only that he feels
sorrow, deep sorrow, for the dear, good man who has be-
friended him all his life, and now at the end has treated
him like his own son and left him a fortune which to people
of our modest bringing up is wealth beyond the dream of
avarice, but Jonathan feels it on another account. He says
the responsibility which it puts upon him makes
amount of
him nervous. He begins to doubt himself. I try to cheer
him up, and my belief in him helps him to have a belief in
himself. But it is here that the grave shock that he experi-
enced tells upon him the most. Oh,
too hard that a
it is
sweet, simple, noble, strong nature such as his a nature —
which enabled him by our dear, good friend’s aid to rise from
clerk to master in a few years —
should be so injured that the
very essence of its strength is gone. Forgive me, dear, if I
worry you with my troubles in the midst of your own happi-
ness but, Lucy dear, I must tell some one, for the strain of
;

keeping up a brave and cheerful appearance to Jonathan tries

me, and I have no one here that I can confide in. I dread
coming up to London, as we must do the day after to-mor-
row ;
for poor Mr. Hawkins left in his will that he was to be
buried in the grave with his father. As there are no rela-
tions at all, Jonathan will have to be chief mourner. I shall
try to run over to see you, dearest, if only for a few minutes.
Forgive me for troubling you. With all blessings,
“Your loving
“Mina Harker."

Dr. Seward's Diary.

20 September .
—
Only resolution and habit can let me
make an entry to-night. I am too miserable, too low-spir-
ited, too sick of the world and all in it, including b/e itself
 Dr. Seward’s Diary 159
that I would not care if I heard this moment the flapping of
the wings of the angel of death. And he has been flapping
—
those grim wings to some purpose of late Lucy’s mother
and Arthur’s father, and now . . Let me get on with
..

my work.
I duly relieved Van Helsing in his watch over Lucy. We
wanted Arthur to go to rest also, but he refused at first. It
was only when I told him that we should want him to help us
during the day, and that we must not all break down for
want of rest, lest Lucy should suffer, that he agreed to go.
Van Helsing was very kind to him. “Come, my child,” he
said “come with me.
; You are sick and weak, and have had
much sorrow and much mental pain, as well as that tax on
your strength that we know of. You must not be alone;
for to be alone is to be full of fears and alarms. Come to the
drawing-room, where there is a big fire, and there are two
sofas. You shall lie on one, and I on the other, and our
sympathy will be comfort to each other, even though we do
not speak, and even if we sleep.” Arthur went off with
him, casting back a longing look on Lucy’s face, which lay
on her pillow, almost whiter than the lawn. She lay quite
still, and I looked round the room to see that all was as it

should be. I could see that the Professor had carried out in
this room, as in the other, his purpose of using the garlic;
the whole of the window-sashes reeked with it, and round
Lucy’s neck, over the silk handkerchief which Van Helsing
made her keep on, was a rough chaplet of the same odorous
flowers. Lucy was breathing somewhat stertorously, and
her face was at its worst, for the open mouth showed the
pale gums. Her teeth, in the dim, uncertain light, seemed
longer and sharper than they had been in the morning. In
particular, by some trick of the light, the canine teeth looked
longer and sharper than the rest. I sat down by her, and
presently she moved uneasily. At the same moment there
came a sort of dull flapping or buffeting at the window. I
went over to it softly, and peeped out by the corner of the
blind. There was a full moonlight, and I could see that the
—
noise was made by a great bat, which wheeled round doubt-
less attracted by the light, although so dim—and every now
and again struck the window with its wings. When I came
back to my seat I found that Lucy had moved slightly, and
had torn away the garlic flowers from her throat. I replaced
them as well as I could, and sat watching her.
 —
r6o Dracula

Presently she woke, and I gave her food, as Van Helsing

had prescribed. She took but a little, and that languidly.
There did not seem to be with her now the unconscious
struggle for life and strength that had hitherto so marked
her illness. It struck me as curious that the moment she
became conscious she pressed the garlic flowers close to her.
It was certainly odd that whenever she got into that lethargic
state, with the stertorous breathing, she put the flowers from
her; but that when she waked she clutched them close.
There was no possibility of making any mistake about this,
for in the long hours that followed, she had many spells of
sleeping and waking and repeated both actions many times.
At six o’clock Van Helsing came to relieve me. Arthur
had then fallen into a doze, and he mercifully let him sleep
on. When he saw Lucy’s face I could hear the hissing in-
draw of his breath, and he said to me in a sharp whisper:
“Draw up the blind; I want light!” Then he bent down,
and, with his face almost touching Lucy’s, examined her
carefully. He
removed the flowers and lifted the silk hand'
kerchief from her throat. As he did so he started back, and
I could hear his ejaculation, “Mein Gott !” as it was smoth-
ered in his throat. I bent over and looked too, and as I no-
ticed some queer chill came over me.
The wounds on the throat had absolutely disappeared.
For fully five minutes Van Helsing stood looking at her,
with his face at its sternest. Then he turned to me and said
calmly :

“She is dying. It will not be long now. It will be much

difference, mark me, whether she dies conscious or in her
sleep. Wake that poor boy, and let him come and see the
last ;
and we have promised him.”
he trusts us,
I went to the dining-room and waked him. He was dazed
for a moment, but when he saw the sunlight streaming in
through the edges of the shutters he thought he was late,
and expressed his fear. I assured him that Lucy was still
asleep, but told him as gently as I could that both Van Hel-
sing and I feared that the end was near. He covered his
face with his hands, and slid down on his knees by the sofa,
where he remained, perhaps a minute, with his head buried,
praying, whilst his shoulders shook with grief. I took him
by the hand and raised him up. “Come,” I said, “my dear
old fellow, summon all your fortitude; it will be best and
easiest for her"
 — — ;

Dr. Seward’s Diary l6i

When we came into Lucy’s room I could see that Van
Helsing had, with his usual forethought, been putting mat-
ters straight and making everything look as pleasing as
possible. He had even brushed Lucy’s hair, so that it lay on
the pillow in its usual sunny ripples. When we came into
the room she opened her eyes, and seeing him, whispered
softly :

“Arthur! Oh, my love, I am

you have cornel”
so glad
He was stooping to kiss her, when Van Helsing motioned
him back. “No,” he whispered, “not yet Hold her hand!

it will comfort her more.”

So Arthur took her hand and knelt beside her, and she
looked her best, with all the soft lines matching the angelic
beauty of her eyes. Then gradually her eyes closed, and she
sank to sleep. For a little bit her breast heaved softly, and
her breath came and went like a tired child’s.
And then insensibly there came the strange change which
I had noticed in the night. Her breathing grew stertorous,
the mouth opened, and the pale gums, drawn back, made the
teeth look longer and sharper than ever. In a sort of sleep-
waking, vague, unconscious way she opened her eyes, which
were now dull and hard at once, and said in a soft, voluptu-
ous voice, such as I had never heard from her lips :

“Arthur! Oh, my love, I am so glad you have come!”

Kiss me !” Arthur bent eagerly over to kiss her but at that ;

instant Van Helsing, who, like me, had been startled by her
voice, swooped upon him, and catching him by the neck with
both hands, dragged him back with a fury of strength which
I never thought he could have possessed, and actually hurled
him almost across the room.
“Not for your life !” he said “not for your living soul and
;

hers !” And he stood between them like a lion at bay.

Arthur was so taken aback that he did not for a moment
know what to do or say and before any impulse of violence
;

could seize him he realised the place and the occasion, and
stood silent, waiting.
I kept my eyes fixed on Lucy, as did Van Helsing, and we
saw a spasm as of rage flit like a shadow over her face the ;

sharp teeth champed together. Then her eyes closed, and

she breathed heavily.
Very shortly after she opened her eyes in all their softness,
and putting out her poor, pale, thin hand, took Van Helsing’s
#reat brown one ; drawing it to her, she kissed it. “My true
fn)
 — — —

i6z Dracula

friend,” she said, in a faint voice, W. with untellable pathos*

“My true friend, and his! Oh, guard him, and give me
!”
peace
“I swear it!” said he solemnly, kneeling beside her and
holding up his hand, as one who registers an oath. Then he
turned to Arthur, and said to him: “Come, my child, take
her hand in yours, and kiss her on the forehead, and only
©nee.”
Their eyes met instead of their lips and so they parted.
;

Lucy’s eyes closed; and Van Helsing, who had been

watching closely, took Arthur’s arm, and drew him away.
And then Lucy’s breathing became stertorous again, and
all at once it ceased.
!”
“It is all over,” said Van Helsing. “She is dead
I took Arthur by the arm, and led him away to the draw*
ing-room, where he sat down, and covered his face with hi&
hands, sobbing in a way that nearly broke me down to see.
I went back to the room, and found Van Helsing looking
at poor Lucy, and his face was sterner than ever. Some
change had come over her body. Death had given back part
of her beauty, for her brow and cheeks had recovered some
of their flowing lines; even the lips had lost their deadly
pallor. It was as if the blood, no longer needed for the
working of the heart, had gone to make the harshness of
death as little rude as might be.

“ We thought her dying whilst she slept,

And sleeping when she died.”

I stood beside Van

Helsing, and said :

“Ah well, poor girl, there is peace for her at last. It is tha
end!”
He turned to me, and said with grave solemnity :

“Not so; alas! not so. It is only the beginning!”

When I asked him what he meant, he only shook his head
*nd answered :

*‘We can do nothing as yet. Wait and see.”

 —— —

CHAPTER XIII

dr. seward's diary continued .

The funeral was arranged for the next succeeding day, so

that Lucy and her mother might be buried together. I at-
tended to all the ghastly formalities, and the urbane under-
—
taker proved that his staff were afflicted or ble^ed with —
something of his own obsequious suavity. Even the woman
who performed the last offices for the dead remarked to me,
in a confidential, brother-professional way, when she had
come out from the death-chamber :

“She makes a very beautiful corpse, sir. It’s quite a privi-

lege to attend on her. It’s not too much to say that she will
!”
do credit to our establishment
I noticed that Van Helsing never kept far away. This
was possible from the disordered state of things in the house-
hold. There were no relatives at hand and as Arthur had
;

to be back the next day to attend at his father’s funeral, we

were unable to notify any one who should have been bidden.
Under the circumstances, Van Helsing and I took it upon
ourselves to examine papers, etc. He insisted upon looking
over Lucy’s papers himself. I asked him why, for I feared
that he, being a foreigner, might not be quite aware of Eng-
lish legal requirements, and so might in ignorance make
some unnecessary trouble. He answered me :

“I know know. You forget that I

;
I am a
lawyer as well
as a doctor. But this is not altogether for the law. You
knew that, when you avoided the coroner. I have more than
him to avoid. There may be papers more such as this.” —
As he spoke he took from his pocket-book the memoran-
dum which had been in Lucy’s breast, and which she had
tom in her sleep.
“When you anything of the solicitor who is for the
find
late Mrs. Westenra, seal all her papers, and write him to-
night. For me, I watch here in the room and in Miss Lucy’s
old room all night, and I myself search for what may be. It
- is not well that her very thoughts go into the hands of
strangers.”
 — —
164 Dracula

I went on with my part of the work, and in another half*

hour had found the name and address of Mrs. Westenra’s
solicitor and had written to him. All the poor lady’s papers
were in order; explicit directions regarding the place of
burial were given. I had hardly sealed the letter, when, to
my surprise, Van Helsing walked into the room, saying:
“Can I help you, friend John? I am free, and if I may,
my service is to you.”
“Have you got what you looked for ?” I asked, to which he
replied :

“I did not look for any specific thing. I only hoped to

find, and find I have, all that there was —
only some letters
and a few memoranda, and a diary new begun. But I have
them here, and we shall for the present say nothing of them.
1 shall see that poor lad to-morrow evening, and, with his
sanction, I shall use some.”
When we had finished the work in hand, he said to me : —
“And now, friend John, I think we may to bed. want We
sleep, both you and I, and rest to recuperate. To-morrow
we shall have much to do, but for the to-night there is no
need of us. Alas!”
Before turning in we went to look at poor Lucy. The
undertaker had certainly done his work well, for the room
was turned into a small chapelle ardente. There was a wil-
derness of beautiful white flowers, and death was made as
little repulsive as might be. The end of the winding-sheet
was laid over the face; when the Professor bent over and
turned it gently back, we both started at the beauty before
us, the tall wax candles showing a sufficient light to note it
well. All Lucy’s loveliness had come back to her in
death, and the hours that had passed, instead of leaving
traces of “decay’s effacing fingers,” had but restored the
beauty of life, till positively I could not believe my eyes that
I was looking at a corpse.
The Professor looked sternly grave. He had not loved
her as I had, and there was no need for tears in his eyes. Pie
said to me “Remain till I return,” and left the room. He
:

came back with a handful of wild garlic from the box wait-
ing in the hall, but which had not been opened, and placed
the flowers amongst the others on and around the bed. Thep
he took from his neck, inside his collar, a little gold crucifix,
and placed it over the mouth. He restored the sheet to its
place, and we came away.
 — — ! —
Dr. Seward’s Diary 165
I was undressing in my own room, when, with a pre-
monitory tap at the door, lie entered, and at once began to
speak :

“To-morrow I want you to bring me, before night, a set of

post-mortem knives.”
“Must we make an autopsy?” I asked.
“Yes and no. I want to operate, but not as you think.
Let me tell you now, but not a word to another. I want to
cut off her head and take out her heart. Ah! you a sur-
geon, and so shocked! You, whom I have seen with no
tremble of hand or heart, do operations of life and death that
make the rest shudder. Oh, but I must not forget, my dear
friend John, that you loved her; and I have not forgotten it,
for it is I that shall operate, and you must only help. I would
like to do it to-night, but for Arthur I must not he will be ;

free after his father’s funeral to-morrow, and he will want to

—
see hex to see it. Then, when she is coffined ready for the
next day, you and I shall come when all sleep. We shall un-
screw the coffin-lid, and shall do our operation and then re- ;

place all, so that none know, save we alone.”

“But why do it at all? The girl is dead. Why mutilate
her poor body without need? And if there is no necessity
for a post-mortem and nothing to gain by it no good to —
her, to us, to science, to human knowledge why do it? —
Without such it is monstrous.”
For answer he put his hand on my shoulder, and said, with
infinitetenderness :

“Friend John, I pity your poor bleeding heart and I love ;

you the more because it does so bleed. If I could, I would

take on myself the burden that you do bear. But there are
things that you know not, but that you shall know, and bless
me for knowing, though they are not pleasant things. John,
my child, you have been my friend now many years, and yet
did you ever know me to do any without good cause? I may
err— I am but man but I believe in all I do.
;
Was it not for
these causes that you send for me when the great trouble
came? Yes! Were you not amazed, nay horrified, when I
—
would not let Arthur kiss his love though she was dying
and snatched him away by all my strength ? Yes! And yet
you saw how she thanked me, with her so beautiful dying
eyes, her voice, too, so weak, and she kiss my rough old hand
and bless me? Yes And did you not hear me swear prom-
!

ise to her, that so she closed her eyes grateful? Yes

 —
i66 Dracula

“Well, I have good reason now to do> Yo*

for all I want
have for many years trust me; you have believe me weeks
past, when there be things so strange that you might have
well doubt. Believe me yet a little, friend John. If you trust
me not, then I must tell what I think; and that is not per-
haps well. And if I work —as work
no matter trust
I shall,
—
or no trust without my friend trust in me, I work with
heavy heart and feel, oh so lonely when I want all help and
!

courage that may be!” He paused a moment and went on

solemnly: “Friend John, there are strange and terrible days
before us. Let us not be two, but one, that so we work to a
good end. Will you not have faith in me ?”
I took his hand, and promised him. I held my door open
as he went away, and watched him go into his room and
close the door. As I stood without moving, I saw one of the
—
maids pass silently along the passage she had her back to-
—
wards me, so did not see me and go into the room
where Lucy lay. The sight touched me. Devotion is so
rare, and we are so grateful to those who show it unasked
to those we love. Here was a poor girl putting aside the
terrors which she naturally had of death to go watch alone
by the bier of the mistress whom she loved, so that the poor
clay might not be lonely till laid to eternal rest

I must have and soundly, for it was broad day-

slept long
light when Van Helsing waked me by coming into my room.
He came over to my bedside and said :

“You need not trouble about the knives; we shall not

do it.”
“Why not?” I asked. For his solemnity of the night be-
fore had greatly impressed me.
“Because,” he said sternly, “it is too late or too early. —
See !” Here he held up the little golden crucifix. “This was
stolen in the night.”
“How, stolen,” I asked in wonder, “since you have it
now ?”
“Because I get it back from the worthless wretch who
stole it, from the woman who robbed the dead and the living.
Her punishment will surely come, but not through me she ;

knew not altogether what she did, and thus unknowing, she
only stole. Now we must wait.”
He went away on the word, leaving me with a new mys-
tery to think of, a new puzzle to grapple with.
 —
Dr. Seward’s Diary 167
The forenoon was a dreary time, but at noon the solicitor
came: Mr. Marquand, of Wholeman, Sons, Marquand &
Lidderdale. He was very genial and very appreciative of
what we had done, and took off our hands all cares as to de-
tails. During lunch he told us that Mrs. Westenra had for
some time expected sudden death from her heart, and had
put her affairs in absolute order he informed us that, with
;

the exception of a certain entailed property of Lucy’s fath-

er’s which now, in default of direct issue, went back to a
distant branch of the family, the whole estate, real and per-
sonal, was left absolutely to Arthur Holmwood. When he
had told us so much he went on :

“Frankly we did our best to prevent such a testamentary

disposition, and pointed out certain contingencies that might
leave her daughter either penniless or not so free as she
should be to act regarding a matrimonial alliance. Indeed,
we pressed the matter so far that we almost came into col-
lision, for she asked us if we were or were not prepared to
carry out her wishes. Of course, we had then no alternative
but to accept. We were right in principle, and ninety-nine
times out of a hundred we should have proved, by the logic
of events, the accuracy of our judgment. Frankly, however,
I must admit that in this case any other form of disposition
would have rendered impossible the carrying out of her
wishes. For by her predeceasing her daughter the latter
would have come into possession of the property, and, even
had she only survived her mother by five minutes, her prop-
erty would, in case there were no will —
and a will was a
practical impossibility in such a case —
have been treated at
her decease as under intestacy. In which case Lord Godai-
ming, though so dear a friend, would have had no claim in
the world; and the inheritors, being remote, would not be
likely to abandon their just rights, for sentimental reasons
regarding an entire stranger. I assure you, my dear sirs,
I am rejoiced at the result, perfectly rejoiced.”
He was a good fellow, but his rejoicing at the one little

— —
part in which he was officially interested of so great a
tragedy, was an object-lesson in the limitations of sympa-
thetic understanding.
He did not remain long, but said he would look in later
in theday and see Lord Godaiming. His coming, however,
had been a certain comfort to us, since it assured us that we
should not have to dread hostile criticism as to any of our
 — — —
1 68 Dracula

acts. at five o’clock, so a little before

Arthur was expected
that time we visited the death-chamber. It was so in very
truth, for now both mother and daughter lay in it. The
undertaker, true to his craft, had made the best display he
could of his goods, and there was a mortuary air about the
place that lowered our spirits at once. Van Helsing ordered
the former arrangement to be adhered to, explaining that,
as Lord Godaiming was coming very soon, it would be less
harrowing to his feelings to see all that was left of his
fiancee quite alone. The undertaker seemed shocked at his
own stupidity, and exerted himself to restore things to the
condition in which we left them the night before, so that
when Arthur came such shocks to his feelings as we could
avoid were saved.
Poor fellow He looked desperately sad and broken even
! ;

his stalwart manhood seemed to have shrunk somewhat un-

der the strain of his much-tried emotions. He had, I knew,
been very genuinely and devotedly attached to his father;
and to lose him, and at such a time, was a bitter blow to him.
With me he was warm as ever, and to Van Helsing he was
sweetly courteous but I could not help seeing that there was
;

some constraint with him. The Professor noticed it, too,

and motioned me to bring him upstairs. I did so, and left
him at the door of the room, as I felt he would like to be
quite alone with her ; but he took my arm and led me in, say-
ing huskily :

“You loved her too, old fellow; she told me all about it,
and there was no friend had a closer place in her heart than
you. I don’t know how to thank you for all you have done
”
for her. I can’t think yet
Here he suddenly broke down, and threw his arms round
my shoulders and laid his head on my breast, crying :

“Oh, Jack! Jack! What shall I do? The whole of life

seems gone from me all at once, and there is nothing in the
wide world for me to live for.”
I comforted him as well as I could. In such cases men
do not need much expression. A grip of the hand, the tight-
ening of an arm over the shoulder, a sob in unison, are ex-
pressions of sympathy dear to a man’s heart. I stood still
and silent till his sobs died away, and then I said softly to
him :

“Come and look at her.”

Together we moved over to the bed, and I lifted the law#
 —— — —
Dr. Seward’s Diary 169
from her face. God! how beautiful she was. Every hour
seemed to be enhancing her loveliness. It frightened and
amazed me somewhat and as for Arthur, he fell a-trem-
;

bling, and finally was shaken with doubt as with an ague.

At last, after a long pause, he said to me in a faint whis-
per :

“Jack, is she really dead?”

I assured him sadly that it was so, and went on to suggest
— for I felt that such a horrible doubt should not have life
for a moment longer than I could help —
that it often hap-
pened that after death faces became softened and even re-
solved into their youthful beauty; that this was especially
so when death had been preceded by any acute or prolonged
suffering. It seemed to quite do away with any doubt, and,
after kneeling beside the couch for a while and looking at
her lovingly and long, he turned aside. I told him that that
must be good-bye, as the coffin had to be prepared; so he
went back and took her dead hand in his and kissed it, and
bent over and kissed her forehead. He came away, fondly
looking back over his shoulder at her as he came.
I left him in the drawing-room, and told Van Helsing that
he had said good-bye; so the latter went to the kitchen to
tell the undertaker’s men to proceed with the preparations
and to screw up the coffin. When he came out of the room
again I told him of Arthur’s question, and he replied :

“I am not surprised. Just now I doubted for a moment

!”
myself
We all dined together, and I could see that poor Art was
trying to make the best of things. Van Helsing had been
silent all dinner-time; but when we had lit our cigars he
said :

“Lord ;” but Arthur interrupted him :

“No, no, not that, for God’s sake! not yet at any rate.
Forgive me, sir: I did not mean to speak offensively; it is

only because my loss is so recent.”

The Professor answered very sweetly:—-
“I only used that name because I was in doubt. I must
not call you ‘Mr./ and I have grown to love you yes, my —
dear boy, to love you — as Arthur.”
Arthur held out his hand, and took the old man’s warmly.
“Call me what you will,” he said. “I hope I may always
have the title of a friend. And let me say that I am at a loss
for words to thank you for your goodness to my poor dear.”
 — — •

170 Dracula

He paused a moment, and went on “I know that she under*

:

stood your goodness even better than I do; and if I was

rude or in any way wanting at that time you acted so you
— —
remember” the Professor nodded “you must forgive me.”
—
He answered with a grave kindness :

“I know it was hard for you to quite trust me then, for to

trust such violence needs to understand; and I take it that
— —
you do not that you cannot trust me now, for you do not
yet understand. And there may be more times when I shall
—
want you to trust when you cannot and may not and must —
not yet understand But the time will come when your trust
shall be whole and complete in me, and when you shall un-
derstand as though the sunlight himself shone through.
Then you shall bless me from first to last for your own sake,
and for the sake of others, and for her dear sake to whom
I swore to protect.”
“And, indeed, indeed, sir,” said Arthur warmly, “I shall
in all ways trust you. I know and believe you have a very
noble heart, and you are Jack’s friend, and you were hers.
You shall do what you like.”
The Professor cleared his throat a couple of times, as
though about to speak, and finally said :

“May I ask you something now?”

“Certainly.”
“You know that Mrs. Westenra left you all her property?”
“No, poor dear never thought of it.”
;
I
“And as it is all yours, you have a right to deal with it as
you will. I want you to give me permission to read all Miss
Lucy’s papers and letters. Believe me, it is no idle curiosity.
I have a motive of which, be sure, she would have approved.

I have them all here. I took them before we knew that all
was yours, so that no strange hand might touch them no
strange eye look through words into her soul. I shall keep
—
them, if I may even you may not see them yet, but I shall
;

keep them safe. ,No word shall be lost and in the good time
;

I shall give them back' to you. It’s a hard thing I ask, but
you will do it, will you not, for Lucy’s sake ?”
Arthur spoke out heartily, like his old self:
“Dr. Van Helsing, you may do what you will. I feel that
in saying this I am doing what my dear one would have ap-
proved. I shall not trouble you with questions till the time
comes.”
The old Professor stood up as he said solemnly; —
 Dr. Seward’s Diary lyi
\

“And you are right. There be pain for us all but it

will ;

will not be all pain, nor will this pain be the last. We and
— —
you too you most of all, my dear boy will have to pass
through the bitter water before we reach the sweet. But we
must be brave of heart and unselfish, and do our duty, and
!”
all will be well
I slept on a sofa in Arthur’s room that night. Van Hel-
sing did not go to bed at all. He went to and fro, as if pa-
trolling the house, and was never out of sight of the room
where Lucy lay in her coffin, strewn with the wild garlic
flowers, which sent, through the odour of lily and rose, a
heavy, overpowering smell into the night.

Mina Harkens Journal .

22 September . —In the train to Exeter. Jonathan sleep-

ing.
Itseems only yesterday that the last entry was made, and
yet how much between then, in Whitby and all the world
before me, Jonathan away and no news of him; and now,
married to Jonathan, Jonathan a solicitor, a partner, rich,
master of his business, Mr. Hawkins dead and buried, and
Jonathan with another attack that may harm him. Some
day he may ask me about it. Down it all goes. I am rusty
in my shorthand —
see what unexpected prosperity does for
—
us so it may be as well to freshen it up again with an exer-
ciseanyhow
The service was very simple and very solemn. There were
only ourselves and the servants there, one or two old friends
of his from Exeter, his London agent, and a gentleman rep-
resenting Sir John Paxton, the President of the Incorporated
Law Society. Jonathan and I stood hand in hand, and we
felt that our best and dearest friend was gone from us. . .

We came back to town quietly, taking a ’bus to Hyde Park

Corner. Jonathan thought it would interest me to go into
the Row for a while, so we sat down but there were very
;

few people there, and it was sad-looking and desolate to see

so many empty chairs. It made us think of the empty chair
at home; so we got up and walked down Piccadilly. Jona-
than was holding me by the arm, the way he used to in old
days before I went to school. I felt it very improper, for you
can’t go on for some years caching etiquette and decorum
to other girls without the pedantry of it biting into yourself
 —
172 Dracula

a bit; but was Jonathan, and he was my husband, and we

it

didn’t know anybody who saw us —

and we didn’t care if
—
they did so on we walked. I was looking at a very beautiful
girl, a big cart-wheel hat, sitting in a victoria outside
in
Giuliano’s, when I felt Jonathan clutch my arm so tight that
he hurt me, and he said under his breath “My God !” I am
:

always anxious about Jonathan, for I fear that some nervous

fit may upset him again so I turned to him quickly, and
;

asked him what it was that disturbed him.

He was very pale, and his eyes seemed bulging out as,
half in terror and half in amazement, he gazed at a tall, thin
man, with a beaky nose and black moustache and pointed
beard, who was also observing the pretty girl. He was look-
ing at her so hard that he did not see either of us, and so I
had a good view of him. His face was not a good face it ;

was hard, and cruel, and sensual, and his big white teeth,
that looked all the whiter because his lips were so red, were
pointed like an animal’s. Jonathan kept staring at him, till
I was afraid he would notice. I feared he might take it ill,
he looked so fierce and nasty. I asked Jonathan why he
was disturbed, and he answered, evidently thinking that I
knew as much about it as he did “Do you see who it is ?”
:

“No, dear,” I said; “I don’t know him; who is it?” His

answer seemed to shock and thrill me, for it was said as if he
did not know that it was to me, Mina, to whom he was speak-
ing:—
!”
“It is the man
himself
The poor dear was evidently terrified at something very—
greatly terrified I do believe that if he had not had me to
;

lean on and to support him he would have sunk down. He

kept staring; a man came out of the shop with a small par-
cel, and gave it to the lady, who then drove off. The dark
man kept his eyes fixed on her, and when the carriage moved
up Piccadilly he followed in the same direction, and hailed a
hansom. Jonathan kept looking after him, and said, as if to
himself :

“I believe it is the Count, but he has grown young. My

God, if this be so Oh, my God my God
! ! If I only knew
! !

if I only knew !” He was distressing himself so much that I

feared to keep his mind on the subject by asking him any
questions, so I remained silent. I drew him away quietly,
and he, holding my arm, came easily. We
walked a little
further, and then went in and sat for a while in the Green
 —— !

Dr. Seward’s Diary 1 73

Park. It was a hot day for autumn, and there was a com-
fortable seat in a shady place. After a few minutes’ staring
at nothing, Jonathan’s eyes closed, and he went quietly into a
sleep, with his head on my shoulder. I thought it was the
best thing for him, so did not disturb him. In about twenty
minutes he woke up, and said to me quite cheerfully :

“Why, Mina, have I been asleep Oh, do forgive me for

!

being so rude. Come, and we’ll have a cup of tea some-

where.” He had evidently forgotten all about the dark
stranger, as in his illness he had forgotten all that this epi-
sode had reminded him of. I don’t like this lapsing into for-
getfulness; it may make or continue some injury to the
brain. I must not ask him, for fear I shall do more harm
than good; but I must somehow learn the facts of his jour-
ney abroad. The time is come, I fear, when I must open
that parcel and know what is written. Oh, Jonathan, you
will, I know, forgive me if I do wrong, but it is for you*
own dear sake.

Later . —A
sad home-coming in every way the house —
empty of the dear soul who was so good to us; Jonathan
still pale and dizzy under a slight relapse of his malady and ;

now a telegram from Van Helsing, whoever he may be:

“You will be grieved to hear that Mrs. Westenra died five
days ago, and that Lucy died the day before yesterday. They
were both buried to-day.”
Oh, what a wealth of sorrow in a few words Poor Mrs. !

Westenra poor Lucy!

Gone, gone, never to return to us
!

And poor, poor Arthur, to have lost such sweetness out of

his life ! God help us all to bear our troubles.

Dr. Seward’s Diary.

22 September —
It is all over.
. Arthur has gone back to
Ring, and has taken Quincey Morris with him. What a fine
fellow is Quincey! I believe in my heart of hearts that he
suffered as much about Lucy’s death as any of us; but he
bore himself through it like a moral Viking. If America
can go on breeding men like that, she will be a power in the
world indeed. Van Helsing is lying down, having a rest
preparatory to his journey. He goes over to Amsterdam
to-night, but says he returns to-morrow night that he only ;

wants to make some arrangements which can only be mad©

 — !

174 Dracula

personally. He is to stop with me then, if he can ;

he says
he has work to do in London which may take him some time.
Poor old fellow ! I fear that the strain of the past week has
broken down even his iron strength. All the time of the
burial he was, I could see, putting some terrible restraint on
himself. When it was all over, we were standing beside
Arthur, who, poor fellow, was speaking of his part in the
operation where his blood had been transfused to his Lucy’s
veins I could see Van Helsing’s face grow white and purple
;

by turns. Arthur was saying that he felt since then as if they

two had been really married, and that she was his wife in
the sight of God. None of us said a word of the other op-
erations, and none of us ever shall. Arthur and Quincey
went away together to the station, and Van Helsing and I
came on here. The moment we were alone in the carriage
he gave way to a regular fit of hysterics. He has denied to
me since that it was hysterics, and insisted that it was only
his sense of humour asserting itself under very terrible con-
ditions. He laughed till he cried, and I had to draw down
the blinds lest any one should see us and misjudge and then ;

he cried till he laughed again; and laughed and cried to-

gether, just as a woman does. I tried to be stern with him,
as one is to a woman under the circumstances but it had no ;

effect. Men and women are so different in manifestations

of nervous strength or weakness Then when his face grew
!

grave and stern again I asked him why his mirth, and why
at such a time. His reply was in a way characteristic of
him, for it was logical and forceful and mysterious. He
said :

“Ah, you don’t comprehend, friend John. Do not think

that I am not sad, though I laugh. See, I have cried even
when the laugh did choke me. But no more think that I am
all sorry when I cry, for the laugh he come just the same.
Keep it always with you that laughter who knock at your
door and say, ‘May I come in?’ is not the true laughter. No
he is a king, and he come when and how he like. He ask no
person; he choose no time of suitability. He say, ‘I am
here/ Behold, in example I grieve my heart out for that so
sweet young girl I give my blood for her, though I am old
;

and worn; I give my time, my skill, my sleep; I let

my other sufferers want that so she may have all. And yet
I can laugh at her very grave —
laugh when the clay from
the spade of the sexton drop upon her coffin and say, ‘Thud
 — -

Dr. Seward’s Diary 175

thud V to my heart, send back the blood from my cheek.
till it

—
My heart bleed for that poor boy that dear boy, so of the
age of mine own boy had I been so blessed that he live, and
with his hair and eyes the same. There, you know now why
I love him so. And yet when he say things that touch my
husband-heart to the quick, and make my father-heart yearn
to him as to no other man —
not even to you, friend John,
for we are more level in experiences than father and son —
yet even at such moment King Laugh he come to me and
shout and bellow in my ear, ‘Here I am here I am Y till the
!

blood come dance back and bring some of the sunshine that
he carry with him to my cheek. Oh, friend John, it is a
strange world, a sad world, a world full of miseries, and
woes, and troubles and yet when King Laugh come he make
;

them all dance to the tune he play. Bleeding hearts, and

dry bones of the churchyard, and tears that burn as they
—
fall all dance together to the music that he make with that
smileless mouth of him. And believe me, friend John, that
he is good to come, and kind. Ah, we men and women are
like ropes drawn tight with strain that pull us different ways.
Then tears come and, like the rain on the ropes, they brace
;

us up, until perhaps the strain become too great, and we

break. But King Laugh he come like the sunshine, and he
ease off the strain again; and we bear to go on with our
labour, what it may be.”
I did not like to wound him by pretending not to see his
idea but, as I did not yet understand the cause of his laugh-
;

ter, I asked him. As he answered me his face grew stern,

and he said in quite a different tone :

—
“Oh, it was the grim irony of it all this so lovely lady
garlanded with flowers, that looked so fair as life, till one by
one we wondered if she were truly dead she laid in that so
;

fine marble house in that lonely churchyard, where rest so

many of her kin, laid there with the mother who loved her,
and whom she loved; and that sacred bell going ‘Toll! toll!
toll !’ so sad and slow and those holy men, with the white
;

garments of the angel, pretending to read books, and yet all

the time their eyes never on the page and all of us with the
;

bowed head. And all for what? She is dead; so! Is it

not?”
“Well, for the life of me, Professor,” I said, “I can’t see
anything to laugh at in all that. Why, your explanation
makes it a harder puzzle than before. But even if the burial
 — —
176 Dracula

service was comic, what about poor Art and his trouble?
Why, his heart was simply breaking.’"
“Just so. Said he not that the transfusion of his blood to
her veins had made her truly his bride?”
“Yes, and it was a sweet and comforting idea for him.”
“Quite so. But there was a difficulty, friend John. If so
that, then what about the others? Ho, ho! Then this so
sweet maid is a polyandrist, and me, with my poor wife dead
to me, but alive by Church’s law, though no wits, all gone
even I, who am faithful husband to this now-no-wife, am
bigamist.”
“I don’t see where the joke comes in there either!” I said;
and I did not feel particularly pleased with him for saying
such things. He laid his hand on my arm, and said:
“Friend John, forgive me if I pain. I showed not my feel-
ing to others when it would wound, but only to you, my old
friend, whom I can trust. If you could have looked into my
very heart then when I want to laugh; if you could have
done so when the laugh arrived if you could do so now,
;

when King Laugh have pack up his crown and all that is to
—
him for he go far, far away from me, and for a long, long
—
time maybe you would perhaps pity me the most of all.”
I was touched by the tenderness of his tone, and asked
why.
“Because know !”
I
And now we are all scattered; and for many a long day
loneliness will sit over our roofs with brooding wings. Lucy
lies in the tomb of her kin, a lordly death-house in a lonely
churchyard, away from teeming London; where the air is
fresh, and the sun rises over Hampstead Hill, and where wild
flowers grow of their own accord.
So I can finish this diary and God only knows if I shall ever
;

begin another. If I do, or if I even open this again, it will

be to deal with different people and different themes; for
here at the end, where the romance of my life is told, ere I
go back to take up the thread of my life-work, I say sadly
and without hope,

"FINIS."-
 Dr. Seward’s Diary 177
" The Westminster Gazette,” 25 September.

A HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY.

The neighbourhood of Hampstead is just at present ex-

ercised with a series of events which seem to run on lines
parallel to those of what was known to the writers of head-
lines as “The Kensington Horror,” or “The Stabbing
Woman,” or “The Woman in Black.” During the past two
or three days several cases have occurred of young children
straying from home or neglecting to return from their play-
ing on the Heath. In all these cases the children were too
young to give any properly intelligible account of them-
selves, but the consensus of their excuses is that they had
been with a “bloofer lady.” It has always been late in the
evening when they have been missed, and on two occasions
the children have not been found until early in the follow-
ing morning. It is generally supposed in the neighbourhood
that, as the first child missed gave as his reason for being
away that a “bloofer lady” had asked him to come for a
walk, the others had picked up the phrase and used it as oc-
casion served. This is the more natural as the favourite
game of the little ones at present is luring each other away
by wiles. A correspondent writes us that to see some of the
tiny tots pretending to be the “bloofer lady” is supremely
funny. Some of our caricaturists might, he says, take a les-
son in the irony of grotesque by comparing the reality and
the picture. It is only in accordance with general principles
of human nature that the “bloofer lady” should be the popu-
lar role at these al fresco performances. Our correspondent
naively says that even Ellen Terry could not be so winningly
attractive as some of these grubby-faced little children pre-
tend —and even imagine themselves— to be.
There is, however, possibly a serious side to the question,
for some of the children, indeed all who have been missed
at night, have been slightly torn or wounded in the throat.
The wounds seem such as might be made by a rat or a small
dog, and although of not much importance individually,
would tend show that whatever animal inflicts them has a
to
system or method of its own. The police of the division
have been instructed to keep a sharp look-out for straying
children, especially when very young, in and around Hamp-
stead Heath, and for any stray dog which may be about.
178 Dracula
44 ”
The Westminster Gazette 25 September.
Extra Special.
THE HAMPSTEAD HORROR.
ANOTHER CHILD INJURED.
<(
The Bloofer Lady."

We have just received intelligence that another child,

missed last night, was only discovered late in the morning
under a furze bush at the Shooter’s Hill side of Hampstead
Heath, which is, perhaps, less frequented than the other
parts. It has the same tiny wound in the throat as has been
noticed in other cases. It was terribly weak, and looked
quite emaciated. It too, when partially restored, had the
common story to tell of being lured away by the “bloofer
lady.”
 — — ;

Mina Harker’s Journal 183

ished his speech with a courtly bow. I asked him what it
was that he wanted to see me about, so he at once began :

“I have read your letters to Miss Lucy. Forgive me, but

I had to begin to inquire somewhere, and there was none
to ask. I know that you were with her at Whitby. She

it was begun
—
sometimes kept a diary you need not look, surprised
Madam Mina after you had left, and was
—
;

made in imitation of you and in that diary she traces by in-

ference certain things to a sleep-walking in which she puts
down that you saved her. In great perplexity then I come to
you, and ask you out of your so much kindness to tell me all
of it that you remember.”
“I can tell you, I chink, Dr. Van Helsing, all about it.”
“Ah, then you have good memory for facts, for details?
It is not always so with young ladies.”
“No, doctor, but I wrote it all down at the time. I can
show it to you if you like.”
“Oh, Madam be grateful; you will do me
Mina, I will
much favour.” I could not resist the temptation of mystify-
—
ing him a bit I suppose it is some of the taste of the original
apple that remains still in our mouths so I handed him the —
shorthand diary. He took it with a grateful bow, and
said :

“May read it?”

I
“If you wish,” I answered as demurely as I could. He
opened it, and for an instant his face fell. Then he stood up
and bowed.
“Oh, you so clever woman !” he said. “I long knew that
Mr. Jonathan was a man of much thankfulness but see, his ;

wife have all the good things. And will you not so much
honour me and so help me as to read it for me ? Alas I !

know not the shorthand.” By this time my little joke was

over, and I was almost ashamed so I took the type-written ;

copy from my workbasket and handed it to him.

“Forgive me,” I said “I could not help it but I had been
: ;

thinking that it was of dear Lucy that you wished to ask, and
so that you might not have to wait not on my account, but —
because I know your time must be precious I have written —
it out on the typewriter for you.”
He took it and his eyes glistened. “You are so good,” he
said. “And may I read it now ? I may want to ask you some
things when I have read.”
v over whilst
By all means,” I said, “read it I order lunch
 — ——
184 Dracula

and then you can ask me questions whilst we eat.” He

bowed and settled himself in a chair with his back to the
light, and became absorbed in the papers, whilst I went to see
after lunch, chiefly in order that he might not be disturbed.
When I came back I found him walking hurriedly up and
down the room, his face ablaze with excitement.
all He
rushed up to me and took me by both hands.
“Oh, Madam Mina,” he said, “how can I say what I owe
to you? This paper is as sunshine. It opens the gate to me.
I am daze, I am dazzle, with so much light and yet clouds
;

roll in behind the light every time. But that you do not,
cannot, comprehend. Oh, but I am grateful to you, you so
clever woman. —
Madam” he said this very solemnly “if —
ever Abraham Van Helsing can do anything for you or
yours, I trust you will let me know. It will be pleasure and
delight if I may serve you as a friend as a friend, but all I
;

have ever learned, all I can ever do, shall be for you and
those you love. There are darknesses in life, and there are
lights you are one of the lights. You will have happy life
;

and good life, and your husband will be blessed in you.”

“But, doctor, you praise me too much, and and you do —
not know me.”
—
“Not know you I, who am old, and who have studied all
my life men and women I, who have made my specialty the
;

brain and all that belongs to him and all that follow from
him ! And I have read your diary that you have so goodly
written for me, and which breathes out truth in every line.
I, who have read your so sweet letter to poor Lucy of your
marriage and your trust, not know you Oh, Madam Mina,
!

good women tell all their lives, and by day and by hour and
by minute, such things that angels can read; and we men
who wish to know have in us something of angels’ eyes.
Your husband is noble nature, and you are noble too, for you
trust, and trust cannot be where there is mean nature. And
—
your husband tell me of him. Is he quite well ? Is all that
fever gone, and is he strong and hearty?” I saw here an
opening to ask him about Jonathan, so I said :

“He was almost recovered, but he has been greatly upset

by Mr. Hawkins’s death.” He interrupted:
“Oh yes, I know, I know. I have read your last two let-
ters.” I went on :

“I suppose this upset him, for when we were in town on

Thursday last he had a sort of shock.”
 — —
Mina Harker’s Journal 185
“Ashock, and after brain fever so soon! That was not
good. What kind of shock was it ?”
“He thought he saw some one who recalled something
terrible, something which led to his brain fever.” And here
the whole thing seemed to overwhelm me in a rush. The
pity for Jonathan, the horror which he experienced, the
whole fearful mystery of his diary, and the fear that has been
brooding over me ever since, all came in a tumult. I sup-
pose I was hysterical, for I threw myself on my knees and
held up my hands to him, and implored him to make my hus-
band well again. He took my hands and raised me up, and
made me sit on the sofa, and sat by me he held my hand in
;

his, and said to me with, oh, such infinite sweetness :

“My life is a barren and lonely one, and so full of work

that I have not had much time for friendships but since I ;

have been summoned to here by my friend John Seward I

have known so many good people and seen such nobility that
I feel more than ever —
and it has grown with my advancing
—
years the loneliness of my life. Believe me, then, that I
come here full of respect for you, and you have given me
—
hope hope, not in what I am seeking of, but that there are
good women still left to make life happy good women,
whose lives and whose truths may make good lesson for the
—
children that are to be. I am glad, glad, that I may here be
of some use to you; for if your husband suffer, he suffer
within the range of my study and experience. I promise you
that I will gladly do all for him that I can all to make his—
life strong and manly, and your life a happy one. NoW you (

must eat. You are overwrought and perhaps over-anxious.

Husband Jonathan would not like to see you so pale; and
what he like not where he love, is not to his good. There-
fore for his sake you must smile. You have told me
eat and
all about Lucy, and so now we shall not speak of it, lest it
distress. I shall stay in Exeter to-night, for I want to think
much over what you have told me, and when
have thought I

I will ask you questions, if I may. And then, too, you will
tell me of husband Jonathan’s trouble so far as you can, but
not yet. You must eat now; afterwards you shall tell me
all.”
After lunch, when we went back to the drawing-room, he
me
said to :

“And now tell me all about him.” When it came to speak-

ing to this great, learned man, I began to fear that he would
 — —
1 86 Dracula

think me a weak fool, and Jonathan a madman that jour- —

nal is all so strange —
and I hesitated to go on. But he was
so sweet and kind, and he had promised to help, and I trusted
him, so I said :

“Dr. Van Helsing, what I have to tell you is so queer that

you must not laugh at me or at my husband. I have been
since yesterday in a sort of fever of doubt you must be kind
;

to me, and not think me foolish that I have even half be-
lieved some very strange things.” He reassured me by his
manner as well as his words when he said :

“Oh, my dear, if you only knew how strange is the matter

regarding which I am here, it is you who would laugh. I
have learned not to think little of any one’s belief, no matter
how strange it be. I have tried to keep an open mind and ;

it is not the ordinary things of life that could close it, but

the strange things, the extraordinary things, the things that

make one doubt if they be mad or sane.”
“Thank you, thank you, a thousand times You have
!

taken a weight- off my mind. If you will let me, I shall give
you a paper to read. It is long, but I have typewritten it out.
It will tell you my trouble and Jonathan’s. It is the copy of
his journal when abroad, and all that happened. I dare not
say anything of it; you will read for yourself and judge.
And then when I see you, perhaps, you will be very kind and
tell me what you
think.”
“I promise,” he said as I gave him the papers “I shall in ;

the morning, so soon as I can, come to see you and your hus-
band, may.”
if I
“Jonathan will be here at half-past eleven, and you must
come to lunch with us and see him then you could catch the
;

quick 3:34 train, which will leave you at Paddington before

eight.” He was surprised at my knowledge of the trains off-
hand, but he does not know that I have made up all the
trains to and from Exeter, so that I may help Jonathan in
case he is in a hurry.
the papers with him and went away, and
So he took I sit
—
here thinking thinking I don’t know what.

Letter (by hand), Van Helsing to Mrs. Harker.

“
“Dear Madam Mina,- 2S September, 6 o’clock.
“I have read your husband’s so wonderful diary. You
may sleep without doubt. Strange and terrible as it is, it is
 Mina Harker’s Journal 187
true! I will pledge my life on it. It may be worse for oth-
ers ;
but for him and you there a noble
is no dread. He is
fellow and let me tell you from experience of men, that one
;

who would do as he did in going down that wall and to that

—
room ay, and going a second time is not one to be injured —
in permanence by a shock. His brain and his heart are all
right; this I swear, before I have even seen him; so be at
rest. I shall have much to ask him of other things. I am
blessed that to-day I come to see you, for I have learn all at
once so much that again I am dazzle dazzle more than ever, —
and I must think.
“ Yours the most faithful,
“Abraham Van Helsing."

Letter, Mrs, Harker to Van Helsing.

“25 September, 6 130 p.m.

“My dear Dr. Van Helsing,—-
“A thousand thanks for your kind letter, which has taken
a great weight off my mind. And yet, if it be true, what
terrible things there are in the world, and what an awful
thing if that man, that monster, be really in London I fear !

to think. I have this moment, whilst writing, had a wire

from Jonathan, saying that he leaves by the 6:25 to-night
from Launceston and will be here at 10:18, so that I shall
have no fear to-night. Will you, therefore, instead of lunch-
ing with us, please come to breakfast at eight o’clock, if this
be not too early for you? You can get away, if you are in
a hurry, by the 10:30 train, which will bring you to Pad-
dington by 2 :35. Do not answer this, as I shall take it that*
if I do not hear, you will come to breakfast.
“Believe me,
“Your faithful and grateful friend,
“Mina Harker."

Jonathan Harker’s Journal.

26 September. —
thought never to write in this diary
I
again, but the time has come. When I got home last night
Mina had supper ready, and when we had supped she told
me of Van Helsing’s visit, and of her having given him the
two diaries copied out, and of how anxious she has been
about me. She showed me in the doctor’s letter that all I
 — — —
1 88 Dracula

wrote down was true. It seems to have made a new man of

me. It was the doubt as to the reality of the whole thing
that knocked me over. I felt impotent, and in the dark, and
distrustful. But, now that I know, I am not afraid, even of
the Count. He has succeeded after all, then, in his design
in getting to London, and it was he I saw. He has got
younger, and how? Van Helsing is the man to unmask him
and hunt him out, if he is anything like what Mina says.
We sat late, and talked it all over. Mina is and I
dressing,
shall call at the hotel in a few minutes and bring him
over
He was, surprised to see me. When I came into
I think,
the room where he was, and introduced myself, he took me
by the shoulder, and turned my face round to the light, and
said, after a sharp scrutiny :

“But Madam Mina told me you were ill, that you had had
a shock/’ It was so funny to hear my wife called “Madam
Mina” by this kindly, strong-faced old man. I smiled, and
said :

“I was ill, I have had a shock; but you have cured me

already.”
“And how?”
“By your letter to Mina was in doubt, and
last night. I
then everything took a hue of unreality, and I did not know
what to trust, even the evidence of my own senses. Not
knowing what to trust, I did not know what to do and so ;

had only to keep on working in what had hitherto been the

groove of my life. The groove ceased to avail me, and I
mistrusted myself. Doctor, you don’t know what it is to
doubt everything, even yourself. No, you don’t; you
couldn’t with eyebrows like yours.” He seemed pleased, and
laughed as he said :

“So! You are physiognomist. I learn more here with

each hour, I am with so much pleasure coming to you to
breakfast; and, oh, sir, you will pardon praise from an old
man, but you are blessed in your wife.” I would listen to
him go on praising Mina for a day, so I simply nodded and
stood silent.
“She is one of God’s women, fashioned by His own hand
to show us men and other women that there is a heaven
where we can enter, and that its light can be here on earth.
So true, so sweet, so noble, so little an egoist and that, let —
me tell you, is much in this age, so sceptical and selfish. And
 —
Mina Harker’s Journal 189
you, sir —
have read all the letters to poor Miss Lucy, and
I
some of them speak of you, so I know you since some days
from the knowing of others but I have seen your true self
;

since last night. You will give me your hand, will you not?
And let us be friends for all our lives.”
We shook hands, and he was so earnest and so kind that it
made me quite choky.
“And now/’ he said, “may ask you for some more help ?
I
I have a great task to do, and at the beginning it is to know.
You can help me here. Can you tell me what went before
your going to Transylvania? Later on I may ask more help,
and of a different kind but at first this will do.”
;

“Look here, sir,” I said, “does what you have to do con-

cern the Count?”
“It does,” he said solemnly.
“Then I am with you heart and soul. As you go by the
10:30 train, you will not have time to read them; but I shall
get the bundle of papers. You can take them with you and
read them in the train.”
After breakfast I saw him to the station. When we ware
parting he said :

“Perhaps you will come to town if I send to you, and take

Madam Mina too.”
“We shall both come when you will,” I said.
I had got him the morning papers and the London papers
of the previous night, and while we wei*^ talking at the car-
riage window, waiting for the train to start, he was turning
them over. His eye suddenly seemed to catch something in
one of them, The Westminster Gazette” I knew it by the —
—
colour and he grew quite white. He read something in-
tently, groaning to himself “Mein Gott: Mein Gott So ! !

soon! so soon!” I do not think he remembered me at the

moment. Just then the whistle blew, and the train moved
off. This recalled him to himself, and he leaned out of
the window and waved his hand, calling out: “Love to
Madam Mina ;
I shall write so soon as ever I can.”

