Dracula's
Guest When we started for our drive the sun was shining brightly on Munich,
and the air was full of the joyousness of early summer. Just as we were about
to depart, Herr Delbruck (the maitre d'hotel of the Quatre Saisons, where I was
staying) came down bareheaded to the carriage and, after wishing me a pleasant
drive, said to the coachman, still holding his hand on the handle of the carriage
door, "Remember you are back by nightfall. The sky looks bright but there
is a shiver in the north wind that says there may be a sudden storm. But I am
sure you will not be late." Here he smiled and added,"for you know what
night it is." Johann answered with an emphatic, "Ja, mein Herr,"
and, touching his hat, drove off quickly. When we had cleared the town, I said,
after signalling to him to stop: "Tell me, Johann, what is tonight?" He
crossed himself, as he answered laconically: "Walpurgis nacht." Then
he took out his watch, a great, old-fashioned German silver thing as big as a
turnip and looked at it, with his eyebrows gathered together and a little impatient
shrug of his shoulders. I realized that this was his way of respectfully protesting
against the unnecessary delay and sank back in the carriage, merely motioning
him to proceed. He started off rapidly, as if to make up for lost time. Every
now and then the horses seemed to throw up their heads and sniff the air suspiciously.
On such occasions I often looked round in alarm. The road was pretty bleak, for
we were traversing a sort of high windswept plateau. As we drove, I saw a road
that looked but little used and which seemed to dip through a little winding valley.
It looked so inviting that, even at the risk of offending him, I called Johann
to stop - and when he had pulled up, I told him I would like to drive down that
road. He made all sorts of excuses and frequently crossed himself as he spoke.
This somewhat piqued my curiosity, so I asked him various questions. He answered
fencingly and repeatedly looked at his watch in protest. Finally I said,
"Well, Johann, I want to go down this road. I shall not ask you to come unless
you like; but tell me why you do not like to go, that is all I ask." For
answer he seemed to throw himself off the box, so quickly did he reach the ground.
Then he stretched out his hands appealingly to me and implored me not to go. There
was just enough of English mixed with the German for me to understand the drift
of his talk. He seemed always just about to tell me something - the very idea
of which evidently frightened him; but each time he pulled himself up saying,
"Walpurgis nacht!" I tried to argue with him, but it was difficult
to argue with a man when I did not know his language. The advantage certainly
rested with him, for although he began to speak in English, of a very crude and
broken kind, he always got excited and broke into his native tongue - and every
time he did so, he looked at his watch. Then the horses became restless and sniffed
the air. At this he grew very pale, and, looking around in a frightened way, he
suddenly jumped forward, took them by the bridles, and led them on some twenty
feet. I followed and asked why he had done this. For an answer he crossed himself,
pointed to the spot we had left, and drew his carriage in the direction of the
other road, indicating a cross, and said, first in German, then in English, "Buried
him - him what killed themselves." I remembered the old custom of burying
suicides at cross roads: "Ah! I see, a suicide. How interesting!" But
for the life of me I could not make out why the horses were frightened. Whilst
we were talking, we heard a sort of sound between a yelp and a bark. It was far
away; but the horses got very restless, and it took Johann all his time to quiet
them. He was pale and said, "It sounds like a wolf - but yet there are no
wolves here now." "No?" I said, questioning him. "Isn't
it long since the wolves were so near the city?" "Long, long,"
he answered, "in the spring and summer; but with the snow the wolves have
been here not so long." Whilst he was petting the horses and trying
to quiet them, dark clouds drifted rapidly across the sky. The sunshine passed
away, and a breath of cold wind seemed to drift over us.It was only a breath,
however, and more of a warning than a fact, for the sun came out brightly again. Johann
looked under his lifted hand at the horizon and said, "The storm of snow,
he comes before long time." Then he looked at his watch again, and, straightway
holding his reins firmly - for the horses were still pawing the ground restlessly
and shaking their heads - he climbed to his box as though the time had come for
proceeding on our journey. I felt a little obstinate and did not at once
get into the carriage. "Tell me," I said, "about this place
where the road leads," and I pointed down. Again he crossed himself
and mumbled a prayer before he answered, "It is unholy." "What
is unholy?" I enquired. "The village." "Then there
is a village?" "No, no. No one lives there hundreds of years." My
curiosity was piqued, "But you said there was a village." "There
was." "Where is it now?" Whereupon he burst out into
a long story in German and English, so mixed up that I could not quite understand
exactly what he said. Roughly I gathered that long ago, hundreds of years, men
had died there and been buried in their graves; but sounds were heard under the
clay, and when the graves were opened,men and women were found rosy with life
and their mouths red with blood. And so, in haste to save their lives (aye, and
their souls! - and here he crossed himself)those who were left fled away to other
places, where the living lived and the dead were dead and not - not something.
