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' 



DRACULA 



t-,1 



D R A C U L A 

h 

Bram Stoker 




NEW YORK 

GROSSET & DUNLAP 

Publishers ;.:, 



Copyright, 1897, in the United States of America, according 
to Act of Congress, by Bram Stoker 



[All rights reserved.] 



\ 
&03J 




POINTED IN THE UNITED STATES 

AT 
THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N.Y. 



TO 

MY DEAR FRIEND 

HOMMY-BEG 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER ] Page 

Jonathan Barker's Journal i 

CHAPTER II 
Jonathan Marker's Journal 14 

CHAPTER III 
Jonathan Barker's Journal 26 

CHAPTER IV 
Jonathan Barker's Journal 3 8 

CHAPTER V 
Letters Lucy and Mina 51 

CHAPTER VI 
Vlina Murray's Journal 59 

CHAPTER VII 
Cutting from "The Dailygraph," 8 August 71 

CHAPTER VIII 
Mina Murray's Journal 84 

CHAPTER IX 

Mina Murray's Journal , . 98 

vii 



viii Contents 

CHAPTER X 

Page 

Mirta Murray's Journal in 

CHAPTER XI 
Lucy We. ienra's Diary 124 

CHAPTER XII 
Dr. Sc:v:ird 's Diary 136 

CHAPTER XIII 
Dr. Seward's Diary 152 

CHAPTER XIV 
L"'!na Barker's Journal 167 

CHAPTER XV 
Dr. Seward's Diary 181 

CHAPTER XVI 
Dr. Seward's Diary 194 

CHAPTER XVLI 
Dr. Seward's Diary 204 

CHAPTER XVIII 
Dr. Seward's Diary 216 

CHAPTER XIX 
Jonathan Barker's Journal 231 

CHAPTER XX 
Jonathan Barker's Journal 243 



DRACULA 



CHAPTER I 

JONATHAN BARKER'S JOURNAL 
(Kept in shorthand.) 

3 May. Bistritz. Left Munich at 8:35 p. M., on ist May, ar- 
riving 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 impression I had was that we 
were leaving the West and entering 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 Klaus- 
enburgh. 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 nobleman of that 
country. I find that the district he named is in the extreme east 
of the country, just on the borders of three states, Transylvania, 
Moldavia and Bukovina, in the midst of the Carpathian moun- 



2 Dracula 

tains; 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 Wal- 
lachs, 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. 1^ 
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 interest- 
ing. (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 slept and was wakened 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 7:30 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 castl^ on the top of steep hills such as we see 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, sometimes crowds, and in all sorts of attire. Some oi 



Jonathan Harker's Journal 3 

them were just like the peasants at home or those I saw coming 
through France and Germany, with short jackets and round hats 
and 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 petticoats 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 Bukovina 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 occasions. At the very be- 
ginning 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 peas- 
ant dress white undergarment with long double apron, front, 
and back, of coloured stuff fitting almost too tight for modesty. 
When I came close she bowed and said, "The Herr English- 
man?" "Yes," I 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 anxiously 
expecting you. Sleep well to-night. At three to-morrow the dili- 
gence will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At 



4 Dracula 

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 Ger- 
man. This could not be true, because up to then he had under- 
stood 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 frightened sort of way. He mumbled 
out that the money had been sent in a letter, and that was all 
r _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 further. 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 levying, the old lady came up to my room 
and said in a very liysteric^L 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 that I must go at once, 
and that I was engaged on important 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 what 
day it is? " On my saying that I did not understand, she went on: 

"It is the eve o|j^GegreJs^^ 

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 effect. 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. However, there was business to be done, and I 
could allow nothing to interfere with it. I therefore tried to raise 
her up, and said, as gravely as I could, that I thanked her, but 



Jonathan Marker's Journal 5 

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 Churchman, 
I have been taught to regard such things as in some measure 
idolatrous, and yet it seemed so ungracious to refuse 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 exactly. I dined on what they called "robber steak" 
j 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 dis- 
agreeable. I had only a couple of glasses of this, and nothing else. 

When I got on the coach the driver had not taken his seat, 
and I saw him talking with the landlady. They were evidently 
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 pity- 
ingly. 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, " vrolokj" and" vlko- 
slak" both of which mean__the same thing, one being, Slovak 
and the other Servian for something that is either were-wolf or 
vampire. (Mem., I must ask the Count about these superstitions > 



6 Dracula 

When we started, the crowd round the inn door, which had 
by this time swelled to a considerable size, all made the sign of 
the cross and pointed two fingers towards me. With some diffi- 
culty I got a fellow-passenger to tell me what they meant; he 
would not answer 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 plel^nt for me, just starting for an unknown 
place to meet an unknown man; but every one seemed so kind- 
hearted, and so sorrowful, 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 cross- 
ing themselves, as they stood round the wide archway, with its 
background 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 lan- 
guage, or rather languages, which my fellow-passengers 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 end to the road. There was every- 
where a bewildering mass of fruit blossom apple, plum, pear, 
cherry; and as we drove by I could see the green grass under the 
trees spangled 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 it with a feverish haste. 
I could not understand then what the haste meant, but the 
driver was evidently bent on losing no time in reaching Borgo 
Prund. I was told that this road is in summertime 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 tradition that they are not to 
be kept in too good order. Of old the Hospadars would not re- 
pair them, lest the Turk should think that they were preparing 
to bring in foreign troops, and so hasten the war which was al- 
ways really at loading point. 

Beyond the green swelling hills of the Mittel Land rose mighty 



Jonathan Harker's Journal 7 

slopes of forest up to the lofty steeps of the Carpathians them- 
selves. 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 moun- 
tains, 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 en 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 evening 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 Slo- 
vaks, all in picturesque attire, but I noticed that goitre was 
painfully prevalent. By the roadside were many crosses, and as 
w^sw^r^b^mj^mp_a_nions jill 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 instance, 
hay-ricks in the trees, and here and there very beautiful 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 inequalities of the road. On 
this were sure to be seated quite a group of home-coming peas- 
ants, 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 growing 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 ascended through the Pass, the dark firs stood out 
here and there against the background of late-lying snow. 
Sometimes, as the road was. cut through the pine woods that 
seemed in the darkness to be closing down upon us, great masses 



8 Dracula 

of greyness, which here and there bestrewed the trees, pro- 
duced 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 wild cries 
of encouragement urged them on to further exertions. 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 excite- 
ment 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 earnest- 
ness 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- 
meaning 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 something 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 opening out on the eastern side. There 
were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy, 
oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though the mountain 
range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got 



Jonathan Marker's Journal 9 

into the thunderous one. I was now myself looking out for the 
conveyance 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 see now the sandy road lying white 
before us, but there was on it no sign of a vehicle. The passen- 
gers drew back with a sigh of gladness, which seemed to mock 
my own disappointment. I was already thinking what I had best 
do, when the driver, looking 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 turning 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 Bukovina, and return to-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 universal 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 why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to Buko- 
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-look- 
ing teeth, as white as ivory. One of my companions whispered 
to another the line from Burger's " Lenore " : 

"Denri die Todten reiten schnelPV- 
("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 



io Dracula 

the same time putting out his two fingers and crossing himself. 
"Give me the Herr's luggage," said the driver; and with exceed- 
ing 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 prodi- 
gious. 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 
feefing came over me; but a cloak was thrown over my shoul- 
ders, 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 is a flask of slivovitz (the plum 
brandy of the country) underneath the seat, if you should re- 
quire it." I did not take any, but it was a comfort to know it was 
there all the same. I felt a little strangely, and not a little fright- 
ened. I think had there been any alternative 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 min- 
utes of midnight. This gave me a sort of shock, for I suppose the 
general superstition about midnight was increased by my recent 
experiences. I waited with a sick feeling 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 



Jonathan Marker's Journal n 

and rear, but the driver spoke to them soothingly, and they 
quieted down, but shivered 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 howl- 
ing 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. 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 tune, after going to 
the far side of the Pass, he suddenly turned down a narrow road- 
way 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, powdery snow began to fall, so that soon 
we and all around us were covered with a white blanket. The 
keen wind still carried 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 disturbed; he 
kept turning his head to left and right, but I could not see any- 
thing 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 dark- 
ness. 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 re- 
sumed 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 



12 -Dracula 

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 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 following 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 beet- 
ling, pine-clad rock, and by its light I saw around us a ring of 
wolves, with white teeth and lolling 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 understand their true import. 

All at once the wolves began to howl as though the moonlight 
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 perforce 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 hi the roadway. 
As he swept his long arms, as though brushing aside some im- 
palpable 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 hi 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 



Jonathan Marker's Journal 13 

afraid to speak or move. The time seemed interminable as we 
swept on our way, now in almost complete darkness, for the roll- 
ing clouds obscured the moon. We kept on ascending, with oc- 
casional periods of quick descent, but in the main always 
ascending. Suddenly, I became conscious of the fact that the 
driver was in the act of pulling up the horses in the courtyard of 
a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no ray 
of light, and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line 
against the moonlit sky. 



CHAPTER II 

JONATHAN BARKER'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 remark- 
able 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 doorway 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, fc~ 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 ad- 
venture 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 night- 
mare to me, and I expected that I should suddenly awake, and 

14 



Jonathan Marker's Journal 15 

find myself at home, with the dawn struggling in through the 
windows, as I had now and again felt in the morning after 
a day of overwork. But my flesh answered the pinching test, 
and my eyes were not to be deceived. 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 .oot, without 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 quivering shadows as it 
flickered in the draught of the open door. The old man motioned 
me in with his right hand vith a courtly gesture, saying in excel- 
lent 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 noticed in the 
driver, whose face I had not seen, that for a moment 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 replied: 

"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; 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 myself." He insisted on 
carrying my traps along the passage, and then up a great wind- 



16 Dracula 

ing 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 my bags, closed the door, 
and crossing the room, opened another door, which led into a 
small octagonal room lit by a single lamp, and seemingly with- 
out a window of any sort. Passing through this, he opened an- 
other 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 en- 
trusted 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 thrill of pleasure. 

" I must regret that an attack of gout, from which malady 1 
am a constant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travelling on my 
part for some time to come; but I am happy to say I can send a 
sufficient substitute, one in whom I have every possible confi- 
dence. 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 matters." 

The Count himself came forward and took off the cover of a 



Jonathan Harker's Journal 17 

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 de- 
sire had drawn up a chair by the fire and begun to smoke a cigaf 
which he offered me, at the same time excusing himself that he 
did not smoke. I had now an opportunity of observing 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-jnDJUs^Ux^'^aj.^ecr'and ratheTTriiel-looking, with 
peculiarly sharp ~^bffiL&&pEKese protnifer"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 extraor- 
dinary 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 pahn. 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 o\ er me, which, do what I would, I could not con- 
ceal. The Count, evidently noticing it, drew back; and with a 
grim sort of smile, which showed more than he had yet done 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 fr^m 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: 



i8 Dracula 

"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 cour- 
teous 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! 

f 

7 May. It is again early morning, but I have rested and en- 
joyed 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 
heartK. There was a card on the table, 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 extraordinary evidences of wealth 
which are round me. The table service is of gold, and so beauti- 
fully 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 costliest and most beautiful fabrics, and must 
have been of fabulous value when they were made, for they are 
centuries 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, and I had to get the 
little shaving glass from my bag before I could either shave or 
brush my hair. 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 dinner, for it was between five and six o'clock when 
I had it I 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 



Jonathan Marker's Journal 19 

English books, whole shelves full of them, and bound volumes 
of magazines and newspapers. A table in the centre was littered 
with English magazines and newspapers, though 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 cus- 
toms and manners. There were even such books of reference as 
the London Directory, the "Red" and "Blue" books, Whit- 
aker's Almanac, the Army and Navy Lists, and it somehow 
gladdened my heart to see it the Law List. 

Whilst I was looking at the books, the door opened, and tr^p 
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 estimate, 
but yet I fear that I am but a little way on the road I would 
travel. True, I know the 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 



2O Dracula 

estate in London. You shall, I trust, rest here with me awhile, 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 England. 
Our ways are not your ways, and there shall be to you many 
strange things. Nay, from what you have told me of your ex- 
periences 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 ques- 
tions 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 bolder, I asked him of some of the 
strange things of the preceding night, as, for instance, why the 
coachman went to the places where he had seen the blue flames. 
He then explained 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 



Jonathan Marker's Journal 21 

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 coward and a fool! 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 mat- 
ters. 

" Come, ' he said at last, "tell me of London and 01 the house 
which you have procured for me." With an apology for my re- 
missness, I went into my own room to get the papers 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, no- 
ticed that the table had been, cleared and the lamp lit, for it was 
by this time deep into the dark. The lamps were also lit in the 
study or library, and I found the Count lying on the sofa, read- 
ing, 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 interested in everything, and asked me a myriad 
questions about the place and its surroundings. He clearly had 
studied beforehand all he could get on the subject of the neigh- 
bourhood, 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 



22 Dracula 

estate at Purfleet. When I had told him the facts and got his 
signature to the necessary papers, and had written a letter 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 inscribe here : 

"At Purfleet, on a by-road, I came across just such a place as 
seemed to be required, and where was displayed a dilapidated 
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 car- 
dinal 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 
t>y 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 im- 
mensely 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. 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 asylum. 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 



Jonathan Marker's Journal 23 

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 
malignant and saturnine. 

Presently, with an excuse, he left me, asidng 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 certain 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 Exeter, and Whitby on the York- 
shire 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 smoked, as on the last evening, and the Count stayed 
with me, chatting and asking questions on every conceivable 
subject, hour after hour. I felt that it was getting very late in- 
deed, 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 ex- 
periencing that chill which comes over one at the coming of the 
dawn, which is like, in its way, the turn of the tide. They say 
that 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, experienced this change in the 
atmosphere can well believe it. All at once we heard the crow 
of a cock coming up with preternatural 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 regard- 
ing my dear new country of England less interesting, so that I 
may not forget how time flies by us," and, with a 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 I 
could see was the warm grey of quickening sky. So I pulled the 
curtains again, and have written of this day. 



24 Dracula 

8 May. I began to fear as I wrote in this book that I was get- 
ting too diffuse; but now I am glad that I went into detail from 
s 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 wiirhelp 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, 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, I 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 lacCj, Jiis eyes blazed_with a sort of demoniac 
fury, ancThe suddenly made a grab at myj^roat.,! drewaway, 
and his hand touched the.string of beads which held the crucifix. 
It made an instant change ir> Mm, 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 is 
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 bauble 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 pieces on the stones of the courtyard far below. 



Jonathan Marker's Journal 25 

Then he withdrew without a word. It is very annoying, for I do 
not see how I am to shave, unless in my watch-case or the bot- 
tom of the shaving-pot, which is fortunately of metal. 

When I went into the dining-room, breakfast was prepared; 
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. A stone falling 
from the window would fall a thousand feet without touching 
anything ! As far as the eye can reach is a sea of green tree 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 everywhere, 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! 



CHAPTER III 

JONATHAN BARKER'S JOURNAL continued 

WHEN I found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feeling 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 overpowered 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 conviction had come to me that I was help- 
less 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 thinking still, and as yet have come to no definite conclu- 
sion. 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. 

I had hardly come to this conclusion when I heard the great 
door below shut, and knew that the Count had returned. He 
did not come at once into the library, so I went cautiously to 
my own room 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 hold- 
ing up his hand in silence. How was it that all the people at Bis- 
tritz 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 

26 



Jonathan Harker's Journal 27 

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 com- 
fort? 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 pres- 
ent at them all. This he afterwards explained 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. Whenever he 
spoke of his house he always said "we," and spoke almost in the 
plural, like a king speaking. 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 it a 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 crush 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 Berserkers displayed to such 
fell intent on the seaboards of Europe, ay, and of Asia and 
Africa too, till the peoples thought that the were-wolves them- 
selves had come. Here, too, when 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 Lombard the 



28 Dracula 

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 east- 
ward, 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 re- 
deemed that great shame of my nation, the shame of Cassova, 
when the flags of the Wallach and the Magyar went down be- 
neath the Crescent? 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 
unworthy 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 con- 
duct 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 rec- 
ord that mushroom growths like the Hapsburgs and the Roman- 
offs can never reach. The warlike days are over. Blood is too 
precious 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 "Ara- 
bian Nights," for everything has to break off at cockcrow or 
like the ghost of Hamlet's father.) 

12 May. Let me begin with facts bare, meagre facts, veri- 
fied by books and figures, and of which there can be no doubt. 



Jonathan Harker's Journal 29 

I must not confuse them with experiences which will have to 
rest on my own observation, or my memory of them. Last eve- 
ning 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 solicitors 
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 understand, 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 sell 
my place at London. Good! Now here let me say frankly, lest 
you should think it strange that I have sought the services oi 
one so far off from London instead of some one resident therCj 
that my motive was that no local interest might be served save 
my wish only; and as one of London residence might, perhaps, 
have some purpose of himself or friend to serve, I went thus 
afield to seek my agent, whose labours should be only to my 
interest. Now, suppose I, who have much of affairs, wish to ship 
goods, say, to Newcastle, or Durham, or Harwich, or Dover, 
might it not be that it could with more ease be done by con- 
signing 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 himself 
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 



30 Dracula 

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 forethought 
could be guarded against. I explained all these things to him to 
the best of my ability, and he certainly left me under the im- 
pression that he would have made a wonderful 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 bitterness 
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 someone 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. Hawkins's 
interest, not mine, and I had to think of him, not myself; and 
besides, while Count Dracula was speaking, there was that in 
his eyes and in his bearing which made me remember 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 doubt- 
less 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 



Jonathan Harker's Journal 31 

teeth lying over the red underlip, 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, 
referring 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. Billingtonj 
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 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 speecn.-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 around 
me. 

Later . I endorse the last words written, but this time there 
(s no doubt in question. I shall not fear to sleep in any place where 



32 Dracula 

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. Look- 
ing out on this, I felt that I was indeed 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 destroy- 
ing 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 beau- 
tiful expanse, bathed in soft yellow moonlight till it was al- 
most 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 win> 
dow 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 weatherworn, was still complete; but it 
was evidently many a day since the case had been there. I drew 
back behind the stonework, and looked carefully out. 

What I saw was the Count's head coming out from the win- 
dow. 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 mis- 
take the hands which I had had so many opportunities of study- 
ing. I was at first interested and somewhat amused, for it is won- 
derful how small a matter will interest and amuse a man when 
he is a prisoner. But my very feelings changed to repulsion and 
terror when I saw the whQle_maa_slowly.emerge_ from the win- 
dow 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, anr> by thus using every projection and 
inequality move downwaius with considerable speed, just as a 
lizard moves along a wall. 



Jonathan Marker's Journal 33 

What manner of man is this, or what manner of creature is 
it in the semblance of man? I feel the dread of this horrible 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 liz- 
ard fashion. He moved downwards in a sidelong way, some hun- 
dred feet down, and a good deal to the left. He 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 tak- 
ing 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 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 
opportunity 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 windows 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 consequently 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 moun- 



34 Dracula 

tain fastnesses, rising peak on peak, the sheer rock studded with 
mountain ash and thorn, whose roots clung in cracks and crev- 
ices and crannies of the stone. This was evidently the portion 
of the castle occupied by the ladies in bygone days, for the fur- 
niture had more air" of comfort than any I had seen. The win- 
dows were curtainless, and the yellow moonlight, flooding in 
through the diamond panes, enabled one to see even colours, 
whilst it softened the wealth of dust which lay over all and dis- 
guised in some measure the ravages of time and the moth. My 
lamp seemed to be of little effect in the brilliant moonlight^ut 
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 trying 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 pos- 
sibly some fair lady sat to pen, with much thought and many 
blushes, her ill-spelt love-letter, and writing in my diary in short - 
hand 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 j 
own which mere "modernity" cannot kill. 

Later: the Morning of 16 May. God preserve my 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 al- 
ready. If I be sane, then surely it is maddening to think that of 
all the foul things that lurk in this hateful 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 begin to get new lights on certain things which 
have puzzled me. Up to now I never quite knew what Shake- 
speare 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 accurately must help 
to soothe me. 

The Count's mysterious warning frightened me at the time; it 



Jonathan Marker's Journal 35 

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 replaced 
the book and pen in my pocket I felt sleepy. The Count's warn- 
ing 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 
rne. 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 comer, so that as I lay, I could 
look at the lovely view to east and south, and unthinking 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 fol- 
lowed was startlingly real so real that now sitting here in the 
broad, full sunlight of the morning, I cannot 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 moonlight opposite me were 
three yo-ung 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 whispered 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 
yellow moon. The other was fair, as fair as can be, with great 
wavy masses of golden hair and eyes like pale sapphires. I seemed 
somehow to know her face, and to know it in connection with! 
some dreamy fear, but I could not recollect at the moment howl 
or where./All three had brilliant white teeth that shone like pearls 
against the ruby of their voluptuous lips. There was something f 
about them that made me uneasy, some longing and at thej 
same time some deadly fear. I felt in my heart a wicked, burn- 
ing 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 
dnd cause her pain; but it is the truth jThey 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 



36 Dracula 

the softness of human lips. It was like the intolerable, tinglii _ 
sweetness of water-glasses when played on by a cunning hand. 
The fair girl shook her head coquettishly, 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: 

/'jHe is^ .young_and steragjJtkCTeareJuaaesJoj^jjsaJi^I lay 
quietTlooking out under my eyelashes in an agony of~delightf ul 
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 bitter underlying the sweet, 
a bitter offensiveness, as one smells in blood. 

I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw per- 
fectly 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, ft 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 ecstasy and waited waited with beat- 
ing heartj 

JtJut aTthat 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 slendef 
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 heft-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 



Jonathan Marker's Journal 37 

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 almost in a whisper 
seemed to cut through the air and then ring round the room 
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 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 laugh- 
ter 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 floor, and which moved as though there were some living 
thing within it. For answer he nodded his head. One of the wo- 
men 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 noticing. They simply seemed to fade into the 
rays of the moonlight and pass out through the window, for I 
could see outside the dim, shadowy forms for a moment before 
they entirely faded away. 

Then the horror overcame me, and I sank down unconscious. 



CHAPTER IV 
JONATHAN BARKER'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 rigorously 
accustomed to wind it the last thing before going to bed, and 
many such details. But these things are no proof, for they 
rnay 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. 

18 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 jamb that part of the woodwork was splin- 
tered. 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 surmise. 

ip May. I am surely in the toils. Last night the Count 
asked me in the suavest tones to write three letters, one saying 
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 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 

38 



Jonathan Marker's Journal 39 

absolutely in his power; and to refuse would be to excite his sus- 
picion and to arouse his anger. He knows that I know too much, 
and that I must not live, lest I be dangerous 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 impressive- 
ness 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 suspicion. I therefore pretended to fall in 
with his views, and asked him what dates I should put on the 
letters. 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 them- 
selves as a rule to some great noble or boyar, and call themselves 
by his name. They are fearless and without religion, save super- 
stition, 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, however, I could 
not understand any more than I could their spoken language. . . . 

I have written the letters. Mina's is in shorthand, and I simply 
ask Mr. Hawkins to communicate with her. To her I have ex- 
plained my situation, but without the horrors which I may only 
surmise. It would shock and frighten her to death were I to ex- 
pose my heart to her. Should the letters not carry, then the 
Count shall not yet know my secret or the extent of my knowl- 
edge. . . . 