Dr. Seward's Diary .

26 September . —Truly
there is no such thing as finality.
Not a week since I said “Finis,” and yet here I am starting
fresh again, or rather going on with the same record. Until
this afternoon I had no cause to think of what is done.
 —
190 Dracula

Renfield had become, to all intents, as sane as he ever was.

He was already well ahead with his fly business and he had ;

just started in the spider line also so he had not been of any
;

trouble to me. I had a letter from Arthur, written on Sun-

day, and from it I gather that he is bearing up wonderfully
well. Quincey Morris is with him, and that is much of a
help, for he himself is a bubbling well of good spirits. Quin-
cey wrote me a line too, and from him I hear that Arthur is
beginning to recover something of his old buoyancy; so as
to them all my mind is at rest. As for myself, I was settling
down to my work with the enthusiasm which I used to have
for it, so that I might fairly have said that the wound which
poor Lucy left on me was becoming cicatrised. Everything
is, however, now reopened and what is to be the end God
;

only knows. I have an idea that Van Helsing thinks he

knows too, but he will only let out enough at a time to whet
curiosity. He went to Exeter yesterday, and stayed there all
night. To-day he came back, and almost bounded into the
room at about half-past five o’clock, and thrust last night’s
“Westminster Gazette’’ into my hand.
“What do you think of that?’’ he asked as he stood back
and folded his arms.
I looked over the paper, for I really did not know what he
meant but he took it from me and pointed out a paragraph
;

about children being decoyed away at Hampstead. It did

not convey much to me, until I reached a passage where it
described small punctured wounds on their throats. An idea
struck me, and I looked up. “Well?” he said.
“It is like poor Lucy’s.”
“And what do you make of it ?”
“Simply that there is some cause in common. Whatever
it was
that injured her has injured them.” I did not quite
understand his answer :

“That is true indirectly, but not directly.”

“How do you mean, Professor?” I asked. I was a little
inclined to take his seriousness lightly —
for, after all, four
days of rest and freedom from burning, harrowing anxiety
—
does help to restore one’s spirits but when I saw his face,
it sobered me. Never, even in the midst of our despair about
poor Lucy, had he looked more stern.
“Tell me!” I said. “I can hazard no opinion. I do not
know what to think, and I have no data on which to found a
tsnniecture.”
 ” —
Mina Harker’s Journal 191
“Do you mean me, friend John, that you have no
to tell
suspicion as to what poor Lucy died of; not after all the
hints given, not only by events, but by me ?”
“Of nervous prostration following on great loss or waste
of blood.”
“And how the blood lost or waste?” I shook my head.
He stepped over and sat down beside me, and went on :

“You are clever man, friend John; you reason well, and
your wit is bold; but you are too prejudiced. You do not
let your eyes see nor your ears hear, and that which is outside
your daily life is not of account to you. Do you not think
that there are things which you cannot understand, and yet
which are; that some people see things that others cannot?
But there are things old and new which must not be con-
—
template by men’s eyes, because they know or think they
—
know some things which other men have told them. Ah,
it is the fault of our science that it wants to explain all and
;

if it explain not, then it says there is nothing to explain. But

yet we see around us every day the growth of new beliefs,

which think themselves new and which are yet but the old,
—
;

which pretend to be young like the fine ladies at the opera,

f suppose now you do not believe in corporeal transference.

No? Nor in materialisation. No? Nor in astral bodies.

No? Nor in the reading of thought. No? Nor in hyp-
notism
—
“Yes,” I “Charcot has proved that pretty well.”
said.
He smiled as he went on: “Then you are satisfied as to it.
Yes? And of course then you understand how it act, and
—
can follow the mind of the great Charcot alas that he is no
—
more! into the very soul of the patient that he influence.
No? Then, friend John, am I to take it that you simply
accept fact, and are satisfied to let from premise to conclusion
—
be a blank? No? Then tell me for I am student of the
—
brain how you accept the hypnotism and reject the
thought reading. Let me tell you, my friend, that there are
things done to-day in electrical science which would have
been deemed unholy by the very men who discovered elec-
—
tricity who would themselves not so long before have been
burned as wizards. There are always mysteries in life.
Why was it that Methuselah lived nine hundred years, and
'Old Parr’ one hundred and sixty-nine, and yet that poor
Lucy, with four men’s blood in her poor veins, could not live
even one day? For, had she live one more day, we could
 —
192 Dracula
have save her. Do you know all the mystery of life and
death? Do you know the altogether of comparative an-
atomy, and can say wherefore the qualities of brutes are in
some men, and not in others? Can you tell me why, when
other spiders die small and soon, that one great spider lived
for centuries in the tower of the old Spanish church and
grew and grew, till, on descending, he could drink the oil of
all the church lamps ? Can you tell me why in the Pampas,
ay and elsewhere, there are bats that come at night and open
the veins of cattle and horses and suck dry their veins how
;

in some islands of the Western seas there are bats which

hang on the trees all day, that those who have seen describe
as like giant nuts or pods, and that when the sailors sleen
on the deck, because that it is hot, flit down on them, and
—
then and then in the morning are found dead men, white as
even Miss Lucy was ?”
“Good God, Professor!” I said, starting up. “Do you
mean to tell me that Lucy was bitten by such a bat and that
;

such a thing is here in London in the nineteenth century?”

He waved his hand for silence, and went on :

“Can you tell me why the tortoise lives more long than
generations of men whv the elephant goes on and on till he
;

have seen dynasties; and why the parrot never die only of
bite of cat or dog or other complaint ? Can you tell me why
men believe in all ages and places that there are some few
who live on always if they be permit that there are men and
—
;

women who cannot die? We all know because science has

—
vouched for the fact that there have been toads shut up in
rocks for thousands of years, shut in one so small hole that
only hold him since the youth of the world. Can you tell
me how the Indian fakir can make himself to die and have
been buried, and his grave sealed and corn sowed on it, and
the corn reaped and be cut and sown and reaped and cut
again, and then men come and take away the unbroken seal,
and that there lie the Indian fakir, not dead, but that rise up
and walk amongst them as before?” Here I interrupted
him. I was getting bewildered he so crowded on mv mind
;

his list of nature’s eccentricities and possible impossibilities

that my imagination was getting fired. I had a dim idea
that he was teaching me some lesson, as long ago he used to
do in his study at Amsterdam but he used th^n to tell me
;

the thing, so that I could have the object of thought in mind

 —— — !

Mina Harker’s Journal 193

*11 the time. But now I was without this help, yet I wanted
to follow him, so I said :

“Professor, let me be your pet student again. Tell me the

thesis, so that I may apply your knowledge as you go on. At
present I am going in my mind from point to point as a mad
man, and not a sane one, follows an idea. I feel like a novice
blundering through a bog in a mist, jumping from one tus-
sock to another in the mere blind effort to move on without
knowing where I am going/'
“That good image,” he
is said. “Well, I shall tell you
My thesis is this I want you
: to believe.”
“To believe what?”
“To believe in things that you cannot. Let me illustrate.
I heard once of an American who so defined faith ‘that fac- :

ulty which enables us to believe things which we know to be

untrue/ For one, I follow that man. He meant that we
shall have an open mind, and not let a little bit of truth check
the rush of a big truth, like a small rock does a railway
truck. We get the small truth first. Good We keep him. !

and we value him; but all the same we must not let him
think himself all the truth in the universe.”
“Then you want me not to letsome previous conviction
injure the receptivity of my mind with regard to some
strange matter. Do I read your lesson aright?”
“Ah, you are my favourite pupil still. It is worth to teach
you. Now that you are willing to understand, you have
taken the first step to understand. You think then that those
so small holes in the children's throats were made by the
same that made the hole in Miss Lucy?”
“I suppose so” He stood up and said solemnly:
“Then you are wrong. Oh, would it were so but alas !

no. It is worse, far, far worse.”

“In God’s name, Professor Van Helsing, what do you
mean?” I cried.
He
threw himself with a despairing gesture into a chair,
and placed his elbows on the table, covering his face with
his hands as he spoke :

“They were made by Miss Lucyl”

 — —

CHAPTER XV
dr. seward's diary continued .

For a while sheer anger mastered me it was as if he had

;

during her life struck Lucy on the face. I smote the table
hard and rose up as I said to him :

“Dr. Van Helsing, are you mad?" He raised his head

and looked at me, and somehow the tenderness of his face
calmed me at once. “Would I were!" he said. “Madness
were easy to bear compared with truth like this. Oh, my
friend, why, think you, did I go so far round, why take so
long to tellyou so simple a thing? Was it because I hate
you and have hated you all my life ? Was it because I wished
to give you pain? Was it that I wanted, now so late, re-
venge for that time when you saved my life, and from a fear-
ful death ? Ah no !"
“Forgive me," said I. He went on :

“My friend, it was because I wished to be gentle in the

breaking to you, for I know you have loved that so sweet
lady. But even yet I do not expect you to believe. It is so
hard to accept at once any abstract truth, that we may doubt
such to be possible when we have always believed the ‘no’ of
it; it is more hard still to accept so sad a concrete truth, and

of such a one as Miss Lucy. To-night I go to prove it.

Dare you come with me?"
This staggered me. A man does not like to prove such *
truth; Byron excepted from the category, jealousy.
“ And prove the very truth he most abhorred.”

He saw my hesitation,and spoke :

“The logic is simple, no madman’s logic this time, jumping

from tussock to tussock misty bog. If it be not true,
in a
then proof will be relief at worst it will not harm. If it be
;

true! Ah, there is the dread; yet very dread should help
my cause, for in it is some need of belief. Come, I tell you
what I propose first, that we go off now and see that child
:

in the hospital. Dr. Vincent, of the North Hospital, where

the papers say the child is, is friend of mine, and I think of
yours since you were in class at Amsterdam. He will let
194
 ” §
;

Dr. Seward’s Diary ig

two he will not let two friends.
scientists see his case, if We
him nothing, but only that we wish to learn. And
—
shall tell
then
“And then?” He took a key from his pocket and held it
up. “And then we spend the night, you and I, in the church-
yard where Lucy lies. This is the key that lock the tomb. I
had it from the coffin-man to give to Arthur.” My heart
sank within me, for I felt that there was some fearful ordeal
before us. I could do nothing, however, so I plucked up
what heart I could and said that we had better hasten, as the
afternoon was passing
We found the child awake. It had had a sleep and taken
some food, and altogether was going on well. Dr. Vincent
took the bandage from its throat, and showed us the punc-
tures. There was no mistaking the similarity to those which
had been on Lucy’s throat. They were smaller, and the
edges looked fresher; that was all. We asked Vincent to
what he attributed them, and he replied that it must have
been a bite of some animal, perhaps a rat but, for his own
;

part, he was inclined to think that it was one of the bats

which are so numerous on the northern heights of London.
“Out of so many harmless ones,” he said, “there may be
some wild specimen from the South of a more malignant
species. Some sailor may have brought one home, and it
managed to escape or even from the Zoological Gardens a
;

young one may have got loose, or one be bred there from a
vampire. These things do occur, you know. Only ten days
ago a wolf got out, and was, I believe, traced up in this di-
rection. For a week after, the children were playing noth-
ing but Red Riding Hood on the Heath and in every alley in
the place until this ‘bloofer lady’ scare came along, since
when it has been quite a gala-time with them. Even this
poor little mite, when he woke up to-day, asked the nurse if
he might go away. When she asked him why he wanted to
”
go, he said he wanted to play with the ‘bloofer lady/
“I hope,” said Van Helsing, “that when you are sending
the child home you will caution its parents to keep strict
watch over it. These fancies to stray are most dangerous
and if the child were to remain out another night, it would
probably be fatal. But in any case I suppose you will not
let it away some days ?”
for
“Certainly not, not for a week at least ; longer if the wound
is not Jiealed.”
 — •-

196 Dracula

Our took more time than we had reck-

visit to the hospital
oned on, and the sun had dipped before we came out. When
Van Helsing saw how dark it was, he said :

'There is no hurry. It is more late than I thought.

Come, let us seek somewhere that we may eat, and then we
shall go on our way.”
We dined at “Jack Straw’s Castle” along with a little
crowd of bicyclists and others who were genially noisy.
About ten o’clock we started from the inn. It was then very
dark, and the scattered lamps made the darkness greater
when we were once outside their individual radius. The
Professor had evidently noted the road we were to go, for he
went on unhesitatingly but, as for me, I was in quite a mix-
;

up as to locality. As we went further, we met fewer and

fewer people, till at last we were somewhat surprised when
we met even the patrol of horse police going their usual sub-
urban round. At last we reached the wall of the church-
yard, which we climbed over. —
With some little difficulty
for it was very dark, and the whole place seemed so strange
to us —we found the Westenra tomb. The Professor took
the key, opened the creaky door, and standing back, politely,
but quite unconsciously, motioned me to precede him. There
was a delicious irony in the offer, in the courtliness of giving
preference on such a ghastly occasion. My companion fol-
lowed me quickly, and cautiously drew the door to, after
carefully ascertaining that the lock was a falling, and not a
spring, one. In the latter case we should have been in a bad
plight. Then he fumbled in his bag, and taking out a match-
box and a piece of candle, proceeded to make a light. The
tomb in the day-time, and when wreathed with fresh flowers,
had looked grim and gruesome enough but now, some days
;

afterwards, when the flowers hung lank and dead, their

whites turning to rust and their greens to browns when the
;

spider and the beetle had resumed their accustomed domi-

nance; when time-discoloured stone, and dust-encrusted
mortar, and rusty, dank iron, and tarnished brass, and
clouded silver-plating gave back the feeble glimmer of a can-
dle, the effect was more miserable and sordid than could have
been imagined It conveyed irresistibly the idea that life —
—
animal life was not the only thing which could pass away.
Van Helsing went about his work systematically. Hold-
ing his candle so that he could read the coffin plates, and so
holding it that the sperm dropped in white catches which
 —
Dr. Seward’s Diary 1 97
congealed as they touched the metal, he made assurance of
Lucy’s coffin. Another search in his bag, and he took out a
tumscrew.
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“To open the coffin. You shall yet be convinced.”
Straightway he began taking out the screws, and finally
lifted off the lid, showing the casing of lead beneath. The
sight was almost too much for me. It seemed to be as much
an affront to the dead as it would have been to have stripped
off her clothing in her sleep whilst living; I actually took hold
of his hand to stop him. He only said: “You shall see,”
and again fumbling in his bag, took out a tiny fret-saw.
Striking the turnscrew through the lead with a swift down-
ward stab, which made me wince, he made a small hole,
which was, however, big enough to admit the point of the
saw. I had expected a rush of gas from the week-old
corpse. Wedoctors, who have had to study our dangers,
have to become accustomed to such things, and I drew back
towards the door. But the Professor never stopped for a
moment ; he sawed down a couple of feet along one side of
the lead coffin, and then across, and down the other side.
Taking the edge of the loose flange, he bent it back towards
the foot of the coffin, and holding up the candle into the
aperture, motioned to me to look.
I drew near and looked. The coffin was empty.
It was certainly a surprise to me, and gave me a consid-
erable shock, but Van Helsing was unmoved. He was now
more sure than ever of his ground, and so emboldened ta
proceed in his task. “Are you satisfied now, friend John?”
he asked.
I the dogged argumentativeness of my nature
felt all
awake within me as I answered him :

“I am satisfied that Lucy’s body is not in that coffin ; but

that only proves one thing.”
“And what is that, friend John ?”
“That it is not there.”
“That is good logic,” he said, “so far as it goes. But how
— —
do you how can you account for it not being there ?”
“Perhaps a body-snatcher,” I suggested. “Some of the
undertaker’s people may have stolen it.” I felt that I was
speaking folly, and yet it was the only real cause which I
could suggest. The Professor sighed. “Ah well !” he said ;

“we must have more proof. Come with me.”

 —
198 Dracula

He put on the coffin-lid again, gathered up all his things

and placed them in the bag, blew out the light, and placed the
candle also in the bag. We opened the door, and went out.
Behind us he closed the door and locked it. He handed me
the key, saying: “Will you keep it? You had better be
—
assured.” I laughed it was not a very cheerful laugh, I am
—
bound to say as I motioned him to keep it. “A key is
nothing,” I said; “there may be duplicates; and anyhow it
is not difficult to pick a lock of that kind.” He said nothing,
but put the key in his pocket. Then he told me to watch at
one side of the churchyard whilst he would watch at the
other. I took up my place behind a yew-tree, and I saw his
dark figure move until the intervening headstones and trees
hid it from my sight.
It was a lonely vigil. Just after I had taken my place I
heard a distant clock strike twelve, and in time came one and
two. I was chilled and unnerved, and angry with the Pro-
fessor for taking me on such an errand and with myself for
coming. I was too cold and too sleepy to be keenly observ-
ant, and not sleepy enough to betray my trust ;
so altogether
I had a dreary, miserable time.
Suddenly, as I turned round, I thought I saw something
like a white streak, moving between two dark yew-trees at
the side of the churchyard farthest from the tomb; at the
same time a dark mass moved from the Professor’s side of
the ground, and hurriedly went towards it. Then I too
moved; but I had to go round headstones and railed-ofif
tombs, and I stumbled over graves. The sky was overcast,
and somewhere far off an early cock crew. A little way off,
beyond a line of scattered juniper-trees, which marked the
pathway to the church, a white, dim figure flitted in the di-
rection of the tomb. The tomb itself was hidden by trees,
and I could not see where the figure disappeared. I heard
the rustle of actual movement where I had first seen the
white figure, and coming over, found the Professor holding
in his arms a tiny child. When he saw me he held it out to
me, and said :

“Are you satisfied now ?”

“No,” I said, in a way that I felt was aggressive.
“Do you not see the child ?”
“Yes, it is a child, but who brought it here? And is it
wounded?” I asked.
“We shall see,” said the Professor, and with one imouls*
 Dr. Seward’s Diary 199
we took our way out of the churchyard, he carrying the
sleeping child.
When we had got some little distance away, we went into
a clump of trees, and struck a match, and looked at the
child’s throat. It was without a scratch or scar of any kind.
“Was I right?” asked triumphantly.
I
“We were just in time,” said the Professor thankfully.
We had now to decide what we were to do with the child,
and so consulted about it. If we were to take it to a police-
station we should have to give some account of our move-
ments during the night at least, we should have had to make
;

some statement as to how we had come to find the child. So

finally we decided that we would take it to the Heath, and
when we heard a policeman coming, would leave it where he
could not fail to find it we would then seek our way home
;

as quickly as we could. All fell out well. At the edge of

Hampstead Heath we heard a policeman’s heavy tramp, and
laying the child on the pathway, we waited and watched until
he saw it as he flashed his lantern to and fro. We heard his
exclamation of astonishment, and then we went away silently.
By good chance we got a cab near the “Spaniards,” and
drove to town.
I cannot sleep, so I make this entry. But I must try to get
a few hours’ sleep, as Van Helsing is to call for me at noon.
He insists that I shall go with him on another expedition.

27 September . — It o’clock before we found a

was two
suitable opportunity for our attempt. The funeral held at
noon was all completed, and the last stragglers of the mourn-
ers had taken themselves lazily away, when, looking carefully
from behind a clump of alder-trees, we saw the sexton lock
the gate after him. We
knew then that we were safe till
morning did we desire it; but the Professor told me that we
should not want more than an hour at most. Again I felt
that horrid sense of the reality of things, in which any effort
of imagination seemed out of place and I realised distinctly
;

the perils of the law which we were incurring in our un-

hallowed work. Besides, I felt it was all so useless. Out-
rageous as it was to open a leaden coffin, to see if a woman
dead nearly a week were really dead, it now seemed the
height of folly to open the tomb again, when we knew, from
the evidence of our own eyesight, that the coffin was
empty.
I shrugged my shoulders, however,
and rested silent, for Van
 — -
;

200 Dracula

Helsing had a way of going on his own road, no matter who

remonstrated. He took the key, opened the vault, and again
courteously motioned me to precede. The place was not so
gruesome as last night, but oh, how unutterably mean-look-
ing when the sunshine streamed in. Van Helsing walked
over to Lucy's coffin, and I followed. He bent over and
again forced back the leaden flange; and then a shock of
surprise and dismay shot through me.
There lay Lucy, seemingly just as we had seen her the
night before her funeral. She was, if possible, more radi-
antly beautiful than ever; and I could not believe that she
was dead. The lips were red, nay redder than before and ;

on the cheeks was a delicate bloom.

‘‘Is this a juggle?" I said to him.
“Are you convinced now ?" said the Professor in response,
and as he spoke he put over his hand, and in a way that made
me shudder, pulled back the dead lips and showed the white
teeth.
“See," he went on, “see, they are even sharper than before.

——
With this and this" and he touched one of the canine teeth
and that below it “the little children can be bitten. Are
you of belief now, friend John?" Once more, argumenta-
tive hostility woke within me. I could not accept such an
overwhelming idea as he suggested so, with an attempt to
;

argue of which I was even at the moment ashamed, I said : —

“She may have been placed here since last night."
“Indeed? That is so,and by whom?"
“I do not know. Some one has done it."
“And yet she has been dead one week. Most peoples in
that time would not look so." I had no answer for this, so
was silent. Van Helsing did not seem to notice my silence
at any rate, he showed neither chagrin nor triumph. He
was looking intently at the face of the dead woman, raising
the eyelids and looking at the eyes, and once more opening
the lips and examining the teeth. Then he turned to me and
said :

“Here, there is one thing which is different from all re-

corded here is some dual life that is not as the common. She
;

was bitten by the vampire when she was in a trance, sleep-

—
walking oh, you start you do not know that, friend John,
;

—
but you shall know it all later and in trance could he best
come to take more blood. In trance she died, and in trance
she is Un-Dead, too. So it is that she differ from all other.
 — —
Dr. Seward's Diary 201

—
Usually when the Un-Dead sleep at home” as he spoke he
made a comprehensive sweep of his arm to designate what
to a vampire was. “home” —“their face show what they are,
but this so sweet that was when she not Un-Dead she go back
to the nothings of the common dead. There is no malign
there, see, and so it make hard that I must kill her in her
sleep.” This turned my blood cold, and it began to dawn
upon me that I was accepting Van Helsing’s theories; but if
she were really dead, what was there of terror in the idea of
killing her? He looked up at me, and evidently saw the
change in my face, for he said almost joyously:
“Ah, you believe now ?”
I answered ;
“Do not press me too hard all at once. I
am willing to accept. How will you do this bloody work ?”
“I shall cut off her head and fill her mouth with garlic, and
I shall drive a stake through her body.” It made me shud-
der to think of so mutilating the body of the woman whom I
had loved. And yet the feeling was not so strong as I had
expected. I was, in fact, beginning to shudder at the pres-
ence of this being, this Un-Dead, as Van Helsing called it,
and to loathe it. Is it possible that love is all subjective, or
all objective?
I waited a considerable time for Van Helsing to begin, but
he stood as if wrapped in thought. Presently he closed the
catch of his bag with a snap, and said :

“I have been thinking, and have made up my mind as to

what is best. If I did simply follow my inclining I would do
now, at this moment, what is to be done; but there are other
things to follow, and things that are thousand times more
difficult in that them we do not know. This is simple. She
have yet no life taken, though that is of time and to act now
;

would be to take danger from her for ever. But then we

may have to want Arthur, and how shall we tell him of this ?
If you, who saw the wounds on Lucy’s throat, and saw the
wounds so similar on the child’s at the hospital .if you, who
;

saw the coffin empty last night and full to-day with a woman
who have not change only to be more rose and more beau-
tiful in a whole week, after she die— if you know of this and

know of the white figure last night that brought the child to
the churchyard, and yet of your own senses you did not be-
lieve, how," then, can I expect Arthur, who know none of
those things, to believe? He doubted me when I took him
from her kiss when she was dying. I know he has forgiven
202 Dracula

me because in some mistaken idea I have done things that

prevent him say good-bye as he ought; and he may think
that in some more mistaken idea this woman was buried
alive; and that in most mistake of all we have killed her.
He will then argue back that it is we, mistaken ones, that
have killed her by our ideas and so he will be much un-
;

happy always. Yet he never can be sure; and that is the

worst of all. And he will sometimes think that she he loved
was buried alive, and that will paint his dreams with hor-
rors of what she must have suffered; and again, he will
think that we may be right, and that his so beloved was, after
all, an Un-Dead. No! I told him once, and since then I
learn much. Now, since I know it is all true, a hundred
thousand times more do I know that he must pass through
the bitter waters to reach the sweet. He, poor fellow, must
have one hour that will make the very face of heaven grow
black to him then we can act for good all round and send
;

him peace. My mind is made up. Let us go. You return

home for to-night to your asylum, and see that all be well.
As for me, I shall spend the night here in this churchyard in
my own way. To-morrow night you will come to me to the
Berkeley Hotel at ten of the clock. I shall send for Arthur
to come too, and also that so young man of America that
fine
gave his blood. Later we shall all have work to do. I come
with you so far as Piccadilly and there dine, for I must be
back here before the sun set.”
So we locked tomb and came away, and got over the
the
wall of the churchyard, which was not much of a task, and
drove back to Piccadilly.

Note left by Van Helsing in his portmanteau Berkeley

M
,

Hotel4 directed to John Seward, D. .

(Not delivered.)
"27 September.
“Friend John,—
“I write this in case anything should happen. I go alone
to watch in that churchyard. It pleases me that the Un-
Dead, Miss Lucy, shall not leave to-night, that so on the
morrow night she may be more eager. Therefore I shall
fix some things she like not —
garlic and a crucifix and so —
seal up the door of the tomb. She is young as Un 'Dead, and
will heed. Moreover, these are only to prevent her coming
 —
Dr. Seward’s Diary 203
out ; may not prevail on her wanting to get in for then,
they ;

the Un-Dead is desperate, and must find the line of least re-
sistance, whatsoever it may be. I shall be at hand all the
night from sunset till after the sunrise, and if there be aught
that may be learned I shall learn it. For Miss Lucy, or from
her, I have no fear ;
but that other to whom is there that she
is Un-Dead, he have now the power to seek her tomb and find
shelter. He is cunning, as I know from Mr. Jonathan and
from the way that all along he have fooled us when he played
with us for Miss Lucy’s life, and we lost and in many ways
;

the Un-Dead are strong. He have always the strength in

his hand of twenty men even we four who gave our strength
;

to Miss Lucy it also is all to him. Besides, he can summon

his wolf and I know not what. So if it be that he come
thither on this night he shall find me but none other shall
;

until it be too late. But it may be that he will not attempt

the place. There is no reason why he should ;
his hunting
ground is more full of game than the churchyard where the
Un-Dead woman sleep, and one old man watch.
“Therefore I write this in case .... Take the papers
that are with this, the diaries of Harker and the rest, and
read them, and then find this great Un-Dead, and cut off his
head and burn his heart or drive a stake through it, so that
the world may rest from him.
“If it be so, farewell.
“Van Helsing”

Dr. Seward's Diary.

28 September . —
It is wonderful what a good night's sleep
will do for one. Yesterday I was almost willing to accept
Van Helsing's monstrous ideas but now they seem to start
;

out lurid before me as outrages on common sense. I have

no doubt that he believes it all. I wonder if his mind can
have become in any way unhinged. Surely there must be
some rational explanation of all these mysterious things. Is

it possible that the Professor can have

done it himself? He
is so abnormally clever that if he went
off his head he would
carry out his intent with regard to some fixed idea in a won-
derful way. I am loath to think it, and indeed it would be
almost as great a marvel as the other to find that Van Hel-
singwas mad; but anyhow I shall watch him carefully. I

may get some light on the mystery.

 — —
204 Dracula

29 September, morning Last night, at a little

before ten o’clock, Arthur and Quincey came into Van Hel
sing’s room he told us all that he wanted us to do, but es-
;

pecially addressing himself to Arthur, as if all our wills were

centred in his. He began by saying that he hoped we would
all come with him too, “for,” he said, “there is a grave duty
to be done there. You were doubtless surprised at my let-
ter?” This query was directly addressed to Lord Godalm'
ing.
“I was. It rather upset me for a bit. There has been so
much trouble around my house of late that I could do with-
out any more. I have been curious, too, as to what you
mean. Quincey and I talked it over; but the more we
talked, the more puzzled we got, till now I can say for myself
that I’m about up a tree as to any meaning about anything.”
“Me, too,” said Quincey Morris laconically.
“Oh,” said the Professor, “then you are nearer the begin-
ning, both of you, than friend John here, who has to go a
long way back before he can even get so far as to begin.”
It was evident that he recognised my return to my old
doubting frame of mind without my saying a word. Then,
turning to the other two, he said with intense gravity :

“I want your permission to do what I think good this

night. It is, I know, much to ask; and when you know
what it is I propose to do you will know, and only then, how
much. Therefore may I ask that you promise me in the
dark, so that afterwards, though you may be angry with me
for a time— I must not disguise from myself the possibility
that such may be
thing.”
— you shall not blame yourselves for any-

“That’s frank anyhow,” broke in Quincey. “I’ll answer

for the Professor. I don’t quite see his drift, but I swear
he’s honest;
and that’s good enough for me.”
“I thank you, sir,” said Van Helsing proudly. “I have
done myself the honour of counting you one trusting friend,
and such endorsement is dear to me.” He held out a hand,
which Quincey took.
Then Arthur spoke out :

“Dr. Van Helsing, I don’t quite like to ‘buy a pig in a

poke/ as they say in Scotland, and if it be anything in which
my honour as a gentleman or my faith as a Christian is con-
cerned, I cannot make such a promise. If you can assure
tne that what you intend does not violate either of these
 — — —
Dr* Seward’s Diary 205
two, then I give myconsent at once ; though, for the life of
me, I cannot understand what you are driving at.”
“I accept your limitation,” said Van Helsing, ‘‘and all I
ask of you is that if you feel it necessary to condemn any act
of mine, you will first consider it well and be satisfied that it
does not violate your reservations.”
“Agreed !” said Arthur “that is only fair. And now that
;

the pourparlers are over, may I ask what it is we are to do ?”

“I want you to come with me, and to come in secret, to
the churchyard at Kingstead.”
Arthur’s face fell as he said in an amazed sort of way:—
“Where poor Lucy is buried?” The Professor bowed.
Arthur went on: “And when there?”
“To enter the tomb !” Arthur stood up.
“Professor, are you in earnest; or it is some monstrous
joke? Pardon me, I see that you are in earnest.” He sat
down again, but I could see that he sat firmly and proudly,
as one who is on his dignity. There was silence until he
asked again:
“And when in the tomb ?”
“To open the coffin.”
“This is too much !” he said, angrily rising again. “I am
willing to be patient in all things that are reasonable but in
—
;

this— this desecration of the grave of one who ” He

fairly choked with indignation. The Professor looked pity-
ingly at him.
“If I could spare you one pang, my poor friend,” he said,
“God knows I would. But this night our feet must tread in
thorny paths or later, and for ever, the feet you love must
;

walk in paths of flame!”

Arthur looked up with set, white face and said :

!”
“Take care, sir, take care
“Would it not be well to hear what I have to say?” said
Van Helsing. “And then you will at least know the limit of
my purpose. Shall I go on?”
“That’s fair enough,” broke in Morris.
After a pause Van Helsing went on, evidently with an
effort :

“Miss Lucy is dead; is it not so? Yes! Then

”
there can
be no wrong to her. But if she be not dead
Arthur jumped to his feet.
“Good God !” he cried. “What do you mean? Has there
 —— ;

206 Dracula

been any mistake ; has she been buried alive ?” He groaned

in anguish that not even hope could soften.
“I did not say she was alive, my child ; I did not think it.

I go no further than to say that she might be Un-Dead.”

“Un-Dead! Not alive! What do you mean? Is this all
a nightmare, or what is k?”
“There are mysteries which men can only guess at, which
age by age they may solve only in part. Believe me, we are
now on the verge of one. But I have not done. May I cut
off the head of dead Miss Lucy?”
“Heavens and earth, no !” cried Arthur in a storm of pas-
sion. “Not for the wide world will I consent to any mutila-
tion of her dead body. Dr. Van Helsing, you try me too
far. What have I done to you that you should torture me
so ? What did that poor, sweet girl do that you should want
to cast such dishonour on her grave? Are you mad that
speak such things, or am I mad that listen to them? Don’t
dare to think more of such a desecration; I shall not give
my consent to anything you do. I have a duty to do in pro- !”
tecting her grave from outrage and, by God, I shall do it
;

Van Helsing rose up from where he had all the time been
seated, and said, gravely and sternly:

“My Lord Godaiming, I, too, have a duty to do, a duty

to others, a duty to you, a duty to the dead and, by God, I
;

shall do it
! All I ask you now is that you come with me, that
you look and listen and if when later I make the same re-
;

quest you do not be more eager for its fulfilment even than
I am, then — then I shall do my duty, whatever it may seem
to me. And then, to follow of your Lordship’s wishes, I
shall hold myself at your disposal to render an account to
you, when and where you will.” His voice broke a little, and
he went on with a voice full of pity :

“But, I beseech you, do not go forth in anger with me. In

a long life of acts which were often not pleasant to do, and
which sometimes did wring my heart, I have never had so
heavy a task as now. Believe me that if the time comes for
you to change your mind towards me, one look from you will
wipe away all this so sad hour, for I would do what a man
can to save you from sorrow. Just think. For why should
I give myself so much of labour and so much of sorrow ? I
have come here from my own land to do what I can of good
at the first to please my friend John, and then to help a sweet
young lady, whom, too, I came to love. For her-- 1 am
 — ;

Dr. Seward’s Diary 207

ashamed to say so much, but I say it in kindness — I gave
what you gave the blood of my veins
; ;
gave it, I, who was
I
not, like you, her lover, but only her physician and her friend.
I gave to her my nights and days — before death, after death
and if my death can do her good even now, when she is the
dead Un-Dead, she shall have it freely.” He said this with a
very grave, sweet pride, and Arthur was much affected by it.
He took the old man’s hand and said in a broken voice :

“Oh, it is hard to think of it, and I cannot understand;

but at least I shall go with you and wait.”
 — ! — — ;

CHAPTER XVI
dr. seward's diary —continued
It was just a quarter before twelve o'clock when we got
into the churchyard over the low wall. The night was dark,
with occasional gleams of moonlight between the rents of
the heavy clouds that scudded across the sky. all kept We
somehow close together, with Van Helsing slightly in front
as he led the way. When we had come close to the tomb I
looked well at Arthur, for I feared that the proximity to a
place laden with so sorrowful a memory would upset him
but he bore himself well. I took it that the very mystery of
the proceeding was in some way a counteractant to his grief.
The Professor unlocked the door, and seeing a natural hesi-
tation amongst us for various reasons, solved the difficulty
by entering first himself. The rest of us followed, and he
closed the door. He then lit a dark lantern and pointed to
the coffin. Arthur stepped forward hesitatingly; Van Hel-
sing said to me :

“You were with me here yesterday. Was the body of

Miss Lucy in that coffin ?”
“It was.” The Professor turned to the rest saying :

“You hear; and yet there is no one who does not believe
with me.” He took his screwdriver and again took off the
lid of the coffin. Arthur looked on, very pale but silent;
when the lid was removed he stepped forward. He evidently
did not know that there was a leaden coffin, or, at any rate,
had not thought of it. When he saw the rent in the lead, the
blood rushed to his face for an instant, but as quickly fell
away again, so that he remained of a ghastly whiteness he ;

was still silent. Van Helsing forced back the leaden flange,
and we all looked in and recoiled.
The coffin was empty
For several minutes no one spoke a word. The silence
was broken by Quincey Morris :

“Professor, I answered for you. Your word is all I want.

I —
wouldn't ask such a thing ordinarily I wouldn’t so dis-
honour you as to imply a doubt but this is a mystery that
;

go*s beyond any honour or dishonour. Is this your doing ?'*

208
 Dr. Seward’s Diary 209
"I swear to you by all that I hold sacred that I have not
removed nor touched her. What happened was this Two :

nights ago my friend Seward and I came here with good

purpose, believe me. I opened that coffin, which was then
—
sealed up, and we found it, as now empty. We then waited,
and saw something white come through the trees. The next
day we came here in day-time, and she lay there. Did she
not, friend John?”
‘Wes.”
‘That night we were just in time. One more so small
child was missing, and we find it, thank God, unharmed
amongst the graves. Yesterday I came here before sun-
down, for at sundown the Un-Dead can move. I waited here
all the night till the sun rose, but I saw nothing. It was
most probable that it was because I had laid over the clamps
of those doors garlic, which the Un-Dead cannot bear, and
other things which they shun. Last night there was no exo-
dus, so to-night before the sundown I took away my garlic
and other things. And so it is we find this coffin empty. But
bear with me. So far there is much that is strange. Wait
you with me outside, unseen and unheard, and things much
—
stranger are yet to be. So” here he shut the dark slide of
—
his lantern “now to the outside.” He opened the door, and
we filed out, he coming last and locking the door behind him.
Oh but it seemed fresh and pure in the night air after the
!

terror of that vault. How sweet it was to see the cloud*

race by, and the passing gleams of the moonlight between
—
the scudding clouds crossing and passing like the gladness
and sorrow of a man’s life how sweet it was to breathe the
;

fresh air, that had no taint of death and decay how human-
;

ising to see the red lighting of the sky beyond the hill, and to
hear far away the muffled roar that marks the life of a great
city. Each in his own way was solemn and overcome. Ar-
thur was silent, and was, I could see, striving to grasp the
purpose and the inner meaning of the mystery. I was my-
self tolerably patient, and half inclined again to throw aside
doubt and to accept Van Helsing’s conclusions. Quincey
Morris was phlegmatic in the way of a man who
accepts all
things, and accepts them in the spirit of cool bravery, with
hazard of all he has to stake. Not being able to smoke, he
cut himself a good-sized plug of tobacco and began to chew.
As to Van Helsing, he was employed in a definite way. First
he took from his bag a mass of what looked like thin, wafer*
(14)
 — — ;;

210 Dracula
like biscuit, which was carefully up in a white napkin
rolled
next he took out a double-handful of some whitish stuff, like
dough or putty. He crumbled the wafer up fine and worked
it into the mass between his hands. This he then took, and
rolling it into thin strips, began to lay them into the crevices
between the door and its setting in the tomb. I was some-
what puzzled at this, and being close, asked him what it was
that he was doing. Arthur and Quincey drew near also, as
they too were curious. He answered:
“I am closing the tomb, so that the Un-Dead may not en-
ter.”
‘‘And is that stuff you have put there going to do it?”
asked Quincey, “Great Scott Is this a game ?”
!

“It is”
“What is that which you are using?” This time the ques-
tion was by Arthur. Van Helsing reverently lifted his hat as
he answered :

“The Host. I brought it from Amsterdam. I have an

Indulgence.” It was an answer that appalled the most scep-
tical of us, and we felt individually that in the presence of
such earnest purpose as the Professor’s, a purpose which
could thus use the to him most sacred of things, it was im-
possible to distrust. In respectful silence we took the places
assigned to us close round the tomb, but hidden from the
sight of any one approaching. I pitied the others, especially
Arthur. I had myself been apprenticed by my former visits
to this watching horror; and yet I, who had up to an hour
ago repudiated the proofs, felt my heart sink within me.
Never did tombs look so ghastly white never did cypress, or
;

yew, or juniper so seem the embodiment of funereal gloom

never did tree or grass wave or rustle so ominously; never
did bough creak so mysteriously and never did the far-away
;

howling of dogs send such a woeful presage through the

night.
There was a long spell of silence, a big, aching void, and
then from the Professor a keen “S-s-s-s !” He pointed and' ;

far down the avenue of yews we saw a white figure advance

— a dim white figure, which held something dark at its
breast. The figure stopped, and at the moment a ray of moon-
light fell upon the masses of driving clouds and showed in
startling prominence a dark-haired woman, dressed in the
cerements of the grave. We could not see the face, for it
was bent down over what we saw to be a fair-haired child
 — ;

Dr. Seward's Diary 21 I

There was a pause and a sharp little cry, such as a child

gives in sleep, or a dog as it lies before the fire and dreams.
We were starting forward, but the Professor’s warning
hand, seen by us as he stood behind a yew-tree, kept us back
and then as we looked the white figure moved forwards
again. It was now near enough for us to see clearly, and
the moonlight still held. My own heart grew cold as ice,
and I could hear the gasp of Arthur, as we recognised the
features of Lucy Westenra. Lucy Westenra, but yet how
changed. The sweetness was turned to adamantine, heart-
less cruelty, and the purity to voluptuous wantonness. Van
Helsing stepped out, and, obedient to his gesture, we all ad-
vanced too the four of us ranged in a line before the door
;

of the tomb. Van Helsing raised his lantern and drew the
slide by the concentrated light that fell on Lucy’s face we
;

could see that the lips were crimson with fresh blood, and
that the stream had trickled over her chin and stained the
purity of her lawn death-robe.
We shuddered with horror. I could see by the tremulous
light that even Van Helsing’s iron nerve had failed. Arthur
was next to me, and if I had not seized his arm and held him
up, he would have fallen.
—
When Lucy I call the thing that was before us Lucy be-
—
cause it bore her shape saw us she drew back with an an-
gry snarl, such as a cat gives when taken unawares; then
her eyes ranged over us. Lucy’s eyes in form and colour;
but Lucy’s eyes unclean and full of hell-fire, instead of the
pure, gentle orbs we knew. At that moment the remnant
of my love passed into hate and loathing; had she then to
be killed, I could have done it with savage delight. As she
looked, her eyes blazed with unholy light, and the face be-
came wreathed with a voluptuous smile. Oh, God, how it
made me shudder to see it! With a careless motion, she
flung to the ground, callous as a devil, the child that up to
now she had clutched strenuously to her breast, growling
over it as a dog growls over a bone. The child gave a sharp
cry, and lay there moaning. There was a cold-bloodedness
in the act which wrung a groan from Arthur when she ad-
;

vanced to him with outstretched arms and a wanton smile,

he fell back and hid his face in his hands.
She still advanced, however, and with a languorous, volup-
tuous grace, said :

v
-
Come to me Arthur. Leave these others and come tc
 — — — •
;

Z12 Dracula

me. My arms are hungry for you. Come, and we can rest
together. Come, my husband, come!”
There was something diabolically sweet in her tones
—
something of the tingling of glass when struck which rang
through the brains even of us who heard the words ad-
dressed to another. As for Arthur, he seemed under a spell
moving his hands from his face, he opened wide his arms.
She was leaping for them, when Van Helsing sprang for-
ward and held between them his little golden crucifix. She
recoiled from it, and, with a suddenly distorted face, full of
rage, dashed past him as if to enter the tomb.
When within a foot or two of the door, however, she
stopped as if arrested by some irresistible force. Then she
turned, and her face was shown in the clear burst of moon-
light and by the lamp, which had now no quiver from Van
Helsing’s iron nerves. Never did I see such baffled malice
on a face and never, I trust, shall such ever be seen again
;

by mortal eyes. The beautiful colour became livid, the eyes

seemed to throw out sparks of hell-fire, the brows were
wrinkled as though the folds of the flesh were the coils of
Medusa’s snakes, and the lovely, blood-stained mouth grew
to an open square, as in the passion masks of the Greeks and
—
Japanese. If ever a face meant death if looks could kill —
we saw it at that moment.
And so for full half a minute, which seemed an eternity,
she remained between the lifted crucifix and the sacred clos-
ing of her means of entry. Van Helsing broke the silence
by asking Arthur :

“Answer me, oh my friend! Am I to proceed in my

work ?”
Arthur threw himself on his knees, and hid his face in his
hands, as he answered :

“Do as you will, friend do as you will. There can be no

;

horror like this ever any more;” and he groaned in spirit.

Quincey and I simultaneously moved towards him, and took
his arms. We
could hear the click of the closing lantern as
Van Helsing held it down; coming close to the tomb, he
began to remove from the chinks some of the sacred emblem
which he had placed there. We
all looked on in horrified
amazement as we saw, when he stood back, the woman, with
a corporeal body as real at that moment as our own, pass in
through the interstice where scarce a knife-blade could have
gone. We all felt a glad sense of relief when we saw the
 —
Dr. Seward’s Diary 213
Professor calmly restoring the strings of putty to the
edges
of the door.
When this was done, he lifted the child and said:
“Come now, my friends ; we can do no more till to-morrow.
There is a funeral at noon, so here we shall all come before
long after that. The friends of the dead will all be gone by
two, and when the sexton lock the gate we shall remain.
Then there is more to do; but not like this of to-night. As
for this little one, he is not much harm, and by to-morrow
night he shall be well. We
shall leave him where the police
will find him, as on the other night; and then to home.”
Coming close to Arthur, he said :

“My friend Arthur, you have had sore trial but after,
;

when you will look back, you will see how it was necessary.
You are now in the bitter waters, my child. By this time to-
morrow you will, please God, have passed them, and have
drunk of the sweet waters so do not mourn overmuch. Till
;

then I shall not ask you to forgive me.”

Arthur and Quincey came home with me, and we tried to
cheer each other on the way. We had left the child in safety,
and were tired so we all slept with more or less reality of
;

sleep.

29 September, night . —
A little before twelve o'clock we
— —
three Arthur, Quincey Morris, and myself called for the
Professor. It was odd to notice that by common consent we
had all put on black clothes. Of course, Arthur wore black,
for he was in deep mourning, but the rest of us wore it by
instinct. We got to the churchyard by half-past one, and
strolled about, keeping out of official observation, so that
when the gravediggers had completed their task and the
sexton, under the belief that every one had gone, had locked
the gate, we had the place all to ourselves. Van Helsing,
instead of his little black bag, had with him a long leather
one, something like a cricketing bag; it was manifestly of
fair weight.
When we were alone and had heard the last of the foot-
steps die out up the road, we silently, and as if by ordered
intention, followed the Professor to the tomb. He unlocked
the door, and we entered, closing it behind us. Then he
took from his bag the lantern, which he lit, and also two wax
candles, which, when lighted, he stuck, by melting their own
ends, on other coffins, so that they might give light sufficient
 — —
214 Dracula

to work by. When he again lifted the lid off Lucy's coffin
we all looked —Arthur trembling like an aspen and saw —
that the body lay there in all its death-beauty. But there
was no love in my own heart, nothing but loathing for the
foul Thing which had taken Lucy's shape without her soul.
I could see even Arthur’s face grow hard as he looked. Pres-
ently he said to Van Helsing :

“Is this really Lucy’s body, or only a demon in her

shape ?”
“It her body, and yet not it. But wait a while, and you
is
shall see her as she was, and is.”
She seemed like a nightmare of Lucy as she lay there the
—
;

pointed teeth, the bloodstained, voluptuous mouth which it

made one shudder to see —the whole carnal and unspiritual
appearance, seeming like a devilish mockery of Lucy’s sweet
purity. Van Helsing, with his usual methodicalness, began
taking the various contents from his bag and placing them
ready for use. First he took out a soldering iron and some
plumbing solder, and then a small oil-lamp, which gave out,
when lit in a corner of the tomb, gas which burned at fierce
heat with a blue flame then his operating knives, which he
;

placed to hand; and last a round wooden stake, some two

and a half or three inches thick and about three feet long.
One end of it was hardened by charring in the fire, and was
sharpened to a fine point. With this stake came a heavy
hammer, such as in households is used in the coal-cellar for
breaking the lumps. To me, a doctor’s preparations for
work of any kind are stimulating and bracing, but the effect
of these things on both Arthur and Quincey was to cause
them a sort of consternation. They both, however, kept
their courage, and remained silent and quiet.
When was ready, Van Helsing said
all :

“Before we do anything, let me tell you this it is out of ;

the lore and experience of the ancients and of all those who
have studied the powers of the Un-Dead. When they be-
come such, there comes with the change the curse of im-
mortality they cannot die, but must go on age after age add-
;

ing new victims and multiplying the evils of the world for ;

all that die from the preying of the Un-Dead become them-
selves Un-Dead, and prey on their kind. And so the circle
goes on ever widening, like as the ripples from a stone
thrown in the water. Friend Arthur, if you had met that
kiss which you know of before poor Lucy die or again, last
;
 — , — ;

Dr. Seward’s Diary 215

night when you open your arms to her, you would in time,
when you had have become nosferatu as they call it in
died,
Eastern Europe, and would all time make more of those Un-
Deads that so have fill us with horror. The career of this so
unhappy dear lady is but just begun. Those children whose
blood she suck are not as yet so much the worse; but if she
live on, Un-Dead, more and more they lose their blood and
by her power over them they come to her and so she draw
;

their blood with that so wicked mouth. But if she die in

truth, then all cease; the tiny wounds of the throats disap-
pear, and they go back to their plays unknowing ever of
what has been. But of the most blessed of all,
when this now Un-Dead be made to rest as true
dead, then the soul of the poor lady whom we love
shall again be free. Instead of working wickedness by night
and growing more debased in the assimilation of it by day,
she shall take her place with the other Angels. So that, my
friend, it will be a blessed hand for her that shall strike the
blow that sets her free. To this I am willing; but is there
none amongst us who has a better right? Will it be no joy
to think of hereafter in the silence of the night when sleep
is not :‘It was my hand that sent her to the stars it was the
;

hand of him that loved her best the hand that of all she
;

would herself have chosen, had it been to her to choose?'

Tell me if there be such a one amongst us?”
We all looked at Arthur. He saw, too, what we all did,
the infinite kindness which suggested that his should be the
hand which would restore Lucy to us as a holy, and not an
unholy, memory; he stepped forward and said bravely,
though his hand trembled, and his face was as pale as
snow :

“My true friend, from the bottom of my broken heart I

thank you. Tell me what I am to do, and I shall not falter!”
Van Helsing laid a hand on his shoulder, and said :

“Brave lad ! A
moment’s courage, and it is done. This
stake must be driven through her. It will be a fearful ordeal
—
•
—
be not deceived in that but it will be only a short time,
and you will then rejoice more than your pain was great
from this grim tomb you will emerge as though you tread on
air. But you must not falter when once you have begun.
Only think that we, your true friends, are round you, and
that we pray for you all the time.”
 ;

316 Dracula

“Go on,” said Arthur hoarsely. “Tell me what I am to

do.”
“Take this stake in your left hand, ready to place the point
over the heart, and the hammer in your right. Then when
—
we begin our prayer for the dead I shall read him, I have
here the book, and the others shall follow strike in God’s —
name, that so all may be well with the dead that we love
and that the Un-Dead pass away .”
Arthur took the stake and the hammer, and when once his
mind was set on action his hands never trembled nor even
quivered. Van Helsing opened his missal and began to
read, and Quincey and I followed as well as we could. Ar-
thur placed the point over the heart, and as I looked I could
see its dint in the white flesh. Then he struck with all his
might.
The Thing in the coffin writhed; and a hideous, blood-
curdling screech came from the opened red lips. The body
shook and quivered and twisted in wild contortions; the
sharp white teeth champed together till the lips were cut,
and the mouth was smeared with a crimson foam. But Ar^
thur never faltered. He looked like a figure of Thor as his
untrembling arm rose and fell, driving deeper and deeper
the mercy-bearing stake, whilst the blood from the pierced
heart welled and spurted up around it. His face was set,
and high duty seemed to shine through it; the sight of it
gave us courage, so that our voices seemed to ring through
the little vault.
And then the writhing and quivering of the body became
less, and the teeth seemed to champ, and the face to quiver.
Finally it lay still. The terrible task was over.
The hammer from Arthur’s hand. He reeled and
fell
would have fallen had we not caught him. The great drops
of sweat sprang from his forehead, and his breath came in
broken gasps. It had indeed been an awful strain on him
and had he not been forced to his task by more than human
considerations he could never have gone through with it.
For a few minutes we were so taken up with him that we
did not look towards the coffin. When we did, however, a
murmur of startled surprise ran from one to the other of us.
We gazed so eagerly that Arthur rose, for he had been seated
on the ground, and came and looked too; and then a glad,
strange light broke over his face and dispelled altogether
the gloom of horror that lay upon it.
 — — — —
Dr. Seward’s Diary 217
There, in the coffin lay no longer the foul Thing that we
had so dreaded and grown to hate that the work of her de-
struction was yielded as a privilege to the one best entitled
to it, but Lucy as we had seen her in her life, with her face
of unequalled sweetness and purity. True that there were
there, as we had
seen them in life, the traces of care and pain
and waste but these were all dear to us, for they marked her
;

truth to what we knew. One and all we felt that the holy
calm that lay like sunshine over the wasted face and form
was only an earthly token and symbol of the calm that was
to reign forever.
Van Helsing came and laid his hand on Arthur’s shoul-
der,and said to him :

“And now, Arthur, my friend, dear lad, am I not for-

given ?”
The reaction of the terrible strain came as he took the old
man’s hand in his, and raising it to his lips, pressed it, and
said :

“Forgiven God bless you that you have given my dear

!

one her soul again, and me peace.” He put his hands on the
Professor’s shoulder, and laying his head on his breast, cried
for a while silently, whilst we stood unmoving. When he
raised his head Van Helsing said to him :

“And now, my you may kiss her. Kiss her dead lips
child,
if you will, as she would have you to, if for her to choose.
—
For she is not a grinning devil now not any more a foul
Thing for all eternity. No longer she is the devil’s Un-Dead.
!”
She is God’s true dead, whose soul is with Him
Arthur bent and kissed her, and then we sent him and
Quincey out of the tomb the Professor and I sawed the
;

top off the stake, leaving the point of it in the body. Then
we cut off the head and filled the mouth with garlic. We
soldered up the leaden coffin, screwed on the coffin-lid, and
gathering up our belongings, came away. When the Pro-
fessor locked the door he gave the key to Arthur.
Outside the air was sweet, the sun shone, and the birds
sang, and it seemed as if all nature were tuned to a differ-
ent pitch. There was gladness and mirth and peace every-
where, for we were at rest ourselves on one account, and we
were glad, though it was with a tempered joy.
Before we moved away Van Helsing said:
“Now, my friends, one step of our work is done, one the
most harrowing to ourselves. But there remains a greater
 —
Dracula

task: to find out the author of all this our sorrow and to
stamp him out. I have clues which we can follow ; but it is a
long task, and a difficult, and there is danger in it, and pain.
Shall you not all help me? We have learned to believe, all
—
of us is it not so? And since so, do we not see our duty?
Yes And do we not promise to go on to the better end ?”
!