He was evidently afraid to speak the last words. As he proceeded with his narration,
he grew more and more excited. It seemed as if his imagination had got hold of
him, and he ended in a perfect paroxysm of fear - white-faced, perspiring, trembling,
and looking round him as if expecting that some dreadful presence would manifest
itself there in the bright sunshine on the open plain. Finally, in an agony
of desperation, he cried, "Walpurgis nacht!" and pointed to the carriage
for me to get in. All my English blood rose at this,and standing back I
said, "You are afraid, Johann - you are afraid. Go home, I shall return alone,
the walk will do me good." The carriage door was open. I took from the seat
my oak walking stick - which I always carry on my holiday excursions - and closed
the door, pointing back to Munich, and said, "Go home,Johann - Walpurgis
nacht doesn't concern Englishmen." The horses were now more restive
than ever, and Johann was trying to hold them in, while excitedly imploring me
not to do anything so foolish. I pitied the poor fellow, he was so deeply in earnest;
but all the same I could not help laughing. His English was quite gone now. In
his anxiety he had forgotten that his only means of making me understand was to
talk my language, so he jabbered away in his native German. It began to be a little
tedious. After giving the direction, "Home!" I turned to go down the
cross road into the valley. With a despairing gesture,Johann turned his
horses towards Munich. I leaned on my stick and looked after him. He went slowly
along the road for a while, then there came over the crest of the hill a man tall
and thin. I could see so much in the distance. When he drew near the horses,they
began to jump and kick about, then to scream with terror. Johann could not hold
them in; they bolted down the road, running away madly. I watched them out of
sight, then looked for the stranger; but I found that he, too, was gone. With
a light heart I turned down the side road through the deepening valley to which
Johann had objected. There was not the slightest reason, that I could see, for
his objection; and I daresay I tramped for a couple of hours without thinking
of time or distance and certainly without seeing a person or a house. So far as
the place was concerned, it was desolation itself. But I did not notice this particularly
till, on turning a bend in the road,I came upon a scattered fringe of wood; then
I recognized that I had been impressed unconsciously by the desolation of the
region through which I had passed. I sat down to rest myself and began to
look around. It struck me that it was considerably colder than it had been at
the commencement of my walk - a sort of sighing sound seemed to be around me with,
now and then, high overhead, a sort of muffled roar. Looking upwards I noticed
that great thick clouds were drafting rapidly across the sky from north to south
at a great height.There were signs of a coming storm in some lofty stratum of
the air. I was a little chilly, and, thinking that it was the sitting still after
the exercise of walking, I resumed my journey. The ground I passed over
was now much more picturesque. There were no striking objects that the eye might
single out, but in all there was a charm of beauty.I took little heed of time,
and it was only when the deepening twilight forced itself upon me that I began
to think of how I should find my way home. The air was cold, and the drifting
of clouds high overhead was more marked. They were accompanied by a sort of far
away rushing sound, through which seemed to come at intervals that mysterious
cry which the driver had said came from a wolf. For a while I hesitated. I had
said I would see the deserted village, so on I went and presently came on a wide
stretch of open country, shut in by hills all around. Their sides were covered
with trees which spread down to the plain, dotting in clumps the gentler slopes
and hollows which showed here and there.I followed with my eye the winding of
the road and saw that it curved close to one of the densest of these clumps and
was lost behind it. As I looked there came a cold shiver in the air, and
the snow began to fall. I thought of the miles and miles of bleak country I had
passed, and then hurried on to seek shelter of the wood in front. Darker and darker
grew the sky, and faster and heavier fell the snow, till the earth before and
around me was a glistening white carpet the further edge of which was lost in
misty vagueness. The road was here but crude, and when on the level its boundaries
were not so marked as when it passed through the cuttings; and in a little while
I found that I must have strayed from it, for I missed underfoot the hard surface,
and my feet sank deeper in the grass and moss. Then the wind grew stronger and
blew with ever increasing force, till I was fain to run before it. The air became
icy-cold, and in spite of my exercise I began to suffer. The snow was now falling
so thickly and whirling around me in such rapid eddies that I could hardly keep
my eyes open. Every now and then the heavens were torn asunder by vivid lightning,
and in the flashes I could see ahead of me a great mass of trees, chiefly yew
and cypress all heavily coated with snow. I was soon amongst the shelter
of the trees, and there in comparative silence I could hear the rush of the wind
high overhead. Presently the blackness of the storm had become merged in the darkness
of the night. By-and-by the storm seemed to be passing away,it now only came in
fierce puffs or blasts. At such moments the weird sound of the wolf appeared to
be echoed by many similar sounds around me. Now and again, through the black
mass of drifting cloud, came a straggling ray of moonlight which lit up the expanse
and showed me that I was at the edge of a dense mass of cypress and yew trees.