40 Dracula 

I have given the letters; I threw them through the bars o! 
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. See!" he must 
have looked at it "one is from you, and to my friend Peter 
Hawkins; the other" here he caught sight of the strange sym- 
bols 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 hospitality! 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 pardon, 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. A minute 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 awakened 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 dream- 
ing. Despair has its own calms. 

31 May. This morning when I woke I thought I would pro- 
vide myself with some paper and envelopes from my bag 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, 



Jonathan Harker's Journal 41 

in fact all that might be useful to me were I once outside the 
castle. I sat and pondered awhile, and then some thought oc- 
curred to me, and I made search of my portmanteau and in the 
wardrobe where I had placed my clothes. 

The suit in which I had travelled was gone, and also my over- 
coat 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-wagons, 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 window, 
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 handles 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 I dared I ran up 
the winding stair, and looked out of the window, which opened 
south. I thought I would watch for the Count, for there is some- 
thing 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. 



42 Dracula 

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 protec- 
tion of the law which is even a criminal's right and consolation. 

I thought I would watch for the Count's return, and for a 
long time sat doggedly at the window. Then I began to notice 
that there were some quaint little specks floating hi 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 soothing, and a sort of calm stole 
over me. I leaned back in the embrasure in a more comfortable 
position, so that I could enjoy 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 striving 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 beyond. 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 grad- 
ually 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 moonlight 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 sup- 
pressed; and then there was silence, deep, awful silence, which 



Jonathan Marker's Journal 43 

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 ago- 
nised 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 her- 
self 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 for- 
ward, 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 
the 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 singly, 
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 thing of night and gloom and fear? 

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 morning 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 
vaporous 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 ex- 
istence from the earth. 

Let me not think of it. Action! 



44 Dracula 

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 my- 
self crawl from his window. Why should not I imitate him, and 
go in by his window? The chances are desperate, 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 Here- 
after 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 t later. I have made the effort, and God, helping 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 around 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 overcome 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 
suppose 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, however, when 
I bent down and slid feet foremost in through 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 fur- 
niture was something the same style as that in the south rooms, 
and was covered 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 



Jonathan Harker's Journal 45 

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 fragments of old coffins and piles of dust; 
in the third, however, I made a discovery. 

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 pallor; 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 presence, that I fled from the place, and leaving the 
Count's room by the window, crawled again up the castle wall. 
Regaining my room, I threw myself panting upon the bed and 
tried to think. . 



46 Dracula 

2Q 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 wea- 
pon 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 la- 
bours of their own here, and also come some Slovaks. When they 
have gone, my carriage shall come for you, and shall bear you 
to the Borgo Pass to meet the diligence froir Bukovina to Bis- 
tritz. 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 
connection with such a monster, so asked him point-blank: 

"Why may I not go to-night?" 

"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 al- 
most as if the sound sprang up at the rising of his hand, just 



Jonathan Marker's Journal 47 

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 ponderous bolts, 
unhooked the heavy chains, and began to draw it open. 

To my intense astonishment I saw that it was unlocked. Sus- 
piciously, 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 instiga- 
tion. There was a diabolical wickedness in the idea great enough 
for the Count, and as a last chance I cried out: 

"Shut the door; I shall wait till morning!" and covered my 
face with my hands to hide my tears of bitter disappointment. 
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-morrow night is 
yours!" There was a low, sweet ripple of laughter, and in a 
rage I threw open the door, and saw without the three terrible 
women licking their lips. As I appeared they all joined in a hor- 
rible 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 last words I ever write 
in this diary. I slept till just before the clawn, and when I woke 
threw myself on my knees, for I determined that if Death came 
he should find me ready. 



48 Dracula 

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, it 
rattled in its casement. I could see the bolt shot. It had been 
locked after I left the Count. 

Then a wild desire took me to obtain that key at any risk, and 
I determined then and there to scale the wall again and gain 
the Count's room. He might kill me, but death now seemed the 
happier choice of evils. Without a pause I rushed up to the east 
window, and scrambled down the wall, as before, 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 fras laid on it, not fastened down, but with the nails 
ready in their places to be hammered home. I knew I must 
reach the 6ody for the key, so I raised the lid, and laid it back 
against foe wall; and then I saw something which filled my very 
soul with horror. There lay the Count, but looking as if his 
youtA 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 reple- 
tion. 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, amongs t 



Jonathan Marker's Journal 49 

its teeming millions, satiate his lust for blood, and create a new 
and ever-widening circle of semi-demons to batten on the help- 
less. The very thought drove me mad. A terrible desire came upon 
me to rid the world of such a monster. There was no lethal wea- 
pon at hand, but I seized a shovel which the workmen 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 paralyse me, and the shovel turned 
in my hand and glanced from the face, merely making a deep 
gash above the forehead. 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 fell over again, and hid the horrid 
thing from my 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 feeling grow- 
ing over me. As I waited I heard in the distance a gipsy song sung 
by merry voices coming closer, and through their song the roll- 
ing 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 moment 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 passage which 
sent up a clanging echo. I turned to run down again towards 
the vault, where I might find the new entrance; but at the mo- 
ment 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 
jvas closing round me more closely. 

As I write there is in the passage below a sound of many tramp- 
ing feet and the crash of weights being set down heavily, doubt- 
less 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. 



5O Dracula 

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! in the courtyard and down the rocky way the roll 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 ! Mina 
is a 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, 
and the precipice is steep and high. At its foot a man may sleep 
as a man. Good-bye, all! Mina! 



CHAPTER V 

Letter from Miss Mina Murray to Miss Lucy Westenra. 

"9 May. 
"My dearest Lucy, 

"Forgive my long delay in writing, but I have been simply 
overwhelmed with work. The life of an assistant schoolmistress 
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, because 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 conversations. I am told that, with a little practice, 
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 
from 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 ring- 
ing. Good-bye. 

"Your loving 

"MlNA. 

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



32 Dracula 

Letter, Lucy Westenra to Mina Murray. 

"17, Chatham Street, 

"Wednesday. 
"My dearest Mina, 

" I must say you tax me very unfairly with being a bad corre- 
spondent. I wrote to you twice since we parted, and your last letter 
was only your second. Besides, I have nothing 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 hand- 
some, 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. He says that 
I afford him a curious psychological study, and I humbly think 
I do. I do not, as you know, take sufficient interest in dress to 
be able to describe the new fashions. 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 children; we have slept together and eaten together, and 
laughed 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 I 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 



Letters, Etc. 53 

this even to you. I am afraid to stop, or I should tear up the let- 
ter, 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. 

JL. 
Letter, Lucy Westenra 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 prov- 
erbs are. Here am I, who shall be twenty in September, and yet 
I never had a proposal till to-day, not a real proposal, and to-day 
I have had three. Just fancy! THREE proposals 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 wo- 
men, 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 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 outwardly, 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, 



54 Dracula 

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 
aL present, I feel so miserable, though I am so happy. 

11 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 a nice fellow, an Ameri- 
can from Texas, and he looks so youug and so fresh that it seems 
almost impossible that he has been to so many places and has 
had such adventures. I sympathise with poor Desdemona when 
she had such a dangerous 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 I would do if I were a man and wanted to make a girl 
love me. No, I don't, for there was Mr. Morris telling 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 before- 
hand 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 



Letters, Etc. 55 

well educated and has exquisite manners but he f ouna 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 air 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 beside me and looked as 
happy and jolly as he could, but 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, 1 
an occasion for him, I would forgive him. He really did look 
serious when he was saying it, and I couldn't help feeling a bit 
serious too I know, Mina, you will think me a horrid flirt 
though I couldn't help feeling a sort of exultation that he was 
number two in one day. And then, my dear, before I could say 
a word he began pouring 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 sup- 
pose he saw something in my face which checked him, for he 
suddenly 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.' 

" M} 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- aearted, true gentleman. 1 burst into tears I am afraid. 



56 Dracula 

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 t\iis 
trouble? But this is heresy, and I must not say it. I am glad to 
say that, though I was crying, I was able to look into Mr. Mor- 
ris'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 un- 
selfish anyhow. My dear, I'm going to have a pretty lonely 
walk between this and Kingdom Come. Won't 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 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. 7 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 JL*am 
cryiifg like a baby. Oh, why must a man like that be made un- 
happy 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 crji be all 
happy. 

"Ever your loving 

"I.UCY. 



Letters, Etc. 57 

"P.S. Oh, about number Three I needn't tell you of num- 
ber 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 deserve it. I must only try in the 
future to show that I am not ungrateful to God for all His good* 
ness to me in sending to me such a lover, such a husband, and 
such a friend. 

"Good-bye." 

Dr. Seward's Diary. 
(Kept in phonograph) 

25 M ay. 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 sufficient impor- 
tance to be worth the doing. ... As I knew that the only cure 
for this sort of thing was work, I went down amongst the pa- 
tients. I picked out one who has afforded me a study of much 
interest. He is so quaint that I am determined to understand 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 hallucination. . 
In my manner of doing it there was, I now see, something 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 I not avoid the pit 
of hell?) Omnia Ronuz 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; R great 
physical strength; morbidly excitable; periods of gloom, ending 
in some fixed idea which I cannot make out. I presume that the 
sanguine temperament itself and the disturbing influence end 
in a mentally-accomplished finish; a possibly 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, f 



58 Dracula 

is the fixed point, the latter force is paramount, and only acci* 
dent or a series of accidents can balance it. 

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

11 25 May. 
f>: 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 hi 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 dr-ink a health with all our 
hearts to the happiest man in all the wide world, who has won 
the noblest heart that God has made and the best worth whining. 
We promise 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! 

"Yours, as ever and always, 

" QUINCEY P. MORRIS.'' 

Telegram from Arthur Holmwood to Quincey P. Morris. 

"26 May. 

u 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, jookingsweeter 
and loj/elie^thaiLe^er, and we drove up to the houseTftnTCres- 
cen t irTwhlcf they have rooms. This is a lovely place. The little 
river, the Esk, runs through a deep valley, 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 was 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 churchyard; 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 
granite wall stretching out into the sea, with a curve outwards 
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 

59 



60 Dracula 

makes an elbow crooked inversely, and its end too has a light- 
house. Between the two piers there is a narrow 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 mourn- 
ful 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 he said very brusquely: 

"I wouldn't fash maseP 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 as he 
could, down the steps. The steps are a great feature on 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. I think they must originally have had some- 
thing to do with the abbey. I shall go home too. Lucy went out 



Mina Murray's Journal 61 

visiting with her mother, and as they were only duty calls, I did 
not go. They will be home by this. 

i August. 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 anything, 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 tune 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 7 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 j them. Why, it's them that, not 
content with printin' lies on paper an' preachin' them out of 
pulpits, does want to be cuttin' them on the tombstones. 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 tumblin' 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 at all; 
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 scowderrnent at the Day 
of Judgment when they come tumblin' up hi their death-sarks, 
all jouped together an' tryin' to drag their tombsteans with them 
to prove how good they was; some of them trimrnlin' and 
ditherin', with their hands that dozzened an' slippy from lyin 7 
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 cronies 



62 Dracula 

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 all wrong? " 

"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, if only it be their 
own. The whole thing be only lies. Now look you here; you come 
here a stranger, an' you see this kirk-garth." I nodded, 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. "And 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 northwards "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 Braithwaite 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 Farewell 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 jommlin' 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 



Mina Murray's Journal 63 

have to take their tombstones with them on the Day of Judg- 
ment. Do you think that will be really necessary? " 

"Well, what else be they tombstones for? Answer me that, 
miss!" 

"To please their relatives, I suppose." 

"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 was 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 fell off the rocks. And, as to 
hopes of a glorious resurrection, 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 want to addle where 
she was. Now isn't that stean at any rate " he hammered it with 
his stick as he spoke "a pack of lies? and won't it make Gabriel 
keckle when Geordie comes pantin' up the grees with the tomb- 
stean balanced on his hump, and asks it to be took as evidence!" 

I did not know what to say, but Lucy turned the conversation 
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 Geor- 
die 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. 



64 Dracula 

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 service to ye, ladies!" And off he hobbled. 

Lucy and I sat awhile, 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 anything the matter 
with Jonathan. The clock has just struck nine. I see the lights 
scattered all over the town, sometimes 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 bleating 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 see them both. I wonder where Jonathan is and if he is 
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. I 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 redeem- 
ing quality is a love of animals, though, indeed, he has such 
curious turns in it that I sometimes imagine he is only abnorm- 
ally cruel. His pets are of odd sorts. Just now his hobby is catch- 
ing 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 
seriousness. 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 



Mina Murray's Journal 65 

flies, and the number of the latter is becoming sensibly dimin- 
ished, although he has used half his food in attracting more flies 
from outside to his room. 

j July. His spiders are now becoming as great a nuisance 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 acquiesced 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 exult- 
antly for a few moments 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 
fife 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 down something. Whole pages of it are filled 
with masses of figures, generally single numbers added up in 
batches, and then the totals added in batches again, as though he 
were "focussing" some account, as the auditors put it. 

8 Jiily. There is a method in his madness, and the rudimen- 
tary 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 except 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 already the spiders have diminished. Those that 
do remain, however, are well fed, for he still brings in the flies 
by tempting them with his food. 

ig July. We are progressing. My friend has now a whole 
colony of sparrows, and his flies and spiders are almost obliter- 
ated. 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 



66 Dracula 

unprepared for this request, for I had noticed how his pets wef.t 
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 with 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 his knees 
before me and implored me to let him have a cat; that his salva- 
tion 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 morning 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!" 

ii 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 homicidal maniac 
is of a peculiar kind. I shall have to invent a new classification 



Mina Murray's Journal 67 

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 experi- 
ment. 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-knowl- 
edge would be as nothing. If only 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, congenitally? 

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. How many of 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 ac- 
count 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 anxious, and it soothes me to express myself 
here; it is like whispering to one's self and listening at the same 
time. And there is also something about the shorthand 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 



68 Dracula 

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 walk- 
ing 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 sud- 
denly 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 
nabit; that he would get up in the night and dress himself and go 
out, if he were not stopped. Lucy is to be married hi the 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 simply way, and shall 
have to try to make both ends meet. Mr. Holmwood he is the 
Hon. Arthur Holmwood, only son of Lord Godalming 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. 

2*7 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. Holm- 
wood has been suddenly 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. 

5 August. Another week gone, and no news from Jonathan, 
not even to Mr. Hawkins, from whom I have heard. 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 his writing. There is no mistake of 
that. Lucy has not walked much in her sleep the last week, but 



Mina Murray's Journal 69 

there is an odd concentration about her which I do not under- 
stand; 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 suspense 
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 Jona- 
than since that last letter. I must only pray to God for patience. 
Lucy is more excitable than ever, but 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 green 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 inland. 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 making straight 
for me, and I can see, by the way he lif ts his hat, that he wants to 
talk 

I have been quite touched by the change 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 I've been sayin' about the dead, and such like, 
for weeks past; but I didn't mean them, and I want ye to remem- 
ber 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 



70 Dracula 

expect; and I'm so nigh it that the Aud Man is already whettin' 
his scythe. Ye see, I can't get out o' the habit of caffin' about it 
all at once; the chafts will wag as they be used to. Some day soon 
the Angel of Death will sound his trumpet for me. But don't ye 
dooal an' greet, my deary!" 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 comin' to me, my deary, and comin' 
quick. It may be comin' 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 comin'. 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 hear more of her before this time to-morrow." 



CHAPTER VII 

CUTTING FROM "THE DAILYGRATH," 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 un- 
common 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 hi the neighbour- 
hood 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 language 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 coming of a sudden storm. The ap- 
proach 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 Kettle- 
ness, standing boldly athwart the western sky, its downward 
way was marked by myriad clouds of every sunset-colour 
flame, purple, 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 silhouettes. 
The experience was not lost on the painters, and 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 



72 Dracula 

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 
seemingly going westwards. The foolhardiness or ignorance of 
her officers was a prolific theme for comment whilst she remained 
in sight, and efforts were made to signal her to reduce 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 li vely French air, was like 
a discord in the great harmony of nature'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 realize, the whole aspect of na.ture 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 found 
necessary to clear the entire piers from the mass of onlookers, 
or else the fatalities of the night would have been increased 
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 



Cutting from 'The Dailygraph" 7 ,S 

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 in the glare of the lightning, which 
now came thick and fast, followed by such sudden peals of thun- 
der 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 mountains 
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, run- 
ning 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 realized the terrible 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 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 



M -r Dracula 

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 
searchlight 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 air 
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 sustaining cliff has fallen away, it disappeared in the 
darkness, which seemed intensified just beyond the focus of the 
searchlight. 

It so happened that there was no one at the moment on Tate 
Hill Pier, as all those whose houses are in close proximity were 
either in bed or were out on the heights above. Thus the coast- 
guard on duty on the eastern side of the harbour, 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 anything, 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 exarrTne it, and recoiled at, 
once as though under some sudden emotion. This seemed to pique 
general curiosity, and quite a number of people began to run. It is 
a good way round from the West Cliff by the Drawbridge to 



Cutting from "The Dailygraph" 75 

Tate H21 Pier, but your correspondent is a fairly good 
runner, 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 fastened 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, de- 
clared, 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, 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 prop- 
erty being held in contravention of the statutes of mortmain, 
since the tiller, as emblemship, if not proof, of delegated posses- 
sion, 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 begin- 
ning to redden over the Yorkshire wolds. I shall send, in time 
for your next issue, further details of the derelict ship which 
found her way so miraculously into harbour in the storm. 



76 Dracula 

Whitby 

p August. The sequel to the strange arrival of the derelict 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 entirely hi 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 
harbour 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/ 7 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, however, 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 
possibility, lest later on it should in itself become a danger, for 
it is evidently a fierce brute. Early this morning a large dog, a 
half-bred mastiff belonging to a coal merchant close to Tate Hill 
Pier, was found dead in the roadway opposite to its 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 hi 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 omitting technical details of seamanship and supercargo. 
It almost seems as though the captain had been seized with some 



Cutting from "The Dailygraph" 77 

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 trans- 
lated for me, tune 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 ii 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. 

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 quarrel, but all was quiet. 

On 1 6 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 
there was something aboard. Mate getting very impatient with 
them; feared some trouble ahead. 

On 17 July, yesterday, one of th/men, Olgaren, came to my 
cabin, and in an awestruck way confided to me that he thought 
there was a strange man aboard the ship. He said that in his 



78 Dracula 

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 companion-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 demoralise 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 lanterns: 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 all hands busy 
with sails no time to be frightened. Men seem to have forgotten 
their dread. Mate cheerful again, and all on good terms. Praised 
men for work in bad weather. Passed Gibralter 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 disap- 
peared. 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 mael- 
strom, and the wind a tempest. No sleep for any one. Men all 
worn out. Hardly know how to set a watch, since no one fit to go 
on. Second mate volunteered to steer and watch, and let men 
snatch a few hours' sleep. Wind abating; 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 



Cutting from "The Dailygraph" 79 

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. 

jo 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. 

1 August. Two days of fog, and not a sail sighted. Had 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 himself. Men are beyond fear, working stolidly 
and patiently, with minds made up to worst. They are Russian, 
he Roumanian. 

2 August, midnight. Woke up from few minutes' sleep by 
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. I dared not leave it, 
so shouted for the mate. Alter 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 savagely 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 



8o Dracula 

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 hatchway. He is mad, stark, raving mad, and 
it's no use my trying to stop him. He can't hurt those big boxes: 
they are invoiced as "clay," and to pull them about is as harm- 
less 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 that 
the mate would come out calmer for I heard him knocking away 
at something in the hold, and work is good 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 bulwark and de- 
liberately threw himself into the sea. I suppose 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 is sunrise because I am a sailor, why else I know 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 



Cutting from "The Dailygraph" 81 

we are wrecked, mayhap this bottle may be found, and those 
who find it may understand; if not, . . . well, then all men shall 
know that I have been true to my trust. God and the 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 evidence to 
adduce; and whether or not the man himself committed 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 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 wish- 
ing 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 present 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-walking, for as soon as her will is thwarted in any physical 
way, her intention, if there be any, disappears, and she yields 
herself almost 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 going 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, 
aad could do anything! 



82 Dracula 

10 August. The funeral of the poor sea-captain to-day was 
most touching. Every boat in the harbour seeme'oV to be there, 
and the coffin was carried by captains all the way from'TTate 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 procession nearly all the way. The poor fellow was laid 
to rest quite near our seat so that we stood on it when the time 
came and saw everything. Poor Lucy seemed much upset. She 
was restless and uneasy all the time, and I cannot but think that 
her 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 rest- 
lessness; or if there be, she does not understand it herself. 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 
d'o". 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 bris- 
tling 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. Ij^eatly, f par that 
she is_of Jtoo super-sensitive a nature to go through the world 
without trouble. She will be dreaming of this to-night, I am sure. 
TEe whole agglomeration of things the ship steered into port 



Cutting from "The Dailygraph" 83 

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 wi 1 ! all afford material for her dreams. 

I think it will be best for her to go to bed tired out physically, 
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 inclination for sleep- 
walking then. 




CHAPTER VIH 

MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL 

Same day, n o'clock p. m. Oh, but I am tired \ If it were not 
that I had made my diary a duty I should not open it to-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 everything except, of course, personal fear, 
and it seemed to wipe the slate clean and give us a fresh start. 
We had a capital " severe tea" at Robin Hood's Bay in a sweet 
little old-fashioned inn, with a bow-window right over the 
seaweed-covered rocks of the strand. I believe we should have 
shocked the "New Woman" with our appetites. Men are more 
tolerant, 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 the> 
may be pressed to, and who will know when girls are tired. Luc} 
is asleep and breathing softly. She has more colour in her cheek 
than usual, and looks, oh, so sweet. If Mr. Holmwood fell in lov 
with her seeing her only in the drawing-room, I wonder what h 
would say if he saw her now. Some of the "New Women " writer 
will some day start an idea that men and women should 
allowed to see each other asleep before proposing or accepting 
But I suppose the New Woman won't condescend in future t 
accept; she will do the proposing herself. And a nice job she wi 
make of it, too ! There's some consolation in that. I am so happ 
to-night, because dear Lucy seems better. I really believe sh 
has turned the corner, and that we are over her troubles wit 
dreaming. I should be quite happy if I only knew if Jonathan . . 
God bless and keep him. 

84 



Mina Murray's Journal 8$ 

ii August, 3 a. m. Diary again. No sleep now, so I may as 
well write. I am too agitated to sleep. We have had such an ad- 
venture, such an agonising experience. I fell asleep as soon as I 
had closed my diary. . . . Suddenly I became 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 
^ucy's bed; I stole across and felt for her. The bed was empty. I 
it 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 
t 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 downstairs 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 ob- 
scured 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 dio- 
rama of light and shade as they sailed across. For a moment or 
two I could see nothing, 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. What- 
ever 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 



86 Dracula 

it. What it was, whether man or beast, I could not tell; I did not 
wait to catch another 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 distance seemed 
endless, and my knees trembled and my breath came laboured 
as I toiled up the endless steps to the abbey. I must 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 the 
cloud had passed, and the moonlight struck so brilliantly that 1 
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. Hei 
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 he: 
sleep and pulled the collar of her nightdress close around he 
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, an< 
drew the edges tight round her neck, for I dreaded lest she shouL 
get some deadly chill from the night air, unclad as she was. 
feared to wake her all at once, so, in order to have my hands fre 
that I might help her, I fastened the shawl at her throat with 
big safety-pin; but I must have been clumsy in my anxiety an 
pinched or pricked her with it, for by-and-by, when her breathir 
became quieter, she put her hand to her throat again and moane' 
When I had her carefully wrapped up I put my shoes on her fee 
and then began very gently to wake her. At first she did n 
respond; but gradually she became more and more uneasy in h 
sleep, moaning and sighing occasionally. At last, as time w 
passing fast, and, for many other reasons, I wished to get h 
home at once, I shook her more forcibly, till finally she open 



Mina Murray's Journal 87 

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 somewhat 
appalled at waking unclad in a churchyard at night, she did not 
lose her grace. She trembled a little, and clung to me; when I told 
her to come at once with me home she 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 
vas a puddle of water, remaining from the storm, I daubed my 
eet with mud, using each foot in turn on the other, so that as 
ve went home, no one, in case we should meet any one, should, 
lotice my bare feet. 