Each in turn, we took his hand, and the promise was

made. Then said the Professor as we moved off:
“Two nights hence you shall meet with me and dine to-
gether at seven of the clock with friend John. I shall en-
treat two others, two that you know not as yet and I shall
;

be ready to all our work show and our plans unfold. Friend
John, you come with me home, for I have much to consult
about, and you can help me. To-night I leave for Amster-
dam, but shall return to-morrow night. And then begins
our great quest. But first I shall have much to say, so that
you may know what is to do and to dread. Then our prom-
ise shall be made to each other anew ; for there is a terrible
task before us, and once our feet are on the ploughshare, we
tiust not draw back.”
 — — — :,

CHAPTER XVII
DR. seward's diary continued .

When we arrived at the Berkeley Hotel, Van Helsing found

a telegram waiting for him :

“Am coming up by train. Jonathan at Whitby. Import*

ant news. Mina Harker.”
The Professor was delighted. “Ah, that wonderful
Madam Mina,” he said, “pearl among women She arrive, !

but I cannot stay. She must go to your house, friend John.

You must meet her at the station. Telegraph her en route
so that she may be prepared.”
When the wire was despatched he had a cup of tea over ;

it he told me of a diary kept by Jonathan Harker when

abroad, and gave me a typewritten copy of it, as also of Mrs.

Harker’s diary at Whitby. “Take these,” he said, “and study
them well. When I have returned you will be master of all
the facts, and we can then better enter on our inquisition.
Keep them safe, for there is in them much of treasure. You
will need all your faith, even you who have had such an ex-
perience as that of to-day. What is here told,” he laid his
hand heavily and gravely on the packet of papers as he
spoke, “may be the beginning of the end to you and me and
many another; or it may sound the knell of the Un-Dead
who walk the earth. Read all, I pray you, with the open
mind and if you can add in any way to the story here told
;

do so, for it is all-important. You have kept diary of all

these so strange things ; is it not so? Yes! Then we shall
go through all these together when that we meet.” He then
made ready for his departure, and shortly after drove off to
Liverpool Street. I took my way to Paddington, where I
arrived about fiftee. minutes before the train came in.
The crowd melted away, after the bustling fashion com-
mon o arrival platforms ; and I was beginning to feel un-
easy, lest I might miss my guest, when a sweet-faced, dainty-
looking girl stepped up to me, and, after a quick glance, said
“Dr. Seward, is it not?”
“And you are Mrs. Harker I' I answered at once; where*
upon she held out her hand.
tie
 — !

220 Dracula

“I knew you from the description of poor dear Lucy;

—
but ” She stopped suddenly, and a quick blush overspread
her face.
The blush that rose to my own cheeks somehow set us both
at ease, for it was a tacit answer to her own. I got her lug-
gage, which included a typewriter, and we took the Under-
ground to Fenchurch Street, after I had sent a wire to my
housekeeper to have a sitting-room and bedroom prepared at
once for Mrs. Harker.
In due time we arrived. She knew, of course, that the
place was a lunatic asylum, but I could see that she was un-
able to repress a shudder when we entered.
She told me that, if she might, she would come presently to
my study, as she had much to say. So here I am finishing
my entry in my phonograph diary whilst I await her. As yet
I have not had the chance of looking at the papers which Van
Helsing left with me, though they lie open before me. I must
get her interested in something, so that I may have an oppor-
tunity of reading them. She does not know how precious
time is, or what a task we have in hand. I must be careful
not to frighten her. Here she is

MINA HARKER’s JOURNAL.

29 September . —
After I had tidied myself, I went down
to Dr. Seward’s study. At the door I paused a moment, for
I thought I heard him talking with some one. As, how-
ever, he had pressed me to be quick, I knocked at the door,
and on his calling out, “Come in,” I entered.
To my intense surprise, there was no one with him. He
was quite alone, and on the table opposite him was what 1
knew at once from the description to be a phonograph. I
had never seen one, and was much interested.
“I hope I did not keep you waiting,” I said; “but I
stayed at the door as I heard you talking, and thought there
was some one with you.”
“Oh,” he replied with a smile, “I was only entering my
diary.”
“Your diary?”asked him in surprise.
I
“Yes,” he answered. “I keep it in this.” As he spoke he
laid his hand on the phonograph. I felt quite excited over
it, and blurted out *.

“Why, this beats even shorthand 1 May I hear it say

something?”
 —— — —
Dr* Seward’s Diary 221
"Certainly he replied with and stood up to put
alacrity,
it in train for speaking. Then he paused, and a troubled
look overspread his face.
“The fact is,” he began awkwardly, “I only keep my
—
diary in it ; and as it is entirely almost entirely about my—
cases, it may be awkward —
that is, I mean” —
He stopped,
and I tried to help him out of his embarrassment:
“You helped to attend dear Lucy at the end. Let me hear
how she died; for all that I know of her, I shall be very
grateful. She was very, very dear to me.”
To my surprise, he answered, with a horrorstruck look in
his face :

“Tell you of her death? Not for the wide world !”

“Why not?” I asked, for some grave, terrible feeling
was coming over me. Again he paused, and I could see
that he was trying to invent an excuse. At length he stam-
mered out:
“You see, I do not know how to pick out any particular
part of the diary.” Even while he was speaking an idea
dawned upon him, and he said with unconscious simplicity,
vn a different voice, and with the naivete of a child “That’s :

quite true, upon my honour. Honest Indian !” I could not

but smile, at which he grimaced, “I gave myself away that
time!” he said. “But do you know although I have
that,
kept the diary for months past, it never once struck me how

I was going to find any particular part of it in case I wanted

to look it up ?” By this time my mind was made up that the
diary of a doctor who attended Lucy might have something
to add to the sum of our knowledge of that terrible Being,
and I said boldly :

“Then, Dr. Seward, you had better let me copy it out for
you on my typewriter.” He grew to a positively deathly
pallor as he said :

“No! no! no! For all the world, I wouldn’t let you
know that terrible story !”
Then it was terrible; my right!
intuition was
For a
moment I thought, and as my eyes ranged the room, uncon-
sciously looking for something or some opportunity to aid
me, they lit on the great batch of typewriting on the table.
His eyes caught the look in mine, and, without his thinking,
followed their direction. As they saw the parcel he realised
my meaning.
“You do not know me” I said “When you have read
 — — !

222 Dracula

those papers —my own diary and my husband’s which also,

I have typed—you know me
will have not faltered
better. I
in giving every thought of my own heart causein this ;
but,
of course, you do not know me—yet and must not expect
;
I
you me so
to trust far.”
He is certainly a man of noble nature; poor dear Lucy
was right about him. He stood up and opened a large
drawer, in which were arranged in order a number of hollow
cylinders of metal covered with dark wax, and said :

“You are quite right. I did not trust you because I did
not know you. But I know you now and let me say that I
;

should have known you long ago. I know that Lucy told
you of me she told me of you too. May I make the only
;

atonement in my power? Take the cylinders and hear them

— the first half-dozen of them are personal to me, and they
will not horrify you then you will know me better. Din-
;

ner will by then be ready. In the meantime I shall read over

some of these documents, and shall be better able to under-
stand certain things.” He carried the phonograph himself
up to my sitting-room and adjusted it for me. Now I shall
learn something pleasant, I am sure for it will tell me the
;

other side of a true love episode of which I know one side

already
Dr. Seward's Diary.

—
29 September. I was so absorbed in that wonderful diary
of Jonathan Harker and that other of his wife that I let the
time run on without thinking. Mrs. Harker was not down
when the maid came to announce dinner, so I said “She is :

possibly tired let dinner wait an hour ;” and I went on with

;

my work. I had just finished Mrs. Harker’s diary, when

she came in. She looked sweetly pretty, but very sad, and
her eyes were flushed with crying. This somehow moved
me much. Of late I have had cause for tears, God knows
but the relief of them was denied me and now the sight of
;

those sweet eyes, brightened with recent tears, went straight

to my heart. So I said as gently as I could :

“I greatly fear I have distressed you.”

“Oh no, not distressed me,” she replied, “but I have been
more touched than I can say by your grief. That is a won-
derful machine, but it is cruelly true. It told me, in its
very tones, the anguish of your heart. It was like a soul
crying out to almighty God. No one must hear them spoken
ever again | See> I have tried to be useful, I have copied
 —
Dr. Seward’s Diary 223
out the words on my typewriter, and none other need now
hear your heart beat, as 1 did.”
“No one need ever know, shall ever know.” I said in a low
voice. She laid her hand on mine and said very gravely :

!”
“Ah, but they must
“Must! But why?” asked.
I
“Because it is a part of the terrible story, a part of poor
dear Lucy’s death and all that led to it; because in the
struggle which we have before us to rid the earth of this
terrible monster we must have all the knowledge and all the
help which we can get. I think that the cylinders which you
gave me contained more than you intended me to know;
but I can see that there are in your record many lights to
this dark mystery. You will let me help, will you not? I
know all up to a certain point; and I see already, though
your diary only took me to 7 September, how poor Lucy was
beset, and how her terrible doom was being wrought out.
Jonathan and I have been working day and night since Pro-
fessor Van Helsing saw us. He is gone to Whitby to get
more information, and he will be here to-morrow to help us.
We need have no secrets amongst us; working together
and with absolute trust, we can surely be stronger than if
some of us were in the dark.” She looked at me so appeal-
ingly, and at the same time manifested such courage and
resolution in her bearing, that I gave in at once to her
wishes. “You shall,” I said, “do as you like in the matter.
God forgive me if I do wrong! There are terrible things
yet to learn of but if you have so far travelled on the road
;

to poor Lucy’s death, you will not be content, I know, to

—
remain in the dark. Nay, the end the very end may give—
you a gleam of peace. Come, there is dinner. We must
keep one another strong for what is before us; we have a
cruel and dreadful task. When you have eaten you shall
learn the rest, and I shall answer any questions you ask —if

there be anything which you do not understand, though it

was apparent to us who were present.”

MINA HARKER’S JOURNAL.

29 September . —After dinner came with Dr. Seward to
I
his study. He brought back the phonograph from my
room, and I took my
typewriter. He placed me in a con-
fortable chair, and arranged the phonograph so that I could
touch it without getting up, and showed me how to stop it
 —
tz 4 Dracula

in case I should wantto pause. Then he very thoughtfully

took a chair, with his back to me, so that I might be as free
as possible, and began to read. I put the forked metal to
my ears and listened.
—
When the terrible story of Lucy’s death, and and all that
followed, was done, I lay back in my
chair powerless. For-
tunately I am not of a fainting disposition. When Dr.
Seward saw me he jumped up with a horrified exclamation,
and hurriedly taking a case-bottle from a cupboard, gave me
some brandy, which in a few minutes somewhat restored me.
My brain was all in a whirl, and only that there came
through all the multitude of horrors, the holy ray of light
that my dear, dear Lucy was at last at peace, I do not think I
could have borne it without making a scene. It is all so
wild, and mysterious, and strange that if I had not known
Jonathan’s experience in Transylvania I could not have be-
lieved. As it was, I didn’t know what to believe, and so got
out of my difficulty by attending to something else. I took
the cover off my typewriter, and said to Dr. Seward :

“Let me write this all out now. We must be ready for Dr.
Van Helsing when he comes. I have sent a telegram to
Jonathan to come on here when he arrives in London from
Whitby. In this matter dates are everything, and I think
that if we get all our material ready, and have every item
put in chronological order, we shall have done much. You
tell me that Lord Godaiming and Mr. Morris are coming
too. Let us be able to tell them when they come.” He ac-
cordingly set the phonograph at a slow pace, and I began to
typewrite from the beginning of the seventh cylinder. I
used manifold, and so took three copies of the diary, just
as I had done with all the rest. It was late when I got
through, but Dr. Seward went about his work of going his
round of the patients when he had finished he came back
;

and sat near me, reading, so that I did not feel too lonely
whilst I worked. How good and thoughtful he is; the
—
world seems full of good men even if there are monsters
in it. Before I left him I remembered what Jonathan put
in his diary of the Professor’s perturbation at reading some-
thing in an evening paper at the station at Exeter so, see-
;

ing that Dr. Seward keeps his newspapers, I borrowed the

files of “The Westminster Gazette” and “The Pall Mall
Gazette,” and took them to my room. I remember how
much “The Dailygraph” and “The Whitby Gazette,” of
 Dr. Seward's Diary 22£
v/hich I had made cuttings, helped us to understand the ter-
rible events at Whitby when Count Dracula landed, so I
hall look through the evening papers since then, and per-
haps I shall get some new light. I am not sleepy, and the
vork will help to keep me quiet.

Dr. Seward's Diary.

—
30 September. Mr. Harker arrived at nine o’clock. He
had got his wife’s wire just before starting. He is uncom-
monly clever, if one can judge from his face, and full of en-
rgy. If his journal be true —
and judging by one’s own
—
wonderful experiences, it must be he is also a man of great
nerve. That going down to the vault a second time was a
1
emarkable piece of daring. After reading his account of it
I was prepared to meet a good specimen of manhood, but
hardly the quiet, business-like gentleman who came here
to-day.

Later . —After lunch Harker and his wife went back to

their own room, and as I passed a while ago I heard the click
of the typewriter. They are hard at it. Mrs. Harker says
that they are knitting together in chronological order every
scrap of evidence they have. Harker has got the letters be-
tween the consignee of the boxes at Whitby and the carriers
in London who took charge of them. He is now reading
his wife’s typescript of my diary. I wonder what they make
out of it. Here it is

Strange that it never struck me that the very next house

might be the Count’s hiding-place! Goodness knows that
we had enough clues from the conduct of the patient Ren-
field! The bundle of letters relating to the purchase of the
house were with the typescript. Oh, if we had only had
them earlier we might have saved poor Lucy! Stop; that
way madness lies Harker has gone back, and is again
!

collating his material. He says that by dinner-time they

will be able to show a whole connected narrative. He thinks
that in the meantime I should see Renfield, as hitherto he
has been a sort of index to the coming and going of the
Count. I hardly see this yet, but when I get at the dates I
suppose I shall. What a good thing that Mrs. Harker put
my cylinders into type! We never could have found the
dates otherwise
(iS)
226 Dracula

I found Renfield sitting placidly in his room with his

hands folded, smiling benignly. At the moment he seemed
as sane as any one I ever saw. I sat down and talked with
him on a lot of subjects, all of which he treated naturally.
He then, of his own accord, spoke of going home, a subject
he has never mentioned to my knowledge during his sojourn
here. In fact, he spoke quite confidently of getting his dis-
charge at once. I believe that, had I not had the chat with
Harker and read the letters and the dates of his outbursts, I
should have been prepared to sign for him after a brief time
of observation. As it is, I am
darkly suspicious. All those
outbreaks were in some way linked with the proximity of the
Count. What then does this absolute content mean? Can
it be that his instinct is satisfied as to the vampire’s ultimate

triumph ? Stay he is himself zoophagous, and in his wild

;

ravings outside the chapel door of the deserted house he

always spoke of “master.” This all seems confirmation of
our idea. However, after a while I came away my friend ;

is just a little too sane at present to make it safe to probe

him too deep with questions. He might begin to think, and
then — !So I came away. I mistrust these quiet moods of
his ; so I have given the attendant a hint to look closely after
him, and to have a strait-waistcoat ready in case of need.

Jonathan Harker’s Journal.

29 September ,
in train to London .
—When
received I
Mr. Billington’s courteous message that he would give me
any information in his power I thought it best to go down to
Whitby and make, on the spot, such inquiries as I wanted.
It was now my object to trace that horrid cargo of the
Count’s to its place in London. Later, we may be able to
deal with it. Billington junior, a nice lad, met me at the
station, and brought me to his father’s house, where they
had decided that Tmust stay the night. They are hospitable,
with true Yorkshire hospitality: give a guest everything,
and leave him free to do as he likes. They all knew that I
was busy, and that my stay was short, and Mr. Billington
had ready in his office all the papers concerning the consign-
ment of boxes. It gave me almost a turn to see again one
of the letters which I had seen on the Count's table before I
knew of his diabolical plans. Everything had been carefully
thought out, and done systematically and with precision. He
seemed to have been prepared for every obstacle which
 Dr. Seward’s Diary 227
might be placed by accident in the way of his intentions
being carried out. To use an Americanism, he had “taken
no chances,” and the absolute accuracy with which his in-
structions were fulfilled, was simply the logical result of hia
care. I saw the invoice, and took note of it: “Fifty cases
of common earth, to be used for experimental purposes.”
Also the copy of letter to Carter Paterson, and their reply;
of both of these I got copies. This was all the information
Mr. Billington could give me, so I went down to the port
and saw the coastguards, the Customs officers and the har-
bour-master. They had all something to say of the strange
entry of the ship, which is already taking its place in local
tradition; but no one could add to the simple description
“Fifty cases of common earth.” I then saw the station-mas-
ter, who kindly put me in communication with the men who
had actually received the boxes. Their tally was exact with
the list, and they had nothing to add except that the boxes
were “main and mortal heavy,” and that shifting them was
dry work. One of them added that it was hard lines that
there wasn’t any gentleman “such-like as yourself, squire,”
to show some sort of appreciation of their efforts in a
liquid form; another put in a rider that the thirst then
generated was such that even the time which had elapsed
had not completely allayed it. Needless to add, I took care
before leaving to lift, for ever and adequately, this source of
reproach.

30 September .
—The
station-master was good enough to
give me a line to his old companion the station-master at
King’s Cross, so that when I arrived there in the morning 1
was able to ask him about the arrival of the boxes. He, too,
put me at once in communication with the proper officials,
and I saw that their tally was correct with the original in-
voice. The opportunities of acquiring an abnormal thirst
had been here limited; a noble use of them had, however,
been made, and again I was compelled to deal with the result
in an ex post facto manner.
From thence I went on to Carter Paterson’s central office,
where I met with the utmost courtesy. They looked up
the transaction in their day-book and letter-book, and at
once telephoned to their King’s Cross office for more details.
By good fortune, the men who did the teaming were waiting
for work, and the official at once sent them over, sending
 —
228 Dracula

also by one of them the way-bill and all the papers connected
with the delivery of the boxes at Carfax. Here again I
found the tally agreeing exactly the carriers’ men were able
;

to supplement the paucity of the written words with a few

details. These were, I shortly found, connected almost
solely with the dusty nature of the job, and of the consequent
thirst engendered in the operators. On my affording an
opportunity, through the medium of the currency of the
realm, of the allaying, at a later period, this beneficial evil,
one of the men remarked :

“That ’ere ’ouse, guv’nor, is the rummiest I aver was in.

Blyme! but it ain’t been touched sence a hundred years.
There was dust that thick in the place that you might have
slep’ on it without ’urtin’ of yer bones; an’ the place was
that neglected that yer might ’ave smelled ole Jerusalem in
it. But the
ole chapel —
that took the cike, that did! Me
and my
mate, we thort we wouldn’t never git out quick
enough. Lor’, I wouldn’t take less nor a quid a moment to
stay there arter dark.”
Having been in the house, I could well believe him ; but if
he knew what I know, he would, I think, have raised his
terms.
Of one thing I am now satisfied : that all the boxes which
arrived at Whitby from Varna in the Demeter were safely
deposited in the old chapel of Carfax. There should be fifty
of them there, unless any have since been removed as from —
Dr. Seward’s diary I fear.
I shall try to see the carter who took away the boxes from
Carfax when Renfield attacked them. By following up this
clue we may learn a good deal.

Later . —
Mina and I have worked all day, and we have put
all the papers into order.

Mina Marker’s Journal.

30 September . — I am
so glad that I hardly know how to
contain myself. It is, I suppose, the reaction from the haunt-
ing fear which I have had that this terrible affair and the
:

reopening of his old wound might act detrimentally on

Jonathan. I saw him leave for Whitby with as brave a face
as I could, but I was sick with apprehension. The effort
has, however, done him good. He was never so resolute,
never so strong, never so full of volcanic energy, as at pres-
 — —
Dr. Seward’s Diary 229
ent. It is just as that dear, good Professor Van Helsing
said: he true grit, and he improves under strain that
is
would kill a weaker nature. He came back full of life and
hope and determination; we have got everything in order
for to-night. I feel myself quite wild with excitement. I
suppose one ought to pity any thing so hunted as is the
Count. That is just it this Thing is not human not even
: —
beast. To read Dr. Seward’s account of poor Lucy’s death,
and what followed, is enough to dry up the springs of pity in
one’s heart.

Later . —
Lord Godaiming and Mr. Morris arrived earlier
than we expected. Dr. Seward was out on business, and
had taken Jonathan with him, so I had to see them. It was
to me a painful meeting, for it brought back all poor dear
Lucy’s hopes of only a few months ago. Of course they
had heard Lucy speak of me, and it seemed that Dr. Van
Helsing, too, has been quite “blowing my trumpet,” as Mr.
Morris expressed it. Poor fellows, neither of them is aware
that I know all about the proposals they made to Lucy.
They did not quite know what to say or do, as they were
ignorant of the amount of my knowledge so they had to
;

keep on neutral subjects. However, I thought the matter

over, and came to the conclusion that the best thing I could
do would be to post them in affairs right up to date. I knew
from Dr. Seward’s diary that they had been at Lucy’s death
— —
her real death and that I need not fear to betray any
secret before the time. So I told them, as well as I could,
that I had read all the papers and diaries, and that my hus-
band and I, having typewritten them, had just finished put-
ting them in order. I gave them each a copy to read in the
library. When Lord Godaiming got his and turned it over
— it does make a pretty good pile —
he said :

“Did you write all this, Mrs. Harker?”

I nodded, and he went on :

“I don’t quite see the drift of it but you people are all so
;

good and kind, and have been working so earnestly and so

energetically, that all I can do is to accept your ideas blind-
fold and try to help you. I have had one lesson already in
accepting facts that should make a man humble to the last
hour of his life. Besides, I know you loved my poor Lucy
— ” Here he turned away and covered his face with his
hands. I could hear the tears in his voice. Mr. Morris,
with instinctive delicacy, just laid a hand for a moment on
 —

230 Dracula

his shoulder, and then walked quietly out of the room. I

suppose there is something in woman’s nature that makes
a man free to break down before her and express his feelings
on the tender or emotional side without feeling it derogatory
to his manhood; for when Lord Godaiming found himself
alone with me he sat down on the sofa and gave way utterly
and openly. I sat down beside him and took his hand. I
hope he didn’t think it forward of me, and that if he ever
thinks of it afterwards he never will have such a thought.
—
There I wrong him I know he never will he is too true a
;

gentleman. I said to him, for I could see that his heart was
breaking :

‘I loved dear Lucy, and I know what she was to you, and

what you were to her. She and I were like sisters and now
;

she is gone, will you not let me be like a sister to you in your
trouble? I know what sorrows you have had, though I
cannot measure the depth of them. If sympathy and pity
can help in your affliction, won’t you let me be of some little
service— for Lucy’s sake ?”
In an instant the poor dear fellow was overwhelmed with
grief. It seemed to me that all that he had of late been suf-
fering in silence found a vent at once. He grew quite hys-
terical, and raising his open hands, beat his palms together
in a perfect agony of grief. He stood up and then sat down
again, and the tears rained down his cheeks. I felt an in-
finite pity for him, and opened my arms unthinkingly. With
a sob he laid his head on my shoulder, and cried like a wear-
ied child, whilst he shook with emotion.
We women have something of the mother in us that
makes us rise above smaller matters when the mother-spirit
is invoked I felt this big, sorrowing man’s head resting on
;

me, as though it were that of the baby that some day may
lie on my bosom, and I stroked his hair as though he were
my own child. I never thought at the time how strange it
all was.
After a little bit his sobs ceased, and he raised himself
with an apology, though he made no disguise of his emo-
tion. He told me that for days and nights past weary —
—
days and sleepless nights he had been unable to speak with
any one, as a man must speak in his time of sorrow. There
was no woman whose sympathy could be given to him, or
with whom, owing to the terrible circumstance with which
his sorrow was surrounded, he could speak freely. “I know
 — — — !

Dr. Seward’s Diary 231

now how I suffered/’ he said, as he dried his eyes, “but I do
—
not know even yet and none other can ever know how —
much your sweet sympathy has been to me to-day. I shall
know better in time and believe me that, though I am not
;

ungrateful now, my gratitude will grow with my under-

standing. You will let me be like a brother, will you not,
for all our lives —
for dear Lucy’s sake?”
“For dear Lucy’s sake,” I said as we clasped hands. “Ay,
and for your own sake,” he added, “for if a man’s esteem
and gratitude are ever worth the winning, you have won
mine to-day. If ever the future should bring to you a time
when you need a man’s help, believe me, you will not call
in vain. God grant that no such time may ever come to you
to break the sunshine of your life; but if it should ever
come, promise me you will
that let me know.” He was so
earnest, and his sorrow was so fresh, that I felt it would
comfort him, so I said ;

“I promise.”
As I came along the corridor I saw Mr. Morris looking
out of a window. He turned as he heard my footsteps.
“How is Art?” he said. Then noticing my red eyes, he
went on “Ah, I see you have been comforting him. Poor
:

old fellow he needs it. No one but a woman can help a

!

man when he is in trouble of the heart and he had no one to

;

comfort him.”
He bore his own trouble so bravely that my heart bled for
him. I saw the manuscript in his hand, and I knew that
when he read it he would realise how much I knew; so I
said to him :

“I wish I could comfort all who

from the heart.
suffer
Will you let me be your friend, and will you come to me for
comfort if you need it? You will know, later on, why I
speak.” He saw that I was in earnest, and stooping, took
my hand, and raising it to his lips, kissed it. It seemed but
poor comfort to so brave and unselfish a soul, and impul-
sively I bent over and kissed him. The tears rose in his
eyes, and there was a momentary choking in his throat he ;

said quite calmly :

“Little girl, you will never regret that true-hearted

kindness, so long as ever you live !” Then he went into the
study to his friend.
“Little girl
!”
—
the very words he had used to Lucy, and
oh, but he proved himself a friend
 — :

CHAPTER XVIII

dr. seward's diary.

30 September . — I got home and found

at five o’clock,
that Godaiming and Morris had not only arrived, but had
already studied the transcript of the various diaries and let-
ters which Harker and his wonderful wife had made and
arranged. Harker had not yet returned from his visit to
the carriers’ men, of whom Dr. Hennessey had written to
me. Mrs. Harker gave us a cup of tea, and I can honestly
say that, for the first time since I have lived in it, this old
house seemed like home. When we had finished, Mrs.
Harker said :

“Dr. Seward, may I ask a favour? I want to see your

patient, Mr. Renfield. Do let me see him. What you have
said of him in your diary interests me so much !” She looked
so appealing and so pretty that I could not refuse her, and
there was no possible reason why I should; so I took her
with me. When I went into the room, I told the man that a
lady would like to see him to which he simply answered
;

“Why?”
“She is going through the house, and wants to see every
one in it,” I answered. “Oh, very well,” he said; “let her
come in, by all means; but just wait a minute till I tidy up
the place.” His method of tidying was peculiar he simply :

swallowed all the flies and spiders in the boxes before I

could stop him. It was quite evident that he feared, or was
jealous of, some interference. When he had got through
his disgusting task, he said cheerfully “Let the lady come
:

in,” and sat down on the edge of his bed with his head
down, but with his eyelids raised so that he could see her as
she entered. For a moment I thought that he might have
some homicidal intent I remembered how quiet he had been
;

just before he attacked me in my own study, and I took care

to stand where I could seize him at once if he attempted to
make a spring at her. She came into the room with an easy
gracefulness which would at once command the respect of
—
any lunatic for easiness is one of the qualities mad people
232
 — —— — —
Dr. Seward’s Diary 233
most respect. She walked over to him, smiling pleasantly,
and held out her hand.
“Good-evening, Mr. Renfield,” said she. “You see, I
know you, for Dr. Seward has told me of you.” He made
no immediate reply, but eyed her all over intently with a set
frown on his face. This look gave way to one of wonder,
which merged in doubt; then, to my intense astonishment,
he said :

“You’re not the girl the doctor wanted to marry, are you?
You can’t be, you know, for she’s dead.” Mrs. Harker
smiled sweetly as she replied :

“Oh no! I have a husband of my own, to whom I was

married before I ever saw Dr. Seward, or he me. I am
Mrs. Harker.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“My husband and I are staying on a visit with Dr.
Seward.”
“Then don’t stay.”
“But why not ?” I thought that this style of conversation
might not be pleasant to Mrs. Harker, any more than it was
to me, so I joined in :

“How did you know I wanted to marry any one?” His

reply was simply contemptuous, given in a pause in which
he turned his eyes from Mrs. Harker to me, instantly turn-
ing them back again :

!”
“What an asinine question
“I don’t see that at all, Mr. Renfield,” said Mrs. Harker,
at once championing me. He replied to her with as much
courtesy and respect as he had shown contempt to me :

“You will, of course, understand, Mrs. Harker, that when

a man is so loved and honoured as our host is, everything
regarding him is of interest in our little community. Dr.
Seward is loved not only by his household and his friends,
but even by his patients, who, being some of them hardly in
mental equilibrium, are apt to distort causes and effects.
Since I myself have been an inmate of a lunatic asylum, I
cannot but notice that the sophistic tendencies of some of its
inmates lean towards the errors of non causa and ignoratio
elenchi I positively opened my eyes at this new develop-
ment. Here was my own pet lunatic the most pronounced —
—
of his type that I had ever met with talking elemental phi-
losophy, and with the manner of a polished gentleman. I
wonder if it was Mrs. Harker’s presence which had touched
 ——
^34 Dracula

some chord in his memory. If this new phase was

spon-
taneous, or in any way due to her unconscious influence, she
must have some rare gift or power.
We continued to talk for some time and, seeing that he
;

was seemingly quite reasonable, she ventured, looking at

me questioningly as she began, to lead him to his favourite
topic. I was again astonished, for he addressed himself to
the question with the impartiality of the completest sanity;
he even took himself as an example when he mentioned cer-
tain things.
“Why, I myself am an instance of a man who had a
strange belief. Indeed, it was no wonder that my friends
were alarmed, and insisted on my being put under control.
I used to fancy that life was a positive and perpetual entity,
and that by consuming a multitude of live things, no matter
how low in the scale of creation, one might indefinitely pro-
long life. At times I held the belief so strongly that I actu-
ally tried to take human life. The doctor here will bear me
out that on one occasion I tried to kill him for the purpose
of strengthening my vital powers by the assimilation with
my own body of his life through the medium of his blood
relying, of course, upon the Scriptural phrase. ‘For the blood
is the life.’ Though, indeed, the vendor of a certain nostrum
has vulgarised the truism to the very point of contempt.
Isn’t that true, doctor?” I nodded assent, for I was so
amazed that x hardly knew what to either think or say it ;

was hard to im. le that I had seen him eat up his spiders
and flies not five minutes before. Looking at my watch, I
saw that I should go to the station to meet Van Helsing, so I
told Mrs. Harker that it was time to leave. She came at
once, after saying pleasantly to Mr. Renfield: “Good-bye,
and I hope I may see you often, under auspices pleasanter
to yourself,” to which, to my astonishment, he replied :

“Good-bye, my dear. I pray God I may never see your

!”
sweet face again. May He bless and keep you
When I went to the station to meet Van Helsing I left the
boys behind me. Poor Art seemed more cheerful than he
has been since Lucy first took ill, and Quincey is more like
his own bright self than he has been for many a long day.
Van Helsing stepped from the carriage with the eager
nimbleness of a boy. He saw me at once, and rushed up to
me, saying:—
“Ah, friend John, how goes all? Well? So! I have
 — — —
Dr. Seward’s Diary 233
been busy, for I come here to stay if need be. All affairs
are settled with me, and I have much to tell. Madam Mina
is with you? Yes. And her so fine husband? And Ar-
thur and my friend Quincey, they are with you, too?
Good !”
As I drove to the house I told him of what had passed,
and of how my own diary had come to be of some use
through Mrs. Harker’s suggestion ; at which the Professor
interrupted me:
“Ah, that wonderful Madam Mina
She has man’s brain
!

— a brain that a man should have were he much gifted

and woman’s heart. The good God fashioned her for a
purpose, believe me, when He made that so good combina-
tion. Friend John, up to now fortune has made that woman
of help to us; after to-night she must not have to do with
this so terrible affair. It is not good that she run a risk so
great. We men are determined —nay, are we not pledged?
— to destroy this monster; but it is no part for a woman.
Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her in so
much and so horrors and hereafter she may suffer
many ;

both in waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her

dreams. And, besides, she is young woman and not so long
married there may be other things to think of some time,
;

if not now. You tell me she has wrote all, then she must
consult with us but to-morrow she say good-bye to this
;

work, and we go alone.” I agreed heartily vVith him, and

then I told him what we had found in hi si' .^ence: that the
house which Dracula had bought was the very next one to
my own. He was amazed, and a great concern seemed to
come on him. “Oh that we had known it before !” he said,
“for then we might have reached him in time to save poor
Lucy. However, ‘the milk that is spilt cries not out after-
wards,’ as you say. We
shall not think of that, but go on
our way to the end.” Then he fell into a silence that lasted
till we entered my own gateway. Before we went to pre-
pare for dinner he said to Mrs. Harker :

“I am told, Madam Mina, by my friend John that you

and your husband have put up in exact order all things that
have been, up to this moment.”
“Not up to this moment, Professor,” she said impulsively,
“but up to this morning.”
“But why not up to now? We have seen hitherto how
 — —— ;

236 Dracula

good light all the little things have made. We have told our
secrets, and yet no one who has told is the worse for it.”
Mrs. Harker began to blush, and taking a paper from her
pockets, she said:
“Dr. Helsing, will you read this, and tell me if it must
Van
go in. It is my record of to-day. I too have seen the need
of putting down at present everything, however trivial but ;

there is little in this except what is personal. Must it go

in?” The Professor read it over gravely, and handed it
back, saying:
“It need not go in if you do not wish it but I pray that it
;

may. It can but make your husband love you the more, and
all us, your friends, more honour you —
as well as more es-
teem and love.” She took it back with another blush and a
bright smile.
And so now, up to this very hour, all the records we have
are complete and in order. The Professor took away one
copy to study after dinner, and before our meeting, which is
fixed for nine o’clock. The rest of us have already read
everything so when we meet in the study we shall all be in-
;

formed as to facts, and can arrange our plan of battle with

this terrible and mysterious enemy.

Mina Harkens Journal.

30 September .
—
When we met in Dr. Seward’s study two
hours after dinner, which had been at six o’clock, we uncon-
sciously formed a sort of board or committee. Professor
Van Helsing took the head of the table, to which Dr. Sew-
ard motioned him as he came into the room. He made me sit
next to him on his right, and asked me to act as secretary
Jonathan sat next to me. Opposite us were Lord Godai-
—
ming, Dr. Seward, and Mr. Morris Lord Godaiming being
next the Professor, and Dr. Seward in the centre. The Pro-
fessor said :
—
: suppose, take it that we are all acquainted with
“I may, I
'the facts that are in these papers.” We
all expressed assent,
and he went on :

i “Then it were, I think good that I tell you something of

the kind of enemy with which we have to deal. I shall then
make known to you something of the history of this man,
which has been ascertained for me. So we then can discuss
how we shall act, and can take our measure according.
'
“There are such beings as vampires some of us have evb
;
 !

Dr. Seward’s Diary 237

dence that they exist. Even had we not
the proof of our
own unhappy experience, the teachings and the records of
the past give proof enough for sane peoples. I admit that at
the first I was sceptic. Were it not that through long years
I have train myself to keep an open mind, I could not have
believe until such time as that fact thunder on my ear. ‘See
see! I prove; I prove/ Alas! Had I known at the first
—
what now I know nay, had I even guess at him one so —
precious life had been spared to many of us who did love
her. But that is gone and we must so work, that other poor
;

souls perish not, whilst we can save. The nosferatu do not

die like the bee when he sting once. He is only stronger;
and being stronger, have yet more power to work evil. This
vampire which is amongst us is of himself so strong in per-
son as twenty men he is of cunning more than mortal, for
;

his cunning be the growth of ages he have still the aids of

;

necromancy, which is, as his etymology imply, the divination

by the dead, and all the dead that he can come nigh to are
for him at command he is brute, and more than brute he is
; ;

devil in callous, and the heart of him is not he can, within ;

limitations, appear at will when, and where, and in any of

the foims that are to him; he can, within his range, direct
the elements the storm, the fog, the thunder he can com-
; ;

mand all the meaner things: the rat, and the owl, and the
bat— the moth, and the fox, and the wolf he can grow and ;

become small; and he can at times vanish and come un-

known. How then are we to begin our strife to destroy
him? How shall we
find his where; and having found it,
how can we destroy ? My
friends, this is much it is a ter- ;

rible task that we undertake, and there may be consequence

to make the brave shudder. For if we fail in this our fight
he must surely win; and then where end we? Life is noth-
ings ; I heed him not. But to fail here, is not mere life or
death. It is that we become as him that we henceforward
become foul things of the night like him
;

without heart or—

conscience, preying on the bodies and the souls of those we
love best. To us for ever are the gates of heaven shut for ;

who shall open them to us again? We

go on for all time
abhorred by all; a blot on the face of God’s sunshine; an
arrow in the side of Him who died for man. But we are
face to face with duty; and in such case must we shrink?
For me, I say, no but then I am old, and life, with his sun-
;

shine, his fair places, his song of birds, his music, and his
 — ;

238 Dracula

love, lie far behind. others are young. Some have seen
You
sorrow ;
but there are fair days yet in store. What say
you ?”
Whilst he was speaking Jonathan had taken my hand. I
feared, oh so much, that the appalling nature of our danger
was overcoming him when I saw his hand stretch out but ;

it was life to me to feel its touch —

so strong, so self-reliant,
so resolute. A brave man’s hand can speak for itself; it
does not even need a woman’s love to hear its music.
When the Professor had done speaking my husband
looked in my eyes, and I in his there was no need for speak-
;

ing between us.

“I answer for Mina and myself,” he said.
“Count me in, Professor,” said Mr. Quincey Morris, la-
conically as usual.
“I am with you,” said Lord Godaiming, “for Lucy’s sake,
if for no other reason.”
Dr. Seward simplv nodded. The Professor stood up and,
after laying his golden crucifix on the table, held out his
hand on either side. L took his right hand, and Lord Godai-
ming his left Jpnathan held my right with his left and
;

stretched across to Mr. Morris. So as we all took hands our

solemn compact was made. I felt my heart icy cold, but it
did not even occur to me to draw back. We
resumed our
places, and Dr. Van Helsing went on with a sort of cheer-
fulness which showed that the serious work had begun. It
was to be taken as gravely, and in as businesslike a way, as
any other transaction of life :

“Well, you know what we have to contend against but ;

we, too, are not without strength. We

have on our side
—
power of combination a power denied to the vampire kind
we have sources of science; we are free to act and think;
and the hours of the day and the night are ours equally. In
fact, so far as our powers extend, they are unfettered, and
we are free to use them. We
have self-devotion in a cause,
and an end to achieve which is not a selfish one. These
things are much.
“Now let us see how far the general powers arrayed
against us are restrict, and how the individual cannot. In
fine, let us consider the limitations of the vampire in gen-
eral, and of this one in particular.
*
“All we have to go upon are traditions and superstitions.
These do not at the first appear much, when the matter is
 -

Dr. Seward’s Diary 239

—
one of life and death nay of more than either life or death.
Yet must we be satisfied; in the first place because we have
to be— —
no other means is at our control and secondly, be-
cause, after all, these things —
tradition and superstition —
are everything. Does not the belief in vampires rest for
— —
others though not, alas! for us on them? A year ago
which of us would have received such a possibility, in the
midst of our scientific, sceptical, matter-of-fact nineteenth
century? We even scouted a belief that we saw justified
under our very eyes. Take it, then, that the vampire, and
the belief in his limitations and his cure, rest for the moment
on the same base. For, let me tell you, he is known every-
where that men have been. In old Greece, in old Rome he ;

flourish in Germany all over, in France, in India, even in

the Chersonese and in China, so far from us in all ways,
;

there even is he, and the peoples fear him at this day. He
have follow the wake of the berserker Icelander, the devil-
begotten Hun, the Slav, the Saxon, the Magyar. So far,
then, we have all we may act upon and let me tell you that
;

very much of the beliefs are justified by what we have seen

in our own so unhappy experience. The vampire live on,
and cannot die by mere passing of the time he can flourish
;

when that he can fatten on the blood of the living. Even

more, we have seen amongst us that he can even grow
younger; that his vital faculties grow strenuous, and seem
as though they refresh themselves when his special pabulum
is plenty. But he cannot flourish without this diet; he eat
not as others. Even friend Jonathan, who lived with him
for weeks, did never see him to eat, never He throws no
!

shadow he make in the mirror no reflect, as again T ~**

;

observe. He has the strength of many of his ha-

again Jonathan when he shut the door agains f
when he help him from the diligence too. F
himself to wolf, as we gather from th
Whitby, when he tear open the dog; he
Madam Mina saw him on the window
friend John saw him fly from this so ne
friend Quincey saw him at the window
can come in mist which be create that —
proved him of this but, from what we 1
;

can make and it cat

this mist is limited,
self. He come on moonlight rays a
again Jonathan saw those sisters in t
 ;

'240 Dracula

He become —
so small we ourselves saw Miss Lucy, ere she
was at peace, slip through a hairbreadth space at the tomb
door. He can, when once he find his way, come out from
anything or into anything, no matter how close it be bound
—
or even fused up with fire solder you call it. He can see
in the dark — no small power this, in a world which is one
half shut from the light. Ah, but hear me through. He can
do all these things, yet he is not free. Nay ; he is even more
prisoner than the slave of the galley, than the madman in
his cell. He cannot go where he lists he who is not of na-
;

ture has yet to obey some of nature’s laws —why we

know not. He may not enter anywhere at the first, unless
there be some one of the household who bid him to come;
though afterwards he can come as he please. His power
ceases, as does that of all evil things, at the coming of the
day. Only at certain times can he have limited freedom.
If he be not at the place whither he is bound, he can only
change himself at noon or at exact sunrise or sunset. These
things are we told, and in this record of ours we have proof
by inference. Thus, whereas he can do as he will within
his limit, when he have his earth-home, his coffin-home, his
hell-home, the place unhallowed, as we saw when he
went to the grave of the suicide at Whitby; still at other
time he can only change when the time come. It is said, too,
that he can only pass running water at the slack or the flood
of the tide. Then there are things which so afflict him that
he has no power, as the garlic that we know of and as for
;

things sacred, as this symbol, my crucifix, that was amongst

us even now when we resolve, to them he is nothing, but in
*'*v>sence he take his place far off and silent with re-
are others, too, which I shall tell you of, lest
r
e may need them. The branch of wild rose
n him that he move not from it; a sacred
e coffin kill him so that he be true dead
:e through him, we know already of its
? head that giveth rest. We have seen

id the habitation of this man-that-was,

d his coffin and destroy him, if we obey
he is clever. I have asked my friend
’esth University, to make his record
as that are, he tell me of what he has
:ed, have been that Voivode Dracula
 —
Dr. Seward’s Diary 241
who won his name against the Turk, over the greai river on
the very frontier of Turkey-land. If it be so, then was he
no common man; for in that time, and for centuries after,
he was spoken of as the cleverest and the most cunning, as
well as the bravest of the sons of the ‘land beyond the for-
est/ That mighty brain and that iron resolution went with
him and are even now arrayed against us. The
to his grave,
Draculas were, says Arminius, a great and noble race,
though now and again were scions who were held by their
coevals to have had dealings with the Evil One. They
learned his secrets in the Scholomance, amongst the moun-
tains over Lake Hermanstadt, where the devil claims the
tenth scholar as his due. In the records are such words as
‘stregoica’ —
witch, ‘ordog/ and ‘pokol’ — Satan and hell and ;

in one manuscript this very Dracula is spoken of as ‘wam-

pyr/ which we all understand too well. There have been
from the loins of this very one great men and good women,
and their graves make sacred the eafth where alone this
foulness can dwell. For it is not the least of its terrors that
this evil thing is rooted deep in all good; in soil barren of
holy memories it cannot rest.”
Whilst they were talking Mr. Morris was looking steadily
at the window, and he now got up quietly, and went out of
the room. There was a little pause, and then the Professot
went on :

“And now we must settle what we do. We have here

much data, and we must proceed to lay out our campaign.
We know from the inquiry of Jonathan that from the castle
to Whitby came fifty boxes of earth, all of which were de-
livered at Carfax we also know that at least some of these
;

boxes have been removed. It seems to me, that our first

step should be to ascertain whether all the rest remain in the
house beyond that wall where we look to-day; or whether
any more have been removed. If the latter, we must
”
trace
Here we were interrupted in a very startling way. Out-
side the house came the sound of a pistol-shot the glass oj
;

the window was shattered with a bullet, which, ricochetting

from the top of the embrasure, struck the far wall of thn<
room. Iam afraid I am at heart a coward, for I shrieked
out. The men all jumped to their feet; Lord Godaiming
flew over to the window and threw up the sash. As hts did
so we heard Mr. Morris's voice without v-
 — — ——;

*42 Dracula
‘‘Sorry ! I fear I have alarmed you. I shall come in and
tellyou about it.” A minute later he came in and said :

“It was an idiotic thing of me to do, and I ask your par-

don, Mrs. Harker, most sincerely I fear I must have fright-
;

ened you terribly. But the fact is that whilst the Professor
was talking there came a big bat and sat on the window-sill.
I have got such a horror of the damned brutes from recent
events that I cannot stand them, and I went out to have a
shot, as I have been doing of late of evenings whenever I
have seen one. You used to laugh at me for it then, Art.”
“Did you hit it?” asked Dr. Van Helsing.
“I don’t know;fancy not, for it flew away into the
I
wood.” Without saying any more he took his seat, and the
Professor began to resume his statement:
“We must trace each of these boxes; and when we are
ready, we must either capture or kill this monster in his lair
or we must, so to speak, sterilise the earth, so that no more
he can seek safety in it. Thus in the end we may find him in
his form of man between the hours of noon and sunset, and
so engage with him when he is at his most weak.
“And now for you, Madam Mina, this night is the end
until all be well. You are too precious to us to have such risk.
When we part to-night, you no more must question. We
shall tell you all in good time. We are men and are able to
bear; but you must be our star and our hope, and we shall
act all the more free that you are not in the danger, such as
we are.”
All the men, even Jonathan, seemed relieved; but it did
not seem to me good that they should brave danger and, per-
—
haps, lessen their safety strength being the best safety
through care of me; but their minds were made up, and,
though it was a bitter pill for me to swallow, I could say
nothing, save to accept their chivalrous care of me.
Mr. Morris resumed the discussion :

“As there is no time to lose, I vote we have a look at his

house right now. Time is everything with him and swift ;

action on our part may save another victim.”

I own that my heart began to fail me when the time for
action came so close, but I did not say anything, for I had a
greater fear that if I appeared as a drag or a hindrance to
their work, they might even leave me out of their counsels
altogether. They have now gone off to Carfax, with means
to get into the house.
 , — ;;

Dr. Seward’s Diary 343

Manlike, they had told me to go to bed and sleep as if a ;

woman can sleep when those she loves are in danger! I

shall lie down and pretend to sleep, lest Jonathan have added
anxiety about me when he returns.

Dr. Seward's Diary

I October 4 a.m .
—
Just as we were about to leave the
house, an urgent message was brought to me from Renfield
to know if I would see him at once, as he had something of
the utmost importance to say to me. I told the messenger to
say that I would attend to his wishes in the morning I was ;

busy just at the moment. The attendant added :

“He seems very importunate, sir. I have never seen him

so eager. I don’t know but what, if you don’t see him soon,
he will have one of his violent fits.” I knew the man would
not have said this without some cause, so I said “All right
:

I’ll go now ;” and I asked the others to wait a few minutes

for me, as I had to go and see my “patient.”

