Reading Help DRACULA by Bram Stoker Ch.1-12
`
` LETTER, ABRAHAM VAN HELSING, MD, DPh, D. Lit, ETC, ETC, TO DR. SEWARD `
` `
` 2 September. `
` `
` "My good Friend, `
` `
` "When I 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 near at hand, and please it so arrange `
` that we may see the young lady not too late on tomorrow, 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 goodbye, my friend John. `
` `
` "Van Helsing." `
` `
` `
` `
` LETTER, DR. SEWARD TO HON. ARTHUR HOLMWOOD `
` `
` 3 September `
` `
` "My dear Art, `
` `
` "Van Helsing has come and gone. He came on with me to Hillingham, `
` and found that, by Lucy's discretion, her mother was lunching out, `
` so that we were alone with her. `
` `
` "Van Helsing made a very careful examination of the patient. He is `
` to report to me, and I shall advise you, for of course I was not `
` present all the time. He is, I fear, much 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 him what I think, if you can guess it, if you will. Nay, I am `
` not jesting. This is no jest, but life and death, perhaps more.' I `
` asked what he meant by that, for he was very serious. This was when `
` we had come back to town, and he was having a cup of tea before `
` starting on his return to Amsterdam. He would not give me any `
` further clue. You must not be angry with me, Art, because his very `
` reticence means that all his brains are working for her good. He `
` will speak plainly enough when the time comes, be sure. So I told `
` him I would simply write an account of our visit, just as if I were `
` doing a descriptive special article for THE DAILY TELEGRAPH. He `
` seemed not to notice, but remarked that the smuts of London were not `
` quite so bad as they used to be when he was a student here. I am to `
` get his report tomorrow if he can possibly 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 something `
` 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 the poor girl was making a `
` hard struggle for it. `
` `
` "I believe Van Helsing saw it, too, for I saw the quick look `
` under his bushy brows that I knew of old. Then he began to `
` chat of all things except ourselves and 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 conversation 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, even were there that which `
` I do not see. They told me you were down in the spirit, and that `
` you were of a ghastly pale. To 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 he pointed me out in 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 madmen `
` 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 examination, but there is no functional cause. `
` With you I agree that there has been much blood lost, it has been `
` but is not. But the conditions of her are in no way anemic. I have `
` asked her to send me her maid, that I may ask just one or two `
` questions, that so I may not chance to miss nothing. I know well `
` what she will say. And yet there is cause. There is always cause `
` for everything. I must go back home and think. You must send me `
` the telegram every day, and if there be cause I shall come again. `
` The disease, for not to be well is a disease, interest me, and the `
` sweet, young dear, she interest me too. She charm me, and for her, `
` if not for you or disease, I come.' `
` `
` "As I tell you, he would not say a word more, even when we were `
` alone. And so now, Art, you know all I know. I shall keep stern `
` watch. I trust your poor father is rallying. It must be a terrible `
` thing to you, my dear old fellow, to be placed in such a position `
` between two people who are both so dear to you. I know your idea of `
` duty to your father, and you are right to stick to it. But if need `
` be, I shall send you word to come at once to Lucy, so do not be `
` over-anxious unless you hear from me." `
` `
` `
` `
` DR. SEWARD'S DIARY `
` `
` 4 September.--Zoophagous patient still keeps up our 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 summoned aid. Fortunately `
` the men came at a run, and were just in time, for at the stroke of `
` noon he became so violent that it took all their strength to hold him. `
` In about five minutes, however, he began to get more quiet, and `
` finally sank 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, `
` attending to some of the other patients who were frightened by him. `
` Indeed, I can quite understand the effect, for the sounds disturbed `
` 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 keeping note of his `
` capture by making nailmarks on the edge of the door between the ridges `
` of padding. When he saw me, he came over and apologized 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 notebook 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 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 very 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 marvellous tints that come on foul clouds `
` even as on foul water, and to realize 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, `
` however, 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 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 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 today his paroxysms 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 September.--Patient still better today." `