Fortune favoured us, and we got home without meeting a 
oul. Once we saw a man, who seemed not quite sober, passing 
Jong a street in front of us; but we hid in a door till he had 
isappeared up an opening such as there are here, steep little 
loses, or "wynds," as they call them in Scotland. My heart 
3eat so loud all the time that sometimes I thought I should faint, 
was filled with anxiety about Lucy, not only for her health, 
est she should suffer from the exposure, but for her reputation 
n case the story should get wind. When we got in, and had 
vashed our feet, and had said a prayer of thankfulness together, 
tucked her into bed. Before falling asleep she asked even 
mplored me not to : say a word to any one, even her mother, 
.bout her sleep-walking adventure. I hesitated at first to prom- 
se; but on thinking of the state of her mother's health, and how 
he knowledge of such a thing would fret her, and thinking, too, 
>f howi such a story might become distorted nay, infallibly 
vould in case it should leak out, I thought it wiser to do so. I 
lope I did right. I have locked the door, and the key is tied to my 
s r rist, so perhaps I shall not be again disturbed. Lucy is sleeping 
oundly; the reflex of the dawn is high and far over the sea. . . . 

Sams day, noon. All goes well. Lucy slept till I woke her and 
eemed not to have even changed her side. The adventure of the 
tight does not seem to have harmed her; on the contrary, it has 
>enefited her, for she looks better this morning than she has done 
or weeks. I was sorry to notice that my clumsiness with the 
afety-pin hurt her. Indeed, it might have been serious, for the 
kin of her throat was pierced. I must have pinched up a piece 



88 Dracula 

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. Fortu- 
nately it cannot leave a scar, as it is so tiny. 

Same day t 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 abso- 
lutely 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 secure the key the same as before, though I do not 
expect any trouble to-night. 

12 August. My expectations were wrong, for twice during 
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 to have 
come back, and she came and snuggled in beside me and told 
me all about Arthur. I told her how anxious I was about Jona- 
than, 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 to bed with the key 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 
sleeping peacefully. She did not stir again all night. 



Mina Murray's Journal 89 

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 afternoon 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 
everything 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 albne. I was 
a little startled myself, for it seemed for an instant as if the 
stranger had great eyes like burning flames; but a second look 
dispelled the illusion. The red sunlight was shining on the 
windows of St. Mary's Church behind our seat, and as the 
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 may 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 head- 
ache 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 coming 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 handkerchief 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 



go Dracula 

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 later than usual. Lucy was languid 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 confided to me that she has got her death-warrant. 
She has not 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 window she shook her head 
and turned away. I trust her feeling 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 



Mina Murray's Journal 91 

edges of them are faintly white. They are like little white dots 
with red centres. 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, Pater son 6 Co., London. 

"17 August. 
"Dear Sirs 

"Herewith please receive invoice of goods sent by Great North- 
ern 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 
form the consignment, in the partially ruined building forming 
part of the house and marked 'A' on rough diagram enclosed. 
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 will be due at King's Cross at 4:30 to-morrow 
afternoon. As our client wishes the delivery 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 requirements as to payment in your depart- 
ments, we enclose cheque herewith for ten pounds (10), receipt 
of which please acknowledge. 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 expedition. 

"We are, dear Sirs, 

"Faithfully yours, 
"SAMUEL F. BILLINGTON & SON." 

Letter, Messrs. Carter, Pater son & Co., London, to Messrs. 
Billington & Son, Whitby. 

"21 August. 
"Dear Sirs 

"We beg to acknowledge 10 received and to return cheque 



92 Dracula 

i 175. pd, amount of overplus, as shown in receipted account 
herewith. Goods are delivered in exact accordance with instruc- 
tions, and keys left in parcel in main hall, as directed. 

"We are, dear Sirs, 

" Yours respectfully. 
11 Pro CARTER, PATERSON & Co." 

Mina Murray's Journal. 

1 8 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 she is still sadly pale 
and wan-looking. If she were in any way anaemic I could under- 
stand it, but she is not. She is in 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 daresay 
poor old Mr. Swales would have told me that it was because I 
didn't want to wake up Geordie." As she was in such a communi- 
cative 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 sinking 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 



Mina Murray's Journal 93 

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 shaking 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 very happy evening together. 

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 himself not 
strong enough to write, though progressing well, thanks to Goc 1 
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, Exeter, to say, with his dutiful respects, 
that he is sorry for his delay, and that all of his work is com- 
pleted. He will require some few weeks' rest in our sanatorium 
in the hills, but will then return. He wishes me to say that he 



94 Dracula 

has'not sufficient money with him, and that he would like to pay 
for his staying 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 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 Klausenburg, 
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 is well cared for. 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 himself. 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. 

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



Mina Murray's Journal 95 

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 infinitesimal distinctions between man and man are too 
paltry for an Omnipotent Being. How these madmen give them- 
selves away! The real God taketh heed lest a sparrow fall; but 
the God created from human vanity sees no difference between 
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 watching 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 
Iiis attention. At first he made no reply, but at length said 
testily: 

"Bother them all! I don't care a pin about them." 

"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 2 HC1 3 O. H 2 O ! 
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 dangerous a person to be 
roaming about. Those ideas of his might work out dangerously 



96 Dracula 

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 through the observation-trap in the door. 
His attention was 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 building 
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 myself, 
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 ironbound 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 following 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 worshipped 
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, 

L ^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 hi a Real Presence. His manias 
make a startling combination. When we closed in on him he 
fought like a tiger. He is immensely strong, for 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 strength and his danger in good time. With 



Mina Murray's Journal 97 

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 follow 
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. It is coming coming coming !" 
So I took the hint, and came too. I was too excited to sleep, but 
this diary has quieted me, and I feel I shall get some sleep 
to-night. 



CHAPTER DC 

Letter, Mina Barker 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 Hamburg, 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 any- 
thing that has happened to him for a long time past. At least, he 
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 troubled, she opened up the subject again, and after 
saying that she could never mention what my poor dear raved 
about, added: 'I 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 forgot- 
ten you or what he owes to you. His fear was of great and terrible 
things, which no mortal can* treat of.' I do believe the dear soui 
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 I knew that no other woman was a cause of 
trouble. I am now sitting by his bedside, where I can see his faoe 
while he sleeps. He is waking! . . . 

98 



Letters, Etc. 99 

"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 rne 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 earnest, 
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 igno- 
rance? 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 English 
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 ' I 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 shall never, never 
forget them, nor the grave and sweet responsibilities I have 
taken upon me. I must tell you of my 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 



ioo Dracula 

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 wedding 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 stern 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 could I say? I could only tell him 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 teU 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 ! 

"Your ever-loving 

"MiNA HARKER." 

Letter , Lucy Westenra to Mina Barker. 

"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 



Letters, Etc. 101, 

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 love. She seems better, poor dear. 
"P. P. S. We are to be married on 28 September." 

Dr. Seward's Diary. 

20 August. The case of Renfield grows even more interesting. 
He has now so far quieted that there are spells of cessation from 
his passion. For the first week after his attack he was perpetually 
violent. Then one night, just as the moon rose, he grew quiet, 
and kept murmuring to himself: "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 hi 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 condition, 
and directed him to be relieved. The attendants hesitated, 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 whisper, all the while looking 
furtively at them: 

"They think I could hurt you! Fancy me hurting you! The 
fools!" 

It was soothing, somehow, to the feelings to find myself dis- 
sociated even in the mind of this poor madman from the o.thers; 
but all the same I do not follow his thought. Am I to take it that 
I have anything in common with him, so that 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 



102 Dracula 

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 with- 
out 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 unexpected always happens." How 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 es- 
caped. 

Later. Another night adventure. Renfield artfully waited 
until the attendant was entering the room to inspect. Then he 
dashed out past him and flew down the passage. I sent word for 
the attendants to follow. Again he went into the grounds of the 
deserted house, and we found him in the same place, pressed 
against the old chapel door. When he saw 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 hap- 
pened. He suddenly redoubled 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 trouble we 
came back to the house. I feel there is something ominous in his 
calm, and shall not forget this night, . . . 



Letters, Etc. 103 

Lucy Westenra's Diary 

Eillingham, 24 August. I must imitate Mina, and keep writ- 
ing 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 horrid 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 must 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. 

"Albemarle Hotel, 31 August. 
" My dear Jack, 

"I want 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 daugh- 
ter 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 dis- 
tracted 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 



104 Dracula 

lunch at Hillingham to-morrow, two o'clock, so as not to arouse 
any suspicion in Mrs. Westenra, 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. 

" i September. 

"Am summoned to see my father, who is worse. 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 functional 
disturbance or any malady that I know of. At the same time, 
I am not by any means satisfied with her appearance; 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 better 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: 

"'I cannot tell you how I loathe talking about myself. 7 1 re- 



Letters, Etc. 105 

minded 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 every- 
thing 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 hi 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 anxiety; but as there must be a cause 
somewhere, I have come to the conclusion that it must be some- 
thing mental. She complains of difficulty in breathing satisfac- 
torily 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 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 I know 
of; I have written to my old friend and master, Professor 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 because 
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 believe, an abso- 
lutely open mind. This, with an iron nerve, a temper of the ice- 
brook, an indomitable resolution, self-command, 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 



io6 Dracuia 

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 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 all his great fortune could do. But it is pleasure 
added 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 may be 
near to hand, and please it so arrange that we may see 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 Eon. 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 concerned, 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 jest- 
ing. This is no jest, but life and death, perhaps more. ' I asked 
what he meant bv that, for he was very serious. This was when 



Letters, Etc. 107 

we had come back to town, and he was having a cup of tea be- 
fore 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 pos- 
sibly make it. In any case I am to have a letter. 

" Well, as to the visit. Lucy was more cheerful than on the day 
I first saw her, and certainly looked better. She had lost some- 
thing 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 ex- 
cept ourselves and diseases and with such an infinite geniality 
that I could see poor Lucy's pretense of animation merge into 
reality. Then, without any seeming change, he brought the con- 
versation gently round to his visit, and suavely said: 

"'My dear young miss, I have the so great pleasure because 
you are so much beloved. That is much, my dear, ever 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 -them I say: 
" Pouf ! " ' 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! He 
has no 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, my dear, we will send him 
away to smoke the cigarette in the garden, whiles you and I 
have little talk all to ourselves.' I took the hint, and strolled 
about, and presently the professor came to the window and 
called me in. He looked grave, but said: 'I have made careful 



io8 Dracula 

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 hi 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 every- 
thing. 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 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 u our interest 
in him. He had only one outburst and that was yesterday at an 
unusual time. Just before the stroke of noon he began to grow 
restless. The attendant knew the symptoms, and at once sum- 
moned 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, how- 
ever, he began to get more and more quiet, and finally s^nk into 
a sort of melancholy, in which state he has remained up to now. 
The attendant tells me that his screams whilst in the paroxysm 
were really appalling; I found my hands full when I got in, at- 
tending 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 patient sits in a 
corner brooding, with a dull, sullen, woe-begone 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 



Letters, Etc. 109 

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 with the 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, and is already examining the corners 
of his room to find 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 
saying it rather to himself than to me: 

' 'All over! all over! He 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 more I heard him yelling. As his room 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 mar- 
vellous 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 wonderful, how- 
ever, what intellectual recuperative power lunatics 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 



no Dracula 

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 outside, and threw away the box; then 
he shut the window, 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 certainly 
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 parox- 
ysms came on at high noon and at sunset. Can it be that there 
is a malign influence of the sun at periods which affects certain 
natures as at times the moon does others? We shall see. 

Telegram, Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam. 
"4 SeptemberPatient 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 charge for the worse. Come at once; 
do not lose an hour. I hold over telegram to Holmwood 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. Lucy this morning had 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 Hel- 
sing, the great specialist, was coming to stay with me, and that 
I would put her in his charge conjointly 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 condi- 
tion, might be disastrous to her. We are hedged in with diffi- 
culties, 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 
waiting 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. I wrote him a letter simply telling him that 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 madmen, 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 think. So you shall keep knowledge in its 

in 



H2 Dracula 

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 ar- 
rive 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 lectures, and said: "The good hus- 
bandman tell you so then because he knows, but not till then. 
But you do not find the good husbandman dig up his planted 
corn to see if he grow; that is for the children who play at hus- 
bandry, 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 Re- 
member, 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!" 

W T hen I described Lucy's symptoms the same as before, but 
infinitely more marked he looked very grave, but said nothing. 
He took with him a bag in which were many instruments and 
drugs, "the ghastly paraphernalia of our beneficial 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 



Letters, Etc. 113 

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 terrible 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 in- 
sensitive 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 root for its causes than 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 required. She as- 
sented 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 horri- 
fied 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 till they almost touched over his 
nose. Lucy lay 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 pre- 
pared." 

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 whisper: 

" Jack, I was so anxious. I read between the lines of your let- 
ter, and have been in an agony. The dad was better, so I ran 
down here to see for myself. Is not that gentleman Dr. Vaq, 



H4 Dracula 

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 his 
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 humorous 
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 ex- 
plaining 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 consulted; 
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 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 all went up to Lucy's room. Arthur by direction remained 



Letters, Etc. 115 

outside. Lucy turned her head and looked at us, but said noth- 
ing. She was not asleep, but she 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 Helsing 
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 was set, and he stood watch in hand and with 
his eyes fixed 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 weak- 
ened. 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 Lack of his head: 

"The brave lover, I think, deserve another kiss, which he 
shall have presently." And as he had now finished his operation, 
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 UD, and showed a 



ii6 Dracula 

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 Arthur had gone I went back to the room. Lucy was 
sleeping gently, but her breathing was stronger; I could see the 
counterpane move as her breast heaved. By the bedside 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 trituration. It at once occurred to me that 
this wound, or whatever it was, might be the means of that mani- 
fest 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 transfusion. 

"Well?" said Van Helsing. 

"Well," said I, "I can make nothing of it." The Professor 
stood up. "I must go back to Amsterdam to-night," he said. 
"There are books and things there which I want. You must re- 
main 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 sbaJl see!" he answered, as he hurried out. He came back 



Letters, Etc. 117 

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. I sat up all night with Lucy. The opiate 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 Hel- 
sing 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 ha^jrepared her for the night 
I came in, having in the meantime rfia 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 together and shook it off. This was repeated sev- 
eral 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; I am afraid." 

"Afraid to go to sleep! Why so? It is the boon we all crave 
for." 

"Ah, not if you were like me if sleep was to you a presage 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 ter- 
rible. 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 watch- 
ing 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? How good you are to me. Then 
I will sleep!" And almost at the word she gave a deep sigh of re- 
lief, and sank back, asleep. 

All night long I watched by her. She never stirred, but slept 



n8 Dracula 

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, suggesting 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^oin me early in the morning. 

9 September. a. was pretty tired and worn out when I got to 
Hillingham. For two nights I had hardly had a wink of sleep, 
and my brain was beginning to feel that numbness 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 argue the point, but 
went and had my supper. Lucy came with me, and, enlivened by 
her charming presence, I made an excellent 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 
cozy 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 "dog-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 Westenra's Diary. 

9 September. I feel so happy to-night. I have been so miser- 
ably weak, that to be able to think and move about is like feeling 



Letters, Etc. 119 

sunshine after a long spell of east wind out of a steel sky. Some- 
how Arthur feels very, very close to me. I seem to feel his pres- 
ence warm about me. I suppose it is that sickness and weakness 
are selfish things and turn our inner eyes and sympathy on our- 
selves, whilst health and strength give Love rein, and in thought 
and feeling he can wander where he wills. I know where my 
thoughts are. If Arthur only knew! My dear, my dear, your ears 
must tingle as you sleep, as mine do waking. Oh, the blissful 
rest of last night! How I slept, with that dear, good Dr. Se^vard 
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^cond. That is one of the 
things that we learn in an asylum,lit any rate. 

"And how is our patient?" 

"Well, when I left her, or rather when she left me/' I answered. 

"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 know- 
ing 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 agonised 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 prolonged illness. 
Van Helsing raised his foot to stamp in anger , 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 . It beats, though but feebly. All our work is 



I2O Dracula 

undone; we must begin again. There is no young Arthur here 
now; I have to call on you yourself this t time, friend John." 
As he spoke, he was dipping into his bag and producing the in- 
struments for transfusion; I had taken off my coat and rolled 
up my shirt-sleeve. There was no possibility of an opiate just 
at presert, 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 mat- 
ter 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 hypodermic injection of morphia." He proceeded then, 
swiftly and deftly, to carry out his intent. The effect on Lucy 
was not badjfor^the^ faint seemed to merge subtly into the nar- 
cotic sleegT.1 It~was " "wTtETaTeeling of ^personal pricfe that I could" 
r^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 
j 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 down- 
stairs to get a glass of wine for myself. As I was leaving the room, 
he came after me, and half whispered : 

"Mind, nothing must b$ said of this. If our young lover should 
turn up unexpected, as before, no word to him. It would at once 
frighten him and enjealous him, too. There must be none. So!" 

When I came back h e looke^ 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 weakness lost some- 
thing of the amazement at what had occurred. I fell asleep on the 
sofa, however, wondering over and over again how Lucy had 



Letters, Etc. 121 

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 
fairly well and strong, though not nearly so much so as the day 
before. When Van Helsing had seen her, he went out for a walk, 
leaving me in charge, with strict injunctions that I 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 unconscious 
that anything had happened. I tried to keep her amused and in- 
terested. When her mother came up to see her, she did not seem 
to notice any change whatever, but said to me gratefully: 

" 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 re- 
action 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 im- 
plored 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 gentleman." 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. 



122 Dracula 

ii September. This afternoon I went over to Hillingham. 
Found Van Helsing in excellent spirits, and Lucy much better. 
Shortly after I had arrived, a big parcel from abroad came for 
the Professor. He opened it with much impressment assumed, 
of course and showed a great bundle of 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 medi- 
cines." 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 seeing 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 Conquistadores 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 meeting: 

"No trifling with me! I never jest! There is grim purpose 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 obedience 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 tele- 
graph yesterday, or they would not have been here." 

We went into the room, taking the flowers with us. The Pro- 



Letters, Etc. i^ 

fessor's actions were certainly odd and not to be found in any 
pharmacopoeia that I ever heard of. First he fastened up the win- 
dows 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 fire- 
place in the same way. It all seemed grotesque to me, and pres- 
ently 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 scep- 
tic 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; and even if the room 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 
1 spell' which I have work. Ho! ho!" 

He seemed so confident that I, remembering my own confi- 
dence 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 love that 
dear Dr. Van Helsing. I wonder why he was so anxious about 
these flowers. He positively frightened me, he was so fierce. And 
yet he must have been right, for I feel comfort from them al- 
ready. Somehow, I do not dread being alone to-night, and I can 
go to sleep without fear. I shall not mind any flapping outside 
the window. Oh, the terrible 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 ! 
How blessed 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 "virgin 
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 
HilHngham 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 smiled, and 
looked quite jubilant. He rubbed his hands together, and said: 

124 



Letters, Etc. 125 

"Aha! I thought I had diagnosed the case. My treatment Is 
working," to which she answered: 

"You must not take all the credit to yourself, doctor, Lucy's 
state this morning is due hi part to me." 

"How you do 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 actually 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 her, I am sure." 

She moved off into her boudoir, where she usually breakfasted 
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 hi a sort of mute de- 
spair, 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 
devils, or all the devils at once, it matters not; we fight him all 
the same." He went to the hall-door for his bag; 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 



ia6 Dracula 

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 inspiration 
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 instru- 
ments for yet another operation of transfusion 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 al- 
ready." As he spoke he took off his coat and rolled up his shirt- 
sleeve. 

Again the operation; again the narcotic; again some return 
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 without 
consulting him; that the flowers were of medicinal value, and 
that the breathing of their odour was a part of the system of cure. 
Then he took over the care of the case himself , 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 Westerners Diary. 

17 September. Four days and nights of peace. I am getting 
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-remembrance of long, anxious 
times of waiting and fearing; darkness in which there was not 
even the pain of hope to make present distress more poignant: 
and then long spells of oblivion, 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 



Letters, Etc. 127 

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 going 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 twice when I awoke; but I 
did not fear to go to sleep again, although the boughs or bats or 
something flapped almost angrily against the window-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 inquiries and almost as many refusals, and perpet- 
ually using the words "Pall Mall Gazette" as a sort of talisman, 
I managed to find the keeper of the section of the Zob*- 
logical Gardens hi which the wolf department is included. 
Thomas Bilder lives in one of the cottages in the enclosure be- 
hind the elephant-house, and was just sitting down to his tea 
when I found him. Thomas and his wife are hospitable folk, 
elderly, and without children, and if the specimen I enjoyed o 
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 all our sec- 
tion their tea afore I begins to arsk them questions." 

"How do you mean, ask them questions?" I queried, wishfu. 
to get him into a talkative humour. 

" Tttin' of them over the 'ead with a pole is one way; scrat- 
chin' of their hears is another, when gents as is flush wants a bit 
of a show-orf to their gals. I 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 



128 Dracula 

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 arskin' of me questions about my busi- 
ness, 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 Questions. Without offence did 
I tell yer to go to 'ell?" 

"You did." 

"An' when you said you'd report me for usin' of obscene lan- 
guage 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 years ago. He was a nice well-behaved wolf, that never gave 
no trouble to talk of. I'm more surprised at 'im for 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 that 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 'ook 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 him- 



Letters, Etc. 129 

tated 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 I, 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 of 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 perlite 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 some- 
wheres out back of the gardings in the Park road. Once or twice 
I went out to see that all was right, and it was, and then the 
'owling stopped. Just before twelve o'clock I just took a look 
round afore turnin' in, an', bust me, but when I kem opposite 
to old Bersicker 's 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 of our gard'ners was a-comin' 'ome about that time from 
a 'armony, when he sees a big grey dog comin' out through the 
garding 'edges. At least, so he says, but I don't give much for 
it myself, for if lie did 'e never said a word abcut 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 remembered seein' anything. My 
own belief was that the 'armony 'ad got into his 'ead." 



130 Dracula 

"Now, Mr. Bilder, can you account in any way for the escape 
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 animals 
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 before, and that 
the whole explanation was simply an elaborate sell. I couldn't 
cope hi 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 
youVe told me what you think will happen." 

"Right y'are, sir," he said briskly. "Ye '11 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." 

" WeU, I never!" said the old lady. 

"My opinion is this: that 'ere wolf is a-'idin' of, somewheres. 
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 more nor dogs does, 
they not bein' built that way. Wolves is fine things in a story- 
book, and I dessay 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 
J 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 soldier, 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." 