“Take me with you, friend John,” said the Professor.
“His case in your diary interest me much, and it had bear-
ing, too, now and again on our case. I should much like to
see him, and especial when his mind is disturbed.”
“May I come also?” asked Lord Godaiming.
“Me too?” said Quincey Morris. “May I come?” said
Harker. I nodded, and we all went down the passage to-
gether.
We found him in a state of considerable excitement, but
far more rational in his speech and manner than I had ever
seen him. There was an unusual understanding of himself,
which was unlike anything I had ever met with in a lunatic
and he took it for granted that his reasons would prevail
with others entirely sane. We all four went into the room,
but none of the others at first said anything. His request
was that I would at once release him from the asylum and
send him home. This he backed up with arguments regard-
ing his complete recovery, and adduced his own existing
sanity. “I appeal to your friends,” he said “they will, per^
,

haps, not mind sitting in judgment on my case. By the way,

you have not introduced me.” I was so much astonished,
that the oddness of introducing a madman in an asylum did
not strike me at the moment; and, besides, there was a cer-
tain dignity in the man’s manner, so much of the habit of
 —
244 Dracula

equality, that I at once made “Lord Godai-

the introduction :

ming; Professor Van Helsing; Mr. Quincey Morris, of

Texas Mr. Renfield.” He shook hands with each of them,
;

saying in turn :

“Lord Godaiming, I had the honour of seconding your

father at the Windham I grieve to know, by your holding
;

the title, that he is no more. He was a man loved and hon-

oured by all who knew him; and in his youth was, I have
heard, the inventor of a burnt rum punch, much patronised
on Derby night. Mr. Morris, you should be proud of your
great state. Its reception into the Union was a precedent
which may have far-reaching effects hereafter, when the
Pole and the Tropics may hold alliance to the Stars and
Stripes. The power of Treaty may yet prove a vast engine
of enlargement, when the Monroe doctrine takes its true
place as a political fable. What shall any man say of his
pleasure at meeting Van Helsing? Sir, I make no apology
for dropping all forms of conventional prefix. When an in-
dividual has revolutionised therapeutics by his discovery of
the continuous evolution of brain-matter, conventional forms
are unfitting, since they would seem to limit him to one of a
class. You, gentlemen, who by nationality, by heredity, or by
the possession of natural gifts, are fitted to hold your re-
spective places in the moving world, I take to witness that I
am as sane as at least the majority of men who are in full
possession of their liberties. And I am sure that you, Dr.
Seward, humanitarian and medico- jurist as well as scientist,
will deem it a moral duty to deal with me as one to be consid-
ered as under exceptional circumstances.” He made this
last appeal with a courtly air of conviction which was not
without its own charm.
I think we were all staggered. For my own part, I was
under the conviction, despite my knowledge of the man’s
character and history, that his reason had been restored and
;

I felt under a strong impulse to tell him that I was satisfied

as to his sanity, and would see about the necessary formali-
ties for his release in the morning. I thought it better to
wait, however, before making so grave a statement, for of
old I knew the sudden changes to which this particular pa-
tient was liable. So I contented myself with making a gen-
eral statement that he appeared to be improving very rap-
idly that I would have a longer chat with him in the morn-
;

ing, and would then see what I could do in the direction of

 — — — — ^

Dr. Seward’s Diary 245

!

meeting his wishes. This did not at all satisfy him, for he
said quickly :

“But I fear,Dr. Seward, that you hardly apprehend my

— — —
wish. I desire to go at once here now this very hour—
this very moment, if I may. Time presses, and in our im-
plied agreement with the old scytheman it is of the essence
of the contract. I am sure it is only necessary to put before
so admirable a practitioner as Dr. Seward so simple, yet so
momentous a wish, to ensure its fulfilment. ,, He looked at
me keenly, and seeing the negative in my face, turned to the
others, and scrutinised them closely. Not meeting any suf-
ficient response, he went on :

“Is it possible that I have erred in my supposition?”

“You have,” I said frankly, but at the same time, as I felt,
brutally. There was a considerable pause,, and then he said
slowly :

“Then I suppose I must only shift my ground of request.

—
Let me ask for this concession boon, privilege, what you
will. I am content to implore in such a case, not on personal
grounds, but for the sake of others. I am not at liberty to
give you the whole of my reasons; but you may, I assure
you, take it from me that they are good ones, sound and un-
selfish, and springing from the highest sense of duty. Could
you look, sir, into my heart, you would approve to the full
the sentiments which animate me. Nay, more, you would
count me amongst the best and truest of your friends.”
Again he looked at us all keenly. I had a growing convic-
tion that thissudden change of his entire intellectual method
was but yet another form or phase of his madness, and so
determined to let him go on a little longer, knowing from
experience that he would, like all lunatics, give himself away
in the end. Van Helsing was gazing at him with a look of
the utmost intensity, his bushy eyebrows almost meeting
with the fixed concentration of his look. He said to Ren-
field in a tone which did not surprise me at the time, but
—
only when I thought of it afterwards for it was as of one
addressing an equal :

“Can you not tell frankly your real reason for wishing to
be free to-night? I will undertake that if you will satisfy
—
even me a stranger, without prejudice, and with the habit
—
of keeping an open mind Dr. Seward will give you, at his
own risk and on his own responsibility, the privilege you
 — — — —;

246 Dracula

seek.” He shook his head sadly, and with a look of poig

nant regret on his face. The Professor went on :

“Come, sir, bethink yourself. You claim the privilege of

reason in the highest degree, since you seek to impress us
with your complete reasonableness. You do this, whose
sanity we have reason to doubt, since you are not yet re-
leased from medical treatment for this very defect. If you
will not help us in our effort to choose the wisest course,
how can we perform the duty which you yourself put upon
us ? Be wise, and help us and if we can we shall aid you
;

to achieve your wish.” He still shook his head as he said :

“Dr. Van Helsing, I have nothing to say. Your argument

is complete, and if I were free to speak I should not hesitate
a moment; but I am not my own master in the matter. I
can only ask you to trust me. If I am refused, the responsi-
bility does not rest with me.” I thought it was now time to
end the scene, which was becoming too comically grave, so
I went towards the door, simply saying :

“Come, my friends, we have work to do. Good-night.”

As, however, I got near the door, a new change came over
the patient. He moved towards me so quickly that for the
moment I feared that he was about to make another homi-
cidal attack. My fears, however, were groundless, for he
held up his two hands imploringly, and made his petition in a
moving manner. As he saw that the very excess of his emo-
tion was militating against him, by restoring us more to our
old relations, he became still more demonstrative. I glanced
at Van Helsing, and saw my conviction reflected in his eyes
so I became a little more fixed in my manner, if not more
stern, and motioned to him that his efforts were unavailing.
I had previously seen something of the same constantly
growing excitement in him when he had to make some re-
quest of which at the time he had thought much, such, for
instance, as when he wanted a cat and I was prepared to
;

see the collapse into the same sullen acquiescence on this oc-
casion. My expectation was not realised, for, when he
found that his appeal would not be successful, he got into
quite a frantic condition. He threw himself on his knees,
and held up his hands, wringing them in plaintive supplica-
tion, and poured forth a torrent of entreaty, with the tears
rolling down his cheeks and his whole face and form ex-
pressive of the deepest emotion :

“Let me entreat you, Dr. Seward, oh, let me implore you*

 — !

Dr. Seward’s Diary 247

to let me
out of this house at once. Send me away how you
will and where you will send keepers with me with whips
;

and chains let them take me in a strait-waistcoat, manacled

;

and leg-ironed, even to a gaol; but let me go out of this.

You don’t know what you do by keeping me here. I am
speaking from the depths of my
heart of my very soul. — You
don’t know whom you wrong, or how; and I may not tell.
Woe is me I may not tell. By all you hold sacred by all
! —
—
you hold dear by your love that is lost by your hope that —
lives —for the sake of the Almighty, take me out of this and
save my soul from guilt Can’t you hear me, man ? Can’t
!

you understand? Will you never learn? Don’t you know

that I am sane and earnest now that I am no lunatic in a
;

mad fit, but a sane man fighting for his soul ? Oh, hear me
!”
hear me Let me go let me go let me go
! ! !

I thought that the longer this went on the wilder he would

get, and so would bring on a fit so I took him by the hand
;

and raised him up.

“Come,” I said sternly, “no more of this; we have had
quite enough already. Get to your bed and try to behave
more discreetly.”
suddenly stopped and looked at me intently for several
He
moments. Then, without a word, he rose and moving over,
sat down on the side of the bed. The collapse had come, as
on former occasion, just as I had expected.
When I was leaving the room, last of our party, he said to
me in a quiet, well-bred voice :

“You will, I trust, Dr. Seward, do me the justice to bear

in mind, later on, that I did what I could to convince you
to-night.”
 , — — —

CHAPTER XIX
JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL

I October 5 a.m . —
I went with the party to the search
with an easy mind, for I think I never saw Mina so abso-
lutely strong and well. I am so glad that she consented to
hold back and let us men do the work. Somehow, it was a
dread to me that she was in this fearful business at all but
;

now that her work is done, and that it is due to her energy
and brains and foresight that the whole story is put together
in such a way that every point tells, she may well feel that
her part is finished, and that she can henceforth leave the
rest to us. We were, I think, all a little upset by the scene
with Mr. Renfield. When we came away from his room we
were silent till we got back to the study. Then Mr. Morris
said to Dr. Seward :

“Say, Jack, if that man wasn’t attempting a bluff, he is

about the sanest lunatic I ever saw. I’m not sure, but I be-
lieve that he had some serious purpose, and if he had, it was
pretty rough on him not to get a chance.” Lord Godaiming
and were silent, but Dr. Van Helsing added:
I
“Friend John, you know more of lunatics than I do, and
I’m glad of it, for I fear that if it had been to me to decide I
would before that last hysterical outburst have given him
free. But we live and learn, and in our present task we
must take no chance, as my friend Quincey would say. All
is best as they are.” Dr. Seward seemed to answer them
both in a dreamy kind of way :

“I don’t know but that I agree with you. If that man had
been an ordinary lunatic I would have taken my chance of
trusting him but he seems so mixed up with the Count in
;

an indexy kind of way that I am afraid of doing anything

wrong by helping his fads. I can’t forget how he prayed
with almost equal fervour for a cat, and then tried to tear
my throat out with his teeth. Besides, he called the Count
‘lord and master/ and he may want to get out to help him in
some diabolical way. That horrid thing has the wolves and
the rats and his own kind to help him, so I suppose he isn’t
248
 —— —
Jonathan Harker’s Journal 249
above trying to use a respectable lunatic. He certainly did
seem earnest, though. I only hope we have done what is
best. These things, in conjunction with the wild work we
have in hand, help to unnerve a man.” The Professor
stepped over, and laying his hand on his shoulder, said in
his grave, kindly way :

‘‘Friend John, have no fear. We are trying to do our duty

in a very sad and terrible case ; we can
only do as we deem
best. What else have we to hope for, except the pity of the
good God?” Lord Godaiming had slipped away for a few
minutes, but he now returned. He held up a little silver
whistle as he remarked :

“That old place may be full of rats, and if so, Tve got an
antidote on call.” Having passed the wall, we took our way
to the house, taking care to keep in the shadows of the trees
on the lawn when the moonlight shone out. When we got to
the porch the Professor opened his bag and took out a lot of
things, which he laid on the step, sorting them into four lit-
tle groups, evidently one for each. Then he spoke :

“My friends, we are going into a terrible danger, and we

need arms of many kinds. Our enemy is not merely spir-
itual. Remember that he has the strength of twenty men,
and that, though our necks or our windpipes are of the com-
—
mon kind and therefore breakable or crushable his are —
not amenable to mere strength. A
stronger man, or a body
of men more strong in all than him, can at certain times
hold him; but yet they cannot hurt him as we can be hurt
by him. We must, therefore, guard ourselves from his
touch. Keep this near your heart” —
as he spoke he lifted a
little silver crucifix and held it out to me, I being nearest to
—
him “put these flowers round your neck” here he handed——
to me a wreath of withered garlic blossoms “for other ene-
mies more mundane, this revolver and this knife; and for
aid in all, these so small electric lamps, which you can fasten
to your breast; and for all, and above all at the last, this,
which we must not desecrate needless.” This was a portion
of Sacred Wafer, which he put in an envelope and handed
to me. Each of the others was similarly equipped. “Now,”
he said, “friend John, where are the skeleton keys? If so
that we can open the door, we need not break house by the
window, as before at Miss Lucy’s.”
Dr. Seward tried one or two skeleton keys, his mechanical
dexterity as a surgeon standing him in good stead. Pres-
 —
250 Dracula

ently he got one to suit ; after a little play back and forward
the bolt yielded, and, with a rusty clang, shot back. We
pressed on the door, the rusty hinges creaked, and it slowly
opened. It was startlingly like the image conveyed to me in
Dr. Seward’s diary of the opening of Miss Westenra’s tomb;
I fancy that the same idea seemed to strike the others, for
vith one accord they shrank back. The Professor was the
first to move forward, and stepped into the open door.
“In manus tuas, D online!” he said, crossing himself as he
passed over the threshold. We closed the door behind us,
lest when we should have lit our lamps we should possibly
attract attention from the road. The Professor carefully
tried the lock, lest we might not be able to open it from
within should we be in ahurry making our exit. Then we
all lit our lamps and proceeded on our search.
The light from the tiny lamps fell in all sorts of odd
forms, as the rays crossed each other, or the opacity of our
bodies threw great shadows. I could not for my life get
away from the feeling that there was some one else amongst
us. I suppose it was the recollection, so powerfully brought
home to me by the grim surroundings, of that terrible ex-
perience in Transylvania. I think the feeling was common
to us all, for I noticed that the others kept looking over their
shoulders at every sound and every new shadow, just as I
felt myself doing.
The whole place was thick with dust. The floor was
seemingly inches deep, except where there were recent foot-
steps, in which on holding down my lamp I could see marks
of hobnails where the dust was cracked. The walls were
fluffy and heavy with dust, and in the corners were masses
of spider’s webs, whereon the dust had gathered till they
looked like old tattered rags as the weight had torn them
partly down. On a table in the hall was a great bunch of
keys, with a time-yellowed label on each. They had been
used several times, for on the table were several similar
rents in the blanket of dust, similar to that exposed when
the Professor lifted them. He turned to me and said :

“You know this place, Jonathan. You have copied maps

of it, and you know it at least more than we do. Which is
the way to the chapel?” I had an idea of its direction,
though on my former visit I had not been able to get admis-
sion to it so I led the way, and after a few wrong turnings
;

found myself opposite a low, arched oaken door, ribbed with

 — ;

Jonathan Harker’s Journal 251

ito nbands. “This is the spot,” said the Professor as he
turned his lamp on a small map of the house, copied from
the file of my original correspondence regarding the pur-
chase. With a little trouble we found the key on the bunch
and opened the door. We
were prepared for some unpleas-
antness, for as we were opening the door a faint, malodorous
air seemed to exhale through the gaps, but none of us evei
expected such an odour as we encountered. None of the oth-
ers had met the Count at all at close quarters, and when I
had seen him he was either in the fasting stage of his exist-
ence in his rooms or, when he was gloated with fresh blood,
in a ruined building open to the air but here the place was
;

small and close, and the long disuse had made the air stag-
nant and foul. There was an earthy smell, as of some dry
miasma, which came through the fouler air. But as to the
odour itself, how shall I describe it? It was not alone that
it was composed of all the ills of mortality and with the
pungent, acrid smell of blood, but it seemed as though cor-
ruption had become itself corrupt. Faugh it sickens me to
!

think of it. Every breath exhaled by that monster seemed

to have clung to the place and intensified its loathsomeness.
Under ordinary circumstances such a stench would have
brought our enterprise to an end but this was no ordinary
;

case, and the high and terrible purpose in which we were

involved gave us a strength which rose above merely physi-
cal considerations. After the involuntary shrinking conse-
quent on the first nauseous whiff, we one and all set about
our work as though that loathsome place were a garden of
roses.
We made an accurate examination of the place, the Pro-
fessor saying as we began :

“The first thing is to see how many of the boxes are left
we must then examine every hole and corner and cranny and
see if we cannot get some clue as to what has become of the
rest.” A glance was sufficient to show how many remained,
for the great earth chests were bulky, and there was no mis-
taking them.
There were only twenty-nine left out of the fifty Once I
!

got a fright, for, seeing Lord Godaiming suddenly turn and

look out of the vaulted door into the dark passage beyond, I
looked too, and for an instant my heart stood still. Some-
where, looking out from the shadow, I seemed to see the
high lights of the Count’s evil face, the ridge of the nose.
252 Dracula

the red eyes, the red lips, the awful pallor. It was only for
a moment, for, as Lord Godaiming said, “I thought I saw
a face, but it was only the shadows,” and resumed his in-
quiry, I turned my lamp in the direction, and stepped into
the passage. There was no sign of any one; and as there
were no corners, no doors, no aperture of any kind, but only
the solid walls of the passage, there could be no hiding-place
even for him. I took it that fear had helped imagination,
and said nothing.
A few minutes later I saw Morris step suddenly back from
a corner, which he was examining. We all followed his
movements with our eyes, for undoubtedly some nervous-
ness was growing on us, and we saw a whole mass of phos-
phorescence, which twinkled like stars. We all instinctively
drew back. The whole place was becoming alive with rats.
For a moment or two we stood appalled, all save Lord
Godaiming, who was seemingly prepared for such an emer-
gency. Rushing over to the great iron-bound oaken door,
which Dr. Seward had described from the outside, and
which I had seen myself, he turned the key in the lock, drew
the huge bolts, and swung the door open. Then, taking his
little silver whistle from his pocket, he blew a low, shrill call.
It was answered from behind Dr. Seward’s house by the
yelping of dogs, and after about a minute three terriers came
dashing round the corner of the house. Unconsciously we
had all moved towards the door, and as we moved I noticed
that the dust had been much disturbed: the boxes which
had been taken out had been brought this way. But even
in the minute that had elapsed the number of the rats had
vastly increased. They seemed to swarm over the place all
at once, till the lamplight, shining on their moving dark
bodies and glittering, baleful eyes, made the place look like
a bank of earth set with fireflies. The dogs dashed on, but
at the threshold suddenly stopped and snarled, and then,
simultaneously lifting their noses, began to howl in most
lugubrious fashion. The rats were multiplying in thou-
sands, and we moved out.
Lord Godaiming lifted one of the dogs, and carrying him
in, placed him on the floor. The instant his feet touched the
ground he seemed to recover his courage, and rushed at his
natural enemies. They fled before him so fast that before he
had shaken the life out of a score, the other dogs, who had
 ;

Jonathan Harker’s Journal 253

by now been lifted in in the same manner, had but small prey
ere the whole mass had vanished.
With their going it seemed as if some evil presence had
departed, for the dogs frisked about and barked merrily as
they made sudden darts at their prostrate foes, and turned
them over and over and tossed them in the air with vicious
shakes. We all seemed to find our spirits rise. Whether it
was the purifying of the deadly atmosphere by the opening
of the chapel door, or the relief which we experienced by
finding ourselves in the open I know not ; but most certainly
the shadow of dread seemed to slip from us like a robe, and
the occasion of our coming lost something of its grim sig-
nificance, though we did not slacken a whit in our resolution.
We closed the outer door and barred and locked it, and
bringing the dogs with us, began our search of the house.
We found nothing throughout except dust in extraordinary
proportions, and all untouched save for my own footsteps
when I had made my first visit. Never once did the dogs
exhibit any symptom of uneasiness, and even when we re-
turned to the chapel they frisked about as though they had
been rabbit-hunting in a summer wood.
The morning was quickening in the east when we emerged
from the front. Dr. Van Helsing had taken the key of the
hall-door from the bunch, and locked the door in orthodox
fashion, putting the key into his pocket when he had done.
“So far,” he said, “our night has been eminently success-
ful. No harm has come to us such as I feared might be and yet
we have ascertained how many boxes are missing. More
—
than all do I rejoice that this, our first and perhaps our
—
most difficult and dangerous step has been accomplished
without the bringing thereinto our most sweet Madam Mina
or troubling her waking or sleeping thoughts with sights and
sounds and smells of horror which she might never forget.
One lesson, too, we have learned, if it be allowable to argue
a particulari: that the brute beasts which are to the Count’s
command are yet themselves not amenable to his spiritual
power; for look, these rats that would come to his call, just
as from his castle top he summon the wolves to your going
and to that poor mother’s cry, though they come to him, they
run pell-mell from the so little dogs of my friend Arthur.
We have other matters before us, other dangers, other fears
—
and that monster he has not used his power over the brute
world for the only or the last time to-night. So be it that he
*54 Dracula

has gone elsewhere. Good !It has given us opportunity tc

cry ‘check’ in some ways in this chess game, which we play
for the stake of human souls. And now let us go home. The
dawn is close at hand, and we have reason to be content with
our first night’s work. It may be ordained that we have
many nights and days to follow, if full of peril ; but we must
go and from no danger shall we shrink.”
on,
The house was silent when we got back, save for some
poor creature who was screaming away in one of the distant
wards, and a low, moaning sound from Renfield’s room.
The poor wretch was doubtless torturing himself, after the
manner of the insane, with needless thoughts of pain.
I came tiptoe into our own room, and found Mina asleep,
breathing so softly that I had to put my ear down to hear it.
She looks paler than usual. I hope the meeting to-night has
not upset her. I am truly thankful that she is to be left out
of our future work, and even of our deliberations. It is too
great a strain for a woman to bear. I did not think so at
first, but I know better now. Therefore I am glad that it is
settled. There may be things which would frighten her to
hear and yet to conceal them from her might be worse than
;

to tell her if once she suspected that there was any conceal-
ment. Henceforth our work is to be a sealed book to her,
till at least such time as we can tell her that all is finished,

and the earth free from a monster of the nether world. 1

daresay it will be difficult to begin to keep silence after such
confidence as ours but I must be resolute, and to-morrow
;

I shall keep dark over to-night’s doings, and shall refuse to

speak of anything that has happened. I rest on the sofa, so
as not to disturb her.

October, later
i . — I suppose it was natural that we should
have all overslept ourselves, for the day was a busy one, and
the night had no rest at all. Even Mina must have felt its
exhaustion, for though I slept till the sun was high, I was
awake before her, and had to call two or three times before
she awoke. Indeed, she was so sound asleep that for a few
seconds she did not recognize me, but looked at me with a
sort of blank terror, as one looks who has been waked out of
a bad dream. She complained a little of being tired, and I
let her rest till later in the day.We now know of twenty-
one boxes having been removed, and if it be that several
were taken in any of these removals we may be able to trace
 —
Jonathan Harker’s Journal 255
them all. Such will, of course, immensely simplify our la-
bour, and the sooner the matter is attended to the better* I
shall look up Thomas Snelling to-day.

Dr. Seward's Diary.

I October . — It was towards noon when I was awakened
by the Professor walking into my room. He was more jolly
and cheerful than usual, and it is quite evident that last
night’s work has helped to take some of the brooding weight
off his mind. After going over the adventure of the night
he suddenly said :

“Your patient interests me much. May it be that with you

I visit him this morning? Or if that you are too occupy, I
can go alone if it may be. It is a new experience to me to
find a lunatic who talk philosophy, and reason so sound.” I
had some work to do which pressed, so I told him that if he
would go alone I would be glad, as then I should not have to
keep him waiting; so I called an attendant and gave him
the necessary instructions. Before the Professor left the
room I cautioned him against getting any false impression
from my patient. “But,” he answered, “I want him to talk
of himself and of his delusion as to consuming live things.
He said to Madam Mina, as I see in your diary of yester-
day, that he had once had such a belief. Why
do you smile,
friend John?”
“Excuse me,” I said, “but the answer is here.” I laid my
hand on the type-written matter. “When our sane and
learned lunatic made that very statement of how he used to
consume life, his mouth was actually nauseous with the flies
and spiders which he had eaten just before Mrs. Harker
entered the room.” Van Helsing smiled in turn. “Good!”
he said. “Your memory is true, friend John. I should have
remembered. And yet it is this very obliquity of thought
and memory which makes mental disease such a fascinating
study. Perhaps I may gain more knowledge out of the folly
of this madman than I shall from the teaching of the most
wise. Who knows ?” I went on with my work, and before
long was through that in hand. It seemed that the time had
been very short indeed, but there was Van Helsing back in
the study. “Do I interrupt?” he asked politely as he stood
at the door.
“Not at all,” I answered. “Come in. My work is fin
ished, and I am free. I can go with you now, if you like.”
?,$6 Dracula

“It is needless ;
I have seen him !”
“Well?”
“I fear that he does not appraise me at much. Our in-
terview was short. When I entered his room he was sitting
on a stool in the centre, with his elbows on his knees, and his
face was the picture of sullen discontent. I spoke to him as
cheerfully as I could, and with such a measure of respect as
I could assume. He made no reply whatever. “Don’t you
know me?” I asked. His answer was not reassuring: “I
know you well enough; you are the old fool Van Helsing.
1 wish you would take yourself and your idiotic brain theo-

ries somewhere else. Damn all thick-headed Dutchmen!”

Not a word more would he say, but sat in his implacable
Bullenness as indifferent to me as though I had not been in
the room at all. Thus departed for this time my chance of
much learning from this so clever lunatic so I shall go, if I
;

may, and cheer myself with a few happy words with that
sweet soul Madam Mina. Friend John, it does rejoice me
unspeakable that she is no more to be pained, no more to be
worried, with our terrible things. Though we shall much
miss her help, it is better so.”
“I agree with you with all my heart,” I answered ear-
nestly, for I did not want him to weaken in this matter.
“Mrs. Harker is better out of it. Things are quite bao
enough for us, all men of the world, and who have been in
many tight places in our time but it is no place for a woman,
;

and if she had remained in touch with the affair, it would

in time infallibly have wrecked her.”
So Van Helsing has gone to confer with Mrs. Harker and
Harker Quincey and Art are all out following up the clues
;

as to the earth-boxes. I shall finish my round of work, and

we shall meet to-night.

Mina Harkens Journal .

i October . —
strange to me to be kept in the dark as I
It is
am to-day; after Jonathan’s full confidence for so many
years, to see him manifestly avoid certain matters, and those
the most vital of all. This morning I slept late after the fa-
tigues of yesterday, and though Jonathan was late too, he
was the earlier. He spoke to me before he went out, never
more sweetly or tenderly, but he never mention d a word of
what had happened in the visit to the Count’s house. And
yet he must have known how terribly anxious I was. Poor
 Jonathan Harker’s Journal 25^
dear fellow I suppose it must have distressed him even
!

more than it did me. They all agreed that it was best that I
should not be drawn further into this awful work, and I ac-
quiesced. But to think that he keeps anything from me!
And now I am crying like a silly fool, when I know it comes
from my husband’s great love and from the good, good
wishes of those other strong men
That has done me good. Well, some day Jonathan will
tell me all ;
and lest it should ever be that he should think
for a moment that I kept anything from him, I still keep my
journal as usual. Then if he has feared of my trust I shall
show it to him, with every thought of my heart put down
for his dear eyes to read. I feel strangely sad and. low-
spirited to-day. I suppose it is the reaction from the terrible
excitement.
Last night I went to bed when the men had gone, simply
because they told me to. I didn’t feel sleepy, and I did feel
full of devouring anxiety. I kept thinking over everything
that has been ever since Jonathan came to see me in London,
and it all seems like a horrible tragedy, with fate pressing on
relentlessly to some destined end. Everything that one does
seems, no matter how right it may be, to bring on the very
thing which is most to be deplored. If I hadn’t gone to
Whitby, perhaps poor dear Lucy would be with us now. She
hadn’t taken to visiting the churchyard till I came, and if
she hadn’t come there in the day-time with me she wouldn’t
have walked there in her sleep and if she hadn’t gone there
;

at night and asleep, that monster couldn’t have destroyed

her as he did. Oh, why did I ever go to Whitby? There
now, crying again I wonder what has come over me to-
!

day. I must hide it from Jonathan, for if he knew that I

—
had been crying twice in one morning I, who never cried
on my own account, and whom he has never caused to shed
—
a tear the dear fellow would fret his heart out. I shall put
a bold face on, and if I do feel weepy, he shall never see it.
I suppose it is one of the lessons that we poor women have
to learn
I can’t quite remember how I fell asleep last night. I re-
member hearing the sudden barking of the dogs and a lot of
queer sounds, praying on a very tumultuous scale, from
like
Mr. Renfield’s room, which is somewhere under this. And
then there was silence over everything, silence so profound
that it startled me, and I got up and looked out of the win-
(11}
 ;

258 Dracula

dow. All was dark and silent, the black shadows thrown by
the moonlight seeming full of a silent mystery of their own.
Not a thing seemed to be stirring, but all to be grim and
fixed as death or fate; so that a thin streak of white mist,
that crept with almost imperceptible slowness across the
grass towards the house, seemed to have a sentience and a
vitality of its own. I think that the digression of my thoughts
must have done me good, for when I got back to bed I found
a lethargy creeping over me. I lay a while, but could not
quite sleep, so I got out and looked out of the window again.
The mist was spreading, and was now close up to the house,
so that I could see it lying thick against the wall, as though
it were stealing up to the windows. The poor man was
more loud than ever, and though I could not distinguish a
word he said, I could in some way recognise in his tones
some passionate entreaty on his part. Then there was the
sound of a struggle, and I knew that the attendants were
dealing with him. I was so frightened that I crept into bed,
and pulled the clothes over my head, putting my fingers in
my ears. I was not then a bit sleepy, at least so I thought
but I must have fallen asleep, for, except dreams, I do not
remember anything until the morning, when Jonathan woke
me. I think that it took me an effort and a little time to
realise where I was, and that it was Jonathan who was bend-
ing over me. My dream was very peculiar, and was almost
typical of the way that waking thoughts become merged in,
or continued in, dreams.
I thought that I was asleep, and waiting for Jonathan to
come back. I was very anxious about him, and I was pow-
erless to act; my feet, and my hands, and my brain were
weighted, so that nothing could proceed at the usual pace.
And so I slept uneasily and thought. Then it began to dawn
upon me that the air was heavy, and dank, and cold. I put
back the clothes from my face, and found, to my surprise,
that all was dim around. The gas-light which I had left
lit for Jonathan, but turned down, came only like a tiny red

spark through the fog, which had evidently grown thicker

and poured into the room. Then it occurred to me that I
had shut the window before I had come to bed. I would
have got out to make certain on the point, but some leaden
lethargy seemed to chain my limbs and even my will. I lay
still and endured ;
that was all. I closed my eyes, but could
still see through my eyelids. (It is wonderful what tricks
 Jonathan Harker’s Journal 259
our dreams play us, and how conveniently we can imagine.)
The mist grew thicker and thicker, and I could see now how
it came in, for I could see it like smoke — or with the white
—
energy of boiling water pouring in, not through the win-
dow, but through the joinings of the door. It got thicker
and thicker, till it seemed as if it became concentrated into a
sort of pillar of cloud in the room, through the top of which
I could see the light of the gas shining like a red eye. Things
began to whirl through my brain just as the cloudy column
was now whirling in the room, and through it all came the
scriptural words “a pillar of cloud by day and of fire by
night.” Was it indeed some such spiritual guidance that
was coming to me in my sleep ? But the pillar was composed
of both the day and the night-guiding, for the fire was in
the red eye, which at the thought got a new fascination for
me; till, as I looked, the fire divided, and seemed to shine
on me through the fog like two red eyes, such as Lucy told
me of in her momentary mental wandering when, on the
cliff, the dying sunlight struck the windows of St. Mary’s
Church. Suddenly the horror burst upon me that it was
thus that Jonathan had seen those awful women growing
into reality through the whirling mist in the moonlight, and
in my dream I must have fainted, for all became black dark-
ness. The last conscious effort which imagination made was
to show me a livid white face bending over me out of the
mist. I must be careful of such dreams, for they would
unseat one’s reason if there were too much of them. I would
get Dr. Van Helsing or Dr. Seward to prescribe something
for me which would make me sleep, only that I fear to alarm
them. Such a dream at the present time would become
woven into their fears for me. To-night I shall strive hard
to sleep naturally. If I do not, I shall to-morrow night get
them to give me a dose of chloral ; that cannot hurt me for
once, and it will give me a good night’s sleep. Last night
tired me more than if I had not slept at all.

2 October 10 p.m . —
Last night I slept, but did not dream.
I must have slept soundly, for I was not waked by Jona-
than coming to bed but the sleep has not refreshed me, for
;

to-day I feel terribly weak and spiritless. I spent all yester-

day trying to read, or lying down dozing. In the afternoon
Mr. Renfield asked if he might see me. Poor man, he was
very gentle, and when I came away he kissed my hand and
«6o Dracula

bade God bless me. Some way it affected me much; I am

crying when I think of him.This is a new weakness, of
which I must be careful. Jonathan would be miserable if
he knew I had been crying. He and the others were out un-
til dinner-time, and they all came in tired. I did what I
could to brighten them up, and 1 suppose that the effort did
me good, for I forgot how tired I was. After dinner they
sent me to bed, and all went off to smoke together, as they
said, but I knew that they wanted to tell each other of what
had occurred to each during the day; I could see from Jona-
than’s manner that he had something important to commu-
nicate. I was not so sleepy as I should have been so before
;

they went I asked Dr. Seward to give me a little opiate of

some kind, as I had not slept well the night before. He very
kindly made me up a sleeping draught, which he gave to
me, telling me that it would do me no harm, as it was very
mild I have taken it, and am waiting for sleep,
which still keeps aloof. I hope I have not done wrong, for
as sleep begins to flirt with me, a new fear comes: that I
may have been foolish in thus depriving myself of the power
of waking. I might want it. Here comes sleep. Good-
night.
 —

CHAPTER XX
JONATHAN HARKER’s JOURNAL

I October, evening . —
I found Thomas Snelling in his
house at Bethnal Green, but unhappily he was not in a con-
dition to remember anything. The very prospect of beer
which my expected coming had opened to him had proved
too much, and he had begun too early on his expected de-
bauch. I learned, however, from his wife, who seemed a
decent, poor soul, that he was only the assistant to Smollet,
who of the two mates was the responsible person. So off I
drove to Walworth, and found Mr. Joseph Smollet at home
and in his shirtsleeves, taking a late tea out of a saucer. He
is a decent, intelligent fellow, distinctly a good, reliable type
of workman, and with a headpiece of his own. He remem-
bered all about the incident of the boxes, and from a wonder-
ful dog’s-eared notebook, which he produced from some
mysterious receptacle about the seat of his trousers, and
which had hieroglyphical entries in thick, half-obliterated
pencil, he gave me the destinations of the boxes. There were,
he said, six in the cartload which he took from Carfax and
left at 197, Chicksand Street, Mile End New Town, and
another six which he deposited at Jamaica Lane, Bermond-
sey. If then the Count meant to scatter these ghastly
refuges of his over London, these places were chosen as the
first of delivery, so that later he might distribute more fully.
The systematic manner in which this was done made me
think that he could not mean to confine himself to two sides
of London. He was now fixed on the far east of the north-
ern shore, on the east of the southern shore, and on the
south. The north and west were surely never meant to be
left out of his diabolical scheme — let alone the City itself
and the very heart of fashionable London in the south-west
and west. I went back to Smollet, and asked him if he
could tell us if any other boxes had been taken from Carfax.
He replied:
‘Well, guv’nor, you’ve treated me wery ’an’some” I had
— —
given him half a sovereign “an’ I’ll tell yer all I know 4
 — -

z6z Dracula

heard a man by the name of Bloxam say four nights ago in

the ’Are an’ ’Ounds, in Pincher’s Alley, as ’ow he an’ his
mate ’ad ’ad a rare dusty job in a old ’ouse at Purfect.
There ain’t a-many such jobs as this ’ere, an’ I’m thinkin’
that maybe Sam Bloxam could tell ye summut.” I asked if
he could tell me where to find him. I told him that if
he could get me the address it would be worth another
half-sovereign to him. So he gulped down the rest of his
tea and stood up, saying that he was going to begin the
search then and there. At the door he stopped, and said : —
“Look ’ere, guv’nor, there ain’t no sense in me a-keepin’
you ’ere. I may find Sam soon, or I mayn’t but anyhow he
;

ain’t like to be in a way to tell ye much to-night. Sam is a

rare one when he starts on the booze. If you can give me a
envelope with a stamp on it, and put yer address on it, I’ll
find out where Sam is to be found and post it ye to-night.
But ye’d better be up arter ’im soon in the mornin’, or maybe
ye won’t ketch ’im for Sam gets off main early, never mind
;

the booze the night afore.”

This was all practical, so one of the children went off with
a penny to buy an envelope and a sheet of paper, and to keep
the change. When she came back, I addressed the envelope
and stamped it, and when Smollet had again faithfully prom-
ised to post the address when found, I took my way to
home. We’re on the track anyhow. I am tired to-night, and
want sleep. Mina is fast asleep, and looks a little too pale;
her eyes look as though she had been crying. Poor dear, I’ve
no doubt it frets her to be kept in the dark, and it may make
her doubly anxious about me and the others. But it is best as
it is. It is better to be disappointed and worried in such a
way now than to have her nerve broken. The doctors were
quite right to insist on her being kept out of this dreadful
business. I must be firm, for on me this particular burden of
silence must rest. I shall not ever enter on the subject with
her under any circumstances. Indeed, it may not be a hard
task, after all, for she herself has become reticent on the sub-
ject, and has not spoken of the Count or his doings ever
since we told her of our decision.

2 October, evening . —A
long and trying and exciting day.
By the first post I got my directed envelope with a dirty
scrap of paper enclosed, on which was written with a car
penter’s pencil in a sprawling hand :
 Jonathan Harker’s Journal 263
“Sam Bloxam, Korkrans, 4, Poters Cort, Bartel Street,
Walworth. Arsk for the depite.”
I got the letter in bed, and rose without waking Mina.
She looked heavy and sleepy and pale, and far from well. I
determined not to wake her, but that, when I should return
from this new search, I would arrange for her going back to
Exeter. I think she would be happier in our own home, with
her daily tasks to interest her, than in being here amongst us
and in ignorance. I only saw Dr. Seward for a moment, and
told him where I was promising to come back and tell
off to,
the rest so soon as I should have found out anything. I
drove to Walworth and found, with some difficulty, Potter’s
Court. Mr. Smollet’s spelling misled me, as I asked for
Poter’s Court instead of Potter’s Court. However, when I
had, found the court, I had no difficulty in discovering Cor-
coran’s lodging-house. When I asked the man who came
to the door for the “depite,” he shook his head, and said “I :

dunno ’im. There ain’t no such a person ’ere I never ’eard

;

of ’im in all my bloomin’ days. Don’t believe there ain’t

nobody of that kind livin’ ’ere or anywheres.” I took out
Smollet’s letter, and as I read it it seemed to me that the les-
son of the spelling of the name of the court might guide me.
“What are you ?” I asked.
“I’m the depity,” he answered. I saw at once that I was
on the right track; phonetic spelling had again misled me.
A half-crown tip put the deputy’s knowledge at my disposal,
and I learned that Mr. Bloxam, who had slept off the re-
mains of his beer on the previous night at Corcoran’s, had
left for his work at Poplar at five o’clock that morning. He
could not tell me where the place of work was situated, but
he had a vague idea that it was some kind of a “new-fangled
ware’us and with this slender clue I had to start for Pop-
lar. It was twelve o’clock before I got any satisfactory hint
of such a building, and this I got at a coffee-shop, where
some workmen were having their dinner. One of these
suggested that there was being erected at Cross Angel Street
a new “cold storage” building and as this suited the condi-
;

tion of a “new-fangled ware’us,” I at once drove to it. An

interview with a surly gatekeeper and a surlier foreman,
both of whom were appeased with the coin of the realm, put
me on the track of Bloxam he was sent for on my suggest-
;

ing that I was willing to pay his day’s wages to his fore-
man for the privilege of asking him a few questions on a
 — — ! —
264 Dracula
private matter. He was a smart enough fellow, though
rough of speech and bearing. When I had promised to pay
for his information and given him an earnest, he told me
that he had made two journeys between Carfax and a house
in Piccadilly, and had taken from this house to the latter
—
nine great boxes “main heavy ones” with a horse and —
cart hired by him for this purpose. I asked him if he could
tell me the number of the house in Piccadilly, to which he
replied :

“Well, guv’nor, I forgits the number, but it was only a

few doors from a big white church or somethink of the kind,
not long built. It was a dusty old ’ouse, too, though nothin’
to the dustiness of the ’ouse we tooked the bloomin’ boxes
from.”
“How did you get into the houses if they were both
empty ?”
“There was the old party what engaged me
a-waitin’ in
the ’ouse at Purfleet. He ’elped me to lift the boxes and
put them in the dray. Curse me, but he was the strongest
chap I ever struck, an’ him a old feller, with a white mous-
tache, one that thin you would think he couldn’t throw a
shadder.”
How phrase thrilled through me
this
“Why, ’e. took up ’is end o’ the boxes like they was pounds
of tea, and me a-puffin’ an’ a-blowin’ afore I could up-end
—
mine anyhow an’ I’m no chicken, neither.”
“How did you get into the house in Piccadilly ?” I asked.
“He was there too. He must ’a’ started off and got there
afore me, for when I rung of the bell he kem an’ opened the
door ’isself an’ ’elped me to carry the boxes into the ’all.”
“The whole nine ?” I asked.
“Yus; there was five in the first load an’ four in the sec-
ond. It was main dry work, an’ I don’t so well remember
’ow I got ’ome.” I interrupted him :

“Were the boxes left in the hall?”

“Yus it was a big ’all, an’ there was nothin’ else in it.” I
;

made one more attempt to further matters:

“You have any key?”
didn’t
“Never used no key nor nothink. The old gent, he opened
the door ’isself an’ shut it again when I druv off. I don’t
—
remember the last time but that was the beer.”
“And you can’t remember the number of the house?”
“No, sir. But y* needn’t have no difficulty about that
 Jonathan Harker’s Journal 265
It’s a ’igh ’un with a stone front with a bow on it, an* 'igh
steps up to the door. I know them steps, ’avin ’ad to carry
the boxes up with three loafers what come round to earn a
copper. The old gent give them shillin’s, an’ they seem’
they got so much, they wanted more; but ’e took one of
them by the shoulder and was like to throw ’im down the
steps, till the lot of them went away cussin’.” I thought
that with this description I could find the house, so, having
paid my friend for his information, I started off for Picca-
dilly. I had gained a new painful experience; the Count
could, it was evident, handle the earth-boxes himself. If so,
time was precious ; for, now that he had achieved a certain
amount of distribution, he could, by choosing his own time,
complete the task unobserved. At Piccadilly Circus I dis-
charged my cab, and walked westward; beyond the Junior
Constitutional I came across the house described, and was
satisfied that this was the next of the lairs arranged by
Dracula. The house looked as though it had been long un-
tenanted. The windows were encrusted with dust, and the
shutters were up. All the framework was black with time,
and from the iron the paint had mostly scaled away. It was
evident that up to lately there had been a large notice-board
in front of the balcony ;
it had, however, been roughly torn

away, the uprights which had supported it still remaining.

Behind the rails of the balcony I saw there were some loose
boards, whose raw edges looked white. I would have given
a good deal to have been able to see the notice-board intact,
as it would, perhaps, have given some clue to the ownership
of the house. I remembered my experience of the investiga-
tion and purchase of Carfax, and I could not but feel that if
I could find the former owner there might be some means
discovered of gaining access to the house.
There was at present nothing to be learned from the Pic-
cadilly side, and nothing could be done ;
so I went round to
the back to see if anything could be gathered from this
quarter. The mews were active, the Piccadilly houses being
mostly in occupation. I asked one or two of the grooms
and helpers whom I saw around if they could tell me any-
thing about the empty house. One of them said that he
heard it had lately been taken, but he couldn’t say from
whom. He told me, however, that up to very lately there
had been a notice-board of “For Sale” up, and that perhaps
Mitchell, Sons, & Candy, the house agents, could tell me
 — — —
266 Dracula

something, as he thought he remembered seeing the name of

that firm on the board. I did not wish to seem too eager,
or to let my informant know or guess too much, so, thanking
him in the usual manner, I strolled away. It was now grow-
ing dusk, and the autumn night was closing in, so I did not
lose any time. Having learned the address of Mitchell,
Sons, & Candy from a directory at the Berkeley, I was soon
at their office in Sackville Street.
The gentleman who saw me was particularly suave in
manner, but uncommunicative in equal proportion. Having
—
once told me that the Piccadilly house which throughout
—
our interview he called a “mansion’’ was sold, he con-
sidered my business as concluded. When I asked who had
purchased it, he opened his eyes a thought wider, and paused
a few seconds before replying :

“It is sold, sir.”

“Pardon me,” I said, with equal politeness, “but I have a
special reason for wishing to know who purchased it.”
Again he paused longer, and raised his eyebrows still
more. “It is sold, sir,” was again his laconic reply.
“Surely,” I said, “you do not mind letting me know so
much.”
“But I do mind,” he answered. “The affairs of their
clients are absolutely safe in the hands of Mitchell, Sons, &
Candy.” This was manifestly a prig of the first water, and
there was no use arguing with him. I thought I had best
meet him on his own ground, so I said :

“Your clients, sir, are happy in having so resolute a

guardian of their confidence. I am myself a professional
man.” Here I handed him my card. “In this instance I am
not prompted by curiosity; I act on the part of Lord God-
aiming, who wishes to know something of the property
which was, he understood, lately for sale.” These words
put a different complexion on affairs. He said :

“I would like to oblige you if I could, Mr. Harker, and

especially would I like to oblige his lordship. We once car-
ried out a small matter of renting some chambers for him
when he was the Honourable Arthur Holmwood. If you
will let me have his lordship’s address I will consult the
House on the subject, and will, in any case, communicate
with his lordship by to-night’s post. It will be a pleasure if
we can so far deviate from our rules as to give the required
information to his lordship.”
 — —
Jonathan Harker’s Journal 267
I wanted and not to make an enemy, so
to secure a friend,
I thanked him, gave the address at Dr. Seward’s, and came
away. It was now dark, and I was tired and hungry. I got
a cup of tea at the Aerated Bread Company and came down
to Purfleet by the next train.
I found all the others at home. Mina was looking tired
and pale, but she made a gallant effort to be bright and
cheerful it wrung my heart to think that I had had to keep
;

anything from her and so caused her inquietude. Thank

God, this will be the last night of her looking on at our con-
ferences, and feeling the sting of our not showing our con-
fidence. It took all my courage to hold tothe wise resolution of
keeping her out of our grim task. She seems somehow more
reconciled; or else the very subject seems to have become
repugnant to her, for when any accidental allusion is made
she actually shudders. I am glad we made our resolution in
time, as with such a feeling as this, our growing knowledge
would be torture to her.
I could not tell the others of the day’s discovery till we
—
were alone; so after dinner followed by a little music to
save appearances even amongst ourselves I took Mina to —
her room and left her to go to bed. The dear girl was more
affectionate with me than ever, and clung to me as though
she would detain me but there was much to be talked of and
;

I came away. Thank God, the ceasing of telling things has

made no difference between us.
When I came down again Ifound the others all gathered
round the fire in the study.
, In the train I had written my
diary so far, and simply read it off to them as the best means
of letting them get abreast of my own information when I ;

had finished Van Helsing said :

“This has been a great day’s work, friend Jonathan.

Doubtless we are on the track of the missing boxes. If we
find them all in that house, then our work is near the end.
But if there be some missing, we must search until we find
them. Then shall we make our final coup and hunt the ,

wretch to his real death.” We all sat silent awhile and all
at once Mr. Morris spoke
:

“Say how are we going to get into that house ?”

!

“We got into the other,” answered Lord Godaiming

quickly.
“But, Art, this is different. broke house at Carfax,We
but we had night and a walled park to protect us. It will be
 ! — — ;

268 Dracula

a mighty different thing to commit burglary in Piccadilly,

either by day or night. I confess I don’t see how we are go-
ing to get in unless that agency duck can find us a key of
some sort; perhaps we shall know when you get his letter
in the morning.” Lord Godaiming’s brows contracted, and
he stood up and walked about the room. By-and-by he
stopped and said, turning from one to another of us :

“Quincey's head is level. This burglary business is get-

ting serious; we got off once all right; but we have now a
rare job on hand —
unless we can find the Count’s key bas-
ket.”
As nothing could well be done before morning, and as it
would be at least advisable to wait till Lord Godaiming
should hear from Mitchell’s, we decided not to take any ac-
tive step before breakfast time. For a good while we sat and
smoked, discussing the matter in its various lights and bear-
ings I took the opportunity of bringing this diary right up
;

to the moment. I am very sleepy and shall go to bed. . .

Just a line. Mina sleeps soundly and her breathing is

regular. Her forehead is puckered up into little wrinkles, as
though she thinks even in her sleep. She is still too pale,
but does not look so haggard as she did this morning. To-
morrow will, I hope, mend all this; she will be herself at
home in Exeter. Oh, but I am sleepy
Dr. Seward's Diary.
i October . —
I am puzzled afresh about Renfield. His
moods change so rapidly that I find it difficult to keep touch
of them, and as they always mean something more than his
own well-being, they form a more than interesting study.
This morning, when I went to see him after his repulse of
Van Helsing, his manner was that of a man commanding
destiny. He was, in fact, commanding destiny — subjectively.
He did not really care for any of the things of mere earth
he was in the clouds and looked down on all the weaknesses
and wants of us poor mortals. I thought I would improve
the occasion and learn something, so I asked him :

“What about the flies these times?” He smiled on me in

quite a superior sort of way —
such a smile as would have
—
become the face of Malvolio as he answered me :

“The fly, my dear sir, has one striking feature its wings
;

are typical of the aerial powers of the psychic faculties. The

!”
ancients did well when they typified the soul as a butterfly
 —— ——— — ;

Jonathan Harker’s Journal 269

I thought I would push
his analogy to its utmost logically,
so said quickly
I :

“Oh, it is a soul you are after now, is it?” His madness

foiled his reason, and a puzzled look spread over his face as,
shaking his head with a decision which I had but seldom
seen in him, he said:
“Oh no, oh no I want no souls. Life is all I want.” Here
!

he brightened up ; “I am pretty indifferent about it at pres-

ent. Life is all right; I have all I want. You must get a
new patient, doctor, if you wish to study zoophagy!”
This puzzled me a little, so I drew him on :

“Then you command life ;

you are a god I suppose ?” He
smiled with an ineffably benign superiority.
“Oh no Far be it from me to arrogate to myself the at-
!

tributes of the Deity. I am not even concerned in His es-

pecially spiritual doings. If I may state my intellectual posi-
tion I am, so far as concerns things purely terrestrial, some-
what in the position which Enoch occupied spiritually!”
This was a poser to me. I could not at the moment recall
Enoch’s appositeness; so I had to ask a simple question,
though I felt that by so doing I was lowering myself in the
eyes of the lunatic :

“And why with Enoch ?”

“Because he walked with God.” I could not see the anal-
ogy, but did not like to admit it ; so I harked back to what
fie had denied:
“So you don’t care about life and you don’t want souls.
Why not?” I put my question quickly and somewhat
sternly, on purpose to disconcert him. The effort succeeded
for an instant he unconsciously relapsed into his old servile
manner, bent low before me, and actually fawned upon me
as he replied :

“I don’t want any souls, indeed, indeed ! I don’t. I couldn’t

use them had them they would be no manner
if I ;
of use to
me. I couldn’t eat them or ” he suddenly stopped and
the old cunning look spread over his face, like a wind-sweep
on the surface of the water. “And doctor, as to life, what i?
it after all ? When you’ve got all you require, and you know
that you will never want, that is all. I have friends good —
friends —
like you Dr. Seward ;” this was said with a leer of
inexpressible cunning, “I know that I shall never lack the
!”
means of life
I think that through the cloudiness of his insanity he saw
 — — —
270 Dracula

some antagonism in back on the last

me, for he at once fell
—
refuge of such as he a dogged silence. After a short time I
saw that for the present it was useless to speak to him. He
was sulky, and so I came away.
Later in the day he sent for me. Ordinarily I would not
have come without special reason, but just at present 1 am
so interested in him that I would gladly make an effort. Be-
sides, I am glad to have anything to help to pass the time.
Harker is out, following up clues and so are Lord Godai- ;

ming and Quincey. Van Helsing sits in my study poring

over the record prepared by the Harkers he seems to think ;

that by accurate knowledge of all details he will light upon

some clue. He does not wish to be disturbed in the work,
without cause. I would have taken him with me to see the
patient, only I thought that after his last repulse he might
not care to go again. There was also another reason Ren- :

field might not speak so freely before a third person as when

he and I were alone.
I found him sitting out in the middle of the floor on his
stool, a pose which is generally indicative of some mental
energy on his part. When I came in, he said at once, as
though the question had been waiting on his lips :

“What about souls ?” It was evident then that n\y sur-

mise had been correct. Unconscious cerebration was doing
its work, even with the lunatic. I determined to have the
matter out. “What about them yourself?” I asked. He did
not reply for a moment but looked all round him, and up and
down, as though he expected to find some inspiration for an
answer.
“I don’t want any souls !” he said in a feeble, apologetic
way. The matter seemed preying on his mind, and so I de-
termined to use it —
to “be cruel only to be kind.” So I
said :

“You like life, and you want life?”

