Reading Help DRACULA by Bram Stoker Ch.1-12
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 indeed, but I did not say anything, for I felt under obligation `
` to meet my host's wishes in every way. I was not sleepy, as the long `
` sleep yesterday had fortified me, but I could not help experiencing `
` that chill which comes over one at the 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 dawn or at the turn of the `
` tide. Anyone 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 the 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 regarding 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 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. `
` `
` `
` 8 May.--I began to fear as I wrote in this book that I was getting too `
` diffuse. But now I am glad that I went into detail from the first, `
` for there is something so strange about this place and all in it that `
` I cannot but feel uneasy. I wish I were safe out of it, or that I had `
` never come. It may be that this strange night existence is telling on `
` me, but would that that were all! If there were any one to talk to I `
` could bear it, but there is no one. I have only the Count to speak `
` with, and he--I fear I am myself the only living soul within the `
` place. Let me be prosaic so far as facts can be. It will help me to `
` bear up, and imagination must not run riot with me. If it does I am `
` lost. Let me say at once how I stand, or seem to. `
` `
` I only slept a few hours when I went to bed, and feeling that I could `
` not sleep any more, got up. I had hung my shaving glass by the `
` window, and was just beginning to shave. Suddenly I felt a hand on my `
` shoulder, and heard the Count's voice saying to me, "Good morning." I `
` started, 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 face, his eyes blazed with a `
` sort of demoniac fury, and he suddenly made a grab at my throat. I `
` drew away and his hand touched the string of beads which held the `
` crucifix. It made an instant change in him, for the fury passed so `
` quickly that I could hardly believe that it was ever there. `
` `
` "Take care," he said, "take care how you cut yourself. It is more `
` dangerous that 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 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. 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 bottom 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 `
` terrific 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 3 `
` `
` `
` Jonathan Harker'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 helpless I sat down quietly, as quietly as I `
` have ever done anything in my life, and began to think over what was `
` best to be done. I am thinking still, and as yet have come to no `
` definite conclusion. Of one thing only am I certain. That it is no `
` use making my ideas known to the Count. He knows well that I am `
` imprisoned, 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 are 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 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 holding up his hand for silence? How was it that all the people `
` at Bistritz and on the coach had some terrible fear for me? What `
` meant the giving of the crucifix, of the garlic, of the wild rose, of `
` the mountain ash? `
` `
` Bless that good, good woman who hung the crucifix round my neck! For `
` it is a comfort and a strength to me whenever I touch it. It is odd `
` that a thing which I have been taught to regard with disfavour and as `
` idolatrous should in a time of loneliness and trouble be of help. Is `
` it that there is something in the essence of the thing itself, or that `
` it is a medium, a tangible help, in conveying memories of sympathy and `
` comfort? Some time, if it may be, I must examine this matter and try `
` to make up my mind about it. In the meantime I must find out all I `
` can about Count Dracula, as it may help me to understand. Tonight he `
` may talk of himself, if I turn the conversation that way. I must be `
` very careful, however, not to awake his suspicion. `
` `
` `
` Midnight.--I have had a long talk with the Count. I asked him a few `
` questions on Transylvania history, and he warmed up to the subject `
` wonderfully. In his speaking of things and people, and especially of `
` battles, he spoke as if he had been present at them all. This he `
` afterwards 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, aye, and of Asia and Africa too, till the peoples thought that `
` the werewolves themselves 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 Avar, the Bulgar, `
` or the Turk poured his thousands on our frontiers, we drove them back? `
` Is it strange that when Arpad and his legions swept through the `
` Hungarian fatherland he found us here when he reached the frontier, `
` that the Honfoglalas was completed there? And when the Hungarian `
` flood swept eastward, the Szekelys were claimed as kindred by the `
` victorious Magyars, and to us for centuries was trusted the guarding `
` of the frontier of Turkeyland. Aye, and more than that, endless duty `
` of the frontier guard, for as the Turks say, 'water sleeps, and the `
` enemy is sleepless.' Who more gladly than we throughout the Four `
` Nations received the 'bloody sword,' or at its warlike call flocked `
` quicker to the standard of the King? When was redeemed that great `
` shame of my nation, the shame of Cassova, when the flags of the `
` Wallach and the Magyar went down beneath the 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 `
`
` 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 indeed, but I did not say anything, for I felt under obligation `
` to meet my host's wishes in every way. I was not sleepy, as the long `
` sleep yesterday had fortified me, but I could not help experiencing `
` that chill which comes over one at the 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 dawn or at the turn of the `
` tide. Anyone 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 the 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 regarding 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 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. `
` `
` `
` 8 May.--I began to fear as I wrote in this book that I was getting too `
` diffuse. But now I am glad that I went into detail from the first, `
` for there is something so strange about this place and all in it that `
` I cannot but feel uneasy. I wish I were safe out of it, or that