Letters, Etc. 131 

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 pro* 
ceeding 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 confidence in masquerade. 

The whole scene was an unutterable mixture of comedy and 
pathos. The wicked wolf that for half a day had paralysed Lon- 
don 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 cut and 
full of broken glass. 'E's been a-gettin' over some 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. 

17 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 patient, with his face dis- 
torted with passion. I was thunderstruck, for such a thing as a 
patient getting of his own accord into the Superintendent's 
study is almost unknown. Without an instant's pause he made 



132 Dracula 

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 balance he had struck at me and cut my left wrist rather 
severely. 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 effort, and occupied myself 
binding up my wrist, keeping a wary eye on the prostrate figure 
all the time. When the attendants 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, tEe 
blood which had fallen from my wounded wrist. He was easily 
secured, and, to my surprise, went with the attendants quite 
placidly, simply repeating over and 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 prolonged 
strain of Lucy's illness and its horrible phases is telling 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 my 
sleep; to-night I could not well do without it. 

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. A whole 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 com- 
plete my entry on Lucy's phonograph. 



Letters, Etc. 133 

Memorandum left by Lucy Westenra. 

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 went to the window and looked out, but could see nothing, 
except a big bat, which had evidently been buffeting its wings 
against the window. So I went back to bed again, but deter- 
mined 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 p^oe there was 



134 Dracula 

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 is a simoon in the desert. I tried to stir, 
but there 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 tune did not seem long, but very, very awful, till I re- 
covered consciousness again. Somewhere near, a passing bell 
was tolling; the dogs all round the neighbourhood were howling; 
and in our shrubbery, seemingly just outside, a nightingale was 
singing. I was dazed and stupid with pain and terror and weak- 
ness, but the sound of the nightingale seemed like the voice of 
my dead mother come back to comfort me. The sounds seemed 
to have awakened the maids, too, for I could hear their bare 
feet pattering outside my 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 remembered what 
Dr. Van Helsing had told me, but I didn't like to remove them, 
and, besides, I would have some of the servants 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 



Letters, Etc. 135 

lay helpless on the floor, breathing heavily. The decanter 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? I am 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! 



CHAPTER XII 

DR. SE WARD'S DIARY 

1 8 September. I drove at once to Hillingham and arrived 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 response, 1 knocked and 
rang again; still no answer. L 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 impa- 
tiently, but still without response. 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 sec- 
onds 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 1 
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 hi* 
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 
Idtchen window. The Professor took a small surgical saw from 

136 



Dr. Reward's Diary 137 

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 hi 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 lying 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 window, 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 flew downstairs and returned with it, taking care to smell 
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 occasion, 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 
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." 



138 Dracula 

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 remem- 
brance 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 sacrifice 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. Holm- 
wood. 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 forgot all about him. 

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 life over her 
horizon." He went on with his work with, if possible, 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 perceptible 
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 pre- 
pared, and laid her in bed and forced a few drops of brandy down 
her throat. I noticed that Van Helsing tied a soft, silk handker- 
chief round her throat. She was still unconscious, 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 
beckoned me out of the room. 



Dr. Seward's Diary 139 

"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 submit. 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. 
1 "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 terribly 
anxious. Cannot leave. Father still in same condition. Send me 
word how Lucy is. Do not delay. HOLMWOOD." 

"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: 

"A brave man's blood is the best thing on this earth when 
a woman is in trouble. You're a man and no mistake. Well r the 
devil may work against us for all he's worth, but God sends us 
men 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. 



140 Dracula 

the action of both heart and lungs improved, and Van Helsing 
made a subcutaneous injection of morphia, as before, and with 
good effect. Her faint became a profound slumber. The Profes- 
sor 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 Quincey 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 saying 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 tune; 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, if nothing 
else did. I know, and you know, and the other doctor who at- 
tended her knows, that Mrs. Westenra had disease of the heart, 
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 net 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 no? 
blind! I love you all the more for it! Now go." 

In the hall I met Quincey Morris, with a telegram for Arthur 
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 



Dr. Seward's Diary 141 

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 see him as soon as I knew about Lucy, and went up to 
her room. She was still sleeping, and the Professor seemingly 
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, although 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 
*s 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: 

"I take it that both you and Van Helsing had done already 
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 Pampas 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 hi 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 be- 
traying confidence, Arthur was the first, is not that so?" As he 
spoke the poor fellow looked terribly anxious. He was in a tor- 
ture of suspense regarding the woman he loved, and his uttet 
ignorance of the terrible mystery which seemed to surround hef 
intensified his pain. His very heart was bleeding, and it took 2 tf 



142 Dracula 

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 I guess, Jack Seward, that that poor 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 to 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 ail 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 I'll do it." 

When she woke late in the afternoon, Lucy's first movement 
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, lest on waking she should 
be alarmed. Her eye then lit on Van Helsing and on me too, and 
gladdened. Then she looked around the room, and seeing where 
she was, shuddered; she gave a loud cry, and put her poor thin 
hands before 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. 



Dr. Seward's Diary 

ig September. All last night she slept fitfully, being al\?- C. 
afraid to sleep, and something weaker when she woke from iu 
The Professor and I took it in turns to watch, and we never left 
her for a moment unattended. Quincey Morris 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 ravages 
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 telegraphed for him. Quincey went off to meet 
him at the station. 

When he arrived it was nearly six o'clock, and the sun was 
setting full and warm, and the red light streamed in through 
the window and gave more colour to the pale cheeks. When 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 to- 
gether, and spoke as cheerily as he could, so that the best was 
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 will end our watch- 
ing, for the shock has been too great; the poor child cannot 
rally. God help us all. 

Letter, Mina Barker to Lucy Westenra, 

(Unopened by her.) I? SeptembeTt 

"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 



Dracula 

j~? e ro e read all my budget of news. Well, I got my husband 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 com- 
fortable, 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 
out against the old yellow stone of the cathedral and lean hear the 
rooks overhead cawing and cawing and 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. Hawkins 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 occasions 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 cere- 
mony, 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 that is good enough from the junior 
partner of 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.* 



Dr. Seward's Diary 145 

Report from Patrick Hennessey, M. D., M. R. C. S. L. K. Q. C. 
P. /., etc., etc., to John Seward, M. D. 

" 20 September. 
"My dear Sir, 

"In accordance with your wishes, I enclose report of the con- 
ditions of everything left in my charge. . . . With regard to pa- 
tient, Renfield, there is more to say. He has had another out- 
break, 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 twice ran away. The 
men stopped at our gate to ask the porter their way, as they 
were strangers. I was myself looking 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 pa- 
tient began to rate him from within, and called him all the foul 
names he could lay his tongue to. The man, who seemed a de- 
cent 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 astonishment, 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 



146 Dracula 

fear was justified when I saw the same cart which had passed be- 
fore 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 mind it, but 
seized him also, and struggled with the three of us, pulling 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 frus- 
trate them! They shan't rob me! they shan't murder me by 
inches! I'll fight for my Lord and Master!' and all sorts of simi- 
lar incoherent ravings. It was with very considerable difficulty 
that they got him back to the house and put him in the padded 
room. One of the attendants, Hardy, had a finger broken. How- 
ever, I set it all right; and he is going on well. 

"The two carriers were at first loud in their threats of actions 
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 en- 
counter a worse madman any day for the pleasure of meeting 
so 'bloomin' good a bloke' as your correspondent. I took their 
names and addresses, in case they might be needed. They are 
as follows: Jack Smollet, of Budding'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. 



Dr. Seward's .Diary 147 

"I shall report to you any matter of interest occurring here, 
and shall wire you at once if there is anything of importance. 

"Believe me, dear Sir, 
" Yours faithfuUy, 
"PATRICK HENNESSEY." 



Letter, Mina Barker to Lucy Westenra. 
(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 
eome 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 dis- 
tressed. It is not only that he feels sorrow, deep sorrow, for the 
dear, good man who has befriended 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 amount of responsibility which it puts upon him makes 
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 him- 
self. But it is here that the grave shock that he experienced tells 
upon him the most. Oh, it is too hard that a 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 happiness; but, Lucy dear, I must tell some 
one, for the strain of keeping up a brave and cheerful appear- 
ance to Jonathan tries me, and I have no one here that lean 
confide in. I dread coming up to London, as we must do the 
day after to-morrow; for poor Mr. Hawkins left in his will that 
he was to be buried in the grave with his father. As there are 
no relations 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." 



148 Dracula 

Dr. Seward's Diary. 

20 September. Only resolution and habit can let me make 
an entry to-night. I am too miserable, too low-spirited, too sick 
of the world and all in it, including life itself, th it 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 dur- 
ing 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 in 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 doubtless 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 



Dr. Seward's Diary 149 

garlic flowers from her throat. I replaced them as well as I 
could, and sat watching her. 

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 ac- 
tions 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 sissing indraw 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 Uf ted the silk handkerchief from her throat. As he 
did so he started back, and I could hear his ejaculation, " Mein 
Gott!" as it was smothered in his throat. I bent overand looked, 
too, and as I noticed 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 differ- 
ence, mark me, whether she dies conscious or in her sleep. Wake 
that poor boy, and let him come and see the last; he trusts us, 
and we have promised him." 

Lwent 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 Helsing 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." 

When we came into Lucy's room I could see that Van Helsing 



150 Dracula 

had, with his usual forethought, been putting matters 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 so glad you have come!" 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, voluptuous 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 al- 
most 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 si- 
lent, 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 great 
brown one; drawing it to her, she kissed it. "My true friend," 
she said, in a faint voice, but with untellable pathos, "My 
true friend, and his! Oh, guard him, and give me peace 1" 



Dr. Seward's Diary 151 

"I swear it!" he said solemnly, kneeling beside her and hold- 
ing 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 once." 

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 drawing- 
room, where he sat down, and covered his face with his 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 the 

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 and 

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 attended to 
all the ghastly formalities, and the urbane undertaker proved 
that his staff were afflicted or blessed 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 privilege 
to attend on her. It's not too much to say that she will do credit 
to our establishment!' 1 

I noticed that Van Helsing never kept far away. This was 
possible from the disordered state of things in the household. 
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 cir- 
cumstances, Van Helsing and I took it upon ourselves to ex- 
amine 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 English legal requirements, and so 
might in ignorance make some unnecessary trouble. He answered 
me: 

"I know; I know. You forget that 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 memorandum 
which had been in Lucy's breast, and which she had torn in her 
sleep. 

"When you find anything of the solicitor who is for the 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." 

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 

152 



Dr. Seward's Diary 153 

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 2 
and we shall for the present say nothing of them. I 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. We want 
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 under- 
taker had certainly done his work well, for the room was turned 
into a small chapelle ardente. There was a wilderness 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. He said to 
me: "Remain till I return," and left the room. He came back with 
a handful of wild garlic from the box waiting in the hall, but 
which had not been opened, and placed the flowers amongst the 
others on and around the bed. Then he took from his neck, in- 
side his collar, a little gold crucifix,, and placed it over the mouth. 
fie restored the sheet to its place, and we came away. 

I was undressing in my own room, when, with a premonitory 
tap at the door, he entered, and at once began to speak: 

"To-morrow I want you to bring me, before night, a set of 
post-mortem knives." 



154 Dracula 

. "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 surgeon, 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 her to see it. Then, when she is cofnned 
ready for the next day, you and I shall come when all sleep. We 
shall unscrew the coffin-lid, and shall do our operation: and then 
replace 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 gam 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 
infinite tenderness: 

"Friend John, I pity your poor bleeding heart; and Hove 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 know- 
ing, 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 promise to her, that so she closed her eyes grateful? 
Yes! 

"Well, I have good reason now for all I want to do. You 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 perhaps well. And if I 
work as work I shall, no matter trust or no trust without my 



Dr. SewarcTs Diary 155 

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 towards 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 slept long and soundly, for it was broad daylight- 1 
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 before 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 pun- 
ishment 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 mystery to 
think of, a new puzzle to grapple with. 

The forenoon was a dreary time, but at noon the solicitor 
came: Mr. Marquand, of Wholeman, Sons, Marquand & Lid- 
derdale. He was very genial and very appreciative of what we 
had done, and took off our hands all cares as to details. 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 cf a certain en- 
tailed property of Lucy's father's which now, in default of direct 
issue, went back to a distant branch of the family, the whole 



156 Dracula 

estate, real and personal, was left absolutely to Arthur Holm- 
wood. When he had told us so much he went on: 

" Frankly we did our best to prevent such a testamentary dis- 
position, 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 collision, 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 judg- 
ment. 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 lat- 
ter would have come into possession of the property, and, even 
had she only survived her mother by five minutes, her property 
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 Godalming, 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 sympathetic under- 
standing. 

He did hot remain long, but said he would look in later in 
the day and see Lord Godalming. 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 acts. Arthur was 
expected at five o'clock, so a little before that time we visited 
the death-chamber. It was so hi 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 Godalming 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 



Dr. Seward's Diary 157 

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 under 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, saying 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. r ln such cases men do not 
need much expression. A grip of the hand, the tightening of an arm 
over the shoulder, a sob in unison, are expressions 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 lawn from 
her face. \ God! how beautiful she was. Every hour seemed to 
be enhancing her loveliness. It frightened and amazed me some- 
what; and as for Arthur, he fell a- trembling, and finally was 
shaken with doubt as with an ague. At last, after a long pause, 
he said to me in a faint whisper: 

"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 happened that 
after death faces became softened and even resolved 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 



158 Dracula 

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 my- 
self!" 

We all dined together, and I could see that poor Art was try- 
ing to make the best of things. Van Helsing had been silent all 
dinner- tune; 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." He paused 
a moment, and went on: "I know that she understood 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 Profes- 
sor 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 da 
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 understand 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 



Dr. Seward's Diary 159 

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; I never thought of it." 

"And as it is all yours, you have a right to deal with it as you 
will. I want you to giye 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 approved. 
I shall not trouble you with questions till the time comes." 

The old Professor stood up as he said solemnly: 

"And you are right. There will be pain for us all; but it 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 bit- 
ter 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 Helsing did 
not go to bed at all. He went to and fro, as if patrolling 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 Barker's Journal. 

22 September. In the train to Exeter. Jonathan sleeping. 

It seems 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 



160 Dracula 

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 exercise anyhow. . . . 

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 represent- 
ing 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. Jonaman 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. Jonathan 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 teaching etiquette and decorum to other girls with- 
out the pedantry of it biting into yourself a bit; but it was 
Jonathan, and he was my husband, and we 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, in a big cart-wheel hat, sit- 
ting in a victoria outside Guiliano'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 looking 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 be- 
cause his lips were so red, were pointed like an animal's. Jona- 
than 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 



Dr. Seward's Diary 161 

did not know that it was to me, Mina, to whom he was speak- 
ing: 

"It is the man himself 1" 

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 star- 
ing; a man came out of the shop with a small parcel, 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 fol- 
lowed 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 knewl 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 re- 
mained 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 Park. It was a hot day for autumn, 
and there was a comfortable 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 somewhere." He had 
evidently forgotten all about the dark stranger, as in his illness he 
had forgotten all that this episode had reminded him of. I don't 
like this lapsing into forge tfulness; it may make or continue some 
injury to the brain. I must not ask him 1 , for fear I shall do more 
harm than good; but I must somehow learn the facts of his 
journey 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 your 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. Wes- 
tenra! poor Lucy! Gone, gone, never to return to us! And poor, 



162 Dracula 

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 ly ; 
ing down, having a rest preparatory to his journey. He goes ovei 
to Amsterdam to-night, but says he returns to-morrow night; 
that he only wants to make some arrangements which can only 
be made 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 buria] 
he was, I could see, putting some terrible restraint on himself. 
WheL 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 Hel- 
sing'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 operations, and none of us eve 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 conditions. 
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 together, 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 mys- 
terious. 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 



Dr. Seward's Diary 163 

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! thud!' to my heart, till it send back the blood from 
my cheek. 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 hus- 
band-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!' 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. Bleed- 
ing 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 laughter, 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 gar- 
landed with flowers, that looked so fair as lif e, 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; 



164 



Dracula 



and those holy men, with the white garments of the angel, 
tending to read books, and yet all the time their eyes never oi> 
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 any^ 
thing to laugh at in all that. Why, your explanation makes it 
a harder puzzle than before. But even if the burial 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 feeling 
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 I know!" 

And now we are all scattered; and for many a long day lone- 
liness will sit over our roofs with brooding wings. Lucy lies in 
the tomb of her kin, a lordly death-house hi a lonely church- 
yard, 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 165 

"The Westminister Gazette," 25 September. 



A HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY. 

The neighbourhood of Hampstead is just at present exercised 
with a series of events which seem to run on lines parallel to 
those of what was known to the writers of headlines as "The 
Kensington Horror," or "The Stabbing Woman," or "The Wo- 
man 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 playing on the Heath. In all these 
cases the children were too young to give any properly intelli- 
gible account of themselves, 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 oc- 
casions the children have not been found until early in the 
following morning. It is generally supposed in the neighbour- 
hood 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 occasion 
served. This is the more natural as the favourite game of the 
little ones at present is luring each other away by wiles. A cor- 
respondent writes us that* to see some of the tiny tots pretend- 
ing to be the "bloofer lady" is supremely funny. Some of our 
caricaturists might, he says, take a lesson in the irony of gro- 
tesque 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 popular role at these alfresco per- 
formances. Our correspondent naively says that even Ellen Terry 
could not be so winningly attractive as some of these grubby- 
faced little children pretend 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 al- 
though of not much importance individually, would tend to 
show that whatever animal inflicts them has a 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 Hampstead Heath, and for any stray dog 
which may be about. 



i66 Dracula 

" 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." 



CHAPTER XIV 

MINA BARKER'S JOURNAL 

23 September. Jonathan is better after a bad night. I am so 
glad that he has plenty of work to do, for that keeps his mind off 
the terrible things; and oh, I am rejoiced that he is not now 
weighed down with the responsibility of his new position. I knew 
he would be true to himself, and now how proud I am to see my 
Jonathan rising to the height of his advancement and keeping 
pace in all ways with the duties that come upon him. He will be 
away all day till late, for he said he could not lunch at home. 
My household work is done, so I shall take his foreign journal, 
and lock myself up hi my room and read it. ... 

24 September. I hadn't the heart to write last night; that 
terrible record of Jonathan's upset me so. Poor dear! How he 
must have suffered, whether it be true or only imagination. I 
wonder if there is any truth in it at all. Did he get his brain fever, 
and then write all those terrible things, or had he some cause for 
it all? I suppose I shall never know, for I dare not open the 
subject to him. . . . And yet that man we saw yesterday! He 
seemed quite certain of him. . . . Poor fellow! I suppose it was 
the funeral upset him and sent his mind back on some train of 
thought. ... He believes it all himself. I remember how on our 
wedding-day he said: "Unless some solemn duty come upon me 
to go back to the bitter hours, asleep or awake, mad or sane." 
There seems to be through it all some thread of continuity. . . . 
That fearful Count was coming to London. ... If it should be, 
and he came to London, with his teeming millions. . . . There 
may be a solemn duty; and if it come we must not shrink from 
it. ... I shall be prepared. I shall get my typewriter this very 
hour and begin transcribing. Then we shall be ready for other 
eyes if required. And if it be wanted; then, perhaps, if I am ready, 
poor Jonathan may not be upset, for I can speak for him and 
never let him be troubled or worried with it at all. If ever 
Jonathan quite gets over the nervousness he may want to tell 
me of it all, and I can ask him questions and find out things, 
and see how I may comfort him. 

167 



i68 Dracula 

Letter, Van Helsing to Mrs. Harker. 

11 24 September. 

(Confidence} 
"Dear Madam, 

" I pray you to pardon my writing, in that I am so far friend 
as that I sent to you sad news of Miss Lucy Westenra's death. 
By the kindness of Lord Godalming, I am empowered to read 
her letters and papers, for I am deeply concerned about certain 
matters vitally important. In them I find some letters from you, 
which show how great friends you were and how you love her. 
Oh, Madam Mina, by that love, I implore you, help me. It is 
for others' good that I ask to redress great wrong, and to lift 
much and terrible troubles that may be more great than you 
can know. May it be that I see you? You can trust me. I am 
friend of Dr. John Seward and of Lord Godalming (that was 
Arthur of Miss Lucy). I must keep it private for the present 
from all. I should come to Exeter to see you at once if you tell 
me I am privilege to come, and where and when. I implore your 
pardon, madam. I have read your letters to poor Lucy, and know 
how good you are and how your husband suffer; so I pray you, 
if it may be, enlighten him not, lest it may harm. Again your 
pardon, and forgive me. 

"VAN HELSING. " 

Telegram, Mrs. Harker to Van Helsing. 

"25 September. Come to-day by quarter-past ten train if 
you can catch it. Can see you any time you call. 

"WlLHELMINA HARKER." 

MINA BARKER'S JOURNAL. 

25 September. I cannot help feeling terribly excited as the 
time draws near for the visit of Dr. Van Helsing, for somehow 
I expect that it will throw some light upon Jonathan's sad ex- 
perience ; and as he attended poor dear Lucy in her last illness, he 
can tell me all about her. That is the reason of his coming; it 
is concerning Lucy and her sleep-walking, and not about Jona- 
than. Then I shall never know the real truth now! How silly I 
am. That awful journal gets hold of my imagination and tinges 
everything with something of its own colour. Of course it is 
about Lucy. That habit came back to the poor dear, and that 
awful night on the cliff must have made her ill. I had almost 



Mina Harker's Journal 171 

forgotten in my own affairs how ill she was afterwards. Shells? It 
have told him of her sleep-walking adventure on the cliff, c . 
that I knew all about it; and now he wants me to tell him what- 
she knows, so that he may understand. I hope I did right in not 
saying anything of it to Mrs. Westenra; I should never forgive 
myself if any act of mine, were it even a negative one, brought 
harm on poor dear Lucy. I hope, too, Dr. Van Helsing will not 
blame me; I have had so much trouble and anxiety of late 
that I feel I cannot bear more just at present. 

I suppose a cry does us all good at times clears the air as 
other rain does. Perhaps it was reading the journal yesterday that 
upset me, and then Jonathan went away this morning to stay 
away from me a whole day and night, the first tune we have been 
parted since our marriage. I do hope the dear fellow will take 
care of himself, and that nothing will occur to upset him. It is 
two o'clock, and the doctor will be here soon now. I shall say 
nothing of Jonathan's journal unless he asks me. I am so glad 
I have type-written out my own journal, so that, in case he 
asks about Lucy, I can hand it to him; it will save much ques- 
tioning. 

Later. He has come and gone. Oh, what a strange meeting, 
and how it all makes my head whirl round! I feel like one in a 
dream. Can it be all possible, or even a part of it? If I had not 
read Jonathan's journal first, I should never have accepted even 
a possibility. Poor, poor, dear Jonathan! How he must have 
suffered. Please the good God, all this may not upset him 
again. I shall try to save him from it; but it may be even a con- 
solation and a help to him terrible though it be and awful in 
its consequences to know for certain that his eyes and ears 
and brain did not deceive him, and that it is all true. It may 
be that it is the doubt which haunts him; that when the doubt 
is removed, no matter which waking or dreaming may prove 
the truth, he will be more satisfied and better able to bear the 
shock. Dr. Van Helsing must be a good man as well as a clever 
one if he is Arthur's friend and Dr. Seward's, and if they brought 
him all the way from Holland to look after Lucy. I feel from hav- 
ing seen him that he is good and kind and of a noble nature. 
When he comes to-morrow I shall ask him about Jonathan; and 
then, please God, all this sorrow and anxiety may lead to a good 
end. I used to think I would like to practise interviewing; Jona- 
than's friend on "The Exeter News" told him that memory was 
everything in such work that you must be able to put down ex- 



1 68 Dracula 

almost every word spoken, even if you had to refine some 

. c afterwards. Here was a rare interview; I shall try to record 
it verbatim. 