“Oh yes ! but that is all right ; you needn’t worry about
!”
that
“But,” asked, “how are we to get the life without get-
I
ting the soul also?” This seemed to puzzle him, so I fol-
lowed it up :

“A nice time you’ll have some time when you’re flying out
there, with the souls of thousands of flies and spiders and
birds and cats buzzing and twittering and miauing all round
you You’ve got their lives, you know, and you must put up
 —— —

Jonathan Harker’s Journal 271

with their souls !” Something seemed to affect his imagina-
tion, for he put his fingers to his ears and shut his eyes,
screwing them up tightly just as a small boy does when his
face is being soaped. There was something pathetic in it
that touched me it also gave me a lesson, for it seemed that
;

—
before me was a child only a child, though the features
were worn, and the stubble on the jaws was white. It was
evident that he was undergoing some process of mental dis-
turbance, and, knowing how his past moods had interpreted
things seemingly foreign to himself, I thought I would enter
into his mind as well as I could and go with him. The first
step was to restore confidence, so I asked him, speaking
pretty loud so that he would hear me through his closed
ears :

“Would you some sugar to get your flies round

like
again ?” He seemed to wake up all at once, and shook his
head. With a laugh he replied :

“Not much flies are poor! things, after all !” After a

pause he added, “But I don’t want their souls buzzing round
me, all the same.”
“Or spiders?” I went on.
“Blow spiders! What’s the use of spiders? There isn’t
anything in them to eat or” — he stopped suddenly, as though
reminded of a forbidden topic.
“So, so !” I thought to myself, “this is the second time he
has suddenly stopped at the word ‘drink;’ what does it
mean?” Renfield seemed himself aware of having made a
lapse, for he hurried on, as though to distract my attention
from it :

“I don’t take any stock at all in such matters. ‘Rats and

mice and such small deer,’ as Shakespeare has it, ‘chicken-
feed of the larder’ they might be called. I’m past all that
sort of nonsense. You might as well ask a man to eat mole-
cules with a pair of chop-sticks, as to try to interest me about
the lesser carnivora, when I know of what is before me.”
“I see,” I said. “You want big things that you can make
your teeth meet in ? How
would you like to breakfast on ele-
phant ?”
“What ridiculous nonsense you are talking
!” He was
getting too wide awake, so I thought I would press him
hard. “I wonder,” I said reflectively, “what an elephant’s
!”
soul is like
 — — ?! —
272 Dracula

The was obtained, for he at once fell from

effect I desired
his high-horse and became a child again.
“I don’t want an elephant’s soul, or, any soul at all !” he
said. For a few moments he sat despondently. Suddenly
he jumped to his feet, with his eyes blazing and all the signs
of intense cerebral excitement. “To hell with you and your
souls!” he shouted. “Why do you plague me about souls.
Haven’t I got enough to worry, and pain, and distract me
already, without thinking of souls!” He looked so hostile
that I thought he was in for another homicidal fit, so I blew
my whistle. The instant, however, that I did so he became
calm, and said apologetically :

“Forgive me, Doctor; I forgot myself. You do not need

any help. I am so worried in my mind that I am apt to be
irritable. If you only knew the problem I have to face, and
that I am working out, you would pity, and tolerate, and par-
don me. Pray do not put me in a strait-waistcoat. I want
to think and I cannot think freely when my body is confined.
I am sure you will understand !” He had evidently self-con-
trol ; so when the attendants came I told them not to mind,
and they withdrew. Renfield watched them go; when the
door was closed he said, with considerable dignity and sweet-
ness :

“Dr. Seward you have been very considerate towards me.

Believe me that I am very, very grateful to you !” I thought
it well to leave him in this mood, and so I came away. There

is certainly something to ponder over in this man’s state.

Several points seem to make what the American interviewer
calls “a story,” if one could only get them in proper order.
Here they are :

Will not mention “drinking.”

Fears the thought of being burdened with the “soul” of
anything.
Has no dread of wanting “life” in the future.
Despises the meaner forms of life altogether, though he
dreads being haunted by their souls.
Logically all these things point one way he has assurance
!

of some kind that he will acquire some higher life. He

—
dreads the consequence the burden of a soul. Then it is
a human life he looks to
And the assurance —
Merciful God! the Count has been to him, and there is
some new scheme of terror afoot I
 Jonathan Harker’s Journal 273
Later . — I went after my round to Van Helsing and told
him my suspicion. He grew very grave; and, after thinking
the matter over for a while asked me to take him to Renfield.
I did so. As we came to the door we heard the lunatic within
singing gaily, as he used to do in the time which now seems
so long ago. When we entered we saw with amazement that
he had spread out his sugar as of old the flies, lethargic with
;

the autumn, were beginning to buzz into the room. We

tried to make him talk of the subject of
our previous con-
versation, but he would not attend. He
went on with his
singing, just as though we had not been present. He had got
a scrap of paper and was folding it into a note-book. We
had to come away as ignorant as we went in.
His is a curious case indeed we must watch him to-night,
;

Letter, Mitchell, Sons and Candy to Lord Godaiming.

“1 October.
“My Lord,
“We are at all times only too happy to meet your wishes.
We beg, with regard to the desire of your Lordship, ex-
pressed by Mr. Harker on your behalf, to supply the follow-
ing information concerning the sale and purchase of No. 347,
Piccadilly. The original vendors are the executors of the
late Mr. Archibald Winter-Suffleld. The purchaser is a for-
eign nobleman, Count de Ville, who effected the purchase
himself paying the purchase money in notes ‘over the coun-
ter/ if your Lordship will pardon us using so vulgar an ex-
pression. Beyond this we know nothing whatever of him.
“We are, my Lord,
“Your Lordship’s humble servants,
“Mitchell, Sons & Candy."
Dr. Seward's Diary.

2 October. — I placed a man and

in the corridor last night,
told him to make an accurate note of any sound he might
hear from Renfield’s room, and gave him instructions that if
there should be anything strange he was to call me. After
dinner, when we had all gathered round the fire in the study
— Mrs. Harker having gone to bed we discussed the at-—
tempts and discoveries of the day. Harker was the only one
who had any result, and we are in great hopes that his clue
may be an important one.
OS)
*7 4 Dracula

Before going to bed I went round to the patient’s room

and looked in through the observation trap. He was sleep-
ing soundly, and his heart rose and fell with regular respira-
tion.
This morning the man on duty reported to me that a little
after midnight he was restless and kept saying his prayers
somewhat loudly. I asked him if that was all; he replied
that it was all he heard. There was something about his
manner so suspicious that I asked him point blank if he had
been asleep. He denied sleep, but admitted to having “dozed”
for a while. It is too bad that men cannot be trusted unless
they are watched.
To-day Harker is out following up his clue, and Art and
Quincey are looking after horses. Godaiming thinks that it
will be well to have horses always in readiness, for when we
get the information which we seek there will be no time to
lose. We must sterilise all the imported earth between sun-
rise and sunset we shall thus catch the Count at his weak-
;

est, and without a refuge to fly to. Van Helsing is off to the
British Museum looking up some authorities on ancient
medicine. The old physicians took account of things which
their followers do not accept, and the Professor is searching
for witch and demon cures which may be useful to us later.
I sometimes think we must be all mad and that we shall
wake to sanity in strait-waistcoats.

Later . —We have met again. We seem at last to be on

the track, and our work of to-morrow may be the beginning
of the end. I wonder if Renfield’s quiet has anything to do
with this. His moods have so followed the doings of the
Count, that the coming destruction of the monster may be
carried to him in some subtle way. If we could only get
some hint as to what passed in his mind, between the time
of my argument with him to-day and his resumption of fly-
catching, it might afford us a valuable clue. He is now seem-
ingly quiet for a spell . Is he?
. . . that wild
yell seemed to come from his room ....
The attendant came bursting into my room and told me
that Renfield had somehow met with some accident. He had
heard him yell; and when he went him found him lyin^
to
on his face on the floor, all covered with blood. I must go
at once
 — — —

CHAPTER XXI
dr. seward's diary

3 October . —
Let me put down with exactness all that hap-
pened, as well as I can remember it, since last I made an en-
try. Not a detail that I can recall must be forgotten in all ;

calmness I must proceed.

When I came to Renfield’s room I found him lying on the
floor on his left side in a glittering pool of blood. When I
went to move him, it became at once apparent that he had
received some terrible injuries; there seemed none of that
unity of purpose between the parts of the body which marks
even lethargic sanity. As the face was exposed I could see
that it was horribly bruised, as though it had been beaten
—
against the floor indeed it was from the face wounds that
the pool of blood originated. The attendant who was kneel-
ing beside the body said to me as we turned him over :

“I think, sir, his back is broken. See, both his right arm
and leg and the whole side of his face are paralysed.” How
such a thing could have happened puzzled the attendant be-
yond measure. He seemed quite bewildered, and his brows
were gathered in as he said :

“I can’t understand the two things. He could mark his

face like that by beating his own head on the floor. I saw a
young woman do it once at the Eversfield Asylum before
anyone could lay hands on her. And I suppose he might
have broke his neck by falling out of bed, if he got in an awk-
ward kink. But for the life of me I can’t imagine how the
two things occurred. If his back was broke, he couldn’t beat
his head and if his face was like that before the fall out of
;

bed, there would be marks of it.” I said to him :

“Go to Dr. Van Helsing, and ask him to kindly come here
at once. I want him without an instant’s delay.” The man
ran off, and within a few minutes the Professor, in his dress-
ing gown and slippers appeared. When he saw Renfield on
the ground, he looked keenly at him a moment and then
turned to me. I think he recognised my thought in my eves,
for he said very quietly manifestly for the ears of the at-
tendant
275
 —— — —
276 Dracula

“Ah a sad accident ! He need very careful watching,

will
and much attention. I shall stay with you myself; but I
shall first dress myself. If you will remain I shall in a few
minutes join you.”
The patient was now breathing stertorously and it was
easy to see that he had suffered some terrible injury. Van
Helsing returned with extraordinary celerity, bearing with
him a surgical case. He had evidently been thinking and
had his mind made up; for, almost before he looked at the
patient, he whispered to me :

“Send the attendant away. We must be alone with him

when he becomes conscious, after the operation.” So I
said :

“I think that will do now Simmons. have done all We

that we can at present. You had better go your round, and
Dr. Van Helsing will operate. Let me know instantly if
there be anything unusual anywhere.”
The man withdrew, and we went into a strict examina-
tion of the patient. The wounds of the face were superfi-
cial; the real injury was a depressed fracture of the skull,
extending right up through the motor area. The Professor
thought a moment and said :

“We must reduce the pressure and get back to normal

conditions, as far as can be; the rapidity of the suffusion
shows the terrible nature of his injury. The whole motor
area seems affected. The suffusion of the brain will increase
quickly, so we must trephine at once or it may be too late.”
As he was speaking there was a soft tapping at the door. I
went over and opened it and found in the corridor without,
Arthur and Quincey in pajamas and slippers: the former
spoke :

“I heard your man call up Dr. Van Helsing and tell him
of an accident. So I woke Quincey or rather called for him
as he was not asleep. Things are moving too quickly and
too strangely for sound sleep for any of us these times. I’ve
been thinking that to-morrow night will not see things as
they have been. We’ll have to look back and forward a —
little more than we have done. May we come in?” I nod-
ded, and held the door open till they had entered; then I
closed it again. When Quincey saw the attitude and state
of the patient, and noted the horrible pool on the floor, he
naid softly :

“My God ! what has happened to him ? Poor, poor devil

1*’
 — ;;

Dr. Seward’s Diary 277

L told him briefly, and added that we expected he would re-
cover consciousness after the operation a short time —for
at all events. He went at once and sat down on the edge
of the bed, with Godaiming beside him; we all watched in
patience.
“We shall wait,” said Van
Helsing, “just long enough to
fix the best spot for trephining, so that we may most quickly
and perfectly remove the blood clot for it is evident that the
;

haemorrhage is increasing.”
The minutes during which we waited passed with fearful
slowness. I had a horrible sinking in my heart, and from
Van Helsing’s face I gathered that he felt some fear or ap-
prehension as to what was to come. I dreaded the words
that Renfield might speak. I was positively afraid to think
but the conviction of what was coming was on me, as I have
read of men who have heard the death-watch. The poor
man’s breathing came in uncertain gasps. Each instant he
seemed as though he would open his eyes and speak; but
then would follow a prolonged stertorous breath, and he
would relapse into a more fixed insensibility. Inured as I
was to sick beds and death, this suspense grew, and grew
upon me. I could almost hear the beating of my own heart
and the blood surging through my temples sounded like
blows from a hammer. The silence finally became agonising.
I looked at my companions, one after another, and saw from

their flushed faces and damp brows that they were enduring
equal torture. There was a nervous suspense over us all, as
though overhead some dread bell would peal out powerfully
when we should least expect it.
At last there came a time when it was evident that the pa-
tient was sinking fast he might die at any moment. I looked
;

up at the Professor and caught his eyes fixed on mine. His

face was sternly set as he spoke :

“There is no time to lose. His words may be worth many

lives I have been thinking so, as I stood here. It may be
;

there is a soul at stake! We

shall operate just above the
ear.”
Without another word he made the operation. For a few
moments the breathing continued to be stertorous. Then
there came a breath so prolonged that it seemed as though it
would tear open his chest. Suddenly his eyes opened, and
became fixed in a wild, helpless stare. This was continued
hr a few moments then it softened into a glad surprise, and
;
 — — —— — —
zy8 Dracula

from the lips came a sigh of relief. He moved convulsively,

and as he did so, said :

“I’ll be quiet, Doctor. Tell them to take off the strait-

waistcoat. I have had a terrible dream, and it has left me so
weak that I cannot move. What’s wrong with my face? it
feels all swollen, and it smarts dreadfully.” He tried to turn
his head; but even with the effort his eyes seemed to grow
glassy again, so I gently put it back. Then Van Helsing
said in a quiet grave tone :

“Tell us your dream, Mr. Renfield.” As he heard the

voice his face brightened through its mutilation, and he
said :

“That is Dr. Van Helsing. How good it is of you to be

here. Give me some water, my lips are dry and I shall try
to tell you. I dreamed” ——
he stopped and seemed fainting, I
;

called quietly to Quincey “The brandy it is in my study —

quick !” He flew and returned with a glass, the decanter of
brandy and a carafe of water. We moistened the parched
lips, and the patient quickly revived. It seemed, however,
that his poor injured brain had been working in the interval,
for, when he was quite conscious, he looked at me piercingly
with an agonised confusion which I shall never forget, and
said :

“I must not deceive myself was no dream, but all a

;
it

grim reality.” Then his eyes roved round the room as ;

they caught sight of the two figures sitting patiently on th?

edge of the bed he went on :

“If I were not sure already, I would know from them.”

—
For an instant his eyes closed not with pain or sleep but
voluntarily, as though he were bringing all his faculties to
bear; when he opened them he said, hurriedly, and with
more energy than he had yet displayed :

“Quick, Doctor, quick. I am dying! I feel that I have

but a few minutes; and then I must go back to death or —
worse Wet my lips with brandy again. I have something
!

that I must say before I die; or before my poor crushed

brain dies anyhow. Thank you It was that night after you
!

left me, when I implored you to let me go away. I couldn’t

speak then, for I felt my tongue was tied but I was as sane ;

then, except in that way, as I am now. I was in an agony

of despair for a long time after you left me it seemed hours. ;

Then there came a sudden peace to me. My brain seemed

to become oool again, and I realised where I was. I heard
 — — —
Dr. Seward's Diary 279
the dogs bark behind our house, but not where He was!”
As he spoke Van Helsing’s eyes never blinked, but his hand
came out and met mine and gripped it hard. He did not,
however, betray himself; he nodded slightly and said: “Go
on,” in a low voice. Renfield proceeded :

“He came up to the window in the mist, as I had seen him

—
often before; but he was solid then not a ghost, and his
eyes were fierce like a man’s when angry. He was laughing
with his red mouth; the sharp white teeth glinted in the
moonlight when he turned to look back over the belt of
trees, to where the dogs were barking. I wouldn’t ask him
to come in at first, though I knew he wanted to just as he
had wanted all along. Then he began promising me things
—
—
•
not in words but by doing them.” He was interrupted
by a word from the Professor:
“How?”
“By making them happen; just as he used to send in the
flies when the sun was shining. Great big ones with
fat
steel and sapphire on their wings; and big moths, in the
night, with skull and cross-bones on their backs.” Van Hel-
sing nodded to him as he whispered to me unconsciously :

“The Acherontia Aitetropos of the Sphinges what you —

call the ‘Death’s-head Moth ?’ ” The patient went on with*
out stopping.
“Then he began to whisper ‘Rats, rats, rats Hundreds,
: !

thousands, millions of them, and every one a life and dogs ;

to eat them, and cats too. All lives all red blood, with
!

years of life in it and not merely buzzing flies !’ I laughed

;

at him, for I wanted to see what he could do. Then the dogs
howled, away beyond the dark trees in His house. He beck-
oned me to the window. I got up and looked out, and He
raised his hands, and seemed to call out without using any
words. A dark mass spread over the grass, coming on like
the shape of a flame of fire and then He moved the mist to
;

the right and left, and I could see that there were thousands
—
of rats with their eyes blazing red like His, only smaller.
He held up his hand, and they all stopped; and I thought
He seemed to be saying: ‘All these lives will I give you, ay,
and many more and greater, through countless ages, if you
will fall down and worship me !’ And then a red cloud, like
the colour of blood, seemed to close over my eyes and be- ;

fore I knew what I was doing, I found myself opening the

*ash and saying to Him ‘Come in, Lord and Master
:
!’
The
 — — —
280 Dracula

rats were all gone, but He slid into the room through the
sash, though it was only open an inch wide just as the —
Moon herself has often come in through the tiniest crack,
and has stood before me in all her size and splendour.”
His voice was weaker, so I moistened his lips with the
brandy again, and he continued but it seemed as though his
;

memory had gone on working in the interval for his story

was further advanced. I was about to call him back to the
point, but Van Helsing whispered to me: “Let him go on.
Do not interrupt him he cannot go back, and may-be could
;

not proceed at all if once he lost the thread of his thought.”

He proceeded :

“All day I waited to hear from him, but he did not send
me anything, not even a blow-fly, and when the moon got up
I was pretty angry with him. When he slid in through the
window, though it was shut, and did not even knock, I got
mad with him. He sneered at me, and his white face looked
out of the mist with his red eyes gleaming, and he went on
as though he owned the whole place, and I was no one. He
didn’t even smell the same as he went by me. I couldn’t
hold him. I thought that, somehow, Mrs. Harker had come
into the room.”
The two men sitting on the bed stood up and came over
standing behind him so that he could not see them, but where
they could hear better. They were both silent, but the Pro-
fessor started and quivered; his face, however, grew grim-
mer and sterner still. Renfield went on without noticing:
“When Mrs. Harker came in to see me this afternoon she
wasn’t the same; it was like tea after the teapot had been
watered.” Here we all moved, but no one said a word he ;

went on:
“I didn’t know that she was here till she spoke; and she
didn’t look the same. I don’t care for the pale people; I
like them with lots of blood in them, and hers had all seemed
to have run out. I didn’t think of it at the time but when ;

she went away began to think, and it made me mad to know

I
that He had been taking the life out of her.” I could feel
that the rest quivered, as I did but we remained otherwise
;

still. “So when He came to-night I was ready for Plim. I

saw the mist stealing in, and I grabbed it tight. Ihad heard
that madmen have unnatural strength and as I knew I was
— —
;

a madman at times anyhow I resolved to use my power.

Ay, and He felt it too, for He had to come out of the mist to
 — — ;

Dr. Seward's Diary 281

struggle with me. I held tight; and I thought I was going
to win, for I didn’t mean Him to take any more of her life,
till I saw His eyes. They burned into me, and my strength
became like water. He slipped through it, and when I tried
to cling to Him, He raised me up and flung me down. There
was a red cloud before me, and a noise like thunder, and the
mist seemed to steal away under the door.” His voice was
becoming fainter and his breath more stertorous. Van Heh
sing stood up instinctively.
“We know the worst now,” he said. “He is here, and we
know his purpose. It may not be too late. Let us be armed
— the same as we were the other night, but lose no time
there is not an instant to spare.” There was no need to put
—
our fear, nay our conviction, into words we shared them
in common. Weall hurried and took from our rooms the
same things that we had when we entered the Count’s house.
The Professor had his ready, and as we met in the corridor
he pointed to them significantly as he said :

“They never leave me and they shall not till this unhappy
;

business is over. Be wise also, my friends. It is no com-

mon enemy that we deal with. Alas! alas! that that dear
Madam Mina should suffer!” He stopped; his voice was
breaking, and I do not know if rage or terror predominated
in my own heart.
Outside the Harker’s door we paused. Art and Quincey
held back, and the latter said :

“Should we disturb her?”

“We must,” said Van Helsing grimly. “If the door be
locked, I shall break it in.”
“May it not frighten her terribly? It is unusual to break
into a lady’s room !” Van Helsing said solemnly.
“You are always right; but this is life and death. All
chambers are alike to the doctor; and even were they not
they are all as one to me to-night. Friend John, when I
turn the handle, if the door does not open, do you put your !”
shoulder down and shove and you too, my friends. Now
;

He turned the handle as he spoke, but the door did not

yield. We threw ourselves against it with a crash it burst
;

open, and we almost fell headlong into the room. The Pro-
fessor did actually fall, and I saw across him as he gathered
himself up from hands and knees. What I saw appalled me.
I felt my hair rise like bristles on the back
of my neck, and
my heart seemed to stand still.
282 Dracula

The moonlight was so bright that through the thick yellow

blind the room was light enough to see. On the bed beside
the window lay Jonathan Harker, his face flushed and
breathing heavily as though in a stupor. Kneeling on the
near edge of the bed facing outwards was the white-clad fig-
ure of his wife. By her side stood a tall, thin man, clad in
black. His face was turned from us, but the instant we saw
—
we all recognised the Count in every way, even to the scar
on his forehead. With his left hand he held both Mrs. Har-
ker’s hands, keeping them away with her arms at full ten-
sion; his right hand gripped her by the back of the neck,
forcing her face down on his bosom. Her white nightdress
was smeared with blood, and a thin stream trickled down
the man’s bare breast which was shown by his torn-open
dress. The attitude of the two had a terrible resemblance
to a child forcing a kitten’s nose into a saucer of milk to
compel it to drink. As we burst into the room, the Count
turned his face, and the hellish look that I had heard de-
scribed seemed to leap into it. His eyes flamed red with dev-
ilish passion; the great nostrils of the white aquiline nose
opened wide and quivered at the edge and the white sharp
;

teeth, behind the full lips of the blood-dripping mouth,

champed together like those of a wild beast. With a wrench,
which threw his victim back upon the bed as though hurled
from a height, he turned and sprang at us. But by this time
the Professor had gained his feet, and was holding towards
him the envelope which contained the Sacred Wafer. The
Count suddenly stopped, just as poor Lucy had done out-
side the tomb, and cowered back. Further and further back
he cowered, as we, lifting our crucifixes, advanced. The
moonlight suddenly failed, as a great black cloud sailed
across the sky; and when the gaslight sprang up under
Quincey’s match, we saw nothing but a faint vapour. This,
as we looked, trailed under the door, which with the recoil
from its bursting open, had swung back to its old position.
Van Helsing, Art, and I moved forward to Mrs. Harker,
who by this time had drawn her breath and with it had
given a scream so wild, so ear-piercing, so despairing that it
seems to me now that it will ring in my ears till my dying
day. For a few seconds she lay in her helpless attitude and
disarray. Her face was ghastly, with a pallor which was
accentuated by the blood which smeared her lips and cheeks
and chin; from her throat trickled a thin stream of blood
 —
Dr. Seward’s Diary 28?
her eyes were mad with terror. Then she put before her face
her poor crushed hands, which bore on their whiteness the
! red mark of the Count’s terrible grip, and from behind them
came a low desolate wail which made the terrible scream
seem only the quick expression of an endless grief. Van
Helsing stepped forward and drew the coverlet gently over
her body, whilst Art, after looking at her face for an in-
stant despairingly, ran out of the room. Van Helsing whis-
|
pered to me :

“Jonathan is in a stupor such as we know the Vampire

can produce. We can do nothing with poor Madam Mina
for a few moments till she recovers herself; I must wake
him !” He dipped the end of a towel in cold water and with
it began to flick him on the face, his wife all the while hold-

ing her face between her hands and sobbing in a way that
was heart-breaking to hear. I raised the blind, and looked
out of the window. There was much moonshine; and as I
looked I could see Quincey Morris run across the lawn and
|
hide himself in the shadow of a great yew tree. It puzzled
me to think why he was doing this but at the instant I heard
;

Harker’s quick exclamation as he woke to partial conscious-

ness, and turned to the bed. On his face, as there might well
be, was a look of wild amazement. He seemed dazed for a
few seconds, and then full consciousness seemed to burst
upon him all at once, and he started up. His wife was
aroused by the quick movement, and turned to him with her
arms stretched out, as though to embrace him; instantly,
however, she drew them in again, and putting her elbows
together, held her hands before her face, and shuddered till
the bed beneath her shook.
“In God’s name what does this mean?” Harker cried out,
“Dr. Seward, Dr. Van Helsing, what is it? What has hap-
pened? What wrong? Mina, dear, what is
is it? What
does that blood mean? My God, my God! has it come to

this!” and, raising himself to his knees, he beat his hands

wildly together. “Good God help us help her oh, help
! !

her!” With a quick movement he jumped from bed, and

began to pull on his clothes, — all the man
him awake at
in
the need for instant exertion. “What has happened? Tell
me about it?” he cried without pausing. “Dr. Van Hel-
all
sing, you love Mina, I know. Oh, do something to save her.
It cannot have gone too far yet. Guard her while I look for
him!” His wife, through her terror and horror and distress*
 — — —— —
284 Dracula

saw some sure danger him instantly forgetting her own

to :

grief, she seized hold of him and cried out :

“No! no! Jonathan, you must not leave me. I have suf-
fered enough to-night, God knows, without the dread of his
harming you. You must stay with me. Stay with these
friends who will watch over you !” Her expression became
frantic as she spoke and, he yielding to her, she pulled him
;

down sitting on the bed side, and clung to him fiercely.

Van Helsing and I tried to calm them both. The Pro-
fessor held up his little golden crucifix, and said with won-
derful calmness :

“Do not fear, my We

are here; and whilst this is
dear.
close to you no foul thing can approach. You are safe for
to-night; and we must be calm and take counsel together.”
She shuddered and was silent, holding down her head on her
husband’s breast. When she raised it, his white night-robe
was stained with blood where her lips had touched, and
where the thin open wound in her neck had sent forth drops.
The instant she saw it she drew back, with a low wail, and
whispered, amidst choking sobs :

“Unclean, unclean! I must touch him or kiss him no

more. Oh, that it should be that it is I who am now his
worst enemy, and whom he may have most cause to fear.”
To this he spoke out resolutely :

“Nonsense, Mina. It is a shame to me to hear such a

word. I would not hear it of you; and I shall not hear it
from you. May God judge me by my deserts, and punish
me with more bitter suffering than even this hour, if by any
act or will of mine anything ever come between us !” He
put out his arms and folded her to his breast and for a while ;

she lay there sobbing. He looked at us over her bowed

head, with eyes that blinked damply above his quivering nos-
trils his mouth was set as steel. After a while her sobs be-
;

came less frequent and more faint, and then he said to me,
speaking with a studied calmness which I felt tried his nerv-
ous power to the utmost :

“And now, Dr. Seward, tell me all about it. Too well I
know the broad fact tell me all that has been.” I told him
;

exactly what had happened, and he listened with seeming

impassiveness but his nostrils twitched and his eyes blazed
;

as I told how the ruthless hands of the Count had held his
wife in that terrible and horrid position, with her mouth to
the open wound in his breast. It interested me, even at tha*
 — — — — —
Dr. Seward’s Diary 285
moment, to see, that, whilst the face of white set passion
worked convulsively over the bowed head, the hands ten-
derly and lovingly stroked the ruffled hair.
Just as I had
finished, Quincey and Godaiming knocked at the
door. They
entered in obedience to our summons. Van Helsing
looked
at me questioningly. I understood him to mean if we were
to take advantage of their coming to divert if possible
the
thoughts of the unhappy husband and wife from each other
and from themselves so on nodding acquiescence to him he
;

asked them what they had seen or done. To which Lord

Godaiming answered :

“I could not see him anywhere in the passage, or in any

of our rooms. I looked in the study but, though he had been
there, he had gone. He had, however ” He stopped
suddenly looking at the poor drooping figure on the bed.
Van Helsing said gravely :

“Go on friend Arthur. We want here no more conceal-

ments. Our hope now is in knowing all. Tell freely !” So
Art went on :

“He had been there, and though it could only have been
for a few seconds, he made rare hay of the place. All the
manuscript had been burned, and the blue flames were flick-
ering amongst the white ashes the cylinders of your phono-
;

graph too were thrown on the fire, and the wax had helped
the flames.” Here I interrupted. “Thank God there is the
other copy in the safe !” His face lit for a moment, but fell
again as he went on “I ran down stairs then, but could see
;

no sign of him. I looked into Renfield’s room; but there

was no trace there except !” Again he paused. “Go
on,” said Harker hoarsely so he bowed his head and mois-
;

tening his lips with his tongue, added “except that the poor
:

fellow is dead.” Mrs. Harker raised her head, looking from

one to the other of us she said solemnly :

“God’s will be done!” I could not but feel that Art was
keeping back something but, as I took it that it was with a
;

purpose, I said nothing. Van Helsing turned to Morris and

asked :

“And you, friend Quincey, have you any to tell ?”

“A little,” he answered. “It may be much eventually, but
at present I can’t say. I thought it well to know if possible
where the Count would go when he left the house. I did
not see him but I saw a bat rise from Renfield’s window,
;

and flap westward. I expected to see him in some shape go

 — —
286 Dracula
%

back to Carfax but he evidently sought some other lair. He

;

will not be back to-night; for the sky is reddening in the

east, and the dawn is close. We must work to-morrow !”
He said the latter words through his shut teeth. For a
space of perhaps a couple of minutes there was silence, and
I could fancy that I could hear the sound of our hearts beat-
ing; then Van Helsing said, placing his hand very tenderly
on Mrs. Harker’s head :

•
—
—
“And now, Madam Mina poor, dear, dear Madam Mina
tell us exactly what happened. God knows that I do not
want that you be pained but it is need that we know all. For
;

now more than ever has all work to be done quick and sharp,
and in deadly earnest. The day is close to us that must end
all, if it may be so; and now is the chance that we may live
and learn.”
Thepoor, dear lady shivered, and I could see the tension
of her nerves as she clasped her husband closer to her and
bent her head lower and lower still on his breast. Then she
raised her head proudly, and held out one hand to Van Hel-
sing who took it in his, and, after stooping and kissing it
reverently, held it fast. The other hand was locked in that
of her husband, who held his other arm thrown round her
protectingly. After a pause in which she was evidently or-
dering her thoughts, she began :

“I took the sleeping draught which you had so kindly

given me, but for a long time it did not act. I seemed to be-
come more wakeful, and myriads of horrible fancies began
to crowd in upon my mind —
all of them connected with
death, and vampires; with blood, and pa n, and trouble/’
;

Her husband involuntarily groaned as she turned to him and

said lovingly: “ Do not fret dear. You must be brave and
strong, and help me through the horrible task. If you only
knew what an effort it is to me to tell of this fearful thing
at you would understand how much I need your help.
all,
Well, I saw I must try to help the medicine to its work with
my will, if it was to do me any good, so I resolutely set my-
self to sleep. Sure enough sleep must soon have come to me,
for I remember no more. Jonathan coming in had not
waked me, for he lay by my side when next I remember.
There was in the room the same thin white mist that I had
before noticed. But I forget now if you know of this you;

will find it in my diary which I shall show you later. I

felt the same vague terror which had come to me before.

 — — —
!

Dr. Seward’s Diary 287

md the same sense of some presence. I turned to wake
Jonathan, but found that he slept so soundly that it seemed
as if it was he who had taken the sleeping draught, and not I.
I tried, but I could not wake him. This caused me a great
fear, and I looked around terrified. Then indeed, my heart
sank within me: beside the bed, as if he had stepped out of
—
the mist or rather as if the mist had turned into his figure,
for it had entirely disappeared —stood a tall, thin man, all in
black. I knew him at once from the description of the
others. The waxen face; the high aquiline nose, on which
the light fell in a thin white line the parted red lips, with the
;

sharp white teeth showing between and the red eyes that I
;

had seemed to see in the sunset on the windows of St. Mary’s

Church at Whitby. I knew, too, the red scar on his forehead
where Jonathan had struck him. For an instant my heart
stood still, and I would have screamed out, only that I was
paralysed. In the pause he spoke in a sort of keen, cutting,
whisper, pointing as he spoke to Jonathan :

“
‘Silence !If you make a sound I shall take him and dash
his brains out before your very eyes.’ I was appalled and
was too bewildered to do or say anything. With a mocking
smile, he placed one hand upon my shoulder and, holding
me tight, bared my throat with the other, saying as he did
so; ‘First, a little refreshment to reward my exertions. You
may as well be quiet ; it is not the first time, or the second,
that your veins have appeased my thirst !’ I was bewildered,
and, strangely enough, I did not want to hinder him. I sup-
pose it is a part of the horrible curse that such is, when his
touch is on his victim. And oh, my God, my God, pity me
He placed his reeking lips upon my throat !” Her husband
groaned again. She clasped his hand harder, and looked at
him pityingly, as if he were the injured one, and went on :

“I felt my strength fading away, and I was in a half

swoon. How long this horrible thing lasted I know not but
;

it seemed that a long time must have passed before he took

his foul, awful, sneering mouth away. I saw it drip with

the fresh blood !” The remembrance seemed for a while to

overpower her, and she drooped and would have sunk down
but for her husband’s sustaining arm. With a great effort
.«he recovered herself and went on
:

“Then he spoke to me mockingly, ‘And so you, like the

others, would play your brains against mine. You would
help these men toliunt me and frustrate me in my designs?
 ;

288 Dracula

You know now, and they know in part already, and will
know in full before long, what path. They
it is to cross my
should have kept their energies for use closer to home.
—
Whilst they played wits against me against me who com-
manded nations, and intrigued for them, and fought for
them, hundreds of years before they were born I was coun- —
termining them. And you, their best beloved one, are now
to me, flesh of my flesh blood of my blood kin of my kin
; ;

my bountiful wine-press for a while; and shall be later on

my companion and my helper. You shall be avenged in
turn for not one of them but shall minister to your needs.
;

But as yet you are to be punished for what you have done.
You have aided in thwarting me; now you shall come to my
call. When my
brain says “Come !” to you, you shall cross
land or sea to do my bidding; and to that end this!’ With
that he pulled open his shirt, and with his long sharp nails
opened a vein in his breast. When the blood began to spurt
out, he took my hands in one of his, holding them tight, and
with the other seized my neck and pressed my mouth to the
wound, so that I must either suffocate or swallow some of
—
the Oh my God my God what have I done ? What have
! !

I done to deserve such a fate, I who have tried to walk in

meekness and righteousness all my days. God pity me!
Look down on a poor soul in worse than mortal peril and in ;

mercy pity those to whom she is dear!” Then she began

to rub her lips as though to cleanse them from pollution.
As she was telling her terrible story, the eastern sky be-
gan to quicken, and everything became more and more clear.
Harker was still and quiet; but over his face, as the awful
narrative went on, came a grey look which deepened and
deepened in the morning light, till when the first red streak
of the coming dawn shot up, the flesh stood darkly out
against the whitening hair.
We have arranged that one of us is to stay within call of
the unhappy pair till we can meet together and arrange about
taking action.
Of this I am sure the sun rises to-day on no more mis
:

erable house in all the great round of its daily course.

 ;!

CHAPTER XXII
JONATHAN HARKER’s JOURNAL

3 October. —As must do something or go mad, I write

I
this diary. It is now six o’clock, and we are to meet in the
study in half an hour and take something to eat for Dr. Van;

Helsing and Dr. Seward are agreed that if we do not eat we

cannot work our best. Our best will be, God knows, re-
quired to-day. I must keep writing at every chance, for I
dare not stop to think. All, big and little, must go down
perhaps at the end the little things may teach us most. The
teaching, big or little, could not have landed Mina or me
anywhere worse than we are to-day. However, we must
trust and hope. Poor Mina told me just now, with the tears
running down her dear cheeks, that it is in trouble and trial
that our faith is tested —
that we must keep on trusting and ;

that God will aid us up to the end. The end oh my God

!

what end? .... To work! To work!

When Dr. Van Helsing and Dr. Seward had come back
from seeing poor Renfield, we went gravely into what was to
be done. First, Dr. Seward told us that when he and Dr.
Van Helsing had gone down to the room below’ they had
found Renfield lying on the floor, all in a heap. His face
was all bruised and crushed in, and the bones of the neck
were broken.
Dr. Seward asked the attendant who was on duty in the
passage if he had heard anything. He said that he had been
sitting down —he confessed to half dozing —when he heard
loud voices in the room, and then Renfield had called out
loudly several times, “God God God !” After that there
! !

was a sound of falling, and when he entered the room he

found him lying on the floor, face down, just as the doctors
had seen him. Van Helsing asked if he had heard “voices”
or “a voice,” and he said he could not say that at first it had
;

seemed to him as if there were two, but as there was no one

in the room it could have been only one. He could swear to
it, if required, that the
word “God” was spoken by the
patient. Dr. Seward said to us, when we were alone, that he
(Mi) 289
 — — : —
290 Dracula

did not wish to go into the matter; the question of an in-

quest had to be considered, and it would never do to put
forward the truth, as no one would believe it. As it was,
he thought that on the attendant’s evidence he could give a
certificate of death by misadventure in falling from bed. In
case the coroner should demand it, there would be a formal
inquest, necessarily to the same result.
When the question began to be discussed as to what should
be our next step, the very first thing we decided was that
Mina should be in full confidence that nothing of any sort
— — ;

no matter how painful should be kept from her. She

herself agreed as to its wisdom, and it was pitiful to see her
so brave and yet so sorrowful, and in such a depth of despair.
“There must be no concealment,” she said, “Alas we have !

had too much already. And besides there is nothing in all

the world that can give me more pain than I have already
—
endured than I suffer now Whatever may happen, it
!

must be of new hope or of new courage to me !” Van Hel-

sing was, looking at her fixedly as she spoke, and said, sud-
denly but quietly :

“But dear Madam Mina are you not afraid not for your- ;

self, but for others from yourself, after what has happened ?”
Her face grew set in its lines, but her eyes shone with the
devotion of a martyr as she answered :

!”
“Ah no for my mind is made up
!

“To what?” he asked gently, whilst we were all very still;

for each in our own way we had a sort of vague idea of what
she meant. Her answer came with direct simplicity, as
though she were simply stating a fact :

—
“Because if I find in myself and I shall watch keenly for
—
it a sign of harm to any that I love, I shall die
!”

“You would not kill yourself?” he asked, hoarsely.

“I would ;
if there were no friend who loved me, who
would save me such a pain, and so desperate an effort !” She
looked at him meaningly as she spoke. He was sitting
down but now he rose and came close to her and put his
;

hand on her head as he said solemnly

“My child, there is such an one if it were for your good.
For myself I could hold it in my account with God to find
such an euthanasia for you, even at this moment if it were
best. Nay, were it safe! But my child ” for a moment
—
he seemed choked, and a great sob rose in his throat; he
gulped it down and went on :
 —
Jonathan Harker’s Journal 291
“There are here some who would stand between you and
death. You must not die. You must not die by any hand;
but least of all by your own. Until the other, who has
fouled your sweet life, is true dead you must not die for if
;

he is still with the quick Un-Dead, your death would make

you even as he is. No, you must live! You must struggle
and strive to live, though death would seem a boon unspeak-
able. You must fight Death himself, though he come to you
in pain or in joy; by the day, or the night; in safety or in
peril! On your living soul I charge you that you do not die
— —
nay nor think of death till this great evil be past.” The
poor dear grew white as death, and shook and shivered, as I
have seen a quicksand shake and shiver at the incoming of
the tide. We were all silent; we could do nothing. At
length she grew more calm and turning to him said, sweetly,
but oh so sorrowfully, as she held out her hand
!
;

“I promise you, my dear friend, that if God will let me

live, I shall strive to do so; till, if it may be in His good
time, this horror may have passed away from me.” She was
so good and brave that we all felt that our hearts were
strengthened to work and endure for her, and we began to
discuss what we were to do. I told her that she was to have
all the papers in the safe, and all the papers or diaries and
phonographs we might hereafter use and was to keep the
;

record" as she had done before. She was pleased with the
—
prospect of anything to do if “pleased” could be used in
connection with so grim an interest.
As usual Van Helsing had thought ahead of everyone else,
and was prepared with an exact ordering of our work.
“It is perhaps well” he said “that at our meeting after our
visit to Carfax we decided not to do anything with the earth-
boxes that lay there. Had we done so, the Count must have
guessed our purpose, and would doubtless have taken
measures in advance to frustrate such an effort with regard
to the others ;
but now he does not know our intentions. Nay
more, in all probability, he does not know that such a power
exists to us as can sterilise his lairs, so that he cannot use
them as of old. We are now so much further advanced in
our knowledge as to their disposition, that, when we have
examined the house in Piccadilly, we may track the very last
of them. To-day, then, is ours and in it rests our hope. The
;

sun that rose on our sorrow this morning guards us in its

course Until it sets to-night, that monster must retain what-
 — —
292 Dracula

ever form he now has. He is confined within the limitations

of his earthly envelope. He cannot melt into thin air nor dis-
appear through cracks or chinks or crannies. If he go
through a door-way, he must open the door like a mortal.
And so we have this day to hunt out all his lairs and sterilise
them. So we shall, if we have not yet catch him and destroy
him, drive him to bay in some place where the catching and
the destroying shall be, in time, sure.” Here I started up
for I could not contain myself at the thought that the minutes
and seconds so preciously laden with Mina’s life and happi-
ness were flying from us, since whilst we talked action was
impossible. But Van Helsing held up his hand warningly.
“Nay, friend Jonathan,” he said, “in this, the quickest way
home is the longest way, so your proverb say. We
shall all act
and act with desperate quick, when the time has come. But
think, in all probable the key of the situation is in that house
in Piccadilly. The Count may have many houses which he
has bought. Of them he will have deeds of purchase, keys
and other things. He
have paper that he write on he
will ;

will have his book of cheques. There are many belongings

that he must have somewhere why not in this place so cen-
;

tral, so quiet, where he come and go by the front or the back

at all hour, when in the very vast of the traffic there is none
to notice. We shall go there and search that house; and
when we learn what it holds, then we do what our friend
Arthur call, in his phrases of hunt 'stop the earths’ and so we
—
run down our old fox so? is it not?”
“Then let us come at once,” I cried, “we are wasting the
precious, precious time !” The Professor did not move, but
simply said :

“And how are we to get into that house in Piccadilly ?”

“Any way !” I cried. “We shall break in if need be.”
“And your police where will they be, and what will they
;

say ?”
was staggered but I knew that if he wished to delay he
I ;

had a good reason for it. So I said, as quietly as I could :

“Don’t wait more than need be you know, I am sure, what

;

am in.”
torture I
“Ah, my child, that I do and indeed there is no wish of
;

me to add to your anguish. But just think, what can we do,

until all theworld be at movement. Then will come our time.
I have thought and thought, and it seems to me that the
 ; —
Jonathan Harker’s Journal 293
simplest way is the best of all. Now we wish to get into the
house, but we have no key ; is it not so ?” I nodded.
“Now suppose that you were, in truth, the owner of that
house, and could not still get it ; and think there was to you
no conscience of the housebreaker, what would you do ?”
“I should get a respectable locksmith, and set him to work
to pick the lock for me.”
‘‘And your police, they would interfere, would they not?”
“Oh, no! not if they knew the man was properly em-
ployed.”
“Then,” he looked at me keenly as he spoke, “all that is
in doubt is the conscience of the employer, and the belief of
your policemen as to whether or no that employer has a good
conscience or a bad one. Your police must indeed be zealous
— —
men and clever oh so clever! in reading the heart, that
they trouble themselves in such matter. No, no, my friend
Jonathan, you go take the lock off a hundred empty house
in this your London, or of any city in the world and if you
;

do it as such things are rightly done, and at the time such

things are rightly done, no one will interfere. I have read of
a gentleman who owned a so fine house in your London, and
when he went for months of summer to Switzerland and lock
up his house, some burglar came and broke window at back
and got in. Then he went and made open the shutters in
front and walk out and in through the door, before the very
eyes of the police. Then he have an auction in that house,
and advertise it, and put up big; notice; and when the day
come he sell off by a great auctioneer all the goods of that
otl^er man who own them. Then he go to a builder, and he
sell him that house, making an agreement that he pull it
down and take all away within a certain time. And your po-
lice and other authority help him all they can. And when
that owner come back from his holiday in Switzerland he
find only an empty hole where his house had been. This was
all done en regie and in our work we shall be en regie too.
We shall not go so early that the policemen who have then
little to think of, shall deem it strange but we shall go after
;

ten o'clock, when there are many about, and when such
things would be done were we indeed owners of the house.”
I could not but see how right he was and the terrible
despair of Mina’s face became relaxed a thought there was
;

hope in such good counsel. Van Helsing went on :

“When once within that house we may find more clues ; at

 ;

294 Dracula

any rate some of us can remain there whilst the rest find the
—
other places where there be more earth-boxes at Bermond-
sey and Mile End.”
Lord Godaiming stood up. “I can be of some use here,”
he said. “I shall wire to my people to have horses and car-
riages where they will be most convenient.”
“Look here, old fellow,” said Morris, “it is a capital idea
to have all ready in case we want to go horsebacking; but
don’t you think that one of your snappy carriages with its
heraldic adornments in a byway of Walworth or Mile End
would attract too much attention for our purposes ? It seems
to me that we ought to take cabs when we go south or east
and even leave them somewhere near the neighborhood we
are going to.”
“Friend Quincey right!” said the Professor. “His head
is
is what you call in plane with the horizon. It is a difficult
thing that we go to do, and we do not want no peoples to
watch us if so it may.”
Mina took a growing interest in everything and I was
rejoiced to see that the exigency of affairs was helping her to
forget for a time the terrible experience of the night. She
was very, —
very pale almost ghastly, and so thin that
her lips were drawn away, showing her teeth in somewhat of
prominence. I did not mention this last, lest it should give
her needless pain but it made my blood run cold in my veins
;

to think of what had occurred with poor Lucy when the

Count had sucked her blood. As yet there was no sign of
the teeth growing sharper but the time as yet was short, and
;

there was time for fear.

When we came to the discussion of the sequence of our
efforts and of the disposition of our forces, there were new
sources of doubt. It was finally agreed that before starting
for Piccadilly we should destroy the Count’s lair close at
hand. In case he should find it out too soon, we should thus
be still ahead of him in our work of destruction; and his
presence in his purely material shape, and at his weakest,
might give us some new clue.
As to the disposal of forces, it was suggested by the Pro-
fessor that, after our visit to Carfax, we should all enter the
house in Piccadilly that the two doctors and I should re-
;

main there, whilst Lord Godaiming and Quincey found the

lairs at Walworth and Mile End and destroyed them. It was
possible, if not likely, the Professor urged, that the Count
 Jonathan Harker’s Journal 295
might appear in Piccadilly during the day, and that if so we
might be able to cope with him then and there. At any
rate, we might be able to follow him in force. To this plan
I strenuously objected, and so far as my going was con-
cerned, for I said that I intended to stay and protect Mina.
I thought that my mind was made up on the subject; but
Mina would not listen to my objection. She said that there
might be some law matter in which I could be useful; that
amongst the Count’s papers might be some clue which I
could understand out of my experience in Transylvania and ;

that, as it was, all the strength we could muster was required

to cope with the Count’s extraordinary power. I had to give
in, for Mina’s resolution was fixed she said that it was the
;

last hope for her that we should all work together. “As for
me,” she said, “I have no fear. Things have been as bad as
they can be and whatever may happen must have in it some
;

element of hope or comfort. Go, my husband God can, if

!

He wishes it, guard me as well alone as with any one pres-

ent.” So I started up crying out “Then in God’s name let
:

us come at once, for we are losing time. The Count may

come to Piccadilly earlier than we think.”
“Not so!” said Van Helsing, holding up his hand.
“But why?” I asked.
“Do you forget,” he said, with actually a smile, “that last
night he banqueted heavily, and will sleep late?”
—
Did I forget! shall I ever can I ever! Can any of us
ever forget that terrible scene Mina struggled hard to keep
!

her brave countenance; but the pain overmastered her and

she put her hands before her face, and shuddered whilst she
moaned. not intended to recall her fright-
Van Helsing had
ful experience. He had simply lost sight of her and her part
in the affair in his intellectual effort. When it struck him
what he said, he was horrified at his thoughtlessness and
tried to comfort her. “Oh, Madam Mina,” he said, “dear,
dear Madam Mina, alas that I of all who so reverence
!
you
should have said anything so forgetful. These stupid
old

lips of mine and this stupid old head do not

deserve so but ,

you forget it, will you not ?

will He bent low beside her as
he spoke; she took his hand, and looking at him through
her tears, said hoarsely
“No, I shall not forget, for well that I remember and
it is ;

with it l have so much in memory of you that is sweet, that I

take it all together. Now, you^ must all be going soon.
 — — —
296 Dracula

Breakfast is ready, and we must all eat that we may be

strong.”
Breakfast was a strange meal to us all. tried to be We
cheerful and encourage each other, and Mina was the bright-
est and most cheerful of us. When it was over. Van Helsing
stood up and said :

“Now, my dear friends, we go forth to our terrible enter-

prise. Are we all armed, as we were on that night. when first
we visited our enemy’s lair armed against ghostly as well as
;

carnal attack ?” We all assured him. “Then it is well. Now

Madam Mina, you are in any case quite safe here until the
sunset; and before then we shall return if —
shall We
return! But before we go let me see you armed against
personal attack. I have myself, since you came down, pre-
pared your chamber by the placing of things of which we
know, so that He may not enter. Now let me guard yourself.
On your forehead I touch this piece of” Sacred Wafer in the
name of the Father, the Son, and
There was a fearful scream which almost froze our hearts
to hear. As he had placed the Wafer on Mina’s forehead, it
—
had seared it had burned into the flesh as though it had
been a piece of white-hot metal. My poor darling’s brain had
told her the significance of the fact as quickly as her nerves
received the pain of it and the two so overwhelmed her that
;

her overwrought nature had its voice in that dreadful

scream. But the words to her thought came quickly; the
echo of the scream had not ceased to ring on the air when
there came the reaction, and she sank on her knees on the
floor in an agony of abasement. Pulling her beautiful hair
over her face, as the leper of old his mantle, she wailed
out :

“Unclean Unclean
! Even the Almighty shuns my pol-
!

luted flesh ! I must bear this mark of shame upon my fore-

head until the Judgment Day.” They all paused. I had
thrown myself beside her in an agony of helpless grief, and
putting my arms around held her tight. For a few minutes
our sorrowful hearts beat together, whilst the friends around
11s turned away their eyes that ran tears silently. Then Van
Helsing turned and said gravely so gravely that I could not
;

help feeling that he was in some way inspired, and was stat-
ing things outside himself :

“It may be that you may have to bear that mark till God
himself see fit, as He most surely shall, on the Judgment
 — ;

Jonathan Harker’s Journal 297

Day, to redress all wrongs of the earth and of His children
that He has placed thereon. And oh, Madam Mina,
dear, my
my may we who love you be there to see, when that
dear,
red scar, the sign of God’s knowledge of what has been, shall
pass away and leave your forehead as pure as the heart we
know. For so surely as we live, that scar shall pass away
when God sees right to lift the burden that is hard upon us.
Till then we bear our Cross, as His Son did in obedience to
His Will. It may be that we are chosen instruments of His
good pleasure, and that we ascend to His bidding as that
other through stripes and shame through tears and blood
;

through doubts and fears, and all that makes the difference
between God and man.”
There was hope in his words, and comfort and they made
;

for resignation. Mina and I both felt so, and simultaneously

we each took one of the old man’s hands and bent over and
kissed it. Then without a word we all knelt down together,
and, all holding hands, swore to be true to each other. We
men pledged ourselves to raise the veil of sorrow from the
head of her whom, each in his own way, we loved ; and we
prayed for help and guidance in the terrible task which lay
before us.
It was then time to start. So I said farewell to Mina, a
parting which neither of us shall forget to our dying day;
and we set out.
To one thing I have made up my mind if we find out that
:

Mina must be a vampire in the end, then she shall not go into
that unknown and terrible land alone. I suppose it is thus
that in old times one vampire meant many; just as their
hideous bodies could only rest in sacred earth, so the holiest
love was the recruiting sergeant for their ghastly ranks.
We entered Carfax without trouble and found all things
the same as on the first occasion. It was hard to believe
that amongst so prosaic surroundings of neglect and dust
and decay there was any ground for such fear as already we
knew. Had not our minds been made up, and had there not
been terrible memories to spur us on, we could hardly have
proceeded with our task. We found no papers, or any sign
of use in the house and in the old chapel the great boxes
;

looked just as we had seen them last. Dr. Van Helsing said
to us solemnly as we stood before them
:

“And now, my friends, we have a duty here to do. We

nust sterilise this earth, so sacred of holy memories, that he
 — — ;;

298 Dracula

has brought from a far distant land for such fell use. He
has chosen this earth because it has been holy. Thus we
defeat him with his own weapon, for we make it more holy
still. It was sanctified to such use of man, now we sanctify
it to God.” As he spoke he took from his bag a screw-
driver and a wrench, and very soon the top of one of the
cases was thrown open. The earth smelled musty and close
but we did not somehow seem to mind, for our attention was
concentrated on the Professor. Taking from his box a piece
of the Sacred Wafer he laid it reverently on the earth, and
then shutting down the lid began to screw it home, we aiding
him as he worked.
One by one we treated in the same way each of the great
boxes, and left them as we had found them to all appearance
but in each was a portion of the Host.
When we closed the door behind us, the Professor said
solemnly :

“So much is already done. If it may be that with all the

others we can be so successful, then the sunset of this even-
ing may shine on Madam Mina’s forehead all white as ivory
!”
and with no stain
As we passed across the lawn on our way to the station to
catch our train we could see the front of the asylum. I
looked eagefly, and in the window of my own room saw
Mina. I waved my hand to her, and nodded to tell that our
work there was successfully accomplished. She nodded in
reply to show that she understood. The last I saw, she was
waving her hand in farewell. It was with a heavy heart that
we sought the station and just caught the train, which was
steaming in as we reached the platform.
I have written this in the train.