As the snow had ceased to fall, I walked out from the shelter and began to investigate
more closely. It appeared to me that, amongst so many old foundations as I had
passed, there might be still standing a house in which, though in ruins,I could
find some sort of shelter for a while. As I skirted the edge of the copse, I found
that a low wall encircled it, and following this I presently found an opening.
Here the cypresses formed an alley leading up to a square mass of some kind of
building. Just as I caught sight of this, however, the drifting clouds obscured
the moon, and I passed up the path in darkness. The wind must have grown colder,
for I felt myself shiver as I walked; but there was hope of shelter, and I groped
my way blindly on. I stopped, for there was a sudden stillness. The storm
had passed; and, perhaps in sympathy with nature's silence, my heart seemed to
cease to beat. But this was only momentarily; for suddenly the moonlight broke
through the clouds showing me that I was in a graveyard and that the square object
before me was a great massive tomb of marble, as white as the snow that lay on
and all around it. With the moonlight there came a fierce sigh of the storm which
appeared to resume its course with a long, low howl, as of many dogs or wolves.I
was awed and shocked, and I felt the cold perceptibly grow upon me till it seemed
to grip me by the heart. Then while the flood of moonlight still fell on the marble
tomb, the storm gave further evidence of renewing, as though it were returning
on its track. Impelled by some sort of fascination, I approached the sepulchre
to see what it was and why such a thing stood alone in such a place.I walked around
it and read, over the Doric door, in German - COUNTESS DOLINGEN
OF GRATZ
IN STYRIA
SOUGHT AND FOUND DEATH
1801 On the top of the
tomb, seemingly driven through the solid marble - for the structure was composed
of a few vast blocks of stone - was a great iron spike or stake. On going to the
back I saw, graven in great Russian letters: "The dead travel fast." There
was something so weird and uncanny about the whole thing that it gave me a turn
and made me feel quite faint. I began to wish, for the first time, that I had
taken Johann's advice. Here a thought struck me, which came under almost myssterious
circumstances and with a terrible shock. This was Walpurgis Night! Walpurgis
Night was when, according to the belief of millions of people, the devil was abroad
- when the graves were opened and the dead came forth and walked. When all evil
things of earth and air and water held revel. This very place the driver had specially
shunned. This was the depopulated village of centuries ago.This was where the
suicide lay; and this was the place where I was alone - unmanned, shivering with
cold in a shroud of snow with a wild storm gathering again upon me! It took all
my philosophy, all the religion I had been taught, all my courage, not to collapse
in a paroxysm of fright. And now a perfect tornado burst upon me. The ground
shook as though thousands of horses thundered across it; and this time the storm
bore on its icy wings, not snow, but great hailstones which drove with such violence
that they might have come from the thongs of Balearic slingers - hailstones that
beat down leaf and branch and made the shelter of the cypresses of no more avail
than though their stems were standing corn. At the first I had rushed to the nearest
tree; but I was soon fain to leave it and seek the only spot that seemed to afford
refuge, the deep Doric doorway of the marble tomb. There, crouching against the
massive bronze door, I gained a certain amount of protection from the beating
of the hailstones, for now they only drove against me as they ricochetted from
the ground and the side of the marble. As I leaned against the door, it
moved slightly and opened inwards. The shelter of even a tomb was welcome in that
pitiless tempest and I was about to enter it when there came a flash of forked
lightning that lit up the whole expanse of the heavens. In the instant, as I am
a living man, I saw, as my my eyes turned into the darkness of the tomb, a beautiful
woman with rounded cheeks and red lips, seemingly sleeping on a bier. As the thunder
broke overhead, I was grasped as by the hand of a giant and hurled out into the
storm. The whole thing was so sudden that, before I could realize the shock, moral
as well as physical, I found the hailstones beating me down. At the same
time I had a strange, dominating feeling that I was not alone. I looked towards
the tomb. Just then there came another blinding flash which seemed to strike the
iron stake that surmounted the tomb and to pour through to the earth, blasting
and crumbling the marble, as in a burst of flame. The dead woman rose for a moment
of agony while she was lapped in the flame, and her bitter scream of pain was
drowned in the thundercrash. The last thing I heard was this mingling of dreadful
sound,as again I was seized in the giant grasp and dragged away, while the hailstones
beat on me and the air around seemed reverberant with the howling of wolves. The
last sight that I remembered was a vague, white, moving mass,as if all the graves
around me had sent out the phantoms of their sheeted dead, and that they were
closing in on me through the white cloudiness of the driving hail. Gradually
there came a sort of vague beginning of consciousness, then a sense of weariness
that was dreadful. For a time I remembered nothing, but slowly my senses returned.