It was half-past two o'clock when the knock came. I took my 
courage a deux mains and waited. In a few minutes Mary 
opened the door, and announced "Dr. Van Helsing." 

I rose and bowed, and he came towards me; a man of medium 
weight, strongly built, with his shoulders set back over a broad, 
deep chest and a neck well balanced on the trunk as the head is 
on the neck. The poise of the head strikes one at once as indica^ 
tive of thought and power; the head is noble, well-sized, broad, 
and large behind the ears. The face, clean-shaven, shows a hard, 
square chin, a large, resolute, mobile mouth, a good-sized nose, 
rather straight, but with quick, sensitive nostrils, that seem to 
broaden as the big, bushy brows come down and the mouth 
tightens. The forehead is broad and fine, rising at first almost 
straight and then sloping back above two bumps or ridges wide 
apart; such a forehead that the reddish hair cannot possibly 
tumble over it, but falls naturally back and to the sides. Big, 
dark blue eyes are set widely apart, and are quick and tender or 
stern with the man's moods. He said to me: 

"Mrs. Harker, is it not?" I bowed assent. 

"That was Miss Mina Murray?" Again I assented. 

"It is Mina Murray that I came to see that was friend of tha 
poor dear child Lucy Westenra. Madam Mina, it is on account 
of the dead I come." 

"Sir," I said, "you could have no better claim on me than 
that you were a friend and helper of Lucy Westenra." And I 
held out my hand. He took it and said tenderly: 

"Oh, Madam Mina, I knew that the friend of that poor lily 
girl must be good, but I had yet to learn " He finished 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 sometimes kept a 
diary you need not look surprised, Madam Mina; it was be- 
gun after you had left, and was in imitation of you and in that 
diary she traces by inference 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 can remember." 

"I can tell you, I think, Dr. Van Helsing, all about it." 



Mina Marker's Journal 171 

"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 Mina, I will be grateful; you will do me much 
favour." I could not resist the temptation of mystifying 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 I read it?' 7 

"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 knew long 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 short- 
hand." By this tune my little joke was over, and I was almost 
ashamed; so I took the typewritten copy from my workbasket 
and handed it to him. 

" Forgive me," I said : " I could not help it ; but I had been think- 
ing that it was of dear Lucy that you wished to ask, and so 
that you might not have time to wait not on my account, but be- 
cause I know your tune 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." 

"By all means," I said, "read it over whilst I order lunch; 
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 all ablaze with excitement. 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, com- 
prehend. 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 



172 Dracula 

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 letters." 
I went on: 

" I suppose this upset him, for when we were in town on Thurs- 
day last he had a sort of shock." 

"A shock, and after brain fever so soon! That was not good. 
What kind of a 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 suppose I was hysterical, for I threw my- 
self on my knees and held up my hands to him, and implored him 
to make my husband 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 



Mina Marker's Journal 173 

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 seek- 
ing 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 Jona- 
than would not like to see you so pale; and what he like not 
where he love, is not to his good. Therefore for his sake you must 
eat and smile. You have told me 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 
I have thought 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 said 
to me: 

"And now tell me all about him." When it came to speaking 
to this great learned man, I began to fear that he would think me 
a weak fool, and Jonathan a madman that journal 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 believed some very 
strange things." He reassured me by his manner as well as his 
words when he said: 

"Oh, my dear, if you only know 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 



174 Dracula 

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, per- 
haps, 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 husband, if I 
may." 

"Jonathan will oe here at half -past eleven, and you must come 
to lunch with us and see him then; you could catch the quick 
3:34 tram, 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. 

So he took the papers with him and went away, and I sit here 
thinking thinking I don't know what. 

Letter (by hand), Van Helsing to Mrs. Barker. 

"25 September, 6 o'clock. 
"Dear Madam Mina, 

"I have read your husband's so wonderful diary. You may 
sleep without doubt. Strange and terrible as it is, it is true! I 
will pledge my life on it. It may be worse for others; but for him 
and you there is no dread. He is a noble 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. Barker to Van Belsing. 

"25 September, 6:30 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 



Mina Harker's Journal 175 

that lie 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 lunching 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 Paddington 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 MARKER." 

Jonathan Harker's Journal. 

26 September. I thought never to write in this diary 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 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 dressing, and I shall call at the 
hotel in a few minutes and bring him over. . . . 

He was, I think, surprised to see me. When I came into 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 last night. I was in doubt, and 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 



176 Dracula 

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 you, sir I have 
read all the letters to poor Miss Lucy, and 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 I ask you for some more help? 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 concern 
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 were 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 were talking at the carriage 
window, waiting for the train to start, he was turning them over. 
His eyes 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 intently, groaning to 



Mina Marker's Journal 177 

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 after- 
noon I had no cause to think of what is done. 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 Sunday, 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. Quincey wrote me a line too, and from him I hear 
that Arthur is beginning to recover some thing 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 yes- 
terday, 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 under- 
stand his answer: 

"That is true indirectly, but not directly." 



178 Dracula 

"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 conjec- 
ture." 

"Do you mean to tell me, friend John, that you have no sus- 
picion 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 contemplate 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. 
I 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 hypnotism " 

"Yes," I said. "Charcot has proved that pretty well." 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 electricity 



Mina Marker's Journal 179 

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 hun- 
dred 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 have save her. Do you know all 
the mystery of life and death? Do you know the altogether of 
comparative anatomy 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 else- 
where, 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, and those who have seen describe as like giant nuts or pods, 
and that when the sailors sleep 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 genera- 
tions of men; why 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 him- 
self 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 my 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 



i8o Dracula 

at Amsterdam; but he used then to tell me the thing, so that I 
could have the object of thought in mind all 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 
lumbering through a bog in a mist, jumping from one tussock 
to another in the mere blind effort to move on without knowing 
where I am going." 

"That is good image," he 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 faculty 
which enables us to believe things which we know to be untrue.' 
For one, I follow that man. He meait 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 let some 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 Lucy!" 



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 tell you 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, revenge for that time when you saved my 
life, and from a fearful death? Ah no!" 

"Forgive me," said I. He went on: 

" My friend, it was because I wished to be gentle in the break- 
ing 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 m<\ A man does not like f .o prove such a 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 in a misty bog. If it be not true, 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 Amster- 
dam. He will let two scientists see his case, if he will not let two 
friends. We shall tell him nothing, but only that we wish to learn. 
And then " 

181 



i8a Dracula 

"And then?" He took a key from his pocket and held it up. 
"And then we spend the night, you and I, in the churchyard 
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 punctures. 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 ta 
escape; or even from the Zoological Gardens a young one may 
have got loose, or one ^e 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 direction. For a week after, the 
children were playing nothing 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 for some days?" 

" Certainly not, not for a week at least; longer if the wound is 
not healed." 

Our visit to the hospital took more time than we had reckoned 
on, and the sun had clipped 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 



Dr. Seward's Diary 183 

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 mixup 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 suburban 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 uncon- 
sciously, 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 followed 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 matchbox 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 dominance; 
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 candle, the effect was more 
miserable and sordid than could have been imagined. It con- 
veyed irresistibly the idea that life animal life was not the 
only thing which could pass away. 

Van Helsing went about his work systematically. Holding his 
candle so that he could read the coffin plates, and so holding 
it that the sperm dropped in white patches which congealed as 
they touched the metal, he made assurance of Lucy's coffin. 
Another search in his bag, and he took out a turnscrew. 

"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. 



184 Dracula 

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 downward 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. 
We doctors, 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. Takuig the edge of the loose flange, he 
bent it back towards the foof^f 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 considerable 
shock, but Van Helsing was unmoved. He was now more sure 
than ever of his ground, and so emboldened to proceed in his 
task. "Are you satisfied now, friend John?" he asked. 

I felt all the dogged argumentativeness of my nature awake 
within me as I answered Mm: 

"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 under- 
taker'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." 

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 iwd 
sight. 



Dr. Seward's Diary i85 

It was a lonely vigil. Just after I had taken my place 1 heard 
a distant clock strike twelve, and in time came one and two. I 
was chilled and unnerved, and angry with the Professor for tak- 
ing me on such an errand and with myself for coming. I was 
too cold and too sleepy to be keenly observant, and not sleepy 
enough to betray my trust* so altogether I had a dreary, miser- 
able 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-off 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 direction 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 impulse 
we took our way out of the churchvard. 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?" I asked triumphantly. 

"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 movements 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 



i86 Dracula 

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 was two o'clock before we found a suitable 
opportunity for our attempt. The funeral held at noon was all 
completed, and the last stragglers of the mourners 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 real- 
ised distinctly the perils of the law which we were incurring in our 
unhallowed work. Besides, I felt it was all so useless. Outrageous 
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 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 un- 
utterably mean-looking 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 nignt 
before her funeral. She was, if possible, more radiantly 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 deli- 
cate 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 beforel 



Dr. Seward's Diary 187 

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, argumentative 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 recorded; 
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. 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 jo TT ously: 
"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 shudder 
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 presence 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? 



1 88 Dracula 

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 tilings 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 beautiful 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 believe, 
"bow, then, can I expect Arthur, who know none of those things, 
.0 believe? He doubted me when I took him from her kiss when 
ihe was dying. I know he has forgiven me because in some 
nistaken idea I have done things that prevent him say good-bye 
is 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 
unhappy 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 horrors 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 tunes 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 fine young man of America that 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." 



Dr. SewarcTs Diary 189 

So we locked the tomb and came away, and got over 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 Hotel 
directed to John Seward, M. 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 out; they may not prevail on her wanting 
to get in; for then the Un-Dead is desperate, and must find the 
line of least resistance, 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 the 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." 



190 Dracula 

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 Hel- 
sing's monstrous ideas; but now they seem to start out lurid be- 
fore 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 thai if he went 
of! his head he would carry out his intent with regard to some 
fixed idea in a wonderful way. I am loath to think it, and indeed 
it would be almost as great a marvel as the other to find that Van 
Helsing was mad; but anyhow I shall watch him carefully. I may 
get some light on the mystery. 

29 September, morning. . . . Last night, at a little before ten 
o'clock, Arthur and Quincey came into Van Helsing's room; he 
told us all that he wanted us to do, but especially 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 letter? " This query was directly ad- 
dressed to Lord Godalming. 

"I was. It rather upset me for a bit. There has been so much 
trouble around my house of late that I could do without 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 beginning, 
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 doubt- 
ing 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 dis- 
guise from myself the possibility that such may be you shall 
not blame yourselves for anything." 



Dr. Seward's Diary 191 

"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 concerned, I cannot 
make such a promise. If you can assure me that what you intend 
does not violate either of these two, then I give my consent 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 vio- 
late 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 Kings tead." 

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 cofiin." 

" 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 pityingly 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!" 



192 Dracula 

"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 pur- 
pose. 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 
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 night- 
mare, or what is it?" 

"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 passion. 
"Not for the wide world will I consent to any mutilation 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 to 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 
protecting 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 Godalming, 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 request 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 



Dr. Seward's Diary 193 

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 I am ashamed to say so much, but I say it in kindness I 
gave what you gave; the blood of my veins; I gave it, I, who was 
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. We all kept 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 hesitation 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 Helsing 
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 dishonour 
you as to imply a doubt; but this is a mystery that goes beyond 
any honour or dishonour. Is this your doing?" 

"I swear to you by all that I hold sacred that I have not re- 

IQ4 



Dr. SewarcTs Diary 195 

moved 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?" 

"Yes." 

"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 sundown, 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 exodus, 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 clouds 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 Hfe; how sweet it was to breathe the fresh air, that had no 
taint of death and decay; how humanising 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. Arthur was silent, and was, I could see, 
striving to grasp the purpose and the inner meaning of the 
mystery. I was myself 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-like biscuit, 
which was carefully rolled up in a white napkin; 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 



196 



Dracula 



to lay them into the crevices between the door and its setting 
in the tomb. I was somewhat 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 
enter." 

"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 question 
was by Arthur. Van Helsing reverently lifted his hat as he 
answered: 

"The Host. I brought it from Amsterdam. I have an Indul- 
gence." It was an answer that appalled the most sceptical 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 impossible 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 appren- 
ticed 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 moonlight 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. 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. 



Dr. Seward's Diary 197 

Lucy Westenra, but yet how changed. The sweetness was turned 
to adamantine, heartless cruelty, and the purity to voluptuous 
wantonness. Van Helsing stepped out, and, obedient to his ges- 
ture, we all advanced 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 because 
it bore her shape saw us she drew back with an angry 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 became 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 advanced 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: 

"Come to me, Arthur. Leave these others and come to 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 some- 
thing of the tingling of glass when struck which rang through 
the brains even of us who heard the words addressed to another. 
FAs 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 forward and held between them his little 
golden crucifix. | She recoiled from it, and, with a suddenly dis- 
torted face, full of rage, dashed past him as if to enter the tomb. 



198 Dracula 

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 moonlight 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 closing of her 
means of entry. Van Helsing broke the silence by asking Ar- 
thur: 

"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 
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 t as on the other night; 
and then to home." Coming close to Arthur, he said: 

"My friend Arthur, you have had a sore trial; but after, when 
you 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, 



Dr. Seward's Diary 199 

please God, have passed them, and have drunk of the sweet 
waters; so do not mourn overmuch. Till then I shall not ask yoc 
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. 

2Q 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 com- 
pleted 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 footsteps 
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 to work by. When he 
again lifted the lid off Lucy's coffin we all looked Arthur trem- 
bling 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. Presently he said to Van Helsing: 

"Is this really Lucy's body, or only a demon in her shape?" 

4 "It is her body, and yet not it. But wait a while, and you 
all see hei as she was, and is." 

I 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 jpur- 

_Jtyt Van Helsing, with his*usual "metriodicainess, began taking 

*~tne 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 



20O Dracula 

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 all was ready, Van Helsing said: 

"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 become such, 
there comes with the change the curse of immortality; they 
cannot die, but must go on age after age adding new victims and 
multiplying the evils of the world; for all that die from the prey- 
ing of the Un-Dead becomes themselves 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 clie; 
or again, last night when you open your arms to her. you would 
in time, when you had died, have become nosferatu, as they call 
it in Eastern Europe, and would all tune 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 disappear, 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 assimilating 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 



Dr. Seward's Diary 201 

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." 

"Go on," said Arthur hoarsely. "Tell me what I am to do." 

"Take this stake hi 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 shaU read him, I have here the 
book, and the others shall follow strike hi 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. Arthur 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. 

'r( The Thing in the coffin writhed; and a hideous, blood-curdling 

W screech came from the opened red lips. The body shook and 

\lj quivered and twisted in wild contortions; the sharp white teeth 

I champed together till the lips were cut, and the mouth was 

/I smeared with a crimson foam. But Arthur never faltered. He 

looked like a figure of Thor as his untrembling arm rose andjelL 

driving deeper and deeper the mercy-bearing stake, whiisrfEe 

blood from the pierced heart welled and spurted up around .jL 

His face was set, and high duty seemed to shine throughit; 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, ., 

^/ 



2O2 Dracula 

and the teeth seemed to champ, and the face to quiver. Finally 
it lay still. The terrible task was over. / 

The hammer fell from Arthur's hand. He reeled and 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. 

There, in the coffin lay no longer the foul Thing that we had 
so dreaded and grown to hate that the work of her destruction 
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 sweet- 
ness 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 for ever. 

Van Helsing came and laid his hand on Arthur's shoulder, and 
said to him: 

"And now, Arthur my friend, dear lad, am I not forgiven?" 

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 Profes- 
sor'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 child, you may kiss her. Kiss her dead lips 
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 
nlled the mouth with garlic. We soldered up the leaden coffin. 



Dr. Seward's Diary ^ 

screwed on the coffin-lid, and gathering up our belongings, came 
away. When the Professor 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 different pitch. 
There was gladness and mirth and peace everywhere, for we were 
at rest ourselves on one account, and we werfe 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 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 bitter 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 together 
at seven of the clock with friend John. I shall entreat 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 Amsterdam, but shall return to-morrow 
night. And then begins our great quest. But first I shall have 
much to say, so that you may knew what is to do and to dread. 
Then our premise shall be made to each other anew; for there is 
a terrible task before us, and once our feet are on the plough- 
share we must 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. Important 
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. Telegrapji 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. Barker'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 experience 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 we meet." He then made ready for his depart- 
ure, and shortly after drove off to Liverpool Street. I took my 
way to Paddington, where I arrived about fifteen minutes before 
the train came in. 

The crowd melted away, after the bustling fashion common 
to arrival platforms; and I was beginning to feel uneasy, 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 answered at once; whereupon 
she held out her hand. 

204 



Dr. Seward's Diary 205 

" 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 luggage, 
which included a typewriter, and we took the Underground 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 unable to re- 
press 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 opportunity 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 Barker'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, however, 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 I 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?" I asked him in surprise. 

"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! May I hear it say some- 
thing?" 

" Certainly," he replied with alacrity, and stood up to put it in 
train for speaking. Then he paused, and a troubled look over- 
spread his face. 



206 Dracula 

"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 stammered 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, in 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 that, although I have 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 intuition was right! For a moment 
I thought, and as my eyes ranged the room, unconsciously look- 
ing for something or some opportunity to aid me, they lit on a 
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 those pa- 
pers my own diary and my husband's also, which I have typed 
you will know me better. I have not faltered in giving every 
thought of my own heart in this cause; but, of course, you do not 
know me yet; and I must not expect you to trust me so far." 

He is certainly a man of noble nature; poor dear Lucy was 
right about him. He stood up and pened a large drawer, in 



Dr. SewarcTs Diary 207 

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. Dinner will by then be ready. In the 
meantime I shall read over some of these documents, and shall 
be better able to understand 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 wonderful 
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 out the words on my typewriter, 
and none other need now hear your heart beat, as I 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? "I asked. 

"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 



2o8 Dracula 

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 Professor 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 appealingly, 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 Barker's Journal. 

2p September. After dinner I came with Dr. Seward to his 
study. He brought back the phonograph from my room, and I took 
my typewriter. He placed me in a comfortable chair, and ar- 
ranged the phonograph so that I could touch it without getting 
up, and showed me how to stop it in case I should want to 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. Fortunately 
I am not of a fainting disposition. When Dr. Seward saw me he 
jumped up wfth 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 



Dr. SewarcTs Diary 209 

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 believed. 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 Godal- 
ming and Mr. Morris are coming too. Let us be able to tell him 
when they come." He accordingly 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 something in an evening paper at the station at Exeter; 
so, seeing 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 which I 
had made cuttings, helped us to understand the terrible events 
at Whitby when Count Dracula landed, so I shall look through 
the evening papers since then, and perhaps I shall get some new 
light. I am not sleepy, and the work will help to keep me quiet. 

Dr. Seward's Diary. 

SO September. Mr. Harker arrived at nine o'clock. He had 
got his wife's wire just before starting. He is uncommonly clever, 
if one can judge from his face, and full of energy. If this 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 remarkable 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. 



2io Dracula 

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 togeffier IiTcTirorioIogical. order every scrap of evidence 
they have. Harker has got the letters between 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 Renfield! The bundle of 
letters relating to the purchase of the house were with the type- 
script. 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. . . . 

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 discharge 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? Car? 
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. 



Dr. Seward's Diary 211 

Jonathan Barker's Journal. 

29 September j in train to London. When I received Mr. 
Billington's courteous message that he would give me any in- 
formation 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 I must 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 
consignment 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 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 instructions were fulfilled, was simply 
the logical result of his 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 harbour-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-master, 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 %ort 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 re- 
proack 



212 Dracula 

jo 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 I 
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 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 cur- 
rency of the realm, of the allaying, at a later period, this bene- 
ficial evil, one of the men remarked: 

"That 'ere 'ouse, guv'nor, is the rummiest I ever 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 ch&pel 
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 de- 
posited in the old chapel at 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. 



Dr. SewarcTs Diary 213 

Later. Mina and I have worked all day, and we have put 
all the papers into order. 

Mina Barker's Journal 

30 September. I am so glad that I hardly know how to contain 
myself. It is, I suppose, the reaction from the haunting 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 present. It is just as that dear, good Professor Van 
Helsing said: he is true grit, and he improves under strain that 
would kill a weaker nature. He came back full of life and hope 

and determination; we have got everything hi order for to-night. 

I feel myself quite wild with excitement. I suppose one ought 
to pity_ai^tiiingjpjmnted__as isj&ejCount. That is jusfTtfthls 
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 Godalming 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 hac^ead all the papers and diaries, 
and that my husband and I, hafitg typewritten them, had just 
finished putting them in order. I gave them each a copy to read 
m the library. When Lord Godalming got his and turned it over 
it does make a pretty good pile he said: 

"Did you write all this, Mrs. Harb&r?" 

I nodded, and he went on.^ 



214 Dracula 

"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 energeti- 
cally, that all I can do is to accept your ideas blindfold 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 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 Godalming 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 hi 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 suffering in 
silence found a vent at once. He grew quite hysterical, and rais- 
ing 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 infinite pity for him, and opened my 
arms unthinkingly. With a sob he laid his head on my shouldei 
and cried like a wearied 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* te 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 emotion. 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 



Dr. SewarcTs Diary 215 

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 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 gra titude will grow with 
my understanding. You will let me be like ^ 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 grati- 
tude 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 that you will 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 suffer from the heart. 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 impulsively 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 :-H 

"Little girl, you will never regm 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 



30 September. I got home at five o'clock, and found that 
Godalmuig and Morris had not only arrived, but had already 
studied the transcript of the various diaries and letters which 
Marker 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 be- 
fore 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 tho^Bect of any lunatic for easiness 
is one of the qualities mad people 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. 

216 



Dr. Seward's Diary 217 

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 turning 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 regard- 
ing 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 development. Here was my own pet lunatic the most pro- 
nounced of his type that I had ever met with talking elemental 
philosophy, and with the manner of a polished gentleman. I 
wonder if it was Mrs. Harker's presence which had touched 
some chord in his memory. If this new phase was spontaneous, 
or in any way due to her unconscious influence, she must have 
some rare gift or power. 

We continued to talk for soBPtime; and, seeing that he was 
seemingly quite reasonable, she ventured, looking at me ques- 
tioningly 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 be mentioned certain things. 



218 Dracula 

"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 crea- 
tion, one might indefinitely prolong life. At times I held the belief 
so strongly that I actually 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 I hardly 
knew what to either think or say; it was hard to imagine 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 nimble- 
ness of a boy. He saw me at once, and rushed up to me, saying:' 

"Ah, friend John, how goes all? Well? So! I have 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 Arthur 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 Jffid come to be of some use 
through Mrs. Harker's suggesfBli; at which the Professor inter- 
rupted me: 

"Ah, that wonderful Madam Mina! She has man's brain 
a brain that a man should have were he much gifted and a 
woman's heart. The good God fashioned her for a purpose, be- 
lieve me, when He made that so good combination. Frie:ad John, 



Dr. Seward's Diary 219 

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 many horrors; and hereafter she may suffer 
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 with him, and then I told him what we had found in 
his absence: 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 afterwards/ 
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 prepare 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 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. Van Helsing, will you read this, and tell me if it must 
go in. It is my record of to-day. I too have seen the need of put- 
ting down at present everything, however trivial; but there is 
little in this except what is personal Must it go in? " The Pro- 
fessor read it over gravely, and handed it back, saying: 

" It need not go in if you do ryjfc 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 esteem 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 



22O Dracula 

nine o'clock. The rest of us have already read everything; so 
when we meet in the study we shall all be informed as to facts, 
and can arrange our plan of battle with this terrible and mysteri- 
ous enemy. 