Piccadilly, 12:30 o'clock—Just before we reached Fen-

church Street Lord Godaiming said to me :

“Quincey and I will find a locksmith. You had better not

come with us in case there should be any difficulty for under
;

the circumstances it wouldn’t seem so bad for us to break

into an empty house. But you are a solicitor and the Incor-
porated Law Society might tell you that you should have
known better.” I demurred as to my not sharing any danger
even of odium, but he went on “Besides, it will attract less
:

attention if there are not too many of us. My title will make
it all right with the locksmith, and with any policeman that
 Jonathan Harker’s Journal
299
may come along. You had better go with Tack and the
Professor and stay in the Green Park, somewhere
in sight of
the house; and when you see the door
opened and the smith
has gone away, do you all come across.
look out for you, and shall let you in.”
We shall be on the

The advice good!” said Van Helsing, so we said no

is
more. Godalming and Morris hurried off in a cab, we fol-
lowing in another. At the corner of Arlington
Street our
contingent got out and strolled into the Green Park.
My
heart beat as I saw the house on which so much of our
hope
was centered, looming up grim and silent in its deserted con-
dition amongst its more lively and spruce-looking neigh-
bours. We sat down on a bench within good view, and be-
gan to smoke cigars so as to attract as little attention as pos-
sible. The minutes seemed to pass with leaden feet as we
waited for the coming of the others.
At length we saw a four-wheeler drive up. Out of it, in
leisurely fashion, got Lord Godaiming and Morris and
;

down from the box descended a thick-set working man with

his rush-woven basket of tools. Morris paid the cabman,
who touched his hat and drove away. Together the two
ascended the steps, and Lord Godaiming pointed out what he
wanted done. The workman took off his coat leisurely and
hung it on one of the spikes of the rail, saying something to
a policeman who just then sauntered along. The policeman
nodded acquiescence, and the man kneeling down placed his
bag beside him. After searching through it, he took out a
selection of tools which he produced to lay beside him in
orderly fashion. Then he stood up, looked into the key-
hole, blew into it, and, turning to his employers, made some
remark. Lord Godaiming smiled, and the man lifted a good
sized bunch of keys selecting one of them, he began to
;

probe the lock, as if feeling his way with it. After fumbling
about for a bit he tried a second, and then a third. All at
once the door opened under a slight push from him, and he
and the two others entered the hall. We sat still my own
;

cigar burnt furiously, but Van Helsing’s went cold alto-

gether. We waited patiently as we saw the workman come
out and bring in his bag. Then he held the door partly open,
steadying it with his knees, whilst he fitted a key to the lock.
This he finally handed to Lord Godaiming, who took out his
purse and gave him something. The man touched his hat.
 ;

3 °°
Dracula

took his bag, put on his coat and departed ; not a soul took
the slightest notice of the whole transaction.
When the man had fairly gone, we three crossed the street
and knocked at the door. It was immediately opened by
Quincey Morris, beside whom stood Lord Godaiming light-
ing a cigar.
“The place smells so vilely,” said the latter as we came in.
It did indeed smell vilely — —
like the old chapel at Carfax and
with our previous experience it was plain to us that the
Count had been using the place pretty freely. We moved to
explore the house, all keeping together in case of attack ; for
we knew we had a strong and wily enemy to deal with, and
as yet we did not know whether the Count might not be in
the house. In the dining-room, which lay at the back of the
hall, we found eight boxes of earth.Eight boxes only out
of the nine which we sought Our work was not over, and
!

would never be until we should have found the missing box.

First we opened the shutters of the window which looked
out across a narrow stone-flagged yard at the blank face of a
stable, pointed to look like the front of a miniature house.
There were no windows in it, so we were not afraid of being
overlooked. We did not lose any time in examining the
chests. With the tools which we had brought with us we
opened them, one by one, and treated them as we had treated
those others in the old chapel. It was evident to us that the
Count was not at present in the house, and we proceeded to
search for any of his effects.
After a cursory glance at the rest of the rooms, from
basement to attic, we came to the conclusion that the dining-
room contained any effects which might belong to the Count
and so we proceeded to minutely examine them. They lay
in a sort of orderly disorder on the great dining-room table.
There were title deeds of the Piccadilly house in a great
bundle ; deeds of th^. purchase of the houses at Mile End and
Bermondsey; notepaper, envelopes, and pens and ink. All
were covered up in thin wrapping paper to keep them from
the dust. There were also a clothes brush, a brush and
—
comb, and a jug and basin the latter containing dirty water
which was reddened as if with blood. Last of all was a
little heap of keys of all sorts and sizes, probably those be-
longing to the other houses. When we had examined this
last find, Lord Godaiming and Quincey Morris taking ac-
curate notes of the various addresses of the houses in the
 Jonathan Harker’s Journal 301
East and the South, took with them the keys in a great
bunch, and set out to destroy the boxes in these places. The
rest of us are, with what patience we can, waiting their re-
—
turn or the coming of the Count.
 —

CHAPTER XXIII

dr. seward's diary

3 October . —
The time seemed terribly long whilst we were
waiting for the coming of Godaiming and Quincey Morris.
The Professor tried to keep our minds active by using them
all the time. I could see his beneficent purpose, by the side
glances which he threw from time to time at Harker. The
poor fellow is overwhelmed in a misery that is appalling to
see. Last night he was a frank, happy-looking man, with
strong, youthful face, full of energy, and with dark brown
hair. To-day he is a drawn, haggard old man, whose white
hair matches well with the hollow burning eyes and grief-
written lines of his face. His energy is still intact in fact, he
;

is like a living flame. This may yet be his salvation, for, if

all go well, it will tide him over the despairing period ;
he
will then, in a kind of way, wake again to the realities of life. ;

Poor fellow, I thought my own trouble was bad enough, but

his ! The Professor knows this well enough, and is
doing his best to keep his mind active. What he has been
saying was, under the circumstances, of absorbing interest.
So well as I can remember, here it is :

“I have studied, over and over again since they came into
my hands, all the papers relating to this monster; and the
more I have studied, the greater seems the necessity to
utterly stamp him out. All through there are signs of his
advance not only of his power, but of his knowledge of it.
;

As I learned from the researches of my friend Arminius of

Buda-Pesth, he was in life a most wonderful man. Soldier,
—
statesman, and alchemist which latter was the highest de-
velopment of the science-knowledge of his time. He had a
mighty brain, a learning beyond compare, and a heart that
knew no fear and no remorse. He dared even to attend the
Scholomance, and there was no branch of knowledge of his
time that he did not essay. Well, in him the brain powers
survived the physical death though it would seem that mem-
;

ory was not all complete. In some faculties of mind he has I

been, and is, only a child; but he is growing, and some

*02
 — —
Dr. Seward’s Diary 303
things that were childish at the first are now of man’s
stature. He is experimenting, and doing it well; and if it
had not been that we have crossed his path he would be yet
—
he may be yet if we fail the father or furtherer of a new
order of beings, whose road must lead through Death, not
Life.”
Harker groaned and said, '‘And this is all arrayed against
my darling But how is he experimenting ? The knowledge
!

may help us to defeat him !”

“He has all along, since his coming, been trying his
power, slowly but surely that big child-brain of his is work-
;

ing. Well for us, it is, as yet, a child-brain for had he

;

dared, at the first, to attempt certain things he would long

ago have been beyond our power. However, he means to
succeed, and a man who has centuries before him can afford
!
co wait and to go slow. Festina lente may well be his motto.”
“I fail to understand,” said Harker wearily. “Oh, do be
more plain to me Perhaps grief and trouble are dulling my
!

brain.” The Professor laid his hand tenderly on his shoulder

as he spoke :

“Ah, my child, I will be plain. Do you not see how, of

late, this monster has been creeping into knowledge experi-
mentally. How he has been making use of the zoophagous
patient to effect his entry into friend John’s home; for your
Vampire, though in all afterwards he can come when and
how he will, must at the first make entry only when asked
thereto by an inmate. But these are not his most important
experiments. Do we not see how at the first all these so
great boxes were moved by others. He knew not then but
that must be so. But all the time that so great child-brain of
his was growing, and he began to consider whether he
might not himself move the box. So he began to help and ;

then, when he found that this be all-right, he try to move

them all alone. And so he progress, and he scatter these
graves of him and none but he know where they are hidden.
;

He may have intend to bury them deep in the ground. So

that he only use them in the night, or at such time as he can
change his form, they do him equal well and none may
;

know these are his hiding place But, my child, do not

!

despair; this knowledge come to him just too late! Already

all of his lairs but one be sterilise as for him
and before the
;

sunset this shall be so. Then he have no place where he

can move and hide. I delayed this morning that so we might
 — ,•

3°4 Dracula

be sure. Is there not more at stake for us than for him?

Then why we not be even more careful than him? By my
clock it is one hour, and already, if all be well, friend Arthur
and Quincey are on their way to us. To-day is our day, and
we must go sure, if slow, and lose no chance. See there are
!

five of us when those absent ones return.”

Whilst he was speaking we were startled by a knock at the
hall door, the double postman’s knock of the telegraph boy.
We all moved out to the hall with one impulse, and Van
Helsing, holding up his hand to us to keep silence, stepped
to the door and opened it. The boy handed in a despatch.
The Professor closed the door again and, after looking at the
direction, opened it and read aloud.
"‘Look out for D. He has just now, 12.45, come from
Carfax hurriedly and hastened towards the South. He seems
to be going the round and may want to see you Mina.”
—
:

There was a pause, broken by Jonathan Harker’s voice :

“Now, God be thanked, we shall soon meet !” Van Helsing

turned to him quickly and said :

“God will act in His own way and time. Do not fear, and
do not rejoice as yet; for what we wish for at the moment
may be our undoings.”
“I care for nothing now,” he answered hotly, “except to
wipe out this brute from the face of creation. I would sell
my soul to do it!”
“Oh hush, hush, my child !” said Van Helsing, “God does
not purchase souls in this wise; and the Devil, though he
may purchase, does not keep faith. But God is merciful and
just, and knows your pain and your devotion to that dear
Madam Mina. Think you, how her pain would be doubled,
did she but hear your wild words. Do not fear any of us
we are all devoted to this cause, and to-day shall see the end.
The time is coming for action to-day this Vampire is limit
;

to the powers of man, and till sunset he may not change.

It will take him time to arrive here —
see, it is twenty min-
utes past one — and there are yet some times before he can
hither come, be he never so quick. What we must hope for
is that my Lord Arthur and Quincey arrive first.”
About half an hour after we had received Mrs. Harker’s
telegram, there came a quiet, resolute knock at the hall door.
It was just an ordinary knock, such as is given hourly by
thousands of gentlemen, but it made the Professor’s heart
and mine loudly. We looked at each other, and to
 — ,

Dr. Seward’s Diary

305
gether moved out into the hall; we each held
ready to use
our various armaments— the spiritual in the left
hand, the
mortal in the right. Van Helsing pulled back the
latch, and,
holding the door half open, stood back, having both
hands
ready for action. The gladness of our hearts
must have
shown upon our faces when on the step, close to the door, we
saw Lord Godaiming and Quincey Morris. They came
quickly in and closed the door behind them, the
former say-
in
?/
m oved along the hall
It is all right. We found
!”
both places; six boxes in each,
and we destroyed them all
“Destroyed ?” asked the Professor.
“For him!” We were a minute, and then
silent for
Quincey said :

There s nothing to do but to wait here. If, however, he

doesn't turn up by five o'clock, we must start off for it won’t
;

do to leave Mrs. Harker alone after sunset.”

“He will be here before long now,” said Van Helsing, who
had been consulting his pocket-book. “Nota bene in
Madam’s telegram he went south from Carfax, that means
he went to cross the river, and he could only do so at slack
of tide, which should be something before one o’clock. That
he went south has a meaning for us. He is as yet only
suspicious and he went from Carfax first to the place where
;

he would suspect interference least. You must have been

at Bermondsey only a short time before him. That he is not
here already shows that he went to Mile End next. This
took him some time; for he would then have to be carried
over the river in some way. Believe me, my friends, we shall
not have long to wait now. We should have ready some
plan of attack, so that we may throw away no chance. Hush,
there is no time now. Have all your arms Be ready !” He
!

held up a warning hand as he spoke, for we all could hear

a key softly inserted in the lock of the hall door.
I could not but admire, even at such a moment, the way in
which a dominant spirit asserted itself. In all our hunting
parties and adventures in different parts of the world, Quincey
Morris had always been the one to arrange the plan of ac-
tion, and Arthur and I had been accustomed to obey him im-
plicitly. Now, the old habit seemed to be renewed instinct-
ively. With a swift glance around the room, he at once laid
out our plan of attack, and, without speaking a word, with a
gesture, placed us each in position. Van Helsing, Harker
(2g) >
3°6 Dracula

and were just behind the door, so that when it was opened
I
the Professor could guard it whilst we two stepped between
the incomer and the door. Godaiming behind and Quincey
move in front of the
in front stood just out of sight ready to
window. We waited in a suspense that made the seconds
pass with nightmare slowness. The slow, careful steps came
along the*hall; the Count was evidently prepared for some
—
surprise at least he feared it.
Suddenly with a single bound he leaped into the room,
winning a way past us before any of us could raise a hand
to stay him. There was something so panther-like in the
—
movement something so unhuman, that it seemed to sober
us all from the shock of his coming. The first to act was
Harker, who, with a quick movement, threw himself before
the door leading into the room in the front of the house. As
the Count saw us, a horrible sort of snarl passed over his face,
showing the eye-teeth long and pointed but the evil smile
;

as quickly passed into a cold stare of lion-like disdain. His

expression again changed, as, with a single impulse, we all
advanced upon him. It was a pity that we had not some
better organised plan of attack, for even at the moment 1
wondered what we were to do. I did not myself know
whether our lethal weapons would avail us anything. Harker
evidently meant to try the matter, for he had ready his great
Kukri knife, and made a fierce and sudden cut at him. The
blow was a powerful one only the diabolical quickness of the
;

Count's leap back saved him. A second less and the trench-
ant blade had shorne through his heart. As it was, the point
just cut the cloth of his coat, making a wide gap whence a
bundle of bank-notes and a stream of gold fell out. The ex-
pression of the Count’s face was so hellish, that for a moment
I feared for Harker, though I saw him throw the terrible
knife aloft again for another stroke. Instinctively I moved
forward with a protective impulse, holding the Crucifix and
Wafer in my left-hand. I felt a mighty power fly along mv
arm; and it was without surprise I saw that the monster
cower back before a similar movement made spontaneously
by each one of us. It would be impossible to describe the
—
expression of hate and baffled malignity of anger and hell-
ish rage —which came over the Count’s face. His waxen
hue became greenish-yellow by the contrast of his burning
eyes, and the red scar on the forehead showed on the pallid
*»in like a palpitating wound. The next instant, with a
 — !

Dr. Seward’s Diary 2°7

sinuous dive he swept under Harker’s arm, ere his blow
could fall, and, grasping a handful of the money from the
floor, dashed across the room, threw himself at the window.
Amid the crash and glitter of the falling glass, he tumbled
into the flagged area below. Through the sound of the
shivering glass I could hear the “ting” of the gold, as some
of the sovereigns fell on the flagging.
We ran over and saw him spring unhurt from tile ground.
He, rushing up the steps, crossed the flagged yard, and
pushed open the stable door. There he turned and spoke
to us :

“You think to baffle me, you with your pale faces all
in a row, like sheep in a butcher’s. You shall be sorry yet,
each one of you! You think you have left me without a
place to rest but I have more. My revenge is just begun
;

I spread it over centuries, and time is on my side. Your

girls that you all love are mine already; and through them
—
you and others shall yet be mine my creatures, to do my
!”
bidding and to be my jackals when I want to feed. Bah
With a contemptuous sneer, he passed quickly through the
door, and we heard the rusty bolt creak as he fastened it be-
hind him. A
door beyond opened and shut. The first of
us to speak was the Professor, as, realising the difficulty of
following him through the stable, we moved toward the
hall.
“We have learnt something much — Notwithstanding his
!

brave words, he fears us he fear time, he fear want

;
For if
!

not, why he hurry so ? His very tone betray him, or my ears

deceive. take that money? You follow quick. You
Why
are hunters of wild beast, and understand it so. For me, 1
make sure that nothing here may be of use to him, if so that
he return.” As he spoke he put the money remaining into
his pocket took the title-deeds in the bundle as Harker
had
;

left them; and swept the remaining things into

the open
fireplace, where he set fire to them with a match.
Godaiming and Morris had rushed out into the yard, and
Harker had lowered himself from the window to follow the
and by
Count. He had, however, bolted the stable door ;

sign of him.
the time they had forced it open there was no
the
Van Helsing and I tried to make inquiry at the back ot him
one had seen
house but the mews was deserted and no
;

de
the afternoon, and sunset was
not faf
?*was now late in
 — — ;

308 Dracula

off. We had to recognise that our game was up with heavy ;

hearts we agreed with the Professor when he said :

—
“Let us go back to Madam Mina poor, poor dear Madam
Mina. All we can do just now is done and we can there, at
;

least, protect her. But we need not despair. There is but

one more earth-box, and we must try to find it when that is
;

done all may yet be well.” I could see that he spoke as

bravely as he could to comfort Harker. The poor fellow
was quite broken down; now and again he gave a low
—
groan which he could not suppress he was thinking of
his wife.
With sad hearts we came back to myhouse, where we
found Mrs. Harker waiting us, with an appearance of cheer-
fulness which did honour to her bravery and unselfishness.
When she saw our faces, her own became as pale as death
for a second or two her eyes were closed as if she were in
secret prayer and then she said cheerfully
;
:

!”
“I can never thank you all enough. Oh, my poor darling

—
as she spoke, she took her husband’s grey head in her hands
and kissed it “Lay your poor head here and rest it. All
will yet be well, dear ! God will protect us if he so will it in
His good intent.” The poor fellow only groaned. There
was no place for words in his sublime misery.
We had a sort of perfunctory supper together, and I
think it cheered us all up somewhat. It was, perhaps, the
—
mere animal heat of food to hungry people for none of us
—
had eaten anything since breakfast or the sense of com-
panionship may have helped us but anyhow we were all less
;

miserable, and saw the morrow as not altogether without

hope. True to our promise, we told Mrs. Harker everything
which had passed; and although she grew snowy white at
times when danger had seemed to threaten her husband, and
red at others when his devotion to her was manifested, she
listened bravely and with calmness. When we came to the
part where Harker had rushed at the Count so recklessly, she
clung to her husband’s arm, and held it tight as though her
clinging could protect him from any harm that might come.
She said nothing, however, till the narration was all done,
and matters had been brought right up to the present time.
Then without letting go her husband’s hand she stood up
amongst us and spoke. Oh that I could give any idea of
the scene; of that sweet, sweet, good, good woman in all the
radiant beauty of her youth and animation, with the red
 — .
;

Dr. Seward’s Diary 309

scar on her forehead, of which she was conscious, and which
—
we saw with grinding of our teeth remembering whence
and how it came her loving kindness against our grim hate
;

her tender faith against all our fears and doubting and we, ;

knowing that so far as symbols went, she with all her good-
ness and purity and faith, was outcast from God.
“Jonathan,” she said, and the word sounded like music on
her lips it was so full of love and tenderness, “Jonathan dear,
and you all my true, true friends, I want you to bear some-
thing in mind through all this dreadful time. I know that
—
you must fight that you must destroy even as you destroyed
the false Lucy so that the true Lucy might live hereafter;
but it is not a work of hate. That poor soul who has
wrought all this misery is the saddest case oi all. Just think
what will be his joy when he, too, is destroyed in his worser
part that his better part may have spiritual immortality. You
must be pitiful to him, too, though it may not hold your
hands from his destruction.”
As she spoke I could see her husband's face darken and
draw together, as though the passion in him were shriveling
his being to its core. Instinctively the clasp on his wife’s
hand grew closer, till his knuckles looked white. She did
not flinch from the pain which I knew she must have suf-
fered, but looked at him with eyes that were more appealing
than ever. As she stopped speaking he leaped to his feet,
almost tearing his hand from hers as he spoke :

“May God give him into my hand just for long enough to
destroy that earthly life of him which we are aiming at. If
beyond it I could send his soul for ever and ever to burning
!”
would do it
hell I
“Oh, hush! oh, hush! in the name of the good God.
Don’t say such things, Jonathan, my husband or you will ;

crush me with fear and horror. Just think, my dear— I have

been thinking all this long, long day of it—that. .perhaps. . .

some day. .1, too, may need such pity and that some other
like you —
. ;

—
and with equal cause for anger may deny it tG
me Oh, my husband my husband, indeed I would have
!
!

spared you such a thought had there been another way;

words,
but I pray that God may not have treasured your wild
except as the heart-broken wail of a very loving and
sorely

stricken man. Oh God, let these poor white hairs go in

evidence of what he has suffered, who all his life
has done
no wrong, and on whom so many sorrows have come.”
 :
!

3 10
Dracula

Wemen were all in tears now. There was no resisting

them, and we wept openly. She wept, too, to see that hei
sweeter counsels had prevailed. Her husband flung himself
on his knees beside her, and putting his arms round her, hid
his face in the folds of her dress. Van Helsing beckoned to
us and we stole out of the room, leaving the two loving
hearts alone with their God.
Before they retired the Professor fixed up the room
against any coming of the Vampire, and assured Mrs. Har-
ker that she might rest in peace. She tried to school herself
to the belief, and, manifestly for her husband’s sake, tried
to seem content. It was a brave struggle and was, I think
;

and believe, not without its reward. Van Helsing had placed
at hand a bell which either of them was to sound in case
of any emergency. When they had retired, Quincey, Go-
daiming, and I arranged that we should sit up, dividing the
night between us, and watch over the safety of the poor
stricken lady. The first watch falls to Quincey, so the rest
of us shall be off to bed as soon as we can. Godaiming has
already turned in, for his is the second watch. Now that m)
work is done I, too, shall go to bed.

Jonathan Harker’s Journal.

— 4 October close
3 , midnight —
to thought yesterday
. I
would never end. There was over me a yearning for sleep,
in some sort of blind belief that to wake would be to find
things changed, and that any change must now be for the
better. Before we parted, we discussed what our next step
was to be, but we could arrive at no result. All we knew
was that one earth-box remained, and that the Count alone
knew where it was. If he chooses to lie hidden, he may
baffle us for years; and in the meantime! —
the thought is
too horrible, I dare not think of it even now. This I know
that if ever there was a woman who was all perfection, that
one is my poor wronged darling. I love her a thousand
times for her sweet pity of last night, a pity that made
more
my own hate of the monster seem despicable. Surely God
will not permit the world to be the poorer by the loss of
such a creature. This is hope to me. We
are all drifting
reefwards now, and faith our only anchor. Thank God
is
Mina is sleeping, and sleeping without dreams. I fear what
her dreams might be like, with such terrible memories to
ground them in. She has not been so calm, within my see-
 — — — —
Dr. Seward's Diary 311
ing, since the sunset. Then, for a while, there came over her
face a repose which was
spring after the blasts of
like
March. I thought at the time that it was the softness of the
red sunset on her face, but somehow now I think it has a
deeper meaning. I am not sleepy myself, though I am
weary —weary death. However, must
to I try to sleep for
;

there to-morrow
is think and there to of, is no rest for me
until ....
Later. — must have
I for fallen asleep, I was awaked by
Mina, who was up
with a startled look on her
sitting in bed,
face. I could see easily, for we did not leave the room in
darkness; she had placed a warning hand over my mouth,
and now she whispered in my ear :

“Hush there is someone in the corridor !” I got up softly,

!

and, crossing the room, gently opened the door.

Just outside, stretched on a mattress, lay Mr. Morris, wide
awake. He raised a warning hand for silence as he whis-
pered to me :

“Hush go back to bed it is all right. One of us will be

! ;
!”
here all night. We don’t mean to take any chances
His look and gesture forbade discussion, so I came back
and told Mina. She sighed and positively a shadow of a
smile stole over her poor, pale face as she put her arms
round me and said softly :

“Oh, thank God for good brave men !” With a sigh she
sank back again to sleep. I write this now as I am not
sleepy, though I must try again.

—
4 October, morning. Once again during the night I was
wakened by Mina. This time we had all had a good sleep,
for the grey of the coming dawn was making the windows
into sharp oblongs, and the gas flame was like a speck rathe*
than a disc of light. She said to me hurriedly
:

“Go, call the Professor. I want to see him at once.”

“Why?” I asked.
“I have an idea. I suppose it mwst have come in the night,
and matured without my knowing it. He must hypno-
tise me before the dawn, and then I shall be able to speak.
Go quick, dearest the time is getting close.” I went to the
;

door. Dr. Seward was resting on the mattress, and, seeing

me, he sprang to his feet.
“Is anything wrong?” he asked, in alarm.
 —— ! •

3 1 2 Dracula

“No,” I replied; “but Mina wants to see Dr. Van Helsing

at once.”
“I will go,” he said,and hurried into the Professor’s room.
In two or three minutes later Van Helsing was in the room
in his dressing-gown, and Mr. Morris and Lord Godaiming
were with Dr. Seward at the door asking questions. When
—
the Professor saw Mina a smile a positive smile ousted the
anxiety of his face he rubbed his hands as he said
;
:

“Oh, my dear Madam Mina, this is indeed a change. See

friend Jonathan, we have got our dear Madam Mina, as of
old, back to us to-day !” Then turning to her, he said, cheer-
fully “And what am I do for you ? For at this hour you do
:

not want me for nothings.”

“I want you to hypnotise me!” she said. “Do it before
the dawn, for I feel that then I can speak, and speak freely.
Be quick, for the time is short!” Without a word he mo-
tioned her to sit up in bed.
Looking fixedly at her, he commenced to make passes in
front of her, from over the top of her head downward, with
each hand in turn. Mina gazed at him fixedly for a few
minutes, during which my own heart beat like a trip ham-
mer, for I felt that some crisis was at hand. Gradually her
eyes closed, and she sat, stock still only by the gentle heav-
;

ing of her bosom could one know that she was alive. The
Professor made a few more passes and then stopped, and 1
could see that his forehead was covered with great beads of
perspiration. Mina opened her eyes but she did not seem
;

the same woman. There was a far-away look in her eyes,

and her voice had a sad dreaminess which was new to me.
Raising his hand to impose silence, the Professor motioned
to me to bring the others in. They came on tip-toe, closing
the door behind them, and stood at the foot of the bed, look-
ing on. Mina appeared not to see them. The stillness was
broken by Van Helsing’s voice speaking in a low level tone
which would not break the current of her thoughts :

“Where are you ?” The answer came in a neutral way : —

“I do not know. Sleep has no place it can call its own.”
For several minutes there was silence. Mina sat rigid, and
the Professor stood staring at her fixedly; the rest of us
hardly dared to breathe. The room was growing lighter;
without taking his eyes from Mina’s face, Dr. Van Helsing
motioned me to pull up the blind. I did so, and the dav
teemed just upon us. A red streak shot up, and a rosy light
 — — — — ;

Dr. Seward’s Diary 313

seemed On the instant
to diffuse itself through the room.
the Professor spoke again :

'‘Where are you now ?” The answer came dreamily, but

with intention it were as though she were interpreting
;

something. I have heard her use the same tone when read-
ing her shorthand notes.
“I do not know. It is all strange to me!”
“What do you see?”
“I can see nothing it is all dark.”
;

“What do you hear?” I could detect the strain in the

Professor’s patient voice.
“The lapping of water. It is gurgling by, and little waves
leap. Ican hear them on the outside.”
“Then you are on a ship?” We all looked at each other,
trying to glean something each from the other. We were
afraid to think. The answer came quick :

!”
“Oh, yes
“What do you hear ?”
else
“The sound of men stamping overhead as they run about
There is the creaking of a chain, and the loud tinkle as the
check of the capstan falls into the rachet.”
“What are you doing ?”
—
“I am still oh, so still. It is like death!” The voice
faded away into a deep breath as of one sleeping, and the
open eyes closed again.
By this time the sun had risen, and we were all in the full
light of day. Dr. Van Helsing placed his hands on Mina’s
shoulders, and laid her head down softly on her pillow. She
lay like a sleeping child for a few moments, and then, with
a long sigh, awoke and stared in wonder to see us all around
her. “Have I been talking in my sleep?” was all she said.
She seemed, however, to know the situation without telling
though she was eager to know what she had told. The Pro-
fessor repeated the conversation, and she said :

“Then there is not a moment to lose: it may not be yet

too late !” Mr. Morris and Lord Godaiming started for the
door but the Professor’s calm voice called them back :

“Stay, my friends. That ship wherever it was, was weigh-

ing anchor whilst she spoke. There are many ships weigh-
ing anchor at the moment in your so great Port of London.
Which of them is it that you seek ? God be thanked that we
have once again a clue, though whither it may lead us we
know not. We have been blind somewhat; blind after thf
 —— — !

3H Dracula

manner of men, since when we can look back we see what we

might have seen looking forward if we had been able to see
what we might have seen Alas
! ! but that sentence is a
puddle; is it not? We can know now what was in the
Count’s mind wjien he seize that money, though Jonathan’s
so fierce knife put him in the danger that even he dread. He
meant escape. Hear me, ESCAPE He saw that with but
!

one earth-box left, and a pack of men following like dogs

after a fox, this London was no place for him. He have
take his last earth-box on board a ship, and he leave the
land. He think to escape, but no we follow him. Tally Ho
!

as friend Arthur would say when he put on his red frock

Our old fox is wily; oh! so wily and we must follow with
wile. I too am wily and I think his mind in a little while.
In meantime we may rest and in peace, for there are
waters between us which he do not want to pass, and which
—
he could not if he would unless the ship were to touch the
land, and then only at full or slack tide. See, and the sun
is just rose, and all day to sunset is to us. Let us take bath,
and dress, and have breakfast which we all need, and which
we can eat comfortably since he be not in the same land with
us.” Mina looked at him appealingly as she asked :

“But why need we seek him further, when he is gone away

from us ?” He took her hand and patted it as he replied :

“Ask me nothings as yet When we have breakfast, then

I answer all questions.” He would say no more, and we
separated to dress.
After breakfast Mina repeated her question. He looked at
her gravely for a minute and then said sorrowfully :

“Because my dear, dear Madam Mina, now more than

ever must we find him even if we have to follow him to the
jaws of Hell !” She grew paler as she asked faintly :

“Why?”
“Because,” he answered solemnly, “he can live for centu-
ries, and you are but mortal woman. Time is now to be
—
dreaded since once he put that mark upon your throat.”
I was just in time to catch her as she fell forward in a
faint.
 ;

CHAPTER XXIV
dr. seward's phonograph diary, spoken by van helsing.

This to Jonathan Harker.

You are to stay with your dear Madam Mina. We shall
go to make our search— if I can call it so, for it is not search
but knowing, and we seek confirmation only. But do you
stay and take care of her to-day. This is your best and most
holiest office. This day nothing can find him here. Let me
tell you that so you will know what we four know
already,
for I have tell them. He, our enemy, have gone away; he
have gone back to his Castle in Transylvania. I know it so
well, as if a great hand of fire wrote it on the wall. He have
prepare for this in some way, and that last earth-box was
ready to ship somewheres. For this he took the money for ;

this he hurry at the last, lest we catch him before the sun go
down. It was his last hope, save that he might hide in the
tomb that he think poor Miss Lucy, being as he thought like
him, keep open to him. But there was not of time. When
that fail he make straight for his last resource — his last
earthwork I might say did I wish double entente. He is
clever, oh so clever he know that his game here was finish
!

and so he decide he go back home. He find ship going by

the route he came, and he go in it. We go off now to find
what ship, and whither bound when we have discover that,
;

we come back and tell you all. Then we will comfort you
and poor dear Madam Mina with new hope. For it will be
hope when you think it over that all is not lost. This very
:

creature that we pursue, he take hundreds of years to get so

far as London; and yet in one day, when we know of the
disposal of him we drive him out. He is finite, though he is
powerful to do much harm and suffers not as we do. But
we are strong, each in our purpose; and we are all more
strong together. Take heart afresh dear husband of Madam
Mina. This battle is but begun, and in the end we shall win
— so sure as that God sits on high to watch over His chil-
dren. Therefore be of much comfort till we return.
Van HELSiNa
3IS
 — —
3 l6
Dracula

Jonathan Harke/s Journal .

4 October. —When read to Mina, Van Helsing’ s message

I
in the phonograph, the poor girl brightened up considerably.
Already the certainty that the Count is out of the country
has given her comfort and comfort is strength to her. For
;

my own part, now that his horrible danger is not face to face
with us, it seems almost impossible to believe in it. Even
my own terrible experiences in Castle Dracula seem like a
long-forgotten dream. Here in the crisp autumn air in the
bright sunlight
Alas how can I disbelieve
! In the midst of my thought
!

my eye fell on the red scar on my poor darling’s white, fore-

head. Whilst that lasts, there can be no disbelief. And
afterwards the very memory of it will keep faith crystal
clear. Mina and I fear to be idle, so we have been over all
the diaries again and again. Somehow, although the reality
seems greater each time, the pain and the fear seem less.
There is something of a guiding purpose manifest through-
out, which is comforting. Mina says that perhaps we are the
instruments of ultimate good. It may be! I shall try to
think as she does. We have never spoken to each other yet
of the future. It is better to wait till we see the Professor
and the others after their investigations.
The day is running by more quickly than I ever thought a
day could run for me again. It is now three o’clock.

Mina Marker's Journal.

5 October, 5 p.m. —Our meeting for report. Present : Pro-

fessor Van Helsing, Lord Godaiming, Dr. Seward, Mr.
Quincey Morris, Jonathan Harker, Mina Harker.
Dr. Van Helsing described what steps were taken during
the day to discover on what boat and whither bound Count
Dracula made his escape :

“As I knew that he wanted to get back to Transylvania, I

felt sure that he must go by the Danube mouth or by some- ;

where in the Black Sea, since by that way he come. It was a

dreary blank that was before us. Omne ignotum pro magni-
hco; and so with heavy hearts we start to find what ships
leave for the Black Sea last night. He was in sailing ship,
since Madam Mina tell of sails being set. These not so im-
portant as to go in your list of the shipping in the Times
 Dr. Seward’s Diary jiy
and so we go, by suggestion of Lord Godaiming, to your
Lloyd’s, where are note of all ships that sail, however so
small. There we find that only one Black-Sea-bound ship go
out with the tide. She is the Czarina Catherine, and she sail
from Doolittle’s Wharf for Varna, and thence on to other
parts and up the Danube. ‘Soh!’ said I, ‘this is the ship
whereon is the Count.’ So off we go to Doolittle’s Wharf,
and there we find a man in an office of wood so small that
the man look bigger than the office. From him we inquire
of the goings of the Czarina Catherine. He swear much,
and he red face and loud of voice, but he good fellow all the
same and when Quincey give him something from his
;

pocket which crackle as he roll it up, and put it in a so small

bag which he have hid deep in his clothing, he still better
fellow and humlile servant to us. He come with us, and ask
many men who are rough and hot; these be better fellows
too when they have been no more thirsty. They say much of
blood and bloom and of others which I comprehend not,
though I guess what they mean but nevertheless they tell us
;

all things which we want to know.

“They make known to us among them, how last after-
noon at about five o’clock comes a man so hurry. A tall man,
thin and pale, with high nose arid teeth so white, and eyes
that seem to be burning. That he be all in black, except
that he have a hat of straw which suit not him or the time.
That he scatter his money in making quick inquiry as to
what ship sails for the Black Sea and for where. Some took
him to the office and then to the ship, where he will not go
aboard but halt at shore end of gang-plank, and ask that the
captain come to him. The captain come, when told that he
will be pay well and though he swear much at the first he
;

agree to term. Then the thin man go and some one tell him
where horse and cart can be hired. He go there and soon he
come again, himself driving cart on which a great box this;

he himself lift down, though it take several to put it on truck

for the ship. He give much talk to captain as to how and
where his box is to be place ; but the captain like it not and
swear at him in many tongues, and tell him that if he like
he can come and see where it shall be. But he say ‘no that
he come not yet, for thathe have much to do. Whereupon
—
the captain tell him that he had better be quick with blood
— for that his ship will leave the place — —
of blood before
the turn of the tide — with blood. Then the thin man smile.
3 l8
Dracula

and say that of course he must go when he think fit but he

;

will be surprise if he go quite so soon. The captain swear

again, polyglot, and the thin man make him bow, and thank
him, and say that he will so far intrude on his kindness as to
come aboard before the sailing. Final the captain, more red
than ever, and in more tongues, tell him that he doesn’t want
fio Frenchmen — with bloom upon them and also with blood
—
—in his ship with blood on her also. And so, after asking
where there might be close at hand a shop where he might
purchase ship forms, he departed.
“No one knew where he went ‘or bloomin’ well cared,’ as
—
they said, for they had something else to think of well with
blood again; for it soon became apparent to all that the
Czarina Catherine would not sail as was expected. A thin mist
began to creep up from the river, and it grew, and grew till
;

soon a dense fog enveloped the ship and all around her. The
— —
captain swore polyglot very polyglot polyglot with bloom
and blood; but he could do nothing. The water rose and
rose; and he began to fear that he would lose the tide alto-
gether. He was no friendly mood, when just at full tide,
in
the thin man came up the gang-plank again and asked to see
where his box had been stowed. Then the captain replied
that he wished that he and his box — old and with much
—
bloom and blood were in hell. But the thin man did not be
offend, and went down with the mate and saw where it was
place, and came up and stood awhile on deck in fog. He
must have come off by himself, for none notice him. Indeed
they thought not of him; for soon the fog begin to melt
away, and all was clear again. My friends of the thirst and
the language that was of bloom and blood laughed, as they
told how the captain’s swears exceeded even his usual poly-
glot, and was more than ever full of picturesque, when on
questioning other mariners who were on movement up and
down on the river that hour, he found that few of them had
seen any of fog at all, except where it lay round the wharf.
However, the ship went out on the ebb tide and was doubt-
;

less by morning far down the river mouth. She was by then,
when they told us, well out to sea.
“And so my dear Madam Mina, it is that we have to rest
for a time, for our enemy is on the sea, with the fog at his
command, on his way to the Danube mouth. To sail a ship
takes time, go she never so quick and when we start we go
;

on land more quick, and we meet him there. Our best hope
 —
Dr, Seward’s Diary ^19
is tocome on him when in the box between sunrise and sun-
set for then he can make no struggle, and we may deal with
;

him as we should. There are days for us, in which we can

make ready our plan. We know all about where he go; for
we have seen the owner of the ship, who have shown us in-
voices and all papers that can be. The box we seek is to be
landed in Varna, and to be given to an agent, one Ristics
who will there present his credentials ; and so our merchant
friend will have done his part. When he ask if there be any
wrong, for that so, he can telegraph and have inquiry made
at Varna, we say ‘no for what is to be done is not for police
or of the customs. It must be done by us alone and in our
own way.”
When Dr. Van Helsing had done asked him
speaking, I
if he were certain that the Count had remained on board the

|
ship. He replied: “We have the best proof of that: your
own evidence, when in the hypnotic trance this morning.”
i
I asked him again if it were really necessary that they should
pursue the Count, for oh I dread Jonathan leaving me, and
!

I know that he would surely go if the others went. He an-

|
swered in growing passion, at first quietly. As he went on,
however, he grew more angry and more forceful, till in the
end we could not but see wherein was at least some of that
personal dominance which made him so long a master
amongst men :

— —
“Yes it is necessary necessary necessary! For your
sake in the first, and then for the sake of humanity. This
monster has done much harm already, in the narrow scope
where he find himself, and in the short time when as yet he
was only as a body groping his so small measure in darkness
and not knowing. All this have I told these others you, my ;

dear Madam Mina, will learn it in the phonograph of my

friend John, or in that of your husband. I have told them
how the measure of leaving his own barren land barren of
—
peoples and coming to a new land where life of man teems
corn, was the work
till they are like the multitude of standing

of centuries. Were another of the Un-Dead, like him, to try

the
to do what he has done, perhaps not all the centuries of
world that have been, or that will be, could aid him. With
this one, all the forces of nature that are occult and
deep and
strong must have worked together in some wondrous way
The very place, where he have been alive, Un-Dead for all
these centuries, is full of strangeness of the geologic and
 —
320 Dracula

chemical world. There are deep caverns and fissures that

reach none know whither. There have been volcanoes, some
of whose openings still send out waters of strange proper-
ties, and gases that kill or make to vivify. Doubtless, there
is something magnetic or electric in some of these combina-
tions of occult forces which work for physical life in strange
way ; and in himself were from the first some great qualities.
In a hard and warlike time he was celebrate that he have
more iron nerve, more subtle brain, more braver heart, than
any man. In him some vital principle have in strange way
found their utmost; and as his body keep strong and grow
and thrive, so his brain grow too. All this without that dia-
bolic aid which is him for it have to yield to the
surely to ;

powers that come from, and are, symbolic of good. And

—
now this is what he is to us. He have infect you oh forgive
me, my dear, that I must say such but it is for good of you
;

that I speak. He infect you in such wise, that even if he do

—
no more, you have only to live to live in your own old,
sweet way; and so in time, death, which is of man’s com-
mon lot and with God’s sanction, shall make you like to him.
This must not be! We have sworn together that it must
not. Thus are we ministers of God’s own wish: that the
world, and men for whom His Son die, will not be given
over to monsters, whose very existence would defame Him.
He have allowed us to redeem one soul already, and we go
out as the old knights of the Cross to redeem more. Like
them we shall travel towards the sunrise; and like them, if
we fall, we fall in good cause.” He paused and I said :

“But will not the Count take his rebuff wisely? Since he
has been driven from England, will he not avoid it, as a tiger
does the village from which he has been hunted ?”
“Aha!” he said, “your simile of the tiger good, for me,
and I shall adopt him. Your man-eater, as they of India
call the tiger who has once taste blood of the human, care no
more for other prey, but prowl unceasing till he get him.
This that we hunt from our village is a tiger, too, a man-
eater,and he never cease to prowl. Nay in himself he is not
one to retire and stay afar. In his life, his living life, he go
over the Turkey frontier and attack his enemy on his own
ground he be beaten back, but did he stay? No
; ! He come
again, and again, and again. Look at his persistence and
endurance. With the child-brain that was to him he have
long since conceive the idea of coming to a great city. What
 ;

Dr. Seward’s Diary 321

does he do? He find out the place of all the world most of
promise for him. Then he deliberately set himself down to
prepare for the task. He find in patience just how is his
strength, and what are his powers. He study new
tongues. He learn new social life; new environment
of old ways, the politic, the law, the finance, the
science, the habit of a new land and a new peo«*
pie who have come to be since he was. His glimpse that he
have had, whet his appetite only and enkeen his desire. Nay,
it help him to grow as to his brain ; for it all prove to him
how right he was at the first in his surmises. He have done
this alone all alone from a ruin tomb in a forgotten land.
; !

What more may he not do when the greater world of thought

is open to him. He that can smile at death, as we know him
who can flourish in the midst of diseases that kill off whole
peoples. Oh if such an one was to come from God, and not
!

the Devil, what a force for good might he not be in this old
world of ours. But we are pledged to set the world free.
Our toil must be in silence, and our efforts all in secret for
;

in this enlightened age, when men believe not even what they
see, the doubting of wise men would be his greatest strength.
It would be at once his sheath and his armour, and his
weapons to destroy us, his enemies, who are willing to peril
—
even our own souls for the safety of one we love for the
good of mankind, and for the honour and glory of God.”
After a general discussion it was determined that for to-
night nothing be definitely settled; that we should all sleep
on the facts, and try to think out the proper conclusions.
To-morrow at breakfast we are to meet again, and, after
making our conclusions known to one another, we shall de-
cide on some definite cause of action.

I feel a wonderful peace and rest to-night. It is as if some

haunting presence were removed from me. Perhaps.
My surmise was not finished, could not be for I caught
;

sight in the mirror of the red mark upon my forehead and ;

I knew that I was still unclean.

Dr. Seivard’s Diary.

5 October.— We all rose early, and I think that sleep did

much for each and all of us. When we met at early break-
fast there was more general cheerfulness than any of us had
ever expected to experience again.
(2i)
 — !

322 Dracula

It is really wonderful how much resilience there is in hu-

man nature. Let any obstructing cause, no matter what, be
—
removed in any way even by death and we fly back to —
first principles of hope and enjoyment. More than once as
we sat around the table, my eyes opened in wonder whether
the whole of the past days had not been a dream. It was
only when I caught sight of the red blotch on Mrs. Harker’s
forehead that I was brought back to reality. Even now,
when I am gravely revolving the matter, it is almost impos-
sible to realise that the cause of all our trouble is still exist-
ent. Even Mrs. Harker seems to lose sight of her trouble
for whole spells it is only now and again, when something
;

recalls it to her mind, that she thinks of her terrible scar.

We are to meet here in my study in half an hour and decide
on our course of action. I see only one immediate difficulty,
I know it by instinct rather than reason: we shall all have
to speak frankly and yet I fear that in some mysterious way
;

poor Mrs. Harker’s tongue is tied. I know that she forms

conclusions of her own, and from all that has been I can
guess how brilliant and how true they must be but she will ;

not, or cannot, give them utterance. I have mentioned this

to Van Helsing, and he and I are to talk it over when we
are alone. I suppose it is some of that horrid poison which
has got into her veins beginning to work. The Count had
his own purposes when he gave her what Van Helsing called
“the Vampire’s baptism of blood.” Well, there may be a
poison that distils itself out of good things in an age when ;

the existence of ptomaines is a mystery we should not won-

der at anything ! One thing I know that if my instinct be
:

true regarding poor Mrs. Harker’s silences, then there is a

terrible difficulty —
an unknown danger in the work before —
us. The same power that compels her silence may compel
her speech. I dare not think further for so I should in my;

thoughts dishonour a noble woman

Van Helsing is coming to my study a little before the oth-
ers. I shall try to open the subject with him.

Later .
—When the Professor came in, we talked over the
state of things. I couM see that hehad something on his
mind which he wanted to say, but felt some hesitancy about
broaching the subject. After beating about the bush a little,
he said suddenly :

“Friend Tohn, there is something that you and I must talk

 — — —
Dr. Seward's Diary 323
of alone, just at the first at any rate. Later, we may have to
take the others into our confidence;” then he stopped, so I
waited he went on
;
:

“Madam Mina, our poor, dear Madam Mina is changing.”

A cold shiver ran through me to find my worst fears thus
endorsed. Van Helsing continued:
“With the sad experience of Miss Lucy, we must this time
be warned before things go too far. Our task is now in
reality more difficult than ever, and this new trouble makes
every hour of the direst importance. I can see the character-
istics of the vampire coming in her face. It is now but very,
very slight but it is to be seen if we have eyes to notice with-
;

out to prejudge. Her teeth are some sharper, and at times

her eyes are more hard. But these are not all, there is to her
the silence now often as so it was with Miss Lucy. She did
;

not speak, even when she wrote that which she wished to be
known later. Now my fear is this. If it be that she can, by
our hypnotic trance, tell what the Count see and hear, is it
not more true that he who have hypnotise her first, and who
have drink of her very blood and make her drink of his,
should, if he will, compel her mind to disclose to him that
which she know ?” I nodded acquiescence he went on ;
:

“Then, what we must do is to prevent this we must keep

;

her ignorant of our intent, and so she cannot tell what she
know not. This is a painful task! Oh! so painful that it
heart-break me to think of but it must be. When to-day we
;

meet, I must tell her that for reason which we will not to
speak she must not more be of our council, but be simply
guarded by us.” He wiped his forehead, which had broken
out in profuse perspiration at the thought of the pain which
he might have to inflict upon the poor soul already so tor-
tured. I knew that it would be some sort of comfort to him if
I told him that I also had come to the same conclusion for ;

at any rate it would take away the pain of doubt. I told

him, and the effect was as I expected.

It is now close to the time of our general gathering. Van
Helsing has gone away to prepare for the meeting, and his
painful part of it. I really believe his purpose is to be able
to pray alone.

Later . —At the very outsetboth

of our meeting a great personal
Van Helsing and myself.
reliefwas experienced by
Mrs. Harker had sent a message by her husband to say that
 — —
324 Dracula

she would not join us at present, as she thought it bettef

that we should be free to discuss our movements without hef
presence to embarrass us. The Professor and I looked at
each other for an instant, and somehow we both seemed re-
lieved. For my own part, I thought that if Mrs. Harker
realised the danger herself, it was much pain as well as much
danger averted. Under the circumstances we agreed, by a
questioning look and answer, with finger on lip, to preserve
silence in our suspicions, until we should have been able to
confer alone again. We went at once into our Plan of Cam-
paign. Van Helsing roughly put the facts before us first :

“The Czarina Catherine left the Thames yesterday morn-

ing. It will take her at the quickest speed she has ever made
at least three weeks to reach Varna; but we can travel over-
land to the same place in three days. Now, if we allow for
two days less for the ship’s voyage, owing to such weather
influences as we know that the Count can bring to bear and;

if we allow a whole day and night for any delays which may
occur to us, then we have a margin of nearly two weeks.
Thus, in order to be quite safe, we must leave here on 17th
at latest. Then we shall at any rate be in Varna a day before
the ship arrives, and able to make such preparations as may
be necessary. Of course we shall all go armed armed—
against evil things, spiritual as well as physical.” Here
Quincey Morris added :

“I understand that the Count comes from a wolf country,

and it may be that he shall get there before us. I propose
that we add Winchesters to our armament. I have a kind of
belief in a Winchester when there is any trouble of that sort
around. Do you remember Art, when we had the pack after
us at Tobolsk? What wouldn’t we have given then for a
!”
repeater apiece
“Good!” said Van Helsing, “Winchesters it shall be.
Quincey’s head is level at all times, but most so when there
is to hunt, though my metaphor be more dishonour to sci-
ence than wolves be of danger to man. In the meantime we
can do nothing here and as I think that Varna is not fa-
;

miliar to any of us, why not go there more soon? It is as

long to wait here as there. To-night and to-morrow we can
get ready, and then, if all be well, we four can set out on our
journey.”
“We four?” said Harker interrogatively, looking from
one to another of us
 — —
Dr. Seward’s Diary 325
“Of course !” answered the Professor quickly, “you must
remain to take care of your so sweet wife!” Harker was
silent for awhile and then said in a hollow voice :

“Let us talk of that part of it in the morning. I want to

consult with Mina.” I thought that now was the time for
Van Helsing to warn him not to disclose our plans to her;
but he took no notice. I looked at him significantly and
coughed. For answer he put his finger on his lips and
turned away.
Jonathan Harkens Journal.