` `
` `
` `
`
` LETTER, ABRAHAM VAN HELSING, MD, DPh, D. Lit, ETC, ETC, TO DR. SEWARD `
` `
` 2 September. `
` `
` "My good Friend, `
` `
` "When I 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 near at hand, and please it so arrange `
` that we may see the young lady not too late on tomorrow, 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 goodbye, my friend John. `
` `
` "Van Helsing." `
` `
` `
` `
` LETTER, DR. SEWARD TO HON. ARTHUR HOLMWOOD `
` `
` 3 September `
` `
` "My dear Art, `
` `
` "Van Helsing has come and gone. He came on with me to Hillingham, `
` and found that, by Lucy's discretion, her mother was lunching out, `
` so that we were alone with her. `
` `
` "Van Helsing made a very careful examination of the patient. He is `
` to report to me, and I shall advise you, for of course I was not `
` present all the time. He is, I fear, much 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 him what I think, if you can guess it, if you will. Nay, I am `
` not jesting. This is no jest, but life and death, perhaps more.' I `
` asked what he meant by that, for he was very serious. This was when `
` we had come back to town, and he was having a cup of tea before `
` starting on his return to Amsterdam. He would not give me any `
` further clue. You must not be angry with me, Art, because his very `
` reticence means that all his brains are working for her good. He `
` will speak plainly enough when the time comes, be sure. So I told `
` him I would simply write an account of our visit, just as if I were `
` doing a descriptive special article for THE DAILY TELEGRAPH. He `
` seemed not to notice, but remarked that the smuts of London were not `
` quite so bad as they used to be when he was a student here. I am to `
` get his report tomorrow if he can possibly 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 something `
` 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 the poor girl was making a `
` hard struggle for it. `
` `
` "I believe Van Helsing saw it, too, for I saw the quick look `
` under his bushy brows that I knew of old. Then he began to `
` chat of all things except ourselves and 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 conversation 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, even were there that which `
` I do not see. They told me you were down in the spirit, and that `
` you were of a ghastly pale. To 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 he pointed me out in 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 madmen `
` 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 examination, but there is no functional cause. `
` With you I agree that there has been much blood lost, it has been `
` but is not. But the conditions of her are in no way anemic. I have `
` asked her to send me her maid, that I may ask just one or two `
` questions, that so I may not chance to miss nothing. I know well `
` what she will say. And yet there is cause. There is always cause `
` for everything. I must go back home and think. You must send me `
` the telegram every day, and if there be cause I shall come again. `
` The disease, for not to be well is a disease, interest me, and the `
` sweet, young dear, she interest me too. She charm me, and for her, `
` if not for you or disease, I come.' `
` `
` "As I tell you, he would not say a word more, even when we were `
` alone. And so now, Art, you know all I know. I shall keep stern `
` watch. I trust your poor father is rallying. It must be a terrible `
` thing to you, my dear old fellow, to be placed in such a position `
` between two people who are both so dear to you. I know your idea of `
` duty to your father, and you are right to stick to it. But if need `
` be, I shall send you word to come at once to Lucy, so do not be `
` over-anxious unless you hear from me." `
` `
` `
` `
` DR. SEWARD'S DIARY `
` `
` 4 September.--Zoophagous patient still keeps up our 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 summoned aid. Fortunately `
` the men came at a run, and were just in time, for at the stroke of `
` noon he became so violent that it took all their strength to hold him. `
` In about five minutes, however, he began to get more quiet, and `
` finally sank 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, `
` attending to some of the other patients who were frightened by him. `
` Indeed, I can quite understand the effect, for the sounds disturbed `
` 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 keeping note of his `
` capture by making nailmarks on the edge of the door between the ridges `
` of padding. When he saw me, he came over and apologized 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 notebook 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 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 very 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 marvellous tints that come on foul clouds `
` even as on foul water, and to realize 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, `
` however, 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 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 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 today his paroxysms 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 September.--Patient still better today." `
` `
` `
` `
`