Mina Barker's Journal. 

30 September. When we met in Dr. Seward's study two hours 
after dinner, which had been at six o'clock, we unconsciously 
formed a sort of board or committee. Professor Van Helsing took 
the head of the table, to which Dr. Seward 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 Godalming, Dr. Seward, and Mr. Morris 
Lord Godalming being next the Professor, and Dr. Seward in 
the centre. The Professor said: 

"I may, I suppose, take it that we are all acquainted with the 
facts that are in these papers." We all expressed assent, and he 
went on: 

"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 evidence 
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 ^sttfflag in person as twenty men; he 
is of cunning more thtin mortal^Tbr 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, 



Or a rv 221 




and in any of the forms tha^ 4Bl e can > within his range, 

direct the elements; the stor^^^^^Hfe thunder; he can com- 
mand all the meaner things : tM^^^Hi the owl, and the bat 
the moth, and the fox, and th^BHBe can grow and become 
small; and he can at times vanish an^come unknown. How then 
are we to begin our strike 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 terrible 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 nothings; 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 dutyjjmdjn such 
case must we shrink? For me, I say, no; buTthen I am old, and 
life, with his sunshine, his fair places, his song of birds, his music 
and his love, lie far behind. You others are young. Some have 
seen 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 over- 
coming 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 nee^OTjjjpe^king between us, 

"I answer for Mina and myself," !!PHHT 

" Count me in, Professor," said Mr. Quincey Morris, laconi- 
cally as usual. 

"I am with you," said Lord Godalming, "for Lucy's sake, if 
for no other reason." 

Dr. Seward simp^ nodded. 'Q^Jfrofessor stood up and, after 
laying his golden micifix onjSMjj^L Md out his hand on 
either side. I took his right rJH I^R^rff^bdalming his left; 
Jonathan held my right with hisT^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 cheerfulness which showed that the serious work had 




222 

^H 

begun. It was to be tafl^^^^H^y, and in as businesslike a 
way, as any other tranSH m He: 

"Well, you know wh . < i pe to contend against; but we, 
too, are not without str^gth. We have on our side power of 
combination a power demecT 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 general, 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 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, because, 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? \\fe even scouted a belief that we saw 
justified under our very ey^. 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 everywhere 
that men have been. In old Greece, in old Rome; he flourish in 
Germany all over, in France, in India, even in the Chernosese; 
and in China, so^r frornus in all ways, there even is he, and the 
peoples fear him T^nEfflPftty. He have follow the wake of the 
berserker Iceland^:, 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 just- 
ified by what we have seen in our own so imhappy experience. 

/The vampire live on, and cannot die by mere|passing of the time; 

I he can flourish when th^J fatten on tHI blood of the living. 

1 Even more, we IflMHH R|st 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 






Dr. Seward's Diary 223 

,!n the mirror no reflect, as again Jonathan observe. He has the 
trengtn of many of his hand witness again Jonathan when he 
Shut the door against the wolfs, and when he help him from the 
diligence too. He can transform himself to wolf, as we gather 
from the ship arrival in Whitby, when he tear open the dog; he 
can be as bat, as Madam Mina saw him on the window at 
Whitby, and as friend John saw him fly from this so near house, 
and as my friend Quincey saw him at the window of Miss Lucy. 
He can come in mist which he create that noble ship's captain 
proved him of this; but, from what we know, the distance he can 
make this mist is limited, and it can only be round himself. He 
come on moonlight rays as elemental dust as again Jonathan 
saw those sisters in the castle of 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 pris- 
oner than the slave of 'S^'gaile'yT'fhan the madman in his cell. 
He cannot go where he lists; he who is not of nature has yet to 
obey some of nature's laws-f 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 their presence he take his place far off and silent with respect. 
There are others, too, which I shall tell you of, lest in our seeking 
we may need them. The branch of wild rose on his coffin keep 
him that he move not from it; a sacred bullet fired into the coffin 



224 Dracula 

kill him so that he be true dead; and as for the stake thror.gh him, 
we know already of its peace; or the cut-off head that giveth rest. 
We have seen it with our eyes. 

"Thus when we find the habitation of this man-that- was, we 
can confine him to his coffin and destroy him, if we obey what we 
know. But he is clever. I have asked my friend Arminius, of 
Buda-Pesth University, to make his record; and, from all the 
means that are, he tell me of what he has been. He must, indeed, 
have been that Voivode Dracula who won his name against the 
Turk, over the great 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 forest.' That mighty brain and that iron resolution 
went with him to his grave, and are even now arrayed against us. 
The 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 mountains over Lake Herman- 
stadt, where the devil claims the tenth scholar as his due. In the 
records are such words as ' stregoica' witch, 'ordog/ and 'pokoP 
Satan and hell; and in one manuscript this very Dracula is 
spoken of as 'wampyr/ 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 earth whejce_alone. this 
f foulness can dwell. For it is not the least of its terrors that this 
I evil thing is rooted deep in all good; in soil barren of holy memo- 
I ries 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 Professor 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 delivered at Carfax; 
we also know that at least some of these boxes have been re- 
moved. 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. Outside 
the house came the sound of a pistol-shot; the glass of the window 
was shattered with a bullet, which, ricochetting from, the top ot 



Dr. Seward's Diary 225 

the embrasure, struck the far wall of the room. I am afraid I am 
at heart a coward, for I shrieked out. The men all jumped to 
their feet; Lord Godalming flew over to the window and threw 
up the sash. As he did so we heard Mr. Morris's voice without: 

" Sorry! I fear I have alarmed you. I shall come in and tell you 
about it." A minute later he came in and said: 

"It was an idiotic thing of me to do, and I ask your pardon, 
Mrs. Harker, most sincerely; I fear I must have frightened 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; I fancy not, for it flew away into the 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, perhaps, 
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 discgKion:- 

"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 ?x 



226 Dracula 

they might even leave me out of their counsels altogether. 
They have now gone off to Carfax, with means to get into the 
house. 

Manlike," they had told me to go to bed and sleep; as if 
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 bearing, too, now 
and again on our case. I should much like to see him, and es- 
pecial when his mind is disturbed." 

"May I come also?" asked Lord Goldaming. 

" Me too? " said Quincey Morris. " May I come? " said Harker. 
I nodded, and we all went down the passage together. 

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; aiM 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 regarding his complete recovery, 
and adduced his own existing sanity. "I appeal to your friends," 
he said, "they will, perhaps, 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 certain dignity in the man's manner, so much of the 



Dr. Seward's Diary 227 

habit of equality, that I at once made the introduction: "Lord 
Godalming; Professor Van Helsing; Mr. Quincey Morris, of 
Texas; Mr. Renfield." He shook hands with each of them, say- 
ing in turn: 

" Lord Godalming, 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 honoured 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 individual 
has revolutionised therapeutics by his discovery of the continu- 
ous evolution of brain-matter, conventional forms are unfitting, 
since they would seem to limit him to one of a class. You, gentle- 
men, who by nationality, by heredity, or by the possession of 
natural gifts, are fitted to hold your respective 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 considered 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 formalities 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 patient was liable. So I con- 
tented myself with making a general statement that he appeared 
to be improving very rapidly; that I would have a longer chat 
with him in the morning, and would then see what I could do 
in the direction of 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. 



228 Dracula 

I desire to go at once here now this very hour this very 
moment, if I may. Time presses, and in our implied 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 prac- 
titioner 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 sufficient 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 unselfish, and spring 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 conviction that this sudden change of his entire intel- 
lectual method was but yet another form or phase of his mad- 
ness, 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 
utmost intensity, his bushy eyebrows almost meeting with the 
fixed concentration of his look. He said to Renfield 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 seek." He shook his head 
sadly, and with a look of poignant regret on his face. The Pro' 
fessor went on: 

"Come, sir, bethink yourself. You claim the privilege of rea- 
son 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 released from medical 
treatment for this very defect. If you will not help us in our effort 



Dr. Seward's Diary 229 

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 responsibility does not 
rest with me." I thought it was now tune 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 homicidal 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 emotion was militating 
against him, by restoring us more to our old relations, he be- 
came 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 request 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 occasion. 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 supplication, and 
poured forth a torrent of entreaty, with the tears rolling down 
his cheeks, and his whole face and form expressive of the deepest 
emotion: 

"Let me entreat you, Dr. Seward, oh, let me implore you, 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 vou hold dear by your love that 



230 Dracula 

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 meJ 
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 dis- 
creetly." 

He suddenly stopped and looked at me intently for several 
moments. Then, without a word, he rose and moving 'over, sat 
down on the side of the bed. The collapse had come, as on for- 
mer 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 BARKER'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 absolutely 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 believe 
that he had some serious purpose, and if he had, it was pretty 
rough on him not to get a chance." Lord Godalming and I 
were silent, but Dr. Van Helsing added: 

" 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. AU 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 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 

231 



232 Dr&cula 

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 Godalming had slipped away for a few minutes, 
but now he returned. He held up a little silver whistle, as he 
remarked: 

"That old place may be full of rats, and if so, I've got an anti- 
dote 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 little 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 spiritual. Remem- 
ber that he has the strength of twenty men, and that, though 
our necks or our windpipes are of the common kind and there- 
fore 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 they cannot hurt 
him as we can be hurt by him. We must, therefore, guard our- 
selves 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 
enemies 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. Presently 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 






Jonathan Marker's Journal 233 

idea seemed to strike the others, for with one accord they 
shrank back. The Professor was the first to move forward, and 
stepped into the open door. 

" In manus tuas, Domine!" 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 a hurry 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 experience 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 footsteps, in whieh 
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 admission to it; so I led 
the way, and after a few wrong turnings found myself opposite 
a low, arched oaken door, ribbed with iron bands. "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 purchase. With a little trouble we found the key 
on the bunch and opened the door. We were prepared for some 
unpleasantness, for as we were opening the door a faint, mal- 
odorous air seemed to exhale through the gaps, but none of us 
ever expected such an odour as we encountered. None of the 



234 Dracuia 

others had met the Count at all at close quarters, and when I 
had seen him he was either in the fasting stage of his existence 
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 stagnant 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 corruption 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 physical considera- 
tions. After the involuntary shrinking consequent 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 Professor 
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 mistaking them. 

There were only twenty-nine left out of the fifty! Once I got a 
fright, for, seeing Lord Godalming suddenly turn and lookout 
of the vaulted door into the dark passage beyond, I looked too, 
and for an instant my heart stood still. Somewhere, looking out 
from the shadow, I seemed to see the high lights of the Count's 
evil face, the ridge of the nose, the red eyes, the red lips, the aw- 
ful pallor. It was only for a moment, for, as Lord Godalming 
said, "I thought I saw a face, but it was only the shadows," 
and resumed his inquiry, 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 froia 
a corner, which he was examining. We all followed his move- 



Jonathan Harker's Journal 235 

ments with our eyes, for undoubtedly some nervousness was 
growing on us, and we saw a whole mass of phosphorescence, 
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 Godal- 
ming, who was seemingly prepared for such an emergency. 
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 be- 
hind 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 lu- 
gubrious fashion. The rats were multiplying in thousands, and 
we moved out. 

Lord Godalming 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 by now been 
lifted 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 de- 
parted, 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 com- 
ing lost something of its grim significance, though we did not 
slacken a whit in our resolution. We closed the outer door and 



236 Dracula 

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 successful. 
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 bring- 
ing 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 
has gone elsewhere. Good! It has given us opportunity to 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 on, and from no 
danger shall we shrink." 

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 fche 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 , 



Jonathan Marker's Journal 239 



upset her. I itjl y u w ^^ a ^ m y heart," I answered earnestly, 
future work" want hi m to weaken in this matter. "Mrs. Harker 
foraworr dt ^ ** Things are quite bad enough for us, all men 
now Th or ^> anc ^ w ^ h ave keen in many tight places in our 
which /ut ^ * s no pl ace f r a woman, and if she had remained in 
her r w ^^ ^ e a ^ au "j ^ would in time infallibly have wrecked 

k c oo Van Helsing has gone to confer with Mrs. Harker and Har- 
per; Quincey and Art are all out following up the clues as to the 
-jarth-boxes. I shall finish my round of work and we shall meet 
to-night. 

Mina Barker's Journal. 

i October. It is strange to me to be kept in the dark as I 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 fatigues of yes- 
terday, and though Jonathan was late too, he was the earlier. 
He spoke to me before he went out, never more sweetly or ten- 
derly, but he never mentioned 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 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 acquiesced. But to think that he keeps any- 
thing 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 be- 

cause they told me to. I didn't feel sleepy, and I did feel full of 

levouring anxiety. I kept thinking over everything that has 

een ever since Jonathan came to see me in London, and it all 

;ems like a horrible tragedy, with fate pressing on relentlessly 

\ some destined end. Everything that one does seems, no mat- 

t how right it may be, to kring on the very thing which is most 

^be deplored. flf I hadn't gone to Whitby, perhaps poor dear 



240 Dracula 

Lucy would be with us now. She hadn't taken to visiting the 
churchyard till I came, and if she hadn't come there hi 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.|0h, 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 remem- 
ber hearing the sudden barking of the dogs and a lot of queer 
sounds, like praying on a very tumultuous scale, from 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 window. 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 wan, as though it were stealing up to the windows. The poor 
man was more loud than ever, and though I could not dis- 
tinguish 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 deal- 
ing 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 any- 
thing 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 bending over me. My dream was 
very peculiar, and was almost typical of the way that waking 
thoughts become merged in, or continued in, dreams. 



Jonathan Harker's Journal 241 

I thought that I was asleep, and waiting for Jonathan to come 
back. I was very anxious about him, and I was powerless 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 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 window, 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 momen- 
tary 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 though the whirling mist 
in the moonlight, and in my dream I must have faulted, for all 
became black darkness. The last conscious effort which imagi- 
nation 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 



242 Dracula 

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 Jonathan com- 
ing to bed; but the sleep has not refreshed me, for to-day I feel 
terribly weak and spiritless. I spent all yesterday 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 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 till dinner-time, and they all came in tired. I did what I 
could to brighten them up, and I 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 Jonathan's manner that 
he had something important to communicate. 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 beerv 
foolish in thus depriving myself of the power of waking. I might 
want it. Here comes sleep. Good-night. 



CHAPTER XX 

JONATHAN BARKER'S JOURNAL 

i October, evening. I found Thomas Snelling in his house at 
Bethnal Green, but unhappily he was not in a condition to re- 
member anything. The very prospect of beer which my ex- 
pected coming had opened to him had proved too much, and he 
had begun too early on his expected debauch. 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 respon- 
sible 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, re- 
liable type of workman, and with a headpiece of his own. He 
remembered all about the incident of the boxes, and from a 
wonderful 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, be said, six 
in the cartload which he took from Carfax and left at 197, Chick- 
sand Street, Mile End New Town, and another six which he de- 
posited at Jamaica Lane, Bermondsey. 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 dis- 
tribute more fully. The systematic manner in which this wa? 
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 
northern 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. I 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 

243 



244 Dracula 



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 surnmut." 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 promised 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 dis- 
appointed 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 subject, 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 carpenter's pencil 
in a sprawling hand: 

"Sam Bloxam, Korkrans, 4, Poters Cort, Bartel Street, Wai- 
worth. 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 deter- 



Jonathan Barker's Journal 245 

mined 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 ignor- 
ance. I only saw Dr. Seward for a moment, and told him where 
I was off to, promising to come back and tell 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 spell- 
ing misled me, as I asked for Poter's Court instead of Potter's 
Court. However, when I had found the court, I had no dif- 
ficulty in discovering Corcoran's lodging-house. When I asked 
the man who came to the door for the "depite," he shook his 
head, and said: "I dunno 7 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 lesson 
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 remains 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 Poplar. It was twelve o'clock bef ore 
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 condition 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 suggesting that 
.1 was willing to pay his day's wages to his foreman for the 
privilege of asking him a few questions on a private matter. 
He was a smart enough fellow, though rough of speech and bear- 
ing. When I had promised to pay for his information and given 
him an earnest, he told me that he had made two journeys be- 
tween 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 



246 Dracula 

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 dusti- 
ness 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 lif t the boxes and put them in 
the dray. Curse me, but he was the strongest chap I ever struck, 
an 7 him a old feller, with a white moustache, one that thin you 
would think he couldn't throw a shadder." 

How this phrase thrilled through me! 

" 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 second. 
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 didn't have any key?" 

"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 ye needn't have no difficulty about that. 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 seein' they got so much, they 
wanted more; but 'e took one of them by tie 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 Piccadilly. I had gained a new painful experience; the Count 
could, it was evident, handle the earth-boxes himself. If so, 



Jonathan Harker's Journal 247 

time was precious; for, now that he had achieved a certain 
amount of distribution, he could, by choosing his own time, com- 
plete the task unobserved. At Piccadilly Circus I discharged 
my cab, and walked westward; beyond the Junior Constitu- 
tional 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 untenanted. The windows were 
encrusted with dust, and the shutters were up. All the frame- 
work 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 re- 
maining. 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 investigation 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 gain- 
ing access to the house. 

There was at present nothing to be learned from the Piccadilly 
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 anything 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 per- 
haps Mitchell, Sons, & Candy, the house agents, could tell me 
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 growing 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 then* 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 considered my business as 
concluded When I asked who had purchased it, he opened his 



248 Dracula 

eyes a thought wider, and paused a few seconds before reply- 
ing: 

"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,"(jwas 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 
:uriosity; I act on the part of Lord Godalming, 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 es- 
pecially would I like to oblige his lordship. We once carried 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." 

I wanted to secure a friend, and not to make an enemy, so 
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 conferences, and feeling 
the sting of our not showing our confidence. It took all my cour- 
age to hold to the wise resolution of keeping her out of our grim 
task. She seems somehow more reconciled; or else the very sub- 
ject seems to have become repugnant to her, for when any 
accidental allusion is made she actually shudders. I am glad we 



Jonathan Marker's Journal 249 

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 appear- 
ances 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 I 
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 I found 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. Doubt- 
less 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 Godalming quickly. 

"But, Art, this is different. We broke house at Carfax, but 
we had night and a walled park to protect us. It will be a mighty 
different thing to commit burglary in Piccadilly, either by day 
or night. I confess I don't see how we are going 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 Godal- 
ming'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 getting 
serious; we got off once all right; but we have now a rare job on 
hand unless we can find the Count's key basket." 

As nothing could well be done before morning, and as it would 
be at least advisable to wait till Lord Godalming should hear 
from Mitchell's, we decided not to take any active step before 
breakfast time. For a good while we sat and smoked, discussing 
the matter in its various lights and bearings; I took the oppor- 
tunity 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 



250 Dracula 

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 man- 
ner 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 tunes? " 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! " 

I thought I would push his analogy to its utmost logically, so 
I said quickly: 

" 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 present. 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 attributes 
of the Deity. I am not even concerned in His especially spiritual 
doings. If I may state my intellectual position I am, so far as 
concerns things purely terrestrial, somewhat 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: 



Jonathan Marker's Journal 251 

"And why with Enoch?" 

"Because he walked with God." I could not see the analogy, 
but did not like to admit it; so I harked back to what he 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 if I had them; they would be no manner 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 sur- 
face of the water. "And doctor, as to life, what is 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 some 
antagonism in me, for he at once fell back on the last refuge of 
such as he a dogged silence. After a short tune 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 I am so in- 
terested in him that I would gladly make an effort. Besides, 1 
am glad to have anything to help to pass the tune. Harker is 
out, following up clues; and so are Lord Godalming 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: Renfield 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 my surmise 
had been correct. Unconscious cerebration was doing its work, 
even with the lunatic. I determined to have the matter out. 



252 Dracula 

"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 determined 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," I asked, "how are we to get the life without getting 
the soul also? " This seemed to puzzle him, so I followed it up: 

"A nice tune you'll have some tune 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 with 
their souls!" Something seemed to affect his imagination, 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 disturbance, 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 like some sugar to get your flies round 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. 



Jonathan Harker's Journal 253 

You might as well ask a man to eat molecules 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 tnings that you can make your 
teeth meet in? How would you like to breakfast on elephant?" 

"What ridiculous nonsense you are talking!" He was getting 
too wide awake, so I thought I would press him hard. "I won- 
der," I said reflectively, "what an elephant's soul is like!" 

The effect I desired was obtained, for he at once fell from 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 work- 
ing out, you would pity, and tolerate, and pardon me. Pray 
do not put me hi a strait-waistcoat. I want to think and I cannot 
think freely when my body is confined. I am sure you will under- 
stand!" He had evidently self-control; 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 con- 
siderable dignity and sweetness: 

"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 any- 
thing. 

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 



254 Dracula 

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! 

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 begin- 
ning to buzz into the room. We tried to make him talk of the sub- 
ject of our previous conversation, 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 Godalming. 

" i 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, expressed by 
Mr. Harker on your behalf, to supply the following information 
concerning the sale and purchase of No. 347, Piccadilly. The ori- 
ginal vendors are the executors of the late Mr. Archibald Winter- 
Sufneld. The purchaser is a foreign nobleman, Count de Ville, 
who effected the purchase himself paying the purchase money 
in notes ' over the counter, ' if your Lordship will pardon us using 
so vulgar an expression. 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 in the corridor last night, and 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 






Jonathan Harker's Journal 255 

all gathered round the fire in the study Mrs. Harker having 
gone to bed we discussed the attempts 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. 

Before going to bed I went round to the patient's room and 
looked in through the observation trap. He was sleeping soundly, 
and his heart rose and fell with regular respiration. 

This morning the man on duty reported to me that a little 
after midnight he was restless and kept saying his prayers some- 
what loudly. I asked him if that was all; he replied that it was 
all he heard. There was something about his manner so sus- 
picious 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 Quin- 
cey are looking after horses. Godalming 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 sunrise and sunset; 
we shall thus catch the Count at his weakest, and without a 
refuge to fly to. Van Helsing is off to the British Museum look- 
ing 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 seemingly 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 to him found him lying on his face 
on the floor, all covered with blood. I must go at once. . . . 



CHAPTER XXI 



3 October. Let me put down with exactness all that happened, 
as well as I can remember it, since last I made an entry. Not a 
detail that I can recall must be forgotten; in all calmness I must 
proceed. 

Wtien 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 ter- 
rible injuries; there seemed none of that unity of purpose be- 
tween 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 at- 
tendant who was kneeling 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 beyond 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 wo- 
man 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 awkward 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 dressing 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 eyes, for he said very quietly, 
manifestly for the ears of the attendant: 

" Ah, a sad accident ! He will need very careful watching, and 

256 



Dr. Seward's Diary 257 

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 re- 
turned 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. We have done all 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 examination of 
the patient. The wounds of the face was superficial; 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 condi- 
tions, as far as can be; the rapidity of the suffusion shows the 
terrible nature of his injury. The whole motor area seems af- 
fected. 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 pa- 
jamas and slippers: the former spoke: 

"I heard your man cafl 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. Fve 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 nodded, 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 said softly: 

"My God! what has happened to him? Poor, poor devil!" 
I told him briefly, and added that we expected he would recover 
consciousness after the operation for a short time, at all events. 
He went at once and sat down on the edge of the bed, with 
Godalming beside him; we all watched in patience. 