5 October afternoon ,
. —For some time after our meeting
this morning I could not think. The new phases of things
leave my mind in a state of wonder which allows no room
for active thought. Mina’s determination not to take any
part in the discussion set me thinking; and as I could not
argue the matter with her, I could only guess. I am as far
as ever from a solution now. The way the others received
it, too, puzzled me ; the last time we talked of the subject we

agreed that there was to be no more concealment of any-

thing amongst us. Mina is sleeping now, calmly and sweetly
like a little child. Her lips are curved and her face beams
with happiness. Thank God there are such moments still
for her.

Later . —How strange watching Mina’s

it all is. I sat
happy sleep, and came as near to being happy myself as I
suppose I shall ever be. As the evening drew on, and the
earth took its shadows from the sun sinking lower, the si-
lence of the room grew more and more solemn to me. All
at once Mina opened her eyes, and looking at me tenderly,
said :

“Jonathan, I want you to promise me something on your

word of honour. A
promise made to me, but made holily in
God’s hearing, and not to be broken though I should go
down on my knees and implore you with bitter tears. Quick,
you must make it to me at once.”
“Mina,” I said, “a promise like that, I cannot make at
once. I may have no right to make it.”

“But, dear one,” she said, with such spiritual intensity

that her eyes were like pole stars, “it is I who wish it and it ;

is not for myself. You can ask Dr. Van Helsing if I am not
right if he disagrees you may do as you will. Nay more, if
;

you all agree, later, you are absolved from the promise.”
 — ——
326 Dracula

“I promise !” I and for a moment she looked su-

said,
premely happy though to me all happiness for her was de-
;•

nied by the red scar on her forehead. She said :

“Promise me that you will not tell me anything of the

plans formed for the campaign against the Count. Not by
word, or inference, or implication; not at any time whilst
this remains to me!” and she solemnly pointed to the scar.
I saw that she was in earnest, and said solemnly :

“I promise !” and as I said it I felt that from that instant

a door had been shut between us.

Later, midnight . —Mina has been bright and cheerful all

the evening. So much so that all the rest seemed to take
courage, as if infected somewhat with her gaiety as a result ;

even I myself felt as if the pall of gloom which weighs us

down were somewhat lifted. We all retired early. Mina is
now sleeping like a little child it a wonderful thing that
;
is
her. faculty of sleep remains to her in the midst of her terri-
ble trouble. Thank God for it, for then at least she can for-
get her care. Perhaps her example may affect me as her
gaiety did to-night. I shall try it. Oh! for a dreamless
sleep.

6 October, morning . —
Another surprise. Mina woke me
early, about the same time as yesterday, and asked me to
bring Dr. Van Iielsing. I thought that it was another occa-
sion for hypnotism, and without question went for the Pro-
fessor. He had evidently expected some such call, for I
found him dressed in his room. His door was ajar, so that
he could hear the opening of the door of our room. He came
at once; as he passed into the room, he asked Mina if the
others might come too.
“No,” she said quite simply, “it will not be necessary. You
can tell them just as well. I must go with you on your jour-
ney.”
Dr. Van Helsing was as startled as I was. After a mo-
ment’s pause he asked :

“But why?”
“You must take me with you. I am safer with you, and
you shall be safer too.”
“But why, dear Madam Mina? You know that your safety
is our solemnest duty. We go into danger, to which you
fire, or may be, more liable than any of us from from cir-. —
 — — — — —
Dr. Seward's Diary 327
cumstances —things that have been.” He paused embar-
rassed.
Asshe replied, she raised her finger and pointed to her
forehead :

“I know. That is why I must go. I can tell you now,

whilst the sun is coming up I may not be able again. I know
;

that when the Count wills me I must go. I know that if he

tells me come in secret, I must come by wile by any de-
to
vice to hoodwink —
even Jonathan.” God saw the look that
;

she turned on me as she spoke, and if there be indeed a Re-

cording Angel that look is noted to her everlasting honour.
I could only clasp her hand. I could not speak my emotion ;

was too great for even the relief of tears. She went on :

“You men are brave and strong. You are strong in your
numbers, for you can defy that which would break down the
human endurance of one who had to guard alone. Besides, I
may be of service, since you can hypnotise me and so learn
that which even I myself do not know.” Dr. Van Helsing
said very gravely :

“Madam Mina you most wise. You shall

are, as always,
with us come; and together we shall do that which we go
forth to achieve.” When he had spoken, Mina’s long spell
of silence made me look at her. She had fallen back on her
pillow asleep she did not even wake when I had pulled up
;

the blind and let in the sunlight which flooded the room.
Van Helsing motioned to me to come with him quietly. We
went to his room, and within a minute Lord Godaiming, Dr.
Seward, and Mr. Morris were with us also. He told them
what Mina had said, and went on :

“In the morning we shall leave for Varna. We have now

to deal with a new factor Madam Mina. Oh, but her soul
:

is true. It is to her an agony to tell us so much as she has

done; but it is most right, and we are warned in time. There
must be no chance lost, and in Varna we must be ready to
act the instant when that ship arrives.”
“What shall we do exactly?” asked Mr. Morris laconically.
The Professor paused before replying:
“We shall at the first board that ship then, when we have;

identified the box, we shall place a branch of the wild rose

on it. This we shall fasten, for when it is there none can
emerge so at least says the superstition. And to supersti-
;

tion must we trust at the first it was man’s

faith in the early,
;

and have its root in faith still. Then, when we get th«
it
328 Dracula

opportunity that we seek, when none are near to see, we

shall open the box, and —
and all will be well.”
“I shall not wait for any opportunity,” said Morris.
“When I see the box I shall open it and destroy the monster,
though there were a thousand men looking on, and if I am
to be wiped out for it the next moment!” I grasped his
hand instinctively and found it as firm as a piece of steel. I
think he understood my look ; I hope he did.
“Good boy,” said Dr. Van Helsing. “Brave boy. Quincey
is all man, God bless him for it. My child, believe me none
of us shall lag behind or pause from any fear. I do but say
—
what we may do what we must do. But, indeed, indeed
we cannot say what we shall do. There are so many things
which may happen, and their ways and their ends are so va-
rious that until the moment we may not say. shall all We
be armed, in all ways; and when the time for the end has
come, our effort shall not be lack. Now let us to-day put all
our affairs in order. Let all things which touch on others
dear to us, and who on us depend, be complete for none of ;

us can tell what, or when, or how, the end may be.” As for
me, my own affairs are regulate and as I have nothing else
;

to do, I shall go make arrangement for the travel. I shall

have all tickets and so forth for our journey.”
There was nothing further to be said, and we parted. I
shall now settle up all my affairs of earth, and be ready for
whatever may come

Later . — It is all done my will is made,

;
complete. and all
Mina if she survive is my sole heir. If it
should not be so,
then the others who have been so good to us shall have re-
mainder.
It is now drawing towards the sunset Mina’s uneasiness ;

calls my attention to it. I am sure that there is something on

her mind which the time of exact sunset will reveal. These
occasions are becoming harrowing times for us all, for each
sunrise and sunset opens up some new danger some new —
pain, which, however, may in God’s will be means to a good
end. I write all these things in the diary since my darling
must not hear them now but if it may be that she can see
;

them again, they shall be ready.”

 — —

CHAPTER XXV
dr. seward's diary

II October, Evening .
—
Jonathan Harker has asked me to
note this, as he says he is hardly equal to the task, and he
wants an exact record kept.
I think that none of us were surprised when we were asked
to see Mrs. Harker a little before the time of sunset. We
have of late come to understand that sunrise and sunset are
to her times of peculiar freedom when her old self can be
;

manifest without any controlling force subduing or restrain-

ing her, or inciting her to action. This mood or condition
begins some half hour or more before actual sunrise or sun-
set, and lasts till either the sun is high, or whilst the clouds
are still aglow with the rays streaming above the horizon.
At first there is a sort of negative condition, as if some tie
were loosened, and then the absolute freedom quickly fol-
lows; when, however, the freedom ceases the change-back
or relapse comes quickly, preceded only by a spell of warn-
ing silence.
To-night, when we met she was somewhat constrained,
and bore all the signs of an internal struggle. I put it down
myself to her making a violent effort at the earliest instant
she could do so. A very few minutes, however, gave her
complete control of herself then, motioning her husband to
;

sit beside her on the sofa where she was half reclining, she
made the rest of us bring chairs up close. Taking her hus-
band’s hand in hers began :

“We are all here together in freedom, for perhaps the last
time! I know, dear; I know that you will always be with
me to the end.” This was to her husband whose hand had,
as we could see, tightened upon hers. “In the morning we
go out upon our task, and God alone knows what may be in
store for any of us. You are going to be so good to me as
to take me with you. I know that all that brave earnest men
can do for a poor weak woman, whose soul perhaps is lost
no, no, not yet, but is at any rate at stake —you
will do. But you must remember that I am not as you
32 9
 — ;

33 ° Dracula
are. There a poison in my blood, in my soul, which may
is
destroy me which must destroy me, unless some relief comes
;

to us. Oh, my friends, you know as well as I do, that my

soul is at stake and though I know there is one way out for
;

me, you must not and I must not take it !” She looked ap-
pealingly to us all in turn, beginning and ending with her
husband.
“What isthat way ?” asked Van Helsing in a hoarse voice.
“What is that way, which we must not — —
may not take ?”
“That I may die now, either by my own hand or that of
another, before the greater evil is entirely wrought. I know,
and you know, that were I once dead you could and would
set free my immortal spirit, even as you did my poor Lucy’s.
Were death, or the fear of death, the only thing that stood in
the way I would not shrink to die here, now, amidst the
friends who love me. But death is not all. I cannot believe
that to die in such a case, when there is hope before us and a
bitter task to be done, is God’s will. Therefore, I on my
part, give up here the certainty of eternal rest, and go out
into the dark where may be the blackest things that the
world or the nether world holds !” \Ve were all silent, for
we knew instinctively that this was only a prelude. The
faces of the others were set, and Harker’s grew ashen grey
perhaps he guessed better than any of us what was coming.
She continued :

“This is what can give into the hotch-pot.” I could not

I
but note the quaint legal phrase which she used in such a
place, and with all seriousness. “What will each of you
give? Your lives I know,” she went on quickly, “that is easy
for brave men. Your lives are God’s, and you can give them
back to Him but what will you give to me ?” She looked
;

again questioningly, but this time avoided her husband’s

face. Quincey seemed to understand; he nodded, and her
face lit up. “Then I shall tell you plainly what I want, for
there must be no doubtful matter in this connection between
us now. You must promise me, one and all —
even you my
—
beloved husband that, should the time come, you will kill
me.”
“What is that time?” The voice was Quincey’s, but it
was low and strained.
“When you shall be convinced that I am so changed that
it is better that I die that I may live. When I am thus dead
in the flesh, then you will, without a moment’s delay, drive
 — — —
Dr. Seward’s Diary 331
a stake through me and cut off my head or do whatever else
;

may be wanting to give me rest !”

Quincey was the first to rise after the pause. He knelt
down before her and taking her hand in his said solemnly :

“I’m only a rough fellow, who hasn’t, perhaps, lived as a

man should to win such a distinction, but I swear to you by
all that I hold sacred and dear that, should the time ever
come, I shall not flinch from the duty that you have set us.
And I promise you, too, that I shall make all certain, for if I
am only doubtful I shall take it that the time has come !”
“My true friend!” was all she could say amid her fast-
falling tears, as, bending over, she kissed his hand.
“I swear the same, my dear Madam Mina!” said Van Hel-
sing.
“And I !”
said Lord Godaiming, each of them in turn
kneeling to her to take the oath. I followed, myself. Then
her husband turned to her wan-eyed and with a greenish
pallor which subdued the snowy whiteness of his hair, and
asked :

“And must I, too, make such a promise, oh, my wife?”

“You too, my dearest,” she said, with infinite yearning of
pity in her voice and eyes. “You must not shrink. You are
nearest and dearest and all the world to me; our souls are
knit into one, for all life and all time. Think dear, that there
have been times when brave men have killed their wives and
their womenkind, to keep them from falling into the hands
of the enemy. Their hands did not falter any the more be-
cause those that they loved implored them to slay them. It
is men’s duty towards those whom they love, in such times
of sore trial And oh, my dear, if it is to be that I must
!

meet death at any hand, let it be at the hand of him that loves
me best. Dr. Van Helsing, I have not forgotten your mercy
in poor Lucy’s case to him who loved”
flying blush, and changed her phrase
——she stopped with a
“to him who had best
right to give her peace. If that time shall come again, I
look to you to make it a happy memory of my husband’s life
that it was his loving hand which set me free from the awful
thrall upon me.”
“Again I swear!” came the Professor’s resonant voice.
Mrs. Harker smiled, positively smiled, as with a sigh of re-
lief she leaned back and said
:

“And now one word of warning, a warning which you

must never forget: this time, if it ever come, may come
 — — ;

33 2 Dracula

quickly and unexpectedly, and in such case you must lose no

time in using your opportunity. At such a time I myself
—
might be nay! if the time ever comes, shall be leagued —
with your enemy against you.”
“One more request she became very solemn as she said
this, “it is not vital and necessary like the other, but I want
you to do one thing for me, if you will.” We all acquiesced,
but no one spoke there was no need to speak
;
:

“I want you to read the Burial Service.” She was inter-

rupted by a deep groan from her husband taking his hand
;

in hers, she held it over her heart, and continued. “You

must read it over me some day. Whatever may be the issue
of all this fearful state of things, it will be a sweet thought
to all or some of us. You, my dearest, will I hope read it,
for then it will be in your voice in my memory for ever
come what may!”
“But oh, my dear one,” he pleaded, “death is afar off from
you.”
“Nay,” she said, holding up a warning hand. “I am
deeper in death at this moment than if the weight of an
!”
earthly grave lay heavy upon me
“Oh, my wife, must I read it ?” he said, before he began.
“It would comfort me, my husband !” was all she said
and he began to read when she had got the book ready.
— —
“How can I how could any one tell of that strange
scene, its solemnity, its gloom, its sadness, its horror; and,
withal, its sweetness. Even a sceptic, who can see nothing
but a travesty of bitter truth in anything holy or emotional,
would have been melted to the heart had he seen that little
group of loving and devoted friends kneeling round that
stricken and sorrowing lady or heard the tender passion of
;

her husband’s voice, as in tones so broken with emotion that

often he had to pause, he read the simple and beautiful serv-
ice from the Burial of the Dead. I —
I cannot go on words —
—and—v-voice— f-fail m-me!” ....
She was right her instinct. Strange as it all was, bi-
in
zarre as it may hereafter seem even to us who felt its potent
influence at the time, it comforted us much and the silence,
;

which showed Mrs. Harker’s coming relapse from her free-

dom of soul, did not seem so full of despair to any of us as
we had dreaded.
 — —
Dr. Seward's Diary
333
Jonathan Harker’s Journal.

15 October. Varna .
—We
left Charing Cross on the morn-
ing of the 1 2th, got to Paris the same night, and took the
places secured for us in the Orient Express. Wetravelled
night and day, arriving here at about five o’clock. Lord
Godaiming went to the Consulate to see if any telegram had
arrived for him, whilst the rest of us came on to this hotel—
*‘the Odessus.” The journey may have had incidents I was,
;

however, too eager to get on, to care for them. Until the
Czarina Catherine comes into port there will be no interest
for me in anything in the wide world. Thank God Mina is
!

well, and looks to be getting stronger; her colour is coming

back. She sleeps a great deal throughout the journey she
;

slept nearly all the time. Before sunrise and sunset, how-
ever, she is very wakeful and alert; and it has become a
habit for Van Helsing to hypnotise her at such times. At
first, some effort was needed, and he had to make many
passes but now, she seems to yield at once, as if by habit,
;

and scarcely any action is needed. He seems to have power

at these particular moments to simply will, and her thoughts
obey him. He always asks her what she can see and hear. She
answers to the first :

“Nothing all is dark.” And to the second

;
:

“I can hear the waves lapping against the ship, and the
water rushing by. Canvas and cordage strain and masts and
—
yards creak. The wind is high I can hear it in the shrouds,
and the bow throws back the foam.” It is evident that the
Czarina Catherine is still a sea, hastening on her way to
Varna. Lord Godaiming has just returned. He had four
telegrams, one each day since we started, and all to the same
effect that the Czarina Catherine had not been reported to
:

Lloyd’s from anywhere. He had arranged before leaving

London that his agent should send him every day a telegram
saying if the ship had been reported. He was to have a
message even if she were not reported, so that he might be
sure that there was a watch being kept at the other end of
the wire.
We had dinner and went to bed early. To-morrow we are
to see the Vice-Consul, and to arrange, if we can, about get-
ting on board the ship as soon as she arrives. Van Helsing
says that our chance will be to get on the boat between sun-
rise and sunset. The Count, even if he takes the form 0 1
 !

334 Dracula

a bat, cannot cross the running water of his own volition,

and so cannot leave the ship. As he dare not change to
—
man’s form without suspicion which he evidently wishes
to avoid —he must remain in the box. If, then, we can come
on board after sunrise, he is at our mercy for we can open
;

the box and make sure of him, as we did of poor Lucy, be-
fore he wakes. What mercy he shall get from us will not
count for much. We think that we shall not have much
trouble with officials or the seamen. Thank God this is the
!

country where bribery can do anything, and we are well sup-

plied with money. We have only to make sure that the ship
cannot come into port between sunset and sunrise without
our being warned, and we shall be safe. Judge Moneybag
will settle this case, I think

16 October. —
Mina’s report still the same: lapping waves
and rushing water, darkness and favouring winds. We are
evidently in good time, and when we hear of the Czarina
Catherine we shall be ready. As she must pass the Darda-
nelles we are sure to have some report.

17 October .
—
Everything is pretty well fixed now, I think,
to welcome the Count on his return from his tour. Godai-
ming told the shippers that he fancied that the box sent
aboard might contain something stolen from a friend of his,
and got a half consent that he might open it at his own risk.
The owner gave him a paper telling the Captain to give him
every facility in doing whatever he chose on board the ship,
and also a similar authorisation to his agent at Varna. We
have seen the agent, who was much impressed with Godai-
ming’s kindly manner to him, and we are all satisfied that
whatever he can do to aid our wishes will be done. We have
already arranged what to do in case we get the box open.
If the Count is there, Van Helsing and Seward will cut off
his head at once and drive a stake through his heart. Mor-
ris and Godaiming and I shall prevent interference, even if
we have to use the arms which we shall have ready. The
Professor says that if we can so treat the Count’s body, it
will soon after fall into dust. In such case there would be
no evidence against us, in case any suspicion of murder were
aroused. But even if it were not, we should stand or fall
by our act, and perhaps some day this very script may be
evidence to come between some of us and a rope. For my-
 Dr. Seward’s Diary 35^
self, Ishould take the chance only too thankfully if it were
to come. We mean to leave no stone unturned to carry out
our intent. We have arranged with certain officials that the
instant the Czarina Catherine is seen, we are to be informed
by a special messenger.

24 October . —
A whole week of waiting. Daily telegrams
to Godaiming, but only the same story “Not yet reported.”
:

Mina’s morning and evening hypnotic answer is unvaried:

lapping waves, rushing water, and creaking masts.

Telegram, October 24th.

Rufus Smith, Lloyd's, London, to Lord Godaiming, care of

H.B.M. Vice-Consul, Varna.
te
Czarina Catherine reported this morning from Darda-
nelles.”
Dr. Seward's Diary.

25 October . —
How I miss my phonograph! To write
diary with a pen is irksome to me; but Van Helsing says I
must. We were all wild with excitement yesterday when
Godaiming got his telegram from Lloyd’s. I know now
what men feel in battle when the call to action is heard. Mrs.
Harker, alone of our party, did not show any signs of emo-
tion. After all, it is not strange that she did not; for we
took special care not to let her know anything about it, and
we all tried not to show any excitement when we were in her
presence. In old days she would, I am sure, have noticed,
no matter how we might have tried to conceal it but in this ;

way she is greatly changed during the past three weeks. The
lethargy grows upon her, and though she seems strong and
well, and is getting back some of her colour, Van Helsing
and I are hot satisfied. We talk of her often we have not, ;

however, said a word to the others. It would break poor

—
Harker’s heart certainly his nerve if he knew that we—
had even a suspicion on the subject. Van Helsing examines,
he tells me, her teeth very carefully, whilst she is in the hyp-
notic condition, for he says that so long as they do not be-
gin to sharpen there is no active danger of a change in her.
If this change should come, it would be necessary to take
steps ! .
•
.We both know what those steps would
. .

have to be, though we do not mention our thoughts to each

 ! !

33 6 Dracula

other. We should neither of us shrink

from the task awful —
though it be to contemplate. “Euthanasia” is an excellent
and a comforting word! 1 am grateful to whoever in-
vented it.

It isonly about 24 hours’ sail from the Dardanelles to here,

at the rate the Czarina Catherine has come from London.
She should therefore arrive some time in the morning; but
as she cannot possibly get in before then, we are all about to
retire early. We
shall get up at one o’clock, so as to be
ready.

—
25 October, Noon. No news yet of the ship’s arrival.
Mrs. Harker’s hypnotic report this morning was the same as
usual, so possible that we may get news at any moment.
it is

We men are all in a fever of excitement, except Harker, who

is calm; his hands are as cold as ice, and an hour ago I
found him whetting the edge of the great Ghoorka knife
which he now always carries with him. It will be a bad look
out for the Count if the edge of that “Kukri” ever touches
his throat, driven by that stern, ice-cold hand
Van Helsing and were a little alarmed about Mrs. Har-
I
ker to-day. About noon she got into a sort of lethargy which
we did not like; although we kept silence to the others, we
were neither of us happy about it. She had been restless all
the morning, so that we were at first glad to know that she
was sleeping. When, however, her husband mentioned casu-
ally that she was sleeping so soundly that he could not wake
her, we went to her room to see for ourselves. She was
breathing naturally and looked so well and peaceful that we
agreed that the sleep was better for her than anything else.
Poor girl, she has so much to forget that it is no wonder that
sleep, if it brings oblivion to her, does her good.

Later. —Our opinion was justified, for

after a re- when
freshing sleep of some hours she woke up, she seemed
brighter and better than she had been for days. At
sunset she made the usual hypnotic report. Wherever he
may be in the Black Sea, the Count is hurrying to his desti-
nation. To his doom, I trust

26 October. —Another day and no tidings of the Czarina

Catherine. She ought to be here by now. That she is still
journeying somewhere is apparent, for Mrs. Harker’s hyp-
 —
Dr. Seward’s Diary 337
notic report at sunrise was still the same. It is possible that
the vessel may be lying by, at times, for fog; some of the
steamers which came in last evening reported patches of fog
both to north and south of the port. We
must continue our
watching, as the ship may now be signalled any moment.

—
27 October, Noon. Most strange; no news yet of the
ship we wait for. Mrs. Harker reported last night and this
morning as usual: “lapping waves and rushing water,”
though she added that “the waves were very faint.” The
telegrams from London have been the same “no further re-:

port.” Van Helsing is terribly anxious, and told me just

now that he fears the Count is escaping us. He added sig-
nificantly :

“I did not like that lethargy of Madam Mina's. Souls and

memories can do strange things during trance.” I was about
to ask him more, but Harker just then came in, and he held
up a warning hand. We
must try to-night at sunset to make
her speak more fully when in her hypnotic state.

—
28 October. Telegram. Rufus Smith London, to Lord
,

Godaiming, care H.B.M. Vice Consul, Varna.

“Czarina Catherine reported entering Galatz at one o'clock
to-day.”
Dr. Seward's Diary.

28 October. —When
the telegram came announcing the
arrival in Galatz I do not think it was such a shock to any of
us as might have been expected. True, we did not know
whence, or how, or when, the bolt would come but I think ;

we all expected that something strange would happen. The

delay of arrival at Varna made us individually satisfied that
things would not be just as we had expected we only waited
;

to learn where the change would occur. None the less, how-
ever, was it a surprise. I suppose that nature works on such
a hopeful basis that we believe against ourselves that things
will be as they ought to be, not as we should know that they
will be. Transcendentalism is a beacon to the angels, even
if it be a will-o'-the-wisp to man. It was an odd experience,
and we all took it differently. Van Helsing raised his hands
over his head for a moment, as though in remonstrance with
the Almighty but he said not a word, and in a few seconds
;

stood up with his face sternly set. Lord Godaiming grew

(22)
 —
33 8 Dracula

very pale, and sat breathing heavily. I was myself half

stunned and looked in wonder at one after another. Quincey
Morris tightened his belt with that quick movement which
I knew so well in our old wandering days it meant “action.”
;

Mrs. Harker grew ghastly white, so that the scar on her

forehead seemed to burn, but she folded her hands meekly
—
and looked up in prayer. Harker smiled actually smiled
the dark, bitter smile of one who is without hope but at the
;

same time his action belied his words, for his hands in-
stinctively sought the hilt of the great Kukri knife and rested
there. “When does the next train start for Galatz?” said
Van Helsing to us generally.
“At 6:30 to-morrow morning!” We all stared, for the
answer came from Mrs. Harker.
“How on earth do you know ?” said Art.
—
“You forget or perhaps you do not know, though Jona-
—
than does and so does Dr. Van Helsing that I am the train
fiend. At home in Exeter I always used to make up the
time-tables, so as to be helpful to my husband. I found it
so useful sometimes, that I always make a study of the time-
tables now. I knew that if anything were to take us to
Castle Dracula we should go by Galatz, or at any rate
through Bucharest, so I learned the times very carefully.
Unhappily there are not many to learn, as the only train to-
morrow leaves as I say.”
“Wonderful woman !” murmured the Professor.
“Can't we get a special?” asked Lord Godaiming. Van
Helsing shook his head : “I fear not. This land is very dif-
ferent from your’s or mine even if we did have a special, it
;

would probably not arrive as soon as our regular train.

Moreover, we have something to prepare. We
must think.
Now let us organize. You, friend Arthur, go to the train
and get the tickets and arrange that all be ready for us to
go in the morning. Do you, friend Jonathan, go to the
agent of the ship and get from him letters to the agent in
Galatz, with authority to make search the ship just as it was
here. Morris Quincey, you see the Vice-Consul, and get his
aid with his fellow in Galatz and all he can do to make our
way smooth, so that no times be lost when over the Danube.
John will stay with Madam Mina and me, and we shall con-
sult. For so if time be long you may be delayed and it will
;

not matter when the sun set, since I am here with Madam to
siake report,”
 —
Dr. Seward’s Diary
339
“And Mrs. Harker brightly, and more like her
I,” said
old self than she had been for many a long day, “shall try
to be of use in all ways, and shall think and write for you
as I used to do. Something is shifting from me in some
strange way, and I feel freer than I have been of late!”
The three younger men looked happier at the moment as
they seemed to realise the significance of her words but Van ;

Helsing and I, turning to each other, met each a grave and

troubled glance. We said nothing at the time, however.
When the three men had gone out to their tasks Van Hel-
#

sing asked Mrs. Harker to look up the copy of the diaries

and find him the part of Harker’s journal at the Castle. She
went away to get it; when the door was shut upon her he
said to me:
“We mean the same! speak out!”
“There is some change. It is a hope that makes me sick,
for it may deceive us.”
“Quite so. Do you know why I asked her to get the
manuscript ?”
“No !” said I, “unless it was to get an opportunity of see-
ing me alone.”
“Youare in part right, friend John, but only in part. I
want to tell you something. And oh, my friend, I am taking
— —
a great a terrible risk; but I believe it is right. In the
moment when Madam Mina said those words that arrest both
our understanding, an inspiration came to me. In the trance
of three days ago the Count sent her his spirit to read her
mind or more like he took her to see him in his earth-box
;

in the ship with water rushing, just as it go free at rise and

set of sun. He learn then that we are here; for she have
more to tell in her open life with eyes to see and ears to
hear than he, shut, as he is, in his coffin-box. Now he make
his most effort to escape us. At present he want her not.
He is sure with his so great knowledge that she will come at
his call but he cut her off
;
—
take her, as he can do, out of his
own power, that so she come not to him. Ah there I have !

hope that our man-brains that have been of man so long

and that have not lost the grace of God, will come higher
than his child-brain that lie in his tomb for centuries, that
grow not yet to our stature, and that do only work selfish and
therefore small. Here comes Madam Mina; not a word to
her of her trance! She know it not; and it would over-
whelm her and make despair just when we want all her hope*
 — — ! ;

340 Dracula

all her courage; when most we want all her great brain
which is trained like man’s brain, but is of sweet woman and
have a special power which the Count give her, and which he
—
may not take away altogether though he think not so. Hush
let me speak, and you shall learn. Oh, John, my friend, we
are in awful straits. I fear, as I never feared before.^
!”
We
can only trust the good God. Silence here she comes
!

I thought that the Professor was going to break down and

have hysterics, just as he had when Lucy died, but with a
great effort he controlled himself and was at perfect nervous
poise when Mrs. Harker tripped into the room, bright and
happy-looking and, in the doing of work, seemingly forget-
ful of her misery. As she came in, she handed a number of
sheets of typewriting to Van Helsing. He looked over them
gravely, his face brightening up as he read. Then holding
the pages between his finger and thumb he said :

“Friend John, to you with so much of experience already

— and you, too, dear Madam Mina, that are young, here —
is a lesson: do not fear ever to think. A
half-thought has
been buzzing often in my brain, but I fear to let him loose
his wings. Here now, with more knowledge, I go back to
where that half-thought come from, and I find that he be
no half-thought at all that be a whole thought, though so
;

young that he is not yet strong to use his little wings. Nay,
like the “Ugly Duck” of my friend Hans Andersen, he be
no duck- thought at all, but a big swan- thought that sail nobly
on big wings, when the time come for him to try them. See
I read here what Jonathan have written :

“That other of his race who, in a later age, again and

again, brought his forces over The Great River into Turkey
Land who, when he was beaten back, came again, and again,
;

and again, though he had to come alone from the bloody

field where his troops were being slaughtered, since he knew
that he alone could ultimately triumph.”
“What does this tell us? Not much? no! The Count’s
child-thought see nothing; therefore he speak so free. Your
man-thought see nothing; my man-thought see nothing, till
just now. No! But there comes another word from some
one who speak without thought because she, too, know not
tvhat it mean— what it might mean. Just as there are ele-
ments which rest, yet when in nature’s course they move on
their way and they touch — then pouf and there comes a flash
!

of light, heaven wide, that blind and kill and destroy some
 — — ;

Dr. Seward’s Diary 341

but that show up all earth below for leagues and leagues.
Is it not so? Well, I shall explain. To begin, have you ever
study the philosophy of crime. ‘Yes’ and ‘No.’ You, John,
yes; for it is a study of insanity. You, no, Madam Mina;
—
for crime touch you not not but once. Still, your mind
works true, and argues not a particulari ad universale. There
is this peculiarity in criminals. It is so constant, in all coun-
tries and at all times, that even police, who know not much
from philosophy, come to know it empirically, that it is.
That is to be empiric. The criminal always work at one
—
crime that is the true criminal who seems predestinate to
crime, and who will of none other. This criminal has not
full man-brain. He is clever and cunning and resourceful
but he be not of man-stature as to brain. He be of child-
brain in much. Now this criminal of ours is predestinate to
crime also; he, too, have child-brain, and it is of the child
to do what he have done. The little bird, the little fish, the
little animal learn not by principle, but empirically; and when
he learn to do, then there is to him the ground to start from
to do more. Dos pou stof said Archimedes. ‘Give me a
fulcrum, and I shall move the world!’ To do once, is the
fulcrum whereby child-brain become man-brain; and until
he have the purpose to do more, he continue to do the same
again every time, just as he have done before ! Oh, my dear,
I see that your eyes are opened, and that to you the lightning
flash show all the leagues,” for Mrs. Hsrker began to clap
her hands and her eyes sparkled. He went on :

“Now you shall speak. Tell us two dry men of science

what you see with those so bright eyes.” He took her hand
and held it whilst she spoke. His finger and thumb closed
on her pulse, as I thought instinctively and unconsciously, as
she spoke :

“The Count is a criminal and of criminal type.. Nordau

and Lombroso would so classify him, and qua criminal he
is of imperfectly formed mind. Thus, in a difficulty he has
to seek resource in habit. His past is a clue, and the one
—
page of it that we know and that from his own lips tells —
that once before, when in what Mr. Morris would call a
‘tight place/ he went back to his own country from the land
he had tried to invade, and thence, without losing purpose,
prepared himself for a new effort. He came again better
equipped for his work and won. So he came to London to
;

invade a new land. He was beaten, and when all hope

of
 — — —
Dracula
'

34 *
success was lost, and his existence in danger, he fled back
over the sea to his home; just as formerly he had fled back
over the Danube from Turkey Land.”
“Good, good! oh, you so clever lady?” said Van Helsing,
enthusiastically, as he stooped and kissed her hand. mo- A
ment later he said to me, as calmly as though we had been
having a sick-room consultation :

“Seventy-two only; and in all this excitement. I have

hope.” Turning to her again, he said with keen expecta-
tion :

“But go on. Go on there is more to tell if you will. Be

!

not afraid John and I know. I do in any case, and shall tell
;

you if you are right. Speak, without fear!”

“I will try to but you will forgive me if I seem egotisti-
;

cal.”
“Nay fear ! not, you must be egotist, for it is of you that
we think.”
“Then, as he is criminal he is selfish and as his intellect is
;

small and his action is based on selfishness, he confines him-

self to one purpose. That purpose is remorseless. As he
fled back over the Danube, leaving his forces to be cut to
pieces, so now he is intent on being safe, careless of all. So,
his own selfishness frees my soul somewhat from the terrible
power which he acquired over me on that dreadful night.
I felt it! Oh, I felt it! Thank God, for His great mercy!
My soul is freer than it has been since that awful hour and ;

all that haunts me is a fear lest in some trance or dream he

may have used my knowledge for his ends.” The Professor
stood up :

“He has so used your mind and by it he has left us here

;

in Varna, whilst the ship that carried him rushed through

enveloping fog up to Galatz, where, doubtless, he had made
preparation for escaping from us. But his child-mind only
saw so far; and it may be that, as ever is in God’s Provi-
dence, the very thing that the evil-doer most reckoned on
for his selfish good, turns out to be his chiefest harm. The
hunter is taken in his own snare, as the great Psalmist says,
For now that he think he is free from every trace of us
all, and that he has escaped us with so many hours to him,
then his selfish child-brain will whisper him to sleep. He
think, too, that as he cut himself off from knowing your
mind, there can be no knowledge of him to you; there is
where he fail That terrible baptism of blood which he give
!
 Dr. Seward’s Diary 343
you makes you free to go to him in spirit, as you have as yet
done in your times of freedom, when the sun rise and set.
At such times you go by my volition and not by his and this
;

power to good of you and others, you have won from your
suffering at his hands. This is now all more precious that
he know it not, and to guard himself have even cut himself
off from his knowledge of our where. We, however, are not
selfish, and we believe that God is with us through all thisr
blackness, and these many dark hours. We shall follow him j

and we shall not flinch even if we peril ourselves that we

;

become like him. Friend John, this has been a great hour and
;

it have done much to advance us on our way. You must be

scribe and write him all down, so that when the others re-
turn from their work you can give it to them then they shall
;

know as we do.”
And so I have written it wait their return, and
whilst we
Mrs. Harker has written with her typewriter all since she
brought the M.S. to us.
 — —

CHAPTER XXVT
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY

29 October . —This written in the train from Varna to

is
Galatz. Last night we all assembled a little before the time
of sunset. Each of us had done his work as well as he
could so far as thought, and endeavour, and opportunity
;

go, we are prepared for the whole of our journey, and for
our work when we get to Galatz. When the usual time
came round Mrs. Harker prepared herself for her hypnotic
effort; and after a longer and more serious effort on the
part of Van Helsing than has been usually necessary, she
sank into the trance. Usually she speaks on a hint but this
;

time the Professor had to ask her questions, and to ask them
pretty resolutely, before we could learn anything at last her
;

answer came :

“I can see nothing we are still there are no waves lap-

; ;

ping, but only a steady swirl of water softly running against

the hawser. I can hear men’s voices calling, near and far,
and the roll and creak of oars in the rowlocks. A gun is
fired somewhere; the echo of it seems far away. There is
tramping of feet overhead, and ropes and chains are dragged
along. What is this ? There is a gleam of light ; I can feel
the air blowing upon me.”
Here she stopped. She had risen, as if impulsively, from
where she lay on the sofa, and raised both her hands, palms
upwards, as if lifting a weight. Van Helsing and I looked
at each other with understanding. Quincey raised his eye-
brows slightly and looked at her intently, whilst Harker’s
hand instinctively closed round the hilt of his Kukri. There
was a long pause. We
all knew that the time when she could
speak was passing but we felt that it was useless to say any-
;

thing. Suddenly she sat up, and, as she opened her eyes, said
sweetly ;

“Would none of you like a cup of tea? You must all be

so tired!” We could only make her happy, and so acqui-
esced. She bustled off to get tea ; when she had gone Van
Helsing said :

34 *
 —
Dr. SwarcTs Diary 345
“You see, my friends. He is close to land : he has left his
earth-chest. But he has yet to get on shore. In the night
he may lie hidden somewhere; but if he be not carried on
shore, or if the ship do not touch it, he cannot achieve the
land. In such case he can, if it be in the night, change his
form and can jump or fly on shore, as he did at Whitby. But
if the day come before he get on shore, then, unless he be car-
ried he cannot escape. And if
he be carried, then the customs
men may discover what the box contains. Thus, in fine, if he
escape not on shore to-night, or before dawn, there will be
the whole day lost to him. We may then arrive in time for ;

if he escape not at night we shall come on him in daytime,

boxed up and at our mercy for he dare not be his true self,
;

awake and visible, lest he be discovered.”

There was no more to be said, so we waited in patience
until the dawn; at which time we might learn more from
Mrs. Harker.
Early this morning we listened, with breathless anxiety,
for her response in her trance. The hypnotic stage was even
longer in coming han before; and when it came the time
remaining until full sunrise was so short that we began to
despair. Van Helsing seemed to throw his whole soul into
the effort at last, in obedience to his will she made reply
;
:

“All is dark. I hear lapping water, level with me, and

some creaking as of wood on wood.” She paused, and the
red sun shot up. We must wait till to-night.
And so it is that we are travelling towards Galatz in an
agony of expectation. We are due to arrive between two and
three in the morning but already, at Bucharest, we are three
;

hours late, so we cannot possibly get in till well after sun-

up. Thus we shall have two more hypnotic messages from
Mrs. Harker; either or both may possibly throw more light
on what is happening.

Later . —Sunset has come and gone. Fortunately it came

at a time when there was no distraction for had it occurred
;

whilst we were at a station, we might not have secured the

necessary calm and isolation. Mrs. Harker yielded to the
hypnotic influence even less readily than this morning. I
am in fear that her power of reading the Count’s sensations
may die away, just when we want it most. It seems to me
that her imagination is beginning to work. Whilst she
has
been in the trance hitherto she has confined herself to the
 — —— —
346 Dracula

simplest of facts. goes on it may ultimately mislead

If this
us. If I thought that the Count’s power over her would die
away equally with her power of knowledge it would be a
happy thought but I am afraid that it may not be so. When
;

she did speak, her words were enigmatical :

“Something is going out I can feel it pass me like a cold

;

wind. I can hear, far off, confused sounds as of men talk- —

ing in strange tongues, fierce-falling water, and the howling
of wolves/’ She stopped and a shudder ran through her, in-
creasing in intensity for a few seconds, till, at the end, she
shook as though in a palsy. She said no more, even in an-
swer to the Professor’s imperative questioning. When she
woke from the trance, she was cold, and exhausted, and
languid but her mind was all alert. She could not remem-
;

ber anything, but asked what she had said; when she was
told, she pondered over it deeply, for a long time and in
silence.

30 October, 7 a. in . —
We are near Galatz now, and I may
not have time to write later. Sunrise this morning was
anxiously looked for by us all. Knowing of the increasing
difficulty of procuring the hypnotic trance, Van Helsing be-
gan his passes earlier than usual. They produced no effect,
however, until the regular time, when she yielded with a
still greater difficulty, only a minute before the sun rose.
The Professor lost no time in his questioning; her answer
came with equal quickness:
“All is dark. I hear water swirling by, level with my ears,
and the creaking of wood on wood. Cattle low far off.
—
There is another sound, a queer one like ” she stopped and
grew white, and whiter still.
“Go on go on Speak, I command you !” said Van Hel-
;
!

sing in an agonised voice. At the same time there was de-

spair in his eyes, for the risen sun was reddening even Mrs.
Harker’s pale face. She opened her eyes, and we all started
as she said, sweetly and seemingly with the utmost uncon-
cern :

“Oh, Professor, why ask me to do what you know I

can’t? I don’t remember anything.” Then, seeing the look
of amazement on our faces, she said, turning from one to the
other with a troubled look :

“What have I said ? What havedone ? I know nothing,

I
only that I was lying here, half asleep, and heard you sa?
 Dr. Seward’s Diary 347
‘go on speak, I command you !’ It seemed so funny to hear
!

you order me about, as if I were a bad child !”

“Oh, Madam Mina,” he said, sadly, “it is proof, if proof
be needed, of how I love and honour you, when a word for
your good, spoken more earnest than ever, can seem so
strange because it is to order her whom I am proud to
obey!”
The whistles are sounding; we are nearing Galatz. We
are on fire with anxiety and eagerness.

Mina Harkens Journal .

—
30 October. Mr. Morris took me to the hotel where our
rooms had been ordered by telegraph, he being the one who
could best be spared, since he does not speak any foreign
language. The forces were distributed much as they had
been at Varna, except that Lord Godaiming went to the Vice-
Consul, as his rank might serve as an immediate guarantee
of some sort to the official, we being in extreme hurry. Jona-
than and the two doctors went to the shipping agent to learn
particulars of the arrival of the Czarina Catherine .

Later. —Lord Godaiming has returned. The Consul is

away, and the Vice-Consul sick; so the routine work ha?
been attended to by a clerk. He was very obliging, and of-
fered to do anything in his power.

Jonathan Harkens Journal .

—
30 October. At nine o'clock Dr. Van Helsing, Dr. Sew
ard, and I called on Messrs. Mackenzie & Steinkoff, the
agents of the London firm of Hapgood. They had received
a wire from London, in answer to Lord Godaiming’s tele-
graphed request, asking us to show them any civility in their
power. They were more than kind and courteous, and took
us at once on board the Czarina Catherine, which lay at am
chor out in the river harbour. There we saw the Captain,
Donelson by name, who told us of his voyage. He said that
in all his life he had never had so favourable a run.
“Man !” he said, “but it made us afeard, for we expeckit
that we should have to pay for it wi’ some rare piece o’ ill
luck, so as to keep up the average. It’s no canny to rua

frae London to the Black Sea wi’ a wind ahint ye, as though
the Deil himself were blawin’ on yer sail for his ain purpose.
 — *

348 Dracula

An’ a’the time we could no speer a thing. Gin we were nigh

a ship, or a port, or a headland, a fog fell on us and travelled
wi’ us, till when after it had lifted and we looked out, the deil
a thing could we see. We
ran by Gibraltar wi’oot bein’ able
to signal an’ till we came to the Dardanelles, and had to wait
;

to get our permit to pass, we never were within hail o’ aught.

At first I inclined to slack off sail and beat about till the fog
was lifted but whiles, I thocht that if the Deil was minded
;

to get us into the Black Sea quick, he was like to do it

whether we would or no. If we had a quick voyage it would
be no to our miscredit wi’ the owners, or no hurt to our
traffic an’ the Old Mon who had served his ain purpose wad
;

be decently grateful to us for no hinderin’ him.” This mix-

ture of simplicity and cunning, of superstition and com-
mercial reasoning, aroused Van Helsing, who said :

“Mine friend, that Devil is more clever than he is thought

by some ; and he know when he meet his match !” The skip-
per was not displeased with the compliment, and went on : —
“When we got past the Bosphorus the men began to
grumble; some o’ them, the Roumanians, came and asked
me to heave overboard a big box which had been put on
board by a queer lookin’ old man just before we had started
frae London. I had seen them speer at the fellow, and put
out their twa fingers when they saw him, to guard against
the evil eye. Man! but the supersteetion of foreigners is
pairfectly rideeculous I sent them aboot their business
!

pretty quick but as just after a fog closed in on us, I felt a

;

wee bit as they did anent something, though I wouldn’t say

it was agin the bit box. Well, on we went, and as the fog
didn’t let up for five days I joost let the wind carry us; for
if the Deil wanted to get somewheres —
well, he would fetch
it up a’reet. An’ if he didn’t, well, we’d keep a sharp look
out anyhow. Sure eneuch, we had a fair way and deep
water all the time and two days ago, when the mornin’ sun
;

came through the fog, we found ourselves just in the river

opposite Galatz. The Roumanians were wild, and wanted
me right or wrong to take out the box and fling it in the
river. I had to argy wi’ them aboot it wi’ a handspike an’;

when the last o’ them rose off the deck, wi’ his head in his
hand, I had convinced them that, evil eye or no evil eye, the
property and the trust of my owners were better in my hands
than in the river Danube. They had, mind ye, taken the box
on the deck ready to fling in, and as it was marked Galatz via
 Dr. SewarcTs Diary 349
Varna, I let it lie till we discharged in the port an*
thocht I’d
get rid o’t athegither. We didn’t do much clearin’ that day,
an’ had to remain the nicht at anchor ; but in the mornin’,
braw an’ airly, an hour before sun-up, a man came aboard
wi’ an order, written to him from England, to receive a box
marked for one Count Dracula. Sure eneuch the matter was
one ready to his hand. He had his papers a’ reet, an’ glad
I was to be rid o’ the dam thing, for I was beginnin’ masel’
to feel uneasy at it. If the Deil did have any luggage aboord
the ship, I’m thinkin’ it was nane ither than that same !”
“What was the name of the man who took it?” asked Dr.
Van Helsing with restrained eagerness.
“I’ll be tellin’ ye quick !” he answered, and, stepping down
to his cabin, produced a receipt signed “Immanuel Hilde-
sheim.” Burgen-strasse 16 was the address. We found out
that this was all the Captain knew ; so with thanks we came
away.
We found Hildesheim in his office, a Hebrew of rather the
Adelphi Theatre type, with a nose like a sheep, and a fez.
—
His arguments were pointed with specie we doing the
—
punctuation and with a little bargaining he told us what he
knew. This turned out to be simple but important. He had
received a letter from Mr. de Ville of London, telling him to
receive, if possible before sunrise so as to avoid customs, a
box which would arrive at Galatz in the Czarina Catherine.
This he was to give in charge to a certain Petrof Skinsky,
who dealt with the Slovaks who traded down the river to
the port. He
had been paid for his work by an English bank
note, which had been duly cashed for gold at the Danube In-
ternational Bank. When Skinsky had come to him, he had
taken him to the ship and handed over the box, so as to save
porterage. That was all he knew.
We then sought for Skinsky, but were unable to find him.
One of his neighbours, who did not seem to bear him any
affection, said that he had gone away two days before, no
one knew whither. This was corroborated by his landlord,
who had received by messenger the key of the house together
with the rent due, in English money. This had been be-
tween ten and eleven o’clock last night. We
were at a stand-
still again.
Whilst we were talking one came running and breathlessly
gasped out that the body of Skinsky had been found inside
the wall of the churchyard of St. Peter, and that the throat
 . . .

35 ° Dracula

had been torn open as if by some wild animal. Those we had

been speaking with ran off to see the horror, the women cry-
ing out “This is the work of a Slovak !” We hurried away
lest we should have been in some way drawn into the affair,
and so detained.
As we came home we could arrive at no definite conclusion.
We were all convinced that the box was on its way, by water,
to somewhere; but where that might be we would have to
discover. With heavy hearts we came home to the hotel to
Mina.
When we met together, the first thing was to consult as to
taking Mina again into our confidence. Things are getting
desperate, and it is at least a chance, though a hazardous
one. As a preliminary step, I was released from my promise
to her.
Mina Marker's Journal.

—
30 October, evening. They were so tired and worn out
and dispirited that there was nothing to be done till they
had some rest; so I asked them all to lie down for half an
hour whilst I should enter everything up to the moment. I
feel so grateful to the man who
invented the “Traveller's”
typewriter, and to Mr. Morris for getting this one for me.
I should have felt quite astray doing the work if I had to
write with a pen. . .

It is all done; poor dear, dear Jonathan, what he must

have suffered, what must he be suffering now. He lies on
the sofa hardly seeming to breathe, and his whole body ap-
pears in collapse. His brows are knit his face is drawn with ;

pain. Poor fellow, maybe he is thinking, and I can see his

face all wrinkled up with the concentration of his thoughts.
Oh if I could only help at all. ... I shall do what I
!

c. n.
have asked Dr. Van Helsing, and he has got me all the
i
papers that I have not yet seen. Whilst they are rest-
. . .

ing, I shall go over all carefully, and perhaps I may arrive

at some conclusion. I shall try to follow the Professor’s ex-
ample, and think without prejudice on the facts before
me. . .

do believe that under God’s providence I have made a

I
discovery. I shall get the maps and look over them. . .

I am more than ever sure that I am right. My new con-

 z ? !

Dr. Seward’s Diary 351

elusion ready, so I shall get our party together and read
is
it. They can judge it; it is well to be accurate, and every
minute is precious.

Mina Harker’s Memorandum ,

(Entered in her Journal.)
Ground of inquiry. —
Count Dracula’s problem is to get
back to his own place.
(a) He must be brought back by some one. This is evi-
dent; for had he power to move himself as he wished he
could go either as man, or wolf, or bat, or in some other way.
He evidently fears discovery or interference, in the state of
helplessness in which he must be
dawn and
—
confined as he is between
sunset in his wooden box.
( b) How is he to be taken —
Here a process of exclusions
may help us. By road, by rail, by water ?
1. By Road. — There are endless difficulties, especially in
leaving the city.
(x) There are people and people are curious, and investi-
;

gate. A
hint, a surmise, a doubt as to what might be in the
box, would destroy him.
(y) There are, or there may be, customs and octroi of-
ficers to pass.
( ) His pursuers might follow. This
his highest fear;
is
and in order to prevent his being betrayed he has repelled, so
far as he can, even his victim me —
2. By Rail. —
There is no one in charge of the box. It
would have to take its chance of being delayed; and delay
would be fatal, with enemies on the track. True, he might
escape at night; but what would he be, if left in a strange
place with no refuge that he could fly to. This is not what
he intends and he does not mean to risk it.
3. By Water.
;

—
Here is the safest way, in one respect, but
with most danger in another. On the water he is powerless
except at night; even then he can only summon fog and
storm and snow and his wolves. But were he wrecked, the
living water would engulf him, helpless and he would in- ;

deed be lost. He could have the vessel drive to land but if ;

it were unfriendly land, wherein he was not free to move, his

position would still be desperate.

We know from the record that he was on the water; so
what we have to do is to ascertain what water.
 ,

35 2 Dracula
The first thing is to realise exactly what he has done aa
yet we may, then, get a light on what his later task is to be.
—We must
;

Firstly . between what he did in

differentiate
London as part of his general plan of action, when he was
pressed for moments and had to arrange as best he could.
Secondly we must see, as well as we can surmise it from
the facts we know of, what he has done here.
As to the first, he evidently intended to arrive at Galatz,
and sent invoice to Varna to deceive us lest we should ascer-
tain his means of exit from England his immediate and sole
;

purpose then was to escape. The proof of this, is the letter

of instructions sent to Immanuel Hildesheim to clear and
take away the box before sunrise. There is also the instruc-
tion to Petrof Skinsky. These we must only guess at but ;

there must have been some letter or message, since Skinsky

came to Hildesheim.
That, so far, his planswere successful we know. The
Czarina Catherine made a phenomenally quick journey so —
much so that Captain Donelson’s suspicions were aroused;
but his superstition united with his canniness played the
Count’s game for him, and he ran with his favouring wind
through fogs and all till he brought up blindfold at Galatz.
That the Count’s arrangements were well made, has been
proved. Hildesheim cleared the box, took it off, and gave
it to Skinsky. —
Skinsky took it and here we lose the trail.
We only know that the box is somewhere on the water, mov-
ing along. The customs and the octroi, if there be any, have
been avoided.
Now we come to what the Count must have done after his
arrival —
on land at Galatz.
The box was given to Skinsky before sunrise. At sunrise
the Count could appear in his own form. Here, we ask why
Skinsky was chosen at all to aid in the work? In my hus-
band’s diary, Skinsky is mentioned as dealing with the Slo-
vaks who trade down the river to the port; and the man’s
remark, that the murder was the work of a Slovak, showed
the general feeling against his class. The Count wanted iso-
lation.
My surmise is, this : that in London
the Count decided to
get back to his castle by water, as the most safe and secret
way. He was brought from the castle by Szgany, and
probably they delivered their cargo to Slovaks who took the
boxes to Varna, for there they were shipped for Londoa
 —
Dr. Seward's Diary
333
Thus the Count had knowledge of the persons who could
arrange this service. When the box was on land, before
sunrise or after sunset, he came out from his box, met
Skinsky and instructed him what to do as to arranging the
carriage of the box up some river. When this was done, and
he knew that all was in train, he blotted out his traces, as he
thought, by murdering his agent.
I have examined the map and find that the river
most
suitable for the Slovaks to have ascended is either the Pruth
or the Sereth. I read in the typescript that in my trance I
heard cows low and water swirling level with my ears and
the creaking of wood. The Count in his box, then, was on
—
a river in an open boat propelled probably either by oars
or poles, for the banks are near and it is working against
stream. There would be no such sound if floating down
stream.
Of course it may not be either the Sereth or the Pruth,
but we may possibly investigate further. Now of these two,
the Pruth is the more easily navigated, but the Sereth is,
at Fundu, joined by the Bistritza which runs up round the
Borgo pass. The loop it makes is manifestly as close to Dra-
cula’s castle as can be got by water.

Mina Marker*s Journal —continued.

When I had done reading, Jonathan took me in his arms
and kissed me. The others kept shaking me by both hands,
and Dr. Van Plelsing said :

“Our dear Madam Mina is once more our teacher. Her

eyes have been where we were blinded. Now we are on
the track once again, and this time we may succeed. Our
enemy is at his most helpless and if we can come on him
;

by day, on the water, our task will be over. He has a start,

but he is powerless to hasten, as he may not leave his box
lest those who carry him may suspect; for them to suspect
would be to prompt them to throw him in the stream where
he perish. This he knows, and will not. Now men, to our
Council of War for, here and now, we must plan what each
;

and all shall do.”

“I shall get a steam launch and follow him,” said Lord
Godaiming.
“And I, horses to follow on the bank lest by chance he
land,” said Mr. Morris.
 — — —
354 Dracula

“Good!” said the Professor, “both good. But neither

must go alone. There must be force to overcome force if
need be the Slovak is strong and rough, and he carries rude
;

arms.” All the men smiled, for amongst them they carried
a small arsenal. Said Mr. Morris :

“I have brought some Winchesters they are pretty handy

;

in a crowed, and there may be wolves. The Count, if you

remember, took some other precautions he made some requi-
;

sitions on others that Mrs. Harker could not quite hear or

understand. We must be ready at all points.” Dr. Seward
said :

“I think I had better go with Quincey. have beenWe

accustomed to hunt together, and we two, well armed, will be
a match for whatever may come along. You must not be
alone Art. It may be necessary to fight the Slovaks, and a
—
chance thrust for I don’t suppose these fellows carry guns
— would undo all our plans. There must be no chances, this
time ; we shall not rest until the Count’s head and body have
been separated, and we are sure that he cannot re-incarnate.”
He looked at Jonathan as he spoke, and Jonathan looked at
me. I could see that the poor dear was torn about in his
mind. Of course he wanted to be with me ; but then the boat
service would, most likely, be the one which would destroy
the.. .the.. .the.. .Vampire. (Why did I hesitate to write the
word?) He was silent awhile, and during his silence Dr.
Van Helsing spoke :

“Friend Jonathan, this is to you for twice reasons. First,

because you are young and brave and can fight, and all ener-
gies may be needed at the last and again that it is your right
to destroy him — —
that
;

which has wrought such woe to you

and yours. Be not afraid for Madam Mina she will be my ;

care, if I may. I am old. My legs are not so quick to run

as once and I am not used to ride so long or to pursue as
;

need be, or to fight with lethal weapons. But I can be of

other service; I can fight in other way. And I can die, if
\ieed be, as well as younger men. Now let me say that what
( would is this while you, my Lord Godaiming, and friend
:

Jonathan go in your so swift little steamboat up the river,

and whilst John and Quincey guard the bank where per-
chance he might be landed, I will take Madam Mina right
into the heart of the enemy’s country. Whilst the old fox is
tied in his box, floating on the running stream whence he
—
cannot escape to land where he dares not raise the lid of
 — ——

Dr. Seward’s Diary 35$

his coffin-box lest his Slovak carriers should in fear leave
—
him to perish we shall go in the track where Jonathan
—
went, from Bistritz over the Borgo, and find our way to the
Castle of Dracula. Here, Madam Mina’s hypnotic power
will surely help, and we shall find our way —
all dark and un-
—
known otherwise after the first sunrise when we are near
that fateful place. There is much to be done, and other
places to be made sanctify, so that that nest of vipers be ob-
literated.” Here Jonathan interrupted him hotly:-
“Do you mean to say, Professor Van Helsing, that you
would bring Mina, in her sad case and tainted as she is with
that devil’s illness, right into the jaws of his death-trap?
Not for the world ! Not for Heaven or Hell !” He became
almost speechless for a minute, and then went on :

“Do you know what the place is? Have you seen that
—
awful den of hellish infamy with the very moonlight alive
with grisly shapes, and every speck of dust that whirls in the
wind a devouring monster in embryo? Have you felt the
Vampire’s lips upon your throat?” Here he turned to me,
and as his eyes lit on my forehead, he threw up his arms
with a cry “Oh, my God, what have we done to have this
:

terror upon us !” and he sank down on the sofa in a collapse

of misery. The Professor’s voice, as he spoke in clear, sweet
tones, which seemed to vibrate in the air, calmed us all :

“Oh my friend, it is because I would save Madam Mina

from that awful place that I would go. God forbid that I
should take her into that place. There is work wild work —
— to be done there, that her eyes may not see. We
men here,
all save Jonathan, have seen with their own eyes what is to
be done before that place can be purify. Remember that we
are in terrible straits. If the Count escape us this time
—
and he is strong and subtle and cunning he may choose to
sleep him for a century and then in time our dear one”
— ;
he —
took my hand “would come tokeep him company,
him to
and would be as those others that you, Jonathan, saw. You
have told us of their gloating lips you heard their ribald
;

laugh as they clutched the moving bag that the Count threw
to them. You shudder and well may it be. Forgive me that
;

I make you so much pain, but necessary.

it is My
friend, is
it not a dire need for the which I am giving, possibly my life?
If it were that anyone went into that place to stay, it ic I
who would have to go, to keep them company.”
356
Dracula

“Do as you will;” said Jonathan, with a sob that shook

”
him all over, “we are in the hands of God 1

Later. —“Oh, it did me good to see the way that these

brave men worked. How can women help loving men when
they are so earnest, and so true, and so brave And, too, it !

made me think of the wonderful power of money! What

can it not do when it is properly applied and what might it ;

do when basely used. I felt so thankful that Lord Godai-

ming is rich, and that both he and Mr. Morris, who also has
plenty of money, are willing to spend it so freely. For if
they did not, our little expedition could not start, either so
promptly or so well equipped, as it will within another hour.
It is not three hours since it was arranged what part each of
us was to do and now Lord Godaiming and Jonathan have
;

a lovely steam launch, with steam up ready to start at a mo-

ment’s notice. Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris have half a dozen
good horses, well appointed. We
have all the maps and ap-
pliances of various kinds that can be had. Professor Van
Helsing and I are to leave by the 1 1 140 train to-night for
Veresti, where we are to get a carriage to drive to the Borgo
Pass. We are bringing a good deal of ready money, as we
are to buy a carriage and horses. We shall drive ourselves,
for we have no one whom we can trust in the matter. The
Professor knows something of a great many languages, so
we shall get on all right. We
have all got arms, even for me
a large-bore revolver; Jonathan would not be happy unless
I was armed like the rest. Alas I cannot carry one arm that !

the rest do the scar on my forehead forbids that. Dear Dr.

;

Van Helsing comforts me by telling me that I am fully

armed as there may be wolves the weather is getting colder ;

every hour, and there are snow-flurries which come and go

as warnings.

Later . — It took all my

courage to say good-bye to my
darling. We may never meet again. Courage, Mina! the
Professor is looking at you keenly; his look is a warning.
—
There must be no tears now unless it may be that God wilt
let them fall in gladness.

Jonathan Harker’s Journal.

October 30. Night . — I am

writing this in the light from
the furnace door of the steam_launch Lord Godaiming is ;
 Dr. Seward’s Diary 357
firing up. He an experienced hand at the work, as he has
is
had for years a launch of his own on the Thames, and an-
other on the Norfolk Broads. Regarding our plans, we
finally decided that Mina’s guess was correct, and that if
any waterway was chosen for the Count’s escape back to his
Castle, the Sereth and then the Bistritza at its junction,
would be the one. We took it, that somewhere about the
47th degree, north latitude, would be the place chosen for
the crossing the country between the river and the Carpa-
thians. We have no fear in running at good speed up the
river at night; there is plenty of water, and the banks are
wide enough apart to make steaming, even in the dark, easy
enough. Lord Godaiming tells me to sleep for a while, as
it is enough for the present for one to be on watch. But I
—
cannot sleep how can I with the terrible danger hanging
over my darling, and her going out into that awful place. .

. . . My only comfort is that we are in the hands of God.

Only for that faith it would be easier to die than to live, and
so be quit of all the trouble. Mr. Morris and Dr. Seward
were off on their long ride before we started they are to ;

keep up the right bank, far enough off to get on higher lands
where they can see a good stretch of river and avoid the fol-
lowing of its curves. They have, for the first stages, two
—
men to ride and lead their spare horses four in all, so as
not to excite curiosity. When they dismiss the men, which
shall be shortly, they shall themselves look after the horses.
It may be necessary for us to join forces if so they can
;

mount our whole party. One of the saddles has a movable

horn, and can be easily adapted for Mina, if required.
It is a wild adventure we are on. Here, as we are rushing
along through the darkness, with the cold from the river
seeming to rise up and strike us; with all the mysterious
voices of the night around us, it all comes home. We seem
to be drifting into unknown places and unknown ways into ;

a whole world of dark and dreadful things. Godaiming is

shutting the furnace door. . . .

31 October . — Still The day has come,

hurrying along.
and Godaiming is sleeping. I am on watch. The morning
is bitterly cold the furnace heat is grateful, though we have
;

heavy fur coats. As yet we have passed only a few open

boats, butnone of them had on board any box or package
©f anything like the size of the one we seek. The men were
358 Dracula

scared every time we turned our electric lamp on them, and

fell on their knees and prayed.

1 November, evening . — No news

day; we have found
all
nothing of the kind we seek. We have now passed into the
Bistritza and if we are wrong in our surmise our chance is
;

gone. We have overhauled every boat, big and little. Early

this morning, one crew took us for a Government boat, and
treated us accordingly. We saw in this a way of smoothing
matters, so at Fundu, where the Bistritza runs into the Se-
reth, we got a Roumanian flag which we now fly conspicu-
ously. With every boat which we have overhauled since then
this trick has succeeded we have had every deference shown
;

to us, and not once any objection to whatever we chose to ask

or do. Some of the Slovaks tell us that a big boat passed
them, going at more than usual speed as she had a double
crew on board. This was before they came to Fundu, so they
could not tell us whether the boat turned into the Bistritza
or continued on up the Sereth. At Fundu we could not hear
of any such boat, so she must have passed there in the night.
I am feeling very sleepy the cold is perhaps beginning to tell
;

upon me, and nature must have rest some time. Godaiming
insists that he shall keep the first watch. God bless him for
all his goodness to poor dear Mina and me.

2 November, morning —
It is broad daylight.
. That good
fellow would not wake me. He says it would have been a sin
to, for I slept so peacefully and was forgetting my trouble.
It seems brutally selfish to me to have slept so long, and
let him watch all night but he was quite right.
; I am a new
man this morning and, as I sit here and watch him sleeping,
;

I can do all that is necessary both as to minding the engine,

steering, and keeping watch. I can feel that my strength
and energy are coming back to me. I wonder where Mina
is now, and Van Helsing. They should have got to Veresti
about noon on Wednesday. It would take them some time
to get the carriage and horses; so if they had started and
travelled hard, they would be about now at the Borgo Pass.
God guide and help them I am afraid to think what may
!

happen. If we could only go faster but we cannot the en-

!
;

gines are throbbing and doing their utmost. I wonder how

Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris are getting on. There seem
to be endless streams running down from the mountains into
 Dr. Seward’s Diary 359
this river, but as —
none of them are very large at present,
at all events, though they are terrible doubtless in winter and
—
when the snow melts the horsemen may not have met much
obstruction. I hope that before we get to Strasba we may see
them for if by that time we have not overtaken the Count,
;

it may be necessary to take counsel together what to do next.

Dr. Seward's Diary.

2 November. —Three days on the road. No news, and no

time to write it there had been, for every moment is pre-
if
cious. We
have had only the rest needful for the horses but ;

*ve are both bearing it wonderfully. Those adventurous days

of ours are turning up useful. We
must push on we shall ;

never feel happy till we get the launch in sight again.

3 —
November. We heard at Fundu that the launch had
gone up the Bistritza. I wish it wasn’t so cold. There are
signs of snow coming; and if it falls heavy it will stop us.
In such case we must get a sledge and go on, Russian fash-
ion.

—
4 November. To-day we heard of the launch having
been detained by an accident when trying to force a way up
the rapid. The Slovak boats get up all right, by aid of a
rope, and steering with knowledge. Some went up only a
few hours before. Godaiming is an amateur fitter himself,
and evidently it was he who put the launch in trim again.
Finally, they got up the Rapids all right, with local help, and
are off on the chase afresh. I fear that the boat is not any
better for the accident ; the peasantry tell us that after she
got upon the smooth water again, she kept stopping every
now and again so long as she was in sight. We
must push
on harder than ever ; our help may be wanted soon.

Mina Harkens Journal.

31 October. — Arrived at Veresti at noon. The Professor

tells me that this morning at dawn he could
hardly hypnotise
me at all, and that all I could say was “dark and quiet.’’ He
:

is off now buying a carriage and

horses. He says that he
will later on try to buy additional horses, so that we may
be
able to change them on the way. We
have something more
than 70 miles before us. The country is lovely, and most
 —
360 Dracula

interesting; if only we were under different conditions, how

delightful it would be to see it all. If Jonathan and I were
driving through it alone what a pleasure it would be. To
stop and see people, and learn something of their life, and to
fill our minds and memories with all the colour and pictur-

esqueness of the whole wild, beautiful country and the quaint

people! But, alas
!

Later. —Dr. Van Helsing has returned. He has got the

carriage and horses ; we are to have some dinner, and to start
in an hour. The landlady is putting us up a huge basket of
provisions ; it seems enough for a company of soldiers. The
Professor encourages her, and whispers to me that it may be
a week before we can get any good food again. He has been
shopping too, and has sent home such a wonderful lot of fur
coats and wraps, and all sorts of warm things. There will
not be any chance of our being cold.

We shall soon be off. I am afraid to think what may hap-

pen to us. We are truly in the hands of God. He alone
knows what may be, and I pray Him, with all the strength
of my sad and humble soul, that He will watch over my be-
loved husband; that whatever may happen, Jonathan may
know that I loved him and honoured him more than I can
say, and that my latest and truest thought will be always for
him.
 ;

CHAPTER XXVII
MINA HARKER’s JOURNAL
i —
November. All day long we have travelled, and at a
good speed. The horses seem to know that they are being
kindly treated, for they go willingly their full stage at best
speed. We have now had so many changes and find the
same thing so constantly that we are encouraged to think
that the journey will be an easy one. Dr. Van Helsing is
laconic ; he tells the farmers that he is hurrying to Bistritz,
and pays them well to make the exchange of horses. We
get hot soup, or coffee, or tea and off we go. It is a lovely
;

country; full of beauties of all imaginable kinds, and the

people are brave, and strong, and simple, and seem full of
nice qualities. They are very, very superstitious. In the
first house where we stopped, when the woman who served
us saw the scar on my forehead, she crossed herself and put
out two fingers towards me, to keep off the evil eye. I be-
lieve they went to the trouble of putting an extra amount of
garlic into our food; and I can’t abide garlic. Ever since
then I have taken care not to take off my hat or veil, and so
have escaped their suspicions. We
are travelling fast, and as
we have no driver with us to carry tales, we go ahead of
scandal but I daresay that fear of the evil eye will follow
;

hard behind us all the way. The Professor seems tireless

all day he would not take any rest, though he made me sleep
for a long spell. At sunset time he hypnotised me, and he
says that I answered as usual “darkness, lapping water and
creaking wood ;” so our enemy is still on the river. I am
afraid to think of Jonathan, but somehow I have now no
fear for him, or for myself. I write this whilst we wait in a
farmhouse for the horses to be got ready. Dr. Van Helsing
is sleeping. Poor dear, he looks very tired and old and grey,
but his mouth is set as firmly as a conqueror’s even in his
;

sleep he is instinct with resolution. When we have well

started I must make him rest whilst I drive. I shall tell him
that we have days before us, and he must not break down
1
 ;

362 Dracula

when most of all his strength will be needed .... All

is ready we are off shortly.
;

2 November, morning. — I was successful, and we took

turns driving all night now the day is on us, bright though
cold.
;

—
There is a strange heaviness in the air I say heavi-
ness for want of a better word I mean that it oppresses us
;

both. It is very cold, and only our warm furs keep us com-
fortable. At dawn Van Helsing hypnotised me; he says I
answered “darkness, creaking wood and roaring water,” so
the river is changing as they ascend. I do hope that my
—
darling will not run any chance of danger more than need
be ; but we are in God’s hands.

—
2 November, night. All day long driving. The country
gets wilder as we go, and the great spurs of the Carpathians,
which at Veresti seemed so far from us and so low on the
horizon, now seem to gather round us and tower in front.
We both seem in good spirits I think we make an effort each
;

to cheer the other; in the doing so we cheer ourselves. Dr.

Van Helsing says that by morning we shall reach the Borgo
Pass. The houses are very few here now, and the Professor
says that the last horses we got will have to go on with us,
as we may not be able to change. He got two in addition
to the two we changed, so that now we have a rude four-in-
hand. The dear horses are patient and good, and they give
us no trouble. We are not worried with other travellers, and
so even I can drive. We shall get to the Pass in daylight
we do not want to arrive before. So we take it easy, and
have each a long rest in turn. Oh, what will to-morrow
bring to us? We go to seek the place where my poor darling
suffered so much. God grant that we may be guided aright,
and that He will deign to watch over my husband and those
dear to us both, and who are in such deadly peril. As for me,
I am not worthy in His sight. Alas! I am unclean to His
eyes, and shall be until He may deign to let me stand forth
in His sight as one of those who have not incurred His
wrath.
Memorandum by Abraham Van Helsing.

—
4 November. This to my old and true friend John Sew-
ard, M.D., of Purfleet, London, in case I may not see him.
It may' explain. It is morning, and I write by a fire which
 — ! ;

Mina Harker’s Journal 363

all —
the night I have kept alive Madam Mina aiding me. It
is cold, cold; so cold that the grey heavy sky is full of snow,
which when it falls will settle for all winter as the ground is
hardening to receive it. seems to have affected Madam
It
Mina she has been so heavy of head all day that she was
;

not like herself. She sleeps, and sleeps, and sleeps She, !

who is usual so alert, have done literally nothing all the day
she even have lost her appetite. She make no entry into her
littlediary, she who write so faithful at every pause. Some-
thing 'whisper to me that all is not well. However, to-night
she is more vif. Her long sleep all day have refresh and re-
store her, for now she is all sweet and bright as ever. At sun-
set I try to hypnotise her, but alas with no effect the power
!
;

has grown less and less with each day, and to-night it fail
me altogether. Well, God’s will be done whatever it may —
be, and whithersoever it may lead
Nowto the historical, for as Madam Mina write not in her
stenography, I must, in my cumbrous old fashion, that so
each day of us may not go unrecorded.
Wegot to the Borgo Pass just after sunrise yesterday
morning. When I saw the signs of the dawn I got ready
for the hypnotism. We stopped our carriage, and got down
so that there might be no disturbance. I made a couch with
furs, and Madam Mina, lying down, yield herself as usual,
but more slow and more short time than ever, to the hypnotic
sleep. As before, came the answer “darkness and the swirl- :

ing of water.” Then she woke, bright and radiant, and we

go on our way and soon reach the Pass. At this time and
place she become all on fire with zeal; some new guiding
power be in her manifested, for she point to a road and
say:
“This is the way.”
“How know you it ?” I ask.
“Of course I know it,” she answer, and with a pause,
add : “Have not my Jonathan travelled it and wrote of his
travel ?”
At first I think somewhat strange, but soon I see that there
be only one such by-road. It is used but little, and very dif-
ferent from the coach road from the Bukovina to Bistritz,
which more wide and hard, and more of use.
is
So we came down this road when we meet other ways—
;

not always were we sure that they were roads at all, for they
be neglect and light snow have fallen— the horses know and
 ;

3 64 Dracula

they only. them, and they go on so patient

I give rein to
By-and-by we find all the things which Jonathan have note in
that wonderful diary of him. Then we go on for long, long
hours and hours. At the first, 1 tell Madam Mina to sleep
she try, and she succeed. She sleep all the time till at the
;

last, I feel myself to suspicious grow, and attempt to wake

her. But she sleep on, and I may not wake her though I try.
I do not wish to try too hard lest I harm her; for I know
that she have suffer much, and sleep at times be all in — —
all
to her. I thinkdrowse myself, for all of sudden I feel guilt,
I
as though I have done something I find myself bolt up, with
;

the reins in my hand, and the good horses go along jog, jog,
just as ever. I look down and find Madam Mina still sleep.
It is now not far off sunset time, and over the snow the light
of the sun flow in big yellow flood, so that we throw great
long shadow on where the mountain rise so steep. For we
are going up, and up and all is oh so wild and rocky, as
; 1

though it were the end of the world.

Then I arouse Madam Mina. This time she wake with
not much trouble, and then I try to put her to hypnotic sleep.
But she sleep not, being as though I were not. Still I try
and try, till all at once I find her and myself in dark so I
;

look round, and find that the sun have gone down. Madam
Mina laugh, and I turn and look at her. She is now quite
awake, and look so well as I never saw her since that night
at Carfax when we first enter the Count’s house. I am
amaze, and not at ease then but she is so bright and tender
;

and thoughtful for me that I forget all fear. I light a fire,

for we have brought supply of wood with us, and she pre-
pare food while I undo the horses and set them, tethered in
shelter, to feed. Then when I return to the fire she have my
supper ready. I go to help her; but she smile, and tell me
that she have eat already —
that she was so hungry that she
would not wait. I like it not, and I have grave doubts but ;

I fear to affright her, and so I am silent of it. She help me

and I eat alone and then we wrap in fur and lie beside the
;

fire, and I tell her to sleep while I watch. But presently I

forget all of watching and when I sudden remember that I
;

watch, I find her lying quiet, but awake, and looking at me

with so bright eyes. Once, twice more the same occur, and
I get much sleep till before morning. When I wake I try to
hypnotise her but alas though she shut her eyes obedient,
;
!

she may not sleep. The sun rise up, and up, and up; and
 —;

Mina Harker’s Journal 365

then sleep come to her too late, but so heavy that she will not
wake. I have to lift her up, and place her sleeping in the
carriage when I have harnessed the horses and made all
ready. Madam still sleep, and sleep and she look in her
;

sleep more healthy and more redder than before. And I like
it not. And I am afraid, afraid, afraid !
— I am afraid of all
—
things even to think but I must go on my
; way. The stake
we play for is life and death, or more than these, and we
must not flinch.

5 November, morning . —
Let me be accurate in everything,
, for though you and I have seen some strange things together,
you may at the first think that I, Van Helsing, am mad
I that the many horrors and the so long strain on nerves has
1. at the last turn my
brain.
All yesterday we travel, ever getting closer to the moun-
tains, and moving into a more and more wild and desert land.
There are great, frowning precipices and much falling water,
and Nature seem to have held sometime her carnival. Madam
Mina still sleep and sleep; and though I did have hunger
and appeased it, I could not waken her even for food. I —
began to fear that the fatal spell of the place was upon her,
tainted as she is with that Vampire baptism. “Well,” said I
to myself, “if it be that she sleep all the day, it shall also be
that I do not sleep at night.” As we travel on the rough
! road, for a road of an ancient and imperfect kind there was,
I held down my head and slept. Again I waked with a sense
of guilt and of time passed, and found Madam Mina still
i
sleeping, and the sun low down. But all was indeed changed
’

the frowning mountains seemed further away, and we were

1
near the top of a steep-rising hill, on summit of which was
such a castle as Jonathan tell of in his diary. At once I ex-
ulted and feared for now, for good or ill, the end was near.
;

I woke Madam Mina, and again tried to hypnotise her but ;

1 alas unavailing till too late. Then, ere the great dark came
!

—
upon us for even after down-sun the heavens reflected the
gone sun on the snow, and all was for a time in a great twi-
light— I took out the horses and fed them in what shelter I
could. Then I make a fire and near it I make Madam Mina,
;

now awake and more charming than ever, sit comfortable

amid her rugs. I got ready food but she would not eat,
:

simply saying that she had not hunger. I did not press her,
knowing her unavailingness. But I myself eat, for I must
 ! —
366 Dracula

needs now be strong for all. Then, with the fear on me of

what might be, I drew a ring so big for her comfort, round
where Madam Mina sat and over the ring I passed some^of
;

the wafer, and I broke it fine so that all was well guarded.
—
She sat still all the time so still as one dead and she grew
;

whiter and ever whiter till the snow was not more pale and;

no word she said. But when I drew near, she clung to me,
and I could know that the poor soul shook her from head to
feet with a tremor that was pain to feel. I said to her pres-
ently, when she had grown more quiet :

“Will you not come over to the fire ?” for I wished to make
a test of what she could. She rose obedient, but when she
have made a step she stopped, and stood as one stricken.
“Why not go on?” I asked. She shook her head, and,
coming back, sat down in her place. Then, looking at me
with open eyes, as of one waked from sleep, she said sim-
pty:—
“I cannot!” and remained silent. I rejoiced, for I knew
that what she could not, none of those that we dreaded could.
Though there might be danger to her body, yet her soul was
safe
Presently the horses began to scream, and tore at their
tethers till I came to them and quieted them. When they
did feel my hands on them, they whinnied low as in joy, and
licked at my hands and were quiet for a time. Many times
through the night did I come to them, till it arrive to the
cold hour when all nature is at lowest; and every time my
coming was with quiet of them. In the cold hour the fire
began to die, and I was about stepping forth to replenish it,
for now the snow came in flying sweeps and with it a chill
mist. Even in the dark there was a light of some kind, as
there ever is over snow ; and it seemed as though the snow-
flurries and the wreaths of mist took shape as of women with
trailing garments. All was in dead, grim silence only that
the horses whinnied and cowered, as if in terror of the worst.
I began to fear — horrible fears; but then came to me the
sense of safety in that ring wherein I stood. I began, too, to
think that my imaginings were of the night, and the gloom,
and the unrest that I have gone through, and all the terrible
anxiety. It was as though my memories of all Jonathan’s
horrid experience were befooling me for the snow flakes
;

and the mist began to wheel and circle round, till I could get
as though a shadowy glimpse of those women that would
 — — — —
Mina Harker’s Journal 367
have kissed him. And then the horses cowered lower and
lower, and moaned in terror as men do in pain. Even the
madness of fright was not to them, so that they could break
away. I feared for my dear Madam Mina when these weird
figures drew near and circled round. I looked at her, but
she sat calm, and smiled at me; when I would have stepped
to the fire to replenish it, she caught me and held me back,
and whispered, like a voice that one hears in a dream, so low
it was:

“No! No! Do
not go without. Here you are safe !” I
turned to her, and looking in her eyes, said :

“But you ? It is for you that I fear !” whereat she laughed

— a laugh, low and unreal, and said:
“Fear for me! Why fear for me? None safer in all the
world from them than I am,” and as I wondered at the mean-
ing of her words, a puff of wind made the flame leap up, and
I see the red scar on her forehead. Then, alas I knew. Did !

I not, I would soon have learned, for the wheeling figures of

mist and snow came closer, but keeping ever without the
Holy circle. Then they began to materialise, till if God —
have not take away my reason, for I saw it through my eyes
— there were before me in actual flesh the same three women
that Jonathan saw in the room, when they would have kissed
his throat. I knew the swaying round forms, the bright hard
eyes, the white teeth, the ruddy colour, the voluptuous lips.
They smiled ever at poor dear Madam Mina and as their ;

laugh came through the silence of the night, they twined

their arms and pointed to her, and said in those so sweet
tingling tones that Jonathan said were of the intolerable
sweetness of the water-glasses :

“Come, sister. Come to us. Come ! Come !”

In fear
I turned to my poor Madam Mina, and my heart with glad-
ness leapt like flame for oh the terror in her sweet eyes, the
;
!

repulsion, the horror, told a story to my heart that was all of

hope. God be thanked she was not, yet, of them. I seized
some of the firewood which was by me, and holding out some
of the Wafer, advanced on them towards the fire. They
drew back before me, and laughed their low horrid laugh. I
fed the fire, and feared them not for I knew that we were
;

safe within our protections. They could not approach me,

whilst so armed, nor Madam Mina whilst she remained
within the ring-, which she could not leave no more than they
could enter. The horses had ceased to moan, and lay still on
 .

368 Dracula

the ground; the snow fell on them softly, and they grew
whiter. I knew that there was for the poor beasts no more
of terror.
And so we remained till the red of the dawn began to fall
through the snow-gloom. I was desolate and afraid, and
full of woe and terror ; but when that beautiful sun began to
climb the horizon life was to me again. At the first coming
of the dawn the horrid figures melted in the whirling mist
and snow; the wreaths of transparent gloom moved away
towards the castle, and were lost.
Instinctively, with the dawn coming, I turned to Madam
Mina, intending to hypnotise her but she lay in a deep and
;

sudden from which I could not wake her. I tried to

sleep,
hypnotise through her sleep, but she made no response, none
at all and the day broke.
;
I fear yet to stir. I have made
my fire and have seen the horses, they are all dead. To-day
I have much to do here, and I keep waiting till the sun is up
high for there may be places where I must go, where that
;

sunlight, though snow and mist obscure it, will be to me a

safety.
I will with breakfast, and then I will to my
strengthen me
terrible work. Madam Mina still sleeps ; and, God be
thanked she is calm in her sleep. . . .
!

Jonathan Harkens Journal

4 November, evening . —
The accident to the launch has
been a terrible thing for us. Only for it we should have
overtaken the boat long ago; and by now my dear Mina
would have been free. I fear to think of her, off on the
wolds near that horrid place. We have got horses, and we
follow on the track. I note this whilst Godaiming is getting
ready. We have our arms. The Szgany must look out if
they mean fight. Oh, if only Morris and Seward were with
us. We must only hope If I write no more Good-bye
!

Mina God bless and keep you.

!

Dr. Seward's Diary.

5 November . —With the dawn we saw the body of Szgany

before us dashing away from the river with their leiter-
wagon. They surrounded it in a cluster, and hurried along
as though beset. The snow is falling lightly and there is a
 Mina Marker’s Journal 369
strange excitement in the air. It may be our own feelings,
but the depression is strange. Far off I hear the howling
of wolves the snow brings them down from the mountains,
;

and there are dangers to all of us, and from all sides. The
horses are nearly ready, and we are soon off. ride to We
death of some one. God alone knows who, or where, or
what, or when, or how it may be. . . .

Dr. Van Helsing’s Memorandum.

5 November afternoon
,
. — I am at least sane. Thank God
for that mercy at all events, though the proving it has been
dreadful. When I left Madam Mina sleeping within the
Holy circle, I took my way to the castle. The blacksmith
hammer which I took in the carriage from Veresti was use-
ful ; though the doors were all open I broke them off the
rusty hinges, lest some ill-intent or ill-chance should close
them, so that being entered I might not get out. Jonathan’s
bitter experience served me here. By memory of his diary
I found my way to the old chapel, for I knew that here my
work lay. The air was oppressive it seemed as if there was
;

some sulphurous fume, which at times made me dizzy. Either

there was a roaring in my ears or I heard afar off the howl
of wolves. Then I bethought me of my dear Madam Mina,
and I was in terrible plight. The dilemma had me between
his horns. Her, I had not dare to take into this place, but
left safe from the Vampire in that Holy circle and yet even ;

there would be the wolf! I resolve me that my work lay

here,and that as to the wolves we must submit, if it were
God’s will. At any rate it was only death and freedom be-
yond. So did I choose for her. Had it but been for myself
the choice had been easy, the maw of the wolf were better
to rest in than the grave of the Vampire! So I make my
choice to go on with my work.
I knew that there were at least three graves to find-
graves that are inhabit; so I search, and search, and I find
one of them. She lay in her Vampire sleep, so full of life
and voluptuous beauty that I shudder as though I have come
to do murder. Ah, I doubt not that in old time, when such
things were, many a man who set forth to do such a task
as mine, found at the last his heart fail him, and then his
nerve. So he delay, and delay, and delay, till the mere
beauty and the fascination of the wanton Un-Dead have hyp-
(24)
37 ° Dracula

notise him and he remain on, and on, till sunset come, and
;

the Vampire sleep be over. Then the beautiful eyes of the

fair woman open and look love, and the voluptuous mouth
—
present to a kiss and man is weak. And there remain one
more victim in the Vampire fold one more to swell the grim
;

and grisly ranks of the Un-dead ! . . . .

There is some fascination, surely, when I am moved by the

mere presence of such an one, even lying as she lay in a tomb
fretted with age and heavy with the dust of centuries, though
there be that horrid odour such as the lairs of the Count
—
have had. Yes, I was moved I, Van Helsing, with all my
—
purpose and with my motive for hate I was moved to a
yearning for delay which seemed to paralyse my faculties
and to clog my very soul. It may have been that the need
of natural sleep, and the strange oppression of the air were
beginning to overcome me. Certain it was that I was lapsing
into sleep, the open-eyed sleep of one who yields to a sweet
fascination, when there came through the snow-stilled air a
long, low wail, so full of woe and pity that it woke me like
the sound of a clarion. For it was the voice of my dear
Madam Mina that I heard.
Then I braced myself again to my horrid task, and found
by wrenching away tomb-tops one other of the sisters, the
other dark one. I dared not pause to look on her as I had on
her sister, lest once more I should begin to be enthrall but
;

I go on searching until, presently, I find in a high great tomb

as if made to one much beloved that other fair sister which,
like Jonathan I had seen to gather herself out of the atoms
of the mist. She was so fair to look on, so radiantly beauti-
ful, so exquisitely voluptuous, that the very instinct of man
in me, which calls some of my sex to love and to protect one
of hers, made my head whirl with new emotion. But God be
thanked, that soul-wail of my dear Madam Mina had not
died out of my ears and, before the spell could be wrought
;

further upon me, I had nerved myself to my wild work. By

this time I had searched all the tombs in the chapel, so far as
I could tell and as there had been only three of these Un-
;

Dead phantoms around us in the night, I took it that there

were no more of active Un-Dead existent. There was one
great tomb more lordly than all the rest; huge it was, and
nobly proportioned. On it was but one word

DRACULA.
 ;

Mina Harker’s Journal 37 1

This then was the Un-Dead home of the King-Vampire, to
whom so many more were due. Its emptiness spoke eloquent
to make certain what I knew. Before I began to restore these
women to their dead selves through my awful work, I laid in
Dracula’s tomb some of the Wafer, and so banished him
from Un-Dead, for ever.
it,

Then began my terrible task, and, I dreaded it. Had it

been but one, it had been easy, comparative. But three To !

begin twice more after I had been through a deed of horror

for if it was terrible with the sweet Miss Lucy, what would
it not be with these strange ones who had survived through

centuries, and who had been strengthened by the passing of

the years; who would, if they could, have fought for their
foul lives. . . .

Oh, myfriend John, but it was butcher work; had I not

been nerved by thoughts of other dead, and of the living over
whom hung such a pall of fear, I could not have gone on. I
tremble and tremble even yet, though till all was over, God
be thanked, my nerve did stand. Had I not seen the repose
in the first place, and the gladness that stole over it just ere
the final dissolution came, as realisation that the soul had
been won, I could not have gone further with my butchery.
I could not have endured the horrid screeching as the stake
drove home; the plunging of writhing form, and lips of
bloody foam. I should have fled in terror and left my work
undone. But it is over And the poor souls, I can pity them
!

now and weep, as I think of them placid each in her full

sleep of death, for a short moment ere fading. For, friend
John, hardly had my knife severed the head of each, before
the whole body began to melt away and crumble into its na-
tive dust, as though the death that should have come centu-
ries agone had at last assert himself and say at once and loud
“I am here!”
Before I left the castle I so fixed its entrances that never
more can the Count enter there Un-dead.
When I stepped into the circle where Madam Mina slept,
she woke from her sleep, and, seeing me, cried out in pain
that I had endured too much.
“Come !” she said, “come away from this awful place Let !

us go to meet husband who is, I know, coming towards

my
us.” She was looking thin and pale and weak but her eyes ;

were pure and glowed with fervour. I was glad to see her
37 2 Dracula

paleness and her illness, for my mind was full of the fresh
horror of that ruddy vampire sleep.
And so with trust and hope, and yet full of fear, we go
eastward to meet our friends — —
and him whom Madam
Mina tell me that she know are coming to meet us.
Mina Harker’s Journal.
6 November . —
It was late in the afternoon when the Pro-
fessor and I took our way towards the east whence I knew
Jonathan was coming. We did not go fast, though the way
was steeply downhill, for we had to take heavy rugs and
wraps with us; we dared not face the possibility of being
left without warmth in the cold and the snow. We had to
take some of our provisions too, for we were in a perfect
desolation, and, so far as we could see through the snow-
fall, there was not even the sign of habitation. When we
had gone about a mile, I was tired with the heavy walking
and sat down to rest. Then we looked back and saw where
the clear line of Dracula’s castle cut the sky; for we were
so deep under the hill whereon it was set that the angle of
perspective pf the Carpathian mountains was far below it.
We saw it in all its grandeur, perched a thousand feet on the
summit of a sheer precipice, and with seemingly a great gap
between it and the steep of the adjacent mountain on any
side. There was something wild and uncanny about the
place. We could hear the distant howling of wolves. They
were far off, but the sound, even though coming muffled
through the deadening snowfall, was full of terror. I knew
from the way Dr. Van Helsing was searching about that he
was trying to seek some strategic point, where we would be
less exposed in case of attack. The rough roadway still led
downwards we could trace it through the drifted snow.
;

In a little while the Professor signalled to me, so I got up

and joined him. He had found a wonderful spot, a sort of
natural hollow in a rock, with an entrance like a doorway be-
tween two boulders. He took me by the hand and drew me
in “See !” he said, “here you will be in shelter and if the
:
;

wolves do come I can meet them one by one.” He brought

in our furs, and made a snug nest for me, and got out some
provisions and forced them upon me. But I could not eat;
to even try to do so was repulsive to me, and, much as I
would have liked to please him, I could not bring myself to
the attempt. He looked very sad, but did not reproach me.
 — — — — ;

Mina Harker’s Journal 3 73

Taking his field-glasses from the case, he stood on the top of
the rock, and began to search the horizon. Suddenly he
called out :

“Look! Madam
Mina, look! look!” I sprang up and
stood beside him on the rock he handed ;
me his glasses and
pointed. The snow was now more heavily, and
falling
swirled about fiercely, for a high wind was beginning to
blow. However there were times when there were pauses
between the snow flurries and I could see a long way round.
From the height where we were it was possible to see a
great distance and far off, beyond the white waste of snow,
;

1 could see the river lying like a black ribbon in kinks and
curls as it wound Straight in front of us and not far
its way.
off— in fact so near that I wondered we had not noticed be-
fore— came a group of mounted men hurrying along. In
the midst of them was a cart, a long leiter-wagon which
swept from side to side, like a dog’s tail wagging, with each
stern inequality of the road. Outlined against the snow as
they were, I could see from the men’s clothes that they were
peasants or gypsies of some kind.
On the cart was a great square chest. heart leaped as My
I saw it, for I felt that the end was coming. The evening
was now drawing close, and well I knew that at sunset the
Thing, which was till then imprisoned there, would take new
freedom and could in any of many forms elude all pursuit.
In fear I turned to the Professor to my consternation, how-
;

ever, he was not there. An instant later. I saw him below

me. Round the rock he had drawn a circle, such as we had
found shelter in last night. When he had completed it he
stood beside me
again, saying :

“At least you shall be safe here from hint!” He took the
glasses from me, and at the next lull of the snow swept the
whole space below us. “See,” he said, “they come quickly
they are flogging the horses, and galloping as hard as they
can.” He paused and went on in a hollow voice
:

“They are racing for the sunset. may be too late. We

God’s will be done !” Down came another blinding rush of
driving snow, and the whole landscape was blotted out. It
soon passed, however, and once more his glasses were fixed
on the plain. Then came a sudden cry :

“Look! Look! Look! See, two horsemen follow fast,

coming up “from the south. It must be Quincey and John,
Take the glass. Look, beforeJhe snow blots it all out ! I
374 Dracula

took it The two men might be Dr. Seward and

and looked.
Mr. Morris. I knew at all events that neither of them was
Jonathan. At the same time I knew that Jonathan was not
far off looking around I saw on the north side of the com-
;

ing party two otner men, riding at break-neck speed. One of

them I knew was Jonathan, and the other I took, of course,
to be Lord Godaiming. They, too, were pursuing the party
with the cart. When I told the Professor he shouted in glee
like a schoolboy, and, after looking intently till a snow fall
made sight impossible, he laid his Winchester rifle ready for
use against the boulder at the opening of our shelter. “They
are all converging,” he said. “When the time comes we
shall have the gypsies on all sides.” I got out my revolver
ready to hand, for whilst we were speaking the howling of
wolves came louder and closer. When the snow storm abated
a moment we looked again. It was strange to see the snow
falling in such heavy flakes close to us, and beyond, the sun
shining more and more brightly as it sank down towards the
far mountain tops. Sweeping the glass all around us I could
see here and there dots moving singly and in twos and threes
—
and larger numbers the wolves were gathering for their
prey.
Every instant seemed an age whilst we waited. The wind
came now in fierce bursts, and the snow was driven with fury
as it swept upon us in circling eddies. At times we could
not see an arm’s length before us ;
but at others as the hol-
low-sounding wind swept by us, it seemed to clear the air-
space around us so that we could see afar off. We had of
late been so accustomed to watch for sunrise and sunset, that
we knew with fair accuracy when it would be and we knew
;

that before long the sun would set.

It was hard to believe that by our watches it was less than
an hour that we waited in that rocky shelter before the va-
rious bodies began to converge close upon us. The wind
came now with fiercer and more bitter sweeps, and more
steadily from the north. It seemingly had driven the snow
clouds from us, for, with only occasional bursts, the snow
fell. We could distinguish clearly the individuals of each
party, the pursued and the pursuers. Strangely enough
those pursued did not seem to realise, or at least to care, that
they were pursued; they seemed, however, to hasten with
redoubled speed as the sun dropped lower and lower on the
mountain tops.
 Mina Harker’s Journal 37$
Closer and closer they drew. The Professor and I crouched
down behind our rock, and held our weapons ready I could
;

see that he was determined that they should not pass. One
and all were quite unaware of our presence.
All at once two voices shouted out to “Halt!” One was
:

my Jonathan’s, raised in a high key of passion; the other

Mr. Morris’ strong resolute tone of quiet command. The
gypsies may not have known the language, but there was no
mistaking the tone, in whatever tongue the words were
spoken. Instinctively they reined in, and at the instant Lord
.

Godaiming and Jonathan dashed up at one side and Dr.

Seward and Mr. Morris on the other. The leader of the gyp-
%

sies, a splendid looking fellow who sat his horse like a cen-
taur, waved them back, and in a fierce voice gave to his com-
panions some word to proceed. They lashed the horses
which sprang forward; but the four men raised their Win-
chester rifles, and in an unmistakable way commanded them
to stop. At the same moment Dr. Van Helsing and I rose
behind the rock and pointed our weapons at them. Seeing
that they were surrounded the men tightened their reins and
drew up. The leader turned to them and gave a word at
which every man of the gypsy party drew what weapon he
carried, knife or pistol, and held himself in readiness to at-
tack. Issue was joined in an instant.
The leader, with a quick movement of his rein, threw his
—
horse out in front, and pointing first to the sun now close
—
down on the hill tops and then to the castle, said something
which I did not understand. For answer, all four men of our
party threw themselves from their horses and dashed to-
wards the cart. I should have felt terrible fear at seeing
Jonathan in such danger, but that the ardour of battle must
have been upon me as well as the rest of them I felt no fear,
;

but only a wild, surging desire to do something. Seeing the

quick movement of our parties, the leader of the gypsies
gave a command his men instantly formed round the cart
;

in a sort of undisciplined endeavour, each one shouldering

and pushing the other in his eagerness to carry out the or-
der.
In the midst of this I *could see that Jonathan on one side
of the ring of men, and Quincey on the other, were forcing a
way to the cart it was evident that they were bent on finish-
;

ing their task before the sun should set. Nothing seemed
to stop or even to hinder them. Neither the levelled weapons
 ;

376
Dracula

or the flashing knives of the gypsies in front, or the howling

of the wolves behind, appeared to even attract their atten-
tion. Jonathan’s impetuosity, and the manifest singleness
of his purpose, seemed to overawe those in front of him in-
;

stinctively they cowered aside and let him pass. In an in-

stant he had jumped upon the cart, and, with a strength
which seemed incredible, raised the great box, and flung it
over the wheel to the ground. In the meantime, Mr. Morris
had had to use force to pass through his side of the ring of
Szgany. All the time I had been breathlessly watching Jona<
than I had, with the tail of my eye, seen him pressing desper-
ately forward, and had seen the knives of the gypsies flash
as he won a way through them, and they cut at him. He had
parried with his great bowie knife, and at first I thought that
he too had come through in safety but as he sprang beside
;

Jonathan, who had by now jumped from the cart, I could

see that with his left hand he was clutching at his side, and
that the blood was spurting through his fingers. He did not
delay notwithstanding this, for as Jonathan with desperate
energy, attacked one end of the chest, attempting to prize off
the lid with his great Kukri knife, he attacked the other fran-
tically with his bowie. Under the efforts of both men the lid
began to yield the nails drew with a quick screeching sound,
;

and the top of the box was thrown back.

By this time the gypsies, seeing themselves covered by the
Winchesters, and at the mercy of Lord Godaiming and Dr.
Seward, had given in and made no further resistance. The
sun was almost down on the mountain tops, and the shadows
of the whole group fell long upon the snow. I saw the Count
lying within the box upon the earth, some of which the rude
falling from the cart had scattered over him. He was deathlv
pale, just like a waxen image, and the red eyes glared with
the horrible vindictive look which I knew too well.
As I looked, the eyes saw the sinking sun, and the look of
hate in them turned to triumph.
But, on the instant, came the sweep and flash of Jonathan's
great knife. I shrieked as I saw it shear through the throat
whilst at the same moment Mr. Morris’s bowie knife plunged
into the heart.
It was like a miracle but before our very eyes, and almost
;

in the drawing of a breath, the whole body crumbled into

dust and passed from our sight.
I shall be glad as long as I live that even in that moment of
 — —!

Mina Harker’s Journal 377

Anal dissolution, there was in the face a look of peace, such as
I never could have imagined might have rested there.

The Castle of Dracula now stood out against the red sky,
and every stone of its broken battlements was articulated
against the light of the setting sun.
The gypsies, taking us as in some way the cause of the ex-
traordinary disappearance of the dead man, turned, without
a word, and rode away as if for their lives. Those who were
unmounted jumped upon the leiter- wagon and shouted to
the horsemen not to desert them. The wolves, which had
withdrawn to a safe distance, followed in their wake, leaving
us alone.
Mr. Morris, who had sunk to the ground, leaned on his
elbow, holding his hand pressed to his side; the blood still
gushed through his fingers. I flew to him, for the Holy
circle did not now keep me back; so did the two doctors.
Jonathan knelt behind him and the wounded man laid back
his head on his shoulder. With a sigh he took, with a feeble
effort, my hand in that of his own which was unstained. He
must have seen the anguish of my heart in my face, for he
6miled at me and said :

“I am only too happy to have been of any service! Oh,

God !” he cried suddenly, struggling up to a sitting posture
and pointing to me, “It was worth for this to die! Look!
look!”
The sun was now right down upon the mountain top, and
the red gleams fell upon my face, so that it was bathed in
rosy light. With one impulse the men sank on their knees
and a deep and earnest “Amen” broke from all as their eyes
followed the pointing of his finger. The dying man spoke :

“Now God be thanked that all has not been in vain See !

the snow is not more stainless than her forehead ! The curse
!”
has passed away
And, to our bitter grief, with a smile and in silence, he
died, a gallant gentleman.
 —
378 Dracula

NOTE.
Seven years ago we all went through the flames
and the
;

happiness of some of us since then is, we think, well worth

the pain we endured. It is an added joy to Mina and to me
that our boy’s birthday is the same day as that on which
Quincey Morris died. His mother holds, I know, the secret
belief that some of our brave friend’s spirit has passed into
him. His bundle of names links all our little band of men
together; but we call him Quincey.
In the summer of this year we made a journey to Transyl-
vania, and went over the old ground which was, and is, to us
so full of vivid and terrible memories. It was almost impos-
sible to believe that the things which we had seen with our
own eyes and heard with our own ears were living truths.
Every trace of all that had been was blotted out. The castle
stood as before, reared high above a waste of desolation.
When we got home we were talking of the old time which —
we could all look back on without despair, for Godaiming
and Seward are both happily married. I took the papers
from the safe where they had been ever since our return so
long ago. We were struck with the fact, that in all the mass
of material of which the record is composed, there is hardlv
one authentic document; nothing but a mass of type-writing,
except the later note-books of Mina and Seward and my-
self, and Van Helsing’s memorandum. We
could hardly
ask any one, even did we wish to, to accept these as proofs
of so wild a story. Van Heising summed it all up as he said,
with our boy on his knee :

“We want no proofs we ask none to believe us This boy

;
!

will some day know what a brave and gallant woman his
mother is. Already he knows her sweetness and loving
care; later on he will understand how some men so loved
her, that they did dare much for her sake.”
Jonathan Harker.

the ENa
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