My feet seemed positively racked with pain, yet I could not move them. They seemed
to be numbed. There was an icy feeling at the back of my neck and all down my
spine, and my ears, like my feet, were dead yet in torment; but there was in my
breast a sense of warmth which was by comparison delicious.It was as a nightmare
- a physical nightmare, if one may use such an expression; for some heavy weight
on my chest made it difficult for me to breathe. This period of semilethargy
seemed to remain a long time, and as it faded away I must have slept or swooned.
Then came a sort of loathing, like the first stage of seasickness, and a wild
desire to be free of something - I knew not what. A vast stillness enveloped me,
as though all the world were asleep or dead - only broken by the low panting as
of some animal close to me. I felt a warm rasping at my throat, then came a consciousness
of the awful truth which chilled me to the heart and sent the blood surging up
through my brain. Some great animal was lying on me and now licking my throat.
I feared to stir, for some instinct of prudence bade me lie still; but the brute
seemed to realize that there was now some change in me, for it raised its head.
Through my eyelashes I saw above me the two great flaming eyes of a gigantic wolf.
Its sharp white teeth gleamed in the gaping red mouth, and I could feel its hot
breath fierce and acrid upon me. For another spell of time I remembered
no more. Then I became conscious of a low growl, followed by a yelp, renewed again
and again. Then seemingly very far away, I heard a "Holloa! holloa!"
as of many voices calling in unison. Cautiously I raised my head and looked in
the direction whence the sound came, but the cemetery blocked my view. The wolf
still continued to yelp in a strange way, and a red glare began to move round
the grove of cypresses, as though following the sound. As the voices drew closer,
the wolf yelped faster and louder. I feared to make either sound or motion. Nearer
came the red glow over the white pall which stretched into the darkness around
me. Then all at once from beyond the trees there came at a trot a troop of horsemen
bearing torches. The wolf rose from my breast and made for the cemetery. I saw
one of the horsemen (soldiers by their caps and their long military cloaks) raise
his carbine and take aim. A companion knocked up his arm,and I heard the ball
whiz over my head. He had evidently taken my body for that of the wolf. Another
sighted the animal as it slunk away, and a shot followed. Then, at a gallop, the
troop rode forward - some towards me, others following the wolf as it disappeared
amongst the snow-clad cypresses. As they drew nearer I tried to move but
was powerless, although I could see and hear all that went on around me. Two or
three of the soldiers jumped from their horses and knelt beside me. One of them
raised my head and placed his hand over my heart. "Good news, comrades!"
he cried. "His heart still beats!" Then some brandy was poured
down my throat; it put vigor into me, and I was able to open my eyes fully and
look around. Lights and shadows were moving among the trees, and I heard men call
to one another. They drew together, uttering frightened exclamations; and the
lights flashed as the others came pouring out of the cemetery pell-mell, like
men possessed. When the further ones came close to us, those who were around me
asked them eagerly, "Well, have you found him?" The reply rang
out hurriedly, "No! no! Come away quick-quick! This is no place to stay,
and on this of all nights!" "What was it?" was the question,
asked in all manner of keys.The answer came variously and all indefinitely as
though the men were moved by some common impulse to speak yet were restrained
by some common fear from giving their thoughts. "It - it - indeed!"
gibbered one, whose wits had plainly given out for the moment. "A wolf
- and yet not a wolf!" another put in shudderingly. "No use trying
for him without the sacred bullet," a third remarked in a more ordinary manner. "Serve
us right for coming out on this night! Truly we have earned our thousand marks!"
were the ejaculations of a fourth. "There was blood on the broken marble,"
another said after a pause, "the lightning never brought that there. And
for him - is he safe? Look at his throat! See comrades, the wolf has been lying
on him and keeping his blood warm." The officer looked at my throat
and replied, "He is all right, the skin is not pierced. What does it all
mean? We should never have found him but for the yelping of the wolf." "What
became of it?" asked the man who was holding up my head and who seemed the
least panic-stricken of the party, for his hands were steady and without tremor.
On his sleeve was the chevron of a petty officer. "It went home,"
answered the man, whose long face was pallid and who actually shook with terror
as he glanced around him fearfully. "There are graves enough there in which
it may lie. Come, comrades - come quickly! Let us leave this cursed spot." The
officer raised me to a sitting posture, as he uttered a word of command; then
several men placed me upon a horse.He sprang to the saddle behind me, took me
in his arms, gave the word to advance; and, turning our faces away from the cypresses,
we rode away in swift military order. As yet my tongue refused its office,
and I was perforce silent. I must have fallen asleep; for the next thing I remembered
was finding myself standing up, supported by a soldier on each side of me. It
was almost broad daylight, and to the north a red streak of sunlight was reflected
like a path of blood over the waste of snow. The officer was telling the men to
say nothing of what they had seen, except that they found an English stranger,
guarded by a large dog. "Dog! that was no dog," cut in the man
who had exhibited such fear. "I think I know a wolf when I see one." The
young officer answered calmly, "I said a dog." "Dog!"
reiterated the other ironically.It was evident that his courage was rising with
the sun; and, pointing to me, he said, "Look at his throat. Is that the work
of a dog, master?" Instinctively I raised my hand to my throat, and
as I touched it I cried out in pain. The men crowded round to look, some stooping
down from their saddles;and again there came the calm voice of the young officer,
"A dog, as I said. If aught else were said we should only be laughed at." I
was then mounted behind a trooper, and we rode on into the suburbs of Munich.
Here we came across a stray carriage into which I was lifted , and it was driven
off to the Quatre Saisons - the young officer accompanying me, whilst a trooper
followed with his horse, and the others rode off to their barracks. When
we arrived, Herr Delbruck rushed so quickly down the steps to meet me, that it
was apparent he had been watching within. Taking me by both hands he solicitously
led me in.The officer saluted me and was turning to withdraw, when I recognized
his purpose and insisted that he should come to my rooms. Over a glass of wine
I warmly thanked him and his brave comrades for saving me. He replied simply that
he was more than glad, and that Herr Delbruck had at the first taken steps to
make all the searching party pleased; at which ambiguous utterance the maitre
d'hotel smiled, while the officer plead duty and withdrew. "But Herr
Delbruck," I enquired, "how and why was it that the soldiers searched
for me?" He shrugged his shoulders, as if in depreciation of his own
deed, as he replied, "I was so fortunate as to obtain leave from the commander
of the regiment in which I serve, to ask for volunteers." "But
how did you know I was lost?" I asked. "The driver came hither
with the remains of his carriage, which had been upset when the horses ran away." "But
surely you would not send a search party of soldiers merely on this account?" "Oh,
no!" he answered, "but even before the coachman arrived, I had this
telegram from the Boyar whose guest you are," and he took from his pocket
a telegram which he handed to me, and I read: Bistritz. Be careful of my
guest - his safety is most precious to me. Should aught happen to him, or if he
be missed, spare nothing to find him and ensure his safety. He is English and
therefore adventurous. There are often dangers from snow and wolves and night.
Lose not a moment if you suspect harm to him. I answer your zeal with my fortune.
- Dracula. As I held the telegram in my hand,the room seemed to whirl around
me,and if the attentive maitre d'hotel had not caught me,I think I should have
fallen. There was something so strange in all this, something so weird and impossible
to imagine, that there grew on me a sense of my being in some way the sport of
opposite forces - the mere vague idea of which seemed in a way to paralyze me.
I was certainly under some form of mysterious protection. From a distant country
had come, in the very nick of time, a message that took me out of the danger of
the snow sleep and the jaws of the wolf. Note:
This short story might be considered as the opening chapter of Bram Stoker's novel.
Many sources claim that it was part of the manuscript, and was omitted because
of the length of the original manuscript, but this is unproven, and denied by
some. |