"We shall wait," said Van Helsing, "just long enough to fix 



258 Dracula 

the best spot for trephining, so that we may most quickly and 
perfectly remove the blood clot; for it is evident that the haemor- 
rhage is increasing." 

The minutes during which we waited passed with fearful slow- 
ness. I had a horrible sulking in my heart, and from Van Hel- 
sing's face I gathered that he felt some fear or apprehension 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 un- 
certain gasps. Each instant he seemed as though he would open 
his eyes and speak; but then would follow a prolonged stertor- 
ous 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 patient 
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 mo- 
ments 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 for a few moments; 
then it softened into a glad surprise, and 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- waist- 
coat. 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; 



Dr. Seward's Diary 259 

"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 faulting, 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; it was no dream, but all a grim 
reality." Then his eyes roved round the room; as they caught 
sight of the two figures sitting patiently on the 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 cool again, and I realised where I was. 
I heard 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 



260 Dracula 

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 fat ones with steel and 
sapphire on their wings; and big moths, in the night, with skull 
and cross-bones on their backs." Van Helsing 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 without stopping. 

"Then he began to whisper: 'Rats, rats, rats! Hundreds, thou- 
sands, 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 beckoned 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 before I knew 
what I was doing, I found myself opening the sash and saying 
to Him: 'Come in, Lord and Master!' The 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 hi 
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 maybe 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. 



Dr. Seward's Diary 261 

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, stand- 
ing behind him so that he could not see them, but where they 
could hear better. They were both silent, but the Professor 
started and quivered; his face, however, grew grimmer 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 wa- 
tered." 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 I began 
to think, and it made me mad to know 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 1 
was ready for Him. I saw the mist stealing in, and I grabbed it 
tight. I had 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 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 be- 
came 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 Helsing stood up instinc- 
tively. .._ 

"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. We all 
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 signi- 
ficantly as he said: 

"They never leave me; and they shall not till this unhappy 



262 Dracula 

business is over. Be wise also, my friends. It is no common 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 Barkers' 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 Professor did actually 
fall, and I saw across him as he gathered himself up from hancls 
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. 

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 figure 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. Harker's hands, keeping them away with her 
arms at full tension; his right hand gripped her by the back of 
the neck, forcing her face down on his bosom. Her white night- 
dress 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 described seemed to leap into it. 
His eyes flamed red with devilish 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- 



Dr. Seward's Diary 263 

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; 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 ter- 
rible 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 
instant despairingly, ran out of the room. Van Helsing whis- 
pered to me: 

"Jonathan is hi 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 holding 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 
consciousness, 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 tha 



264 Dracula 

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? 7 ' Harker cried out. 
"Dr. Seward, Dr. Van Helsing, what is it? What has happened? 
What is wrong? Mina, dear, what is it? What does that blood 
mean? My God, my God! has it come to this!" and, raising him- 
self 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 
in him awake at the need for instant exertion. "What has hap- 
pened? Tell me all about it!" he cried without pausing. "Dr. 
Van Helsing, 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, saw 
some sure danger to him: instantly forgetting her own grief, she 
seized hold of him and cried out: 

"No! no! Jonathan, you must not leave me. I have suffered 
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 Professor held 
up his little golden crucifix, and said with wonderful calmness: 

"Do not fear, my dear. We are here; and whilst this is 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 any- 
thing ever come between us! " He put out his arms and folded her 



' 



Dr. Seward's Diary 265 

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 nostrils; his mouth was set as steel. After a while 
her sobs became less frequent and more faint, and then he said 
to me, speaking with a studied calmness which I felt tried his 
nervous 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 that moment, to see, that, whilst the 
face of white set passion worked convulsively over the bowed 
head, the hands tenderly and lovingly stroked the ruffled hair. 
Just as I had finished, Quincey and Godalming 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 Godalming 
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 concealments. 
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 flickering amongst 
the white ashes; the cylinders of your phonograph 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 
downstairs 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 moistening 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: 



266 Dracula 

"God's will be done!" I could not but feel that Art was keep- 
ing 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 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 beating; 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." 

The poor, 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 Helsing 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 ordering 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 become 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 pain, 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 all, you would understand how much 
I need your help. 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 reso- 
lutely set myself to sleep. Sure enough sleep must soon have 



Dr, Seward's Diary 267 

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 no- 
ticed. 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 and 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 re- 
freshment to reward my exertions. You may as well be quiet; 
it is not the first time, or the second, that your veins have ap- 
peased my thirst!' I was bewildered, and, strangely enough, I 
I did not want to hinder him. I suppose it is a part of the hor- 
rible 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 sus- 



268 Dracula 

taining arm. With a great effort she 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 to hunt me and frustrate me in my designs! You know now, 
and they know in part already, and will know in full before long, 
what it is to cross my path. They should have kept their energies 
for use closer to home. Whilst they played wits against me 
against me who commanded nations, and intrigued for them., and 
fought for them, hundreds of years before they were born - 
I was countermining 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 bid- 
ding; 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 began 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 tak- 
ing action. 

Of this I am sure: the sun rises to-day on no more miserable 
house in all the great round of its daily course. 



CHAPTER XXII 
JONATHAN BARKER'S JOURNAL 

3 October. As I must do something or go mad, I write 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, required 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 pas- 
sage 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 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 

269 



270 Dracula 

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 Helsing was looking at her fixedly as she spoke, 
and said, suddenly but quietly: 

"But dear Madam Mina, are you not afraid; not for yourself, 
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 hi 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: 

"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, 



Jonathan Harker's Journal 271 

you must live! You must struggle and strive to live, though death 
would seem a boon unspeakable. 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 shock 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 sorrow- 
fully, 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 s'he 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 Va ji 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 ad- 
vance 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- 
ever form he now has. He is confined within the limitations of his 
'earthly envelope. He cannot melt into thin air nor disappear 
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 tune, sure." Here I started up for I could not contain myself 



272 Dracula 

at the thought that the minutes and seconds so preciously laden 
with Mina's life and happiness 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 will have paper that he write on; he 
will have his book of cheques. There are many belongings that 
he must have somewhere; why not in this place so central, 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? " 
I was staggered; but I knew that if he wished to delay he 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 s-ure, wh?j 
torture I am in." 

"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 
the world be at movement. Then will come our time. I have 
thought and thought, and it seems to me that the 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 employed. " 
"Then," he looked at me as keenly as he spoke, "all that is in 
doubt is the conscience of the employer, and the belief of your 



Jonathan Marker's Journal 273 

policemen as to whether or no that employer has a good con- 
science 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 
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 ad- 
vertise it, and put up big notice; and when the day come he 
sell off by a great auctioneer all the goods of that other 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 police 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 
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 
any rate some of us can remain there whilst the rest find the other 
places where there be more earth-boxes at Bermondsey and 
Mile End." 

Lord Godalming stood up. "I can be of some use here," he 
said. "I shall wire to my people to have horses and carriages 
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 neighbourhood we are going to." 

"Friend Quincey is right!" said the Professor. "His head is 



274 Dracula 

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 ProfesspE 
that, after our visit to Carfax, we should all enter the house in 
Piccadilly; that the two doctors and I should remain there, whilst 
Lord Godalming 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 might appear in Piccadilly dur- 
ing 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 concerned, 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 thr?2 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 tfoat 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 hap- 
pen 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 
anv one present." So I started up crying ov<: "Then in God's 



Jonathan Harker's Journal 275 

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 Hehing, 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. Van 
Helsing had not intended to recall her frightful experience. He 
had simply lost sight of her and her part in the affair in his in- 
tellectual effort. When it struck him what he said, he was horri- 
fied 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 will forget it, will you not?" 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 it is well that I remember; and with 
it I have so much in memory of you that is sweet, that I take it 
all together. Now, you must all be going soon. Breakfast is 
ready, and we must all eat that we may be strong." 

Breakfast was a strange meal to us all. We tried to be cheerful 
and encourage each other, and Mina was the brightest 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 enterprise. 
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 We shall return! But before we go let me 

see you armed against personal attack. I have myself, since you 
came down, prepared 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 



276 Dracula 

significance of the fact as quickly as her nerves received the pain 
of it; and the two so overwhelmed her that her overwrought na- 
ture had its voice in that dreadful scream. But the words to her 
thought came quickly; the echo of the scream had not ceased to 
r,ing 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 polluted 
flesh! I must bear this mark of shame upon my forehead 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 us 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 stating 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 Day, 
to redress all wrongs of the earth and of His children that He 
has placed thereon. And oh, Madam Mina, my dear, my dear, 
may we who love you be there to see, when that 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 lif t 
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 tha f 



Jonathan Harker's Journal 277 

I 



/ in old times one vampire meant many; just as Vheir 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 must 
sterilise this earth, so sacred of holy memories, that he 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 screwdriver 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 sol- 
emnly: 

"So much is already done. If it may be that with all the others 
we can be so successful, then the sunset of this evening 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 eagerly, 
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. 



278 Dracula 

Piccadilly, 12:30 o'clock. Just before we reached Fenchurch 
Street Lord Godalming 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 cir- 
cumstances it wouldn't seem so bad for us to break into an 
empty house. But you are a solicitor and the Incorporated 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 may come along. You 
had better go with Jack 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. We 
shall be on the lookout for you, and shaU let you in." 

"The advice is good!" said Van Helsing, so we said no more. 
Godalming and Morris hurried off in a cab, we following 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 centred, looming up 
grim and silent hi its deserted condition amongst its more lively 
and spruce-looking neighbours. We sat down on a bench within 
good view, and began to smoke cigars so as to attract as little at- 
tention as possible. 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 Godalming 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 
Godalming 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 keyhole, 
blew into it, and turning to his employers, made some remark. 
Lord Godalming smiled, and the man Hf ted a good-sized bunch of 
keys; selecting one of them, he began to probe the lock, as if feel- 
ing 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 haD. 



Jonathan Marker's Journal 279 

We sat still; my own cigar burnt furiously, but Van Helsing's 
went cold altogether. We waited patiently as we saw the work- 
man 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 Godalming, who took out his 
purse and gave him something. The man touched his hat, took 
his bag, put on his coat and departed; not a soul took the slight- 
est notice of the whole transaction. 

When the man had f airly gone, we three crossed the street and 
knocked at the door. It was immediately opened by Quincey 
Morris, beside whom stood Lord Godalming lighting 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 over- 
looked. 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 con- 
tamed any effects which might belong to the Count; and so we 
proceeded to minutely examine them. They lay in a sort of or- 
orderly disorder on the great dining-room table. There were title 
deeds of the Piccadilly house in a great bundle; deeds of the 
purchase of the houses at Mile End and Bermondsey; notepaper, 
envelopes, and pens and ink. All were covered up in thin wrap- 
ping paper to keep them from the dust. There were also a clothes 
brush, a brush and comb, and a jug and basin the latter con- 
taining 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 
belonging to the other houses. When we had examined this last 



280 Dracula 

find, Lord Godalming and Quincey Morris taking accurate notes 
of the various addresses of the houses in the 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 return or the coming of the Count. 



CHAFIER XXIII 
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY 

3 October. The time seemed terrible long whilst we were 
waiting for the coming of Godalming 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 Marker. 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 morel 
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 re- 
searches of my friend Arminus of Buda-Pesth, he was in life a 
most wonderful man. Soldier, statesman, and alchemist which 
latter was the highest development 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 memory 
was not all complete. In some faculties of mind he has been, and 
is, only a child; but he is growing, and some 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 



282 Dracula 

f urtherer 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 working. 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 to 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 experimentally. 
How he has been making use of the zoophagous patient to effect 
Ms 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 
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." 



Dr. Seward's Diary 283 

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, com e 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 pur- 
chase, 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 minutes 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 beat 
loudly. We looked at each other, and together 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 Godalming and Quincey Morris. They 
came quickly in and closed the door behind them, the former say- 
ing, as they moved along the hall- 



Dracula 

"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 silent for a minute, and then 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 tele- 
gram 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 action, and Arthur 
and I had been accustomed to obey him implicitly. Now, the 
old habit seemed to be renewed instinctively. 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, and I were just behind the door, 
so that when it was opened the Professor could guard it whilst 
we two stepped between the incomer and the door. Godalming 
behind and Quincey in front stood just out of sight ready to 
move in front of the 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 some- 



Dr. Seward's Diary 285 

thing 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 
I 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 power- 
ful one; only the diabolical quickness of the Count's leap back 
saved him. A second less and the trenchant 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 expression 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. Instinct- 
ively I moved forward with a protective impulse, holding the 
Crucifix and Wafer hi my left hand. I felt a mighty power fly 
along my arm; and it was without surprise that I saw the mon- 
ster cower back before a similar movement made spontaneously 
by each one of us. It would be impossible to describe the expres- 
sion of hate and baffled malignity of anger and hellish rage 
which came over the Count's face. His waxen hue became green- 
ish-yellow by the contrast of his burning eyes, and the red scar 
on the forehead showed on the pallid skin like a palpitating 
wound. The next instant, with a sinuous dive he swept under 
Barker'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 the 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, 



286 Dracula 

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 fas- 
tened it behind him. A door beyond opened and shut. The first ^ 
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. 
Why take that money? You follow quick. You are hunters of 
wild beast, and understand it so. For me, I make sure that noth- 
ing 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. 

Godalming and Morris had rushed out into the yard, and 
Harker had lowered himself from the window to follow the 
Count. He had, however, bolted the stable door; and by the time 
they had forced it open there was no sign of him. Van Helsing 
and I tried to make inquiry at the back of the house; but the 
mews was deserted and no one had seen him depart. 

It was now late in the afternoon, and sunset was not far 
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 my house, where we found 
Mrs. Harker waiting us, with an appearance of cheerfulness 
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 



Dr. Seward's Diary 287 

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 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 f or none of us had eaten anything 
since breakfast or the sense of companionship 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 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 goodness 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 something 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. JThat poor soul who has wrought all this misery is the 
saddest case of 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 shrivelling his being 
to its core. Instinctively the clasp on his wife's hand grew closer, 



288 Dracula 

till his knuckles looked white. She did not flinch from the pain 
which I knew she must have suffered, 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 hell I would 
doit!" 

"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 ... I, 
too, may need such pity; and that some other like you and with 
equal cause for anger may deny it to me ! Oh, my husband ! my 
husband, indeed I would have spared you such a thought had 
there been another way; but I pray that God may not have 
treasured your wild words, 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." 

We men were all in tears now. There was no resisting them, 
and we wept openly. She wept, too, to see that her 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 
ihe 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. Harker 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, Godalming, 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. Godalming has 
already turned in, for his is the second watch. Now that my work 
is done I, too, shall go to bed. 

Jonathan Barker's Journal. 

3 4 October, close to midnight. I thought yesterday would 
never end. There was over me a yearning for sleep, in some sort 



Dr. Award's Diary 289 

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 more 
for her sweet pity of last night, a pity that made 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 is our only 
anchor. Thank God! 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 
seeing, since the sunset. Then, for a while, there came over her 
face a repose which was like spring after the blasts of 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 to death. However, 
I must try to sleep; for there is to-morrow to think of, and there 
is no rest for me until. . . . 

Later. I must have fallen asleep, for. I was awaked by Mina, 
who was sitting up in bed, with a startled look on her 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 whis- 
pered 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 whispered 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 gestuVe 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. 



290 Dracula 

4 October, morning. Once again during the night I was wak- 
ened 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 rather 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 must have come in the night, 
and matured without my knowing it. He must hypnotise me 
befoje 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. 

"No," I replied; "but Mina wants to see Dr. Van Helsing at 



"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 Godalming were 
with Dr. Seward at the door asking questions. When the Profes- 
sor 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, cheerfully^ 
"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 motioned' 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 hammer, for I felt 
that some crisis was at hand. Gradually her eyes closed, and she 
sat, stock still; only by the gentle heaving of her bosom could 
one know that she was alive. The Professor made a few more 
passes and then stopped, and I 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 mo- 



Dr. Seward's Diary 291 

tioned to me to bring the others in. They came on tip-toe, clos- 
ing 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 Pro- 
fessor 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 day seemed just upon us. A red streak 
shot up, and a rosy light seemed to diffuse itself through the 
room. On the instant 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 reading 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 Profes* 
sor's patient voice. 

"The lapping of water. It is gurgling by, and little waves leap. 
I can hear them on the outside." 

"Then you are on a ship?" We all looked at each other, try- 
ing to glean something each from the other. We were afraid to 
think. The answer came quick: 

"Oh, yes!" 

"'What else do you hear?" 

"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 operTeyes 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 shoul- 
ders, 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, 



292 Draclila 

to know the situation without telling, though she was eager to 
know what she had told. The Professor repeated the conversa- 
tion, and she said: 

"Then there is not a moment to lose: it may not be yet too 
late!" Mr. Morris and Lord Godalming started for the door but 
the Professor's calm voice called them back: 

"Stay, my friends. That ship, wherever it was, was weighing 
anchor whilst she spoke. There are many ships weighing 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 the 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, when 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 s , 
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 com- 
fortably 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^t 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?" 



Dr. Seward's Diary 293 

"Because," he answered solemnly, "he can live for centuries, 
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 

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 know- 
ing, 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 Translyvania. I know it so well, as if a great hand of fire wrote 
it on the wall. He have prepare . c or this hi 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 earth- 
work 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 children. Therefore be of 
much comfort till we return. 

VAN HELSING. 

294 



Dr. Seward's Diary 295 

Jonathan Barker's Journal. 

4 October. When I read to Mina, Van Helsing's message in 
the phonograph, the poor girl brightened up considerably. Al- 
ready 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 hi 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 forehead. 
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 throughout, which is comforting. Mina says that per- 
haps 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 Profes- 
sor 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 Barker's Journal. 

5 October, 5 p. m. Our meeting for report. Present: Professor 
Van Helsing, Lord Godalming, 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 magnifico; 
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 important as to go in 
your list of the shipping in the Times, and so we go, by sugges- 
tion of Lord Godalming, 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 



296 Dracula 

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 humble 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 never- 
theless they tell us all things which we want to know. 

"They make known to us among them, how last afternoon at 
about five o'clock comes a man so hurry. A tall man, thin and 
pale, with high nose and 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 that he 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 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 no Frenchmen with bloom upofs 



Dr. Seward's Diary 297 

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 ship 
where he might purchase ship forms, he departed. 

"No one knew where he went 'or bloomin' well cared/ ag 
they said, for they had something else to think of well with blood 
again; for it soon became apparent to all that the Czarina Cath- 
erine 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 poly- 
glot 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 altogether. He was in no friendly 
mood, when just at full tide, 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 polyglot, 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 doubtless 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 com- 
mand, 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 is to come 
on him when in the box between sunrise and sunset; 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 invoices 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 



298 Dracula 

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 speaking, I asked him 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 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 answered 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 till they are like the multitude of stand- 
ing corn, was the work of centuries. Were another of the Un- 
Dead, like him, to try to do what he has done, perhaps not all 
the centuries of the 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 won- 
drous way. The very place, where he have been alive, Un-Dead 
for all these centuries, is full of strangeness of the geologic and 
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 properties, and gases 
that kill or make to vivify. Doubtless, there is something mag- 
netic or electric in some of these combinations 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 hs 
body keep strong and grow and thrive, so his brain grow too. 
All this without that diabolic aid which is surely to him; for it 



Dr. Seward's Diary 299 

have to yield to the powers that come from, and are, symbolic 
orf 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 common 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 ex- 
istence 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, forme, and I 
shall adopt him. Your man-eater, as they of India call the tiger 
who has once tasted blood of the human, care no more for the 
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 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 people 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* 



300 Dracula 

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 
gtery 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 con- 
clusions known to one another, we shall decide 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. Seward'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 breakfast there was 
more general cheerfulness than any of us had ever expected to 
experience again. 

It is really wonderful how much resilience there is in human 
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. Barker's forehead that I was brought back 
to reality. Even now, when I am gravely revolving the matter, 
it is almost impossible to realise that the cause of all our trouble 
is still existent. Even Mrs. Harker seems to lose sight of her 
trouble for whole spells; it is only now and again, when some- 
thing recalls it to her mind, that she thinks of her terrible scar. 
We are to meet here hi my study in half an hour and decide on 
our course of action. I see only one immediate difficulty, I know 



Dr. Seward's Diary 301 

it by instinct rather than reason: we shall all have to speak 
frankly; and yet I fear that in some mysterious way poor Mrs. 
Barker'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 wonder at anything! One thing I know: that if my instinct 
be true regarding poor Mrs. Barker'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 dis- 
honour a noble woman! 

Van Helsing is coming to my study a little before the others. 
I shall try to open the subject with him. 

Later. When the Professor came in, we talked over the state 
of things. I could see that he had 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 John, there is something that you and I must talk 
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 characteristics 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 without 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 



3O2 Dracula 

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 tortured. 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 Hel- 
sing 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 outset of our meeting a great personal 
relief was experienced by both Van Helsing and myself. Mrs. 
Harker had sent a message by her husband to say that she would 
not join us at present, as she thought it better that we should 
be free to discuss our movements without her presence to em- 
barrass us. The Professor and I looked at each other for an 
instant, and somehow we both seemed relieved. 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 Campaign. Van Helsing roughly put the facts before 
us first: 

"The Czarina Catherine left the Thames yesterday morning. 
It will take her at the quickest speed she has ever made at least 
three weeks to reach Varna; but we can travel overland 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, 



Dr. Seward's Diary 303 

wre must leave here on i7th 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 To- 
bolsk? What wouldn't we have given then for a repeater apiece! >r 

" Good ! " said Van Helsing, " Winchesters it shall be. Quincey 's 
head is level at all times, but most so when there is to hunt, 
metaphor be more dishonour to science than wolves be of danger 
to man. In the meantime we can do nothing here; and as I 
think that Varna is not familiar 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. 

"Of course 1" 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 hi 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 Barker's 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. Muia's determination not to take any part in the dis- 
cussion 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 anything 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. 



304 Dracula 

Later. 'How strange it all is. I sat watching Mina's 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 silence 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 hear- 
ing, 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." 

"I promise!" I said, and for a moment she looked supremely 
happy; though to me all happiness for her was denied 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 my- 
self felt as if the pall of gloom which weighs us down were some- 
what lifted. We all retired early. Mina is now sleeping like a little 
child; it is a wonderful thing that her faculty of sleep remains to 
her in the midst of her terrible trouble. Thank God for it, for 
then at least she can forget 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 Helsing. I thought that it was another occasion for hyp- 



Dr. Seward's Diary 305 

notism, and without question went for the Professor. He had evi- 
dently 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 journey." 

Dr. Van Helsing was as startled as I was. After a moment'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 are, or 
may be, more liable than any of us from from circumstances 
things that have been." He paused, embarrassed. 

As she replied, she raised her finger and pointed to her fore- 
head: 

" 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 to come 
in secret, I must come by wile; by any device to hoodwink even 
Jonathan." God saw the look that she turned on me as she spoke, 
and if there be indeed a Recording 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 are, as always, most wise. You shall 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 sun- 
light which flooded the room. Van Helsing motioned to me to 
come with him quietly. We went to his room, and within a 
minute Lord Godalming, 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 



306 Dracula 

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 superstition must we trust 
at the first; it was man's faith in the early, and it have its root 
in faith still. Then, when we get the 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 
ill 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 various that until the mo- 
ment we may not say. We shall all 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 arrangements 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 what- 
ever may come. . . . 

Later. It is all done; my will is made, and all complete. 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 remainder. 

It is now drawing towards the sunset; Mina's uneasiness calls 



Dr. Seward's Diary 307 

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, how- 
ever, 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. 
She is calling to me. 



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 restraining her, or 
inciting her to action. This mood or condition begins some half 
hour or more before actual sunrise or sunset, and lasts till 
either the sun is high, or whilst the' clouds are still aglow with 
the rays streaming above tr^e horizon. At first there is a sort of 
negative condition, as if some tie were loosened, and then the 
absolute freedom quickly follows; when, however, the .freedom 
ceases the change-back or relapse comes quickly, preceded only 
by a spell of warning 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 husband'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 
are. There is a poison in my blood, in my soul, which may 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. vou must not and 

308 



Dr. SewarcTs Diary 309 

I must not take it!" She looked appealingly to us all in turn, 
beginning and ending with her husband. 

"What is that 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 an- 
other, 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,.!, on my part, give up here the certainty 
of eternal rest, and go out into the dark where may be the black- 
est things that the world or the nether world holds! " We were all 
silent, for we knew instinctively that this was only a prelude. The 
faces of the others were set^amV Barker's grew ashen grey; per- 
haps he guessed better than any of us what was coming. She 
continued: 

"This is what I can give into tfce hotch-pot." I could not but 
"lote 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 con- 
nection between us now. You must promise me, one and all 
even you, my beloved husband that, should the tune 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 a stake 
through me and cut off my head; or do whatever else may b& 
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 



3io Dracula 

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 
Helsing. 

"And I!" said Lord Godalming, 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 because those that they loved im- 
plored 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" she stopped 
with a flying blush, and changed her phrase " 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 relief 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 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 interrupted 
bv a deep groan from her husband; taking his hand in hers, she 



Dr. Seward's Diary ^n 

Hield 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 service from the Burial of the Dead. I I 
cannot go on words and v- voice f-fail m-me!" 

She was right in her instinct. Strange as it all was, bizarre 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. Barker's coming relapse from her freedom of soul, did not 
seem so full of despair to any of us as we had dreaded. 

Jonathan Barker's Journal. 

15 October, Varna. We left Charing Cross on the morning of 
the 1 2th, got to Paris the same night, and took the places secured 
for us in the Orient Express. We travelled night and day, arriving 
here at about five o'clock. Lord Godalming went to the Consulate 
to see if any telegram had arrived for him, whilst the rest of us 
came on to this hotel " theOdessus." 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 



312 Dracula 

nearly all the time. Before sunrise and sunset, however, 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 at sea, hastening on her way to Varna. Lord 
Godalming 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 getting on 
board the ship as soon as she arrives. Van Helsing says that our 
chance will be to get on the boat between sunrise and sunset. 
The Count, even if he takes the form of 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, 
before 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 supplied 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 



Dr. SewarcTs Diary 313 

shall be ready. As she must pass the Dardanelles 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. Godalming told 
the shippers that he fancied that the box sent aboard might con- 
tain 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 authori- 
sation to his agent at Varna. We have seen the agent, who was 
much impressed with Godalming'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. 
Morris and Godalming 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 myself, I should 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 in- 
stant the Czarina Catherine is seen, we are to be informed by a 
special messenger. 

24 October. A whole week of waiting. Daily telegrams to 
Godalming, 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 Godalming, care ofH. B. M. 
Vice-Consul, Varna. 

(l Czarina Catherine reported this mrrning from Dardanelles/' 

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 



314 Dracula 

were all wild with excitement yesterday when Godalming 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 emotion. 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 not 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 hypnotic condition, for he says that 
so long as they do not begin to sharpen there is no active danger 
of a change in her. If this change should come, it would be neces- 
sary to take steps ! . . . We both know what those steps would have 
to be, though we do not mention our thoughts to each other. 
We should neither of us shrink from the task awful though it be 
to contemplate. "Euthanasia" is an excellent and a comforting 
word! I am grateful to whoever invented it. 

It is only 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 it is possible that we may get news at any moment. We men 
are all in a fever of excitement, except Harker, who is calm; his 
hands are 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 lookout for the Count if the edge of that 
"Kukri" ever touches his throat, driven by that stern, ice-cold 
hand! 

Van Helsing and I were a little alarmed about Mrs. Harker 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, 



Dr. Seward's Diary 315 

however, her husband mentioned casually 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 when after a refreshing 
sleep of some hours she woke up, she seemed brighter and better 
than she had been for days. At sunset she made the usual hyp- 
notic report. Wherever he may be in the Black Sea, the Count 
is hurrying to his destination. 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 journey- 
ing somewhere is apparent, for Mrs. Barker's hypnotic 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 report." Van Helsing is terribly 
anxious, and told me just now that he fears the Count is escaping 
us. He added significantly: 

"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 God- 

aiming, care H. B. M. Vice Consul, Varna. 

"Czarina Catherine reported entering Galatz at one o'clock 
to-day." 

Dr. Seward's Diary. 

28 October. WTien 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 



316 Dracula 

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, however, 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 ex- 
perience and we all took it differently. Van Helsing raised his 
hand 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 Godalming grew 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 

fhastly white, so that the scar on her forehead seemed to burn, 
ut 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 instinctively 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 started, for the answer 
came from Mrs. Harker. 

"How on earth do you know?" said Art. 

"You forget or perhaps you do not know, though Jonathan 
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 Godalming. Van Helsing 
shook his head: "I fear not. This land is very different from 
yours or mine; even if we did have a special, it would probably 
not arrive as soon as our regular train. Moreover, we have some- 
thing to prepare. We must think. Now let us organize. You, 
friend Arthu/, go to the train and get the tickets and arrange 



Dr. Seward's Diary 317 

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 consult. 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 make report." 

"And I," said Mrs. Marker brightly, and more Like her 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 Helsing 
asked Mrs. Harker to look up the copy of the diaries and find him 
the part of Barker'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 manu- 
script?" ^ 

" No ! " said I, " unless it was to get an opportunity of seeing me 
alone." 

" You are 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 understand- 
ing, 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 rush- 
ing, 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 



i 



318 Dracula 

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, tfcat 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 overwhelm her and make despair just when we want all her 
hope, 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 forgetful 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 



Dr. Seward's Diary 319 

without though because she, too, know not what it mean what 
it might mean. Just as there are elements 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; 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 countries 
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 
dther. 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 pre- 
destinate 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 sto,' 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. Harker 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 im- 
perfectly 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 



I 



320 Dracula 

came to London to invade a new land. He was beaten, and when 
all hope of 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. A moment 
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 expectation: 

"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 egotistical." 

"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 himself 
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 aU 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 envelop- 
ing 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 Providence, 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 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, 



Dr. Seward's Diary 321 

.u have won from your suffering at his hands. This is now all 
Jbre precious that he know it not, and to guard himself have 
cut himself off from his knowledge of our where. We, 
Lowever, are not selfish, and we believe that God is with us 
through all this blackness, and these many dark hours. We shall 
fellow him; 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 return from 
their work you can give it to them ; then they shall know as we 
do." 

A nd so I have written it whilst we wait their return, and Mrs. 
Har.ker has written with her typewriter all since she brought the 
MS. to us. 



CHAPTER XXVI 



29 October. This is written in the train from Varna to 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 prepa.red 
herself for her hypnotic effort; and after a longer and more seri- 
ous 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 tune the Professor had to ask her questions, a.nd 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 lapping, 
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 sorie where; 
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 eyebrows 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 anything. 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 acquiesced. She 
bustled off to get tea; when she had gone Van Helsing said: 

" 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. 

322 



Dr. Seward's Diary 323 

as he did at Whitby. But if the day come before he get on shore, 
then, unless he be carried he cannot escape. And if he be carried, 
then the customs men may discover what the box contain. 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 than 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 simplest of facts. If this goes on it may ultimately 
mislead 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 talking in strange 
tongues, fierce-falling water, and the howling of wolves." She 
stopped and a shudder ran through her, increasing hi intensity 



324 Dracula 

for a few seconds, till, at the end, she shook as though in a palsy. 
She said no more, even in answer 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 
remember anything, but asked what she had said; when she was 
told, she pondered over it deeply for a long time and in silence. 

jo October, j a. m. 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 pro- 
curing the hypnotic trance, Van Helsing began 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 I Speak, I command you!" said Van Helsing hi 
an agonised voice. At the same time there was despair in his eyes, 
for the risen sun was reddening even Mrs. Barker's pale face. 
She opened her eyes, and we all started as she said, sweetly 
and seemingly with the utmost unconcern; 

"Oh, Professor, why ask me to do what you know I can't? 
I don't remember anything." Then, seeing the look of amaze- 
ment on our faces, she said, turning from one to the other with a 
troubled look: 

"What have I said? What have I done? I know nothing, only 
that I was lying here, half asleep, and heard you say 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 Barker's 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 



Dr. Seward's Diary 325 

forces were distributed much as they had been at Varna, except 
that Lord Godalming 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. Jonathan and the two doctors went 
to the shipping agent to learn particulars of the arrival of the 
Czarina Catherine. 

Later. Lord Godalming has returned. The Consul is away, 
and the Vice-Consul sick; so the routine work has been attended 
to by a clerk. He was very obliging, and offered to do anything in 
his power. 

Jonathan Barker's Journal. 

30 October. At nine o'clock Dr. Van Helsing, Dr. Seward, 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 Godalming's telegraphed 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 anchor 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 lif e 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 run 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. 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 mixture of 
simplicity and cunning, of superstition and commercial reasoning, 
aroused Van Helsing, who said: 



326 



Dracula 



J *Mine friend, that Devil is more clever than he is thought by 
some; and he know when he meet his match!" The skipper 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 super- 
steetion of foreigners is pairfectly rideeculous! I sent them aboot 
their business pretty quick; but as just after a fog closed hi on us 
I felt a wee bit as they did anent something, though I wouldn't 
say it was agin the big 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 7 if he didn't, well, we'd keep a sharp lookout 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 Varna, I thocht I'd let it lie till we discharged in the 
port an' get rid o't althegither. 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 j 
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 j 
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 Hildesheim." < 
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' 



Dr. Seward's Diary 32.7 

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 sun- 
rise 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 cer- 
tain 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 International 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 go 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 between ten and eleven o'clock 
last night. We were at a standstill 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 had been 
torn open as if by some wild animal. Those we had been speaking 
with ran off to see the horror, the women crying 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 des- 
perate, and it is at least a chance, though a hazardous one. As a 
preliminary step, I was released from my promise to her. 

Mina Barker'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 



328 Dracula 

Mr. Morris for getting this one for me. I should have felt quitel 
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 appears in col- 
lapse. 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 can. 

I have asked Dr. Van Helsing, and he has got me all the papers 
that I have not fbt seen. . . . Whilst they are resting, I shall go 
over all carefully, and perhaps I may arrive at some conclusion. 
I shall try to foljpw the Professor's example, and think with- 
out prejudice on tnei facts before me. . . . 

I do believe that .under God's providence I have made a dis- 
covery. I shall get the maps and look over them. . . . 

I am more than ever sure that I am right. My new conclusion 
is ready, so I shall get our party together and read it. They can 
judge it; it is well to be accurate, and every minute is precious. 

Mina Barker'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 evident ; 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 confined as he is between dawn and 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? 

I. By Road. There are endless difficulties, especially in leaving 
the city. 

(x) There are people; and people are curious, and investigate. 
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 officers to 
pass. 

(z) His pursuers might follow. This is his highest fear; and ia 



Dr. Seward's Diary 329 

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 indeed 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. 

The first thing is to realise exactly what he has done as yet; 
we may, then, get a light on what his later task is to be. 

Firstly. We must differentiate between what he did in 
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 ascertain 
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 instruction to Petrof Skinsky. 
These we must only guess at; but there must have been some let- 
ter or message, since Skinsky came to Hildesheim. 

That, so far, his plans were successful we know. The Czarina 
Catherine made a phenomenally quick journey so much so 
that Captain Donelson's suspicions were aroused; but his super- 
stition 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 arrange- 
ments 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, moving along. The customs and the octroi, if there be any, 
have been avoided. 



330 Dracula 



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 husband's diary,, 
Skinsky is mentioned as dealing with the Slovaks 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 isolation. 

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 London. 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 Dracula's castle as can be 
got by water. 

Mina Barker'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 Helsing said: 

u 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 



Dr. Seward's Diary 331 

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 sus- 
pect; 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 Godal- 
ming. 

" And I, horses to follow on the bank lest by chance he land," 
said Mr. Morris. 

" 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 crowd, and there may be wolves. The Count, if you remem- 
ber, took some other precautions; he made some requisitions 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. We have been accus- 
tomed 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 energies 
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 need be, as well as younger men. Now let 



332 Dracula 

me say that what I would is this: while you, my Lord Godalming 
and friend Jonathan go in your so swift little steamboat up the 
river, and whilst John and Quincey guard the bank where 
perchance 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 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 unknown 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 obliterated." 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 to him to keep him com- 
pany, 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 



Dr. Seward's Diary 333 

pain, but it is necessary. My friend, is it not a dire need for the 
which I am giving, possibly my life? If it were that any one went 
into that place to stay, it is I who would have to go to keep 
them company." 

"Do as you will," said Jonathan, with a sob that shook him 
all over, "we are in the hands of God!" 

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 Godalming 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 Godalming and Jonathan have a 
lovely steam launch, with steam up ready to start at a moment's 
notice. Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris have half a dozen good horses, 
well appointed. We have all the maps and appliances of various 
kinds that can be had. Professor Van Helsing and I are to leave 
by the 11:40 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 lan- 
guages, 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 look- 
ing at you keenly; his look is a warning. There must be no tears 
now unless it may be that God will let them fall in gladness. 
Jonathan Barker's Journal. 

October 30. Night. I am writing this in the light from the 
furnace door of the steam launch: Lord Godalming is firing up. 
He is an experienced hand at the work, as he has had for years 
a launch of his own on the Thames, and another on the Norfolk 



334 Dracula 

Broads. Regarding our plans, we finally decided that Mhia'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 some- 
where about the 47th degree, north latitude, would be the place 
chosen for the crossing the country between the river and the 
Carpathians. 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 Godalming 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 
following 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 un- 
known places and unknown ways; into a whole world of dark and 
dreadful things. Godalming is shutting the furnace door. . . . 

ji October. Still hurrying along. The day has come, and God- 
aiming 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, but none of them 
had on board any box or package of anything like the size of the 
one we seek. The men were scared every time we turned our 
electric lamp on them, and fell on their knees and prayed. 

i November, evening. No news all day; we have found 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 over- 



Dr. Seward's Diary 335 

hauled 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 Sereth, we got a Roumanian flag which 
we now fly conspicuously. With every boat which we have over- 
hauled 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. Godalming 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 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 tune 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 engines are throb- 
bing and doing their utmost. I wonder how Dr. Seward and Mr. 
Morris are getting on. There seem to be endless streams running 
down the mountains into 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 if there had been, for every moment is precious. We 



336 Dracula, 

have had only the rest needful for the horses; but we 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 fashion. 

4 November. To-day we heard of the launch having been 
detained by an accident when trying to force a way up the rapids. 
The Slovak boats get up all right, by aid of a rope and steering 
with knowledge. Some went up only a few hours before. Godal- 
rning 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, witii 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 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. 

*> 

M ma Barker's Journal. 

ji 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 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 
picturesqueness 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 encour- 
ages her, and whispers to me that it may be a week before we can 



Dr. Seward's Diary 337 

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 happen 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 beloved 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 XXVH 

MINA BARKER'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 con- 
stantly 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 ot 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 believe 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 
we must not break down when most of all his strength will be 
needed ... All is ready; we are off shortly. 



Mina Harker's Journal 339 

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 heaviness for want 
of a better word; I mean that it oppresses us both. It is very cold, 
and only our warm furs keep us comfortable. 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 diiving. 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 morn- 
ing we shall reach the Eorgo Pass. The houses are very few here 
now, and the Professor says that the last horse 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 Seward, 
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 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. 
It seems to have affected Madam 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 



340 Dracula 

all the day; she even have lost her appetite. She make no entry 
into her little diary, she who write so faithful at every pause. 
Something whisper to me that all is not well. However, to-night 
she is more mf. Her long sleep all day have refresh and restore 
her, for now she is all sweet and bright as ever. At sunset 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! 

Now to 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. 

We got 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 tune 
than ever, to the hypnotic sleep. As before, came the answer: 
"darkness and the swirling 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 different 
from the coach road from the Bukovina to Bistritz, which is 
more wide and hard, and more of use. 

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 they 
only. I give rein to them, and they go on so patient. By-and-by 
we find all the things which Jonathan have note in that wonder- 
ful diary of him. Then we go on for long, long hours and hours. 
At the first, I 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 think I drowse myself, for all of 



Mina Harker's Journal 341 

sudden I feel guilt, 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 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 
prepare food while I undo the horses and set them, tethered in 
shelter, to feed. Then when I return to the fire she have my sup- 
per 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 then 
sleep come to her too late, but so heavy that she will not wake. 
I have to lif t her up, and place her sleeping in the carriage when I 
have harnessed the horses and made all ready. Madam still 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 that the 



34 2 Dracula 

many horrors and the so long strain on nerves has at the last turn 
my brain. 

All yesterday we travel, ever getting closer to the mountains, 
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 sleeping, and the sun low down. But all was 
indeed changed; the frowning mountains seemed further away, 
and we were 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 
exulted and feared; for now, for good or ill, the end was 
near. 

I woke Madam Mina, and again tried to hypnotise her; but 
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 twilight 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 needs now be strong for all. Then, with 
the fear on me of what might be, I drew a ring so big for her com- 
fort, 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 presently, 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 



Mina Harker's Journal 343 

back, sat down in her place. Then, looking at me with open eyes, 
as of one waked from sleep, she said simply: 

"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 im- 
aginings 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 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 meaning 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 



344 Dracula 

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 gladness leapt like 
flame; for oh! the terror in her sweet eyes, the repulsion, the hor- 
ror, 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 ap- 
proach, me, whilst so armed, nor Madam Mina whilst she re- 
mained within the ring, which she could not leave no more than 
they could enter. The horses had ceased to moan, and lay still on 
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 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 sleep, from which I could not wake her. I tried to hypno- 
tise 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 ob- 
scure it, will be to me a safety. 

I will strengthen me with breakfast, and then I will to my ter- 
rible work. Madam Mina still sleeps; and, God be thanked! she 
is calm in her sleep. . . , 



Mina Marker 3 Journal 345 

Jonathan Barker's 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 
Godalming 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 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. We 
ride to 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 Veres ti was useful; 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 



346 Dracula 

only death and freedom beyond. 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 lif e 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 
hypnotise 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 beautiful, 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 Harker's Journal 347 

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 propor- 
tioned. On it was but one word 

DRACULA. 

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 then: dead selves through my awful work, I laid in 
Dracula's tomb some of the Wafer, and so banished him from it, 
Un-Dead, for ever. 

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, my friend 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 in to its native dust, as though the death 
that should have come centuries 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. 



348 Dracula 

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 my husband who is, I know, coming towards us." 
She was looking thin and pale and weak; but her eyes were pure 
and glowed with fervour. I was glad to see her 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 Barker's Journal. 

6 November. It was late in the afternoon when the Professor 
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 snowfall, there was not even the sign of habitation. 
When we had gone about a mile, I was tired with the heavy walk- 
ing 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 of 
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 some- 
thing 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 between 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 



Mina Harker's Journal 349 

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. 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 falling more heavily, and 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, I could see the river lying like a black ribbon 
in kinks and curls as it wound its way. Straight in front of us and 
not far off in fact, so near that I wondered we had not noticed 
before 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. My heart leaped as I saw 
it, for I felt that the end was coming. The evening was now draw- 
ing close, and well I knew that at sunset the Thing, which was 
.ill 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, however, 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 him! " 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. We may be too late. 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: 



350 Dracula 

"Look! Look! Look! See, two horsemen follow fast, coming up 
from the south. It must be Quincey and John. Take the glass. 
Look before the snow blots it all out ! " I took it and looked. The 
two men might be Dr. Seward and 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 coming party two other men, riding at break-neck 
speed. One of them I knew was Jonathan, and the other I took, 
of course, to be Lord Godalming. 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 
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 tunes we could not see an 
arm's length before us; but at others, as the hollow-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 various 
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 pur- 
suers. 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. 

Closer and closer they drew. The Professor and I crouched 



Mina Harker's Journal 351 

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 Godalming and Jonathan 
dashed up at one side and Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris on the 
other. The leader of the gypsies, a splendid-looking fellow who 
sat his horse like a centaur, waved them back, and in a fierce 
voice gave to his companions some word to proceed. They lashed 
the horses which sprang forward; but the four men raised their 
Winchester 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 attack. 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 them- 
selves from their horses and dashed towards 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 some- 
thing. Seeing the quick movement of our parties, the leader of the 
gypsies gave a command; his men instantly formed round the 
cart hi a sort of undisciplined endeavour, each one shouldering 
and pushing the other in his eagerness to carry out the order. 

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 finishing their 
task before the sun should set. Nothing seemed to stop or even 
to hinder them. Neither the levelled weapons nor the flashing 
knives of the gypsies in front, nor the howling of the wolves 
behind, appeared to even attract their attention. Jonathan's 
impetuosity, and the manifest singleness of his purpose, seemed 
to overawe those in front of him; instinctively they cowered, 



Dracula 

- .*- 

aside and let him pass. In an instant 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 mean- 
time, Mr. Morris had had to use force to pass through his side 
of the ring of Szgany. All the time I had been breathlessly watch- 
ing Jonathan I had, with the tail of my eye, seen him pressing 
desperately forward, and had seen the knives of the gypsies flash 
as he won a way through them, and they cut at him. He had par- 
ried 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 frantically 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 Godalming and Dr. 
... JSeward, had given in and maxie.iLgjurthe resistance.|'The Isurr 
was almosT dow^oirth'e'mountaui tops, anoTOie"sKao!ows 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 
I cart had scattered over him. He was deathly 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 
I in them turned to triumph. 

\ But, on the instant, came the sweep and flash of Jonathan's 
1 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 rTnmbleHJnto^dust ami, 
passed from our sight!" ~ 

I shall be glad as~lbng as I live that even in that moment of 
final 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 
Ught of the setting sun. 






Mina Barker's Journal 353 

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 un- 
mounted 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 smiled 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. 



354 Dracula 

NOTE 

Seven years ago we all went through the flames; and the hap- 
piness 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 link* 
all our little band of men together; but we call him Quincey. 

In the summer of this year we made a journey to Transylvania, 
and went over the old ground which was, and is, to us so full of 
vivid and terrible memories. It was almost impossible 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 Godalming 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 hardly one authentic document; 
nothing but a mass of typewriting, except the later note-books 
of Mina and Seward and myself, and Van Helsing's memoran- 
dum. We could hardly ask any one, even did we wish to, to accept 
these as proofs of so wild a story. Van Helsing 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 END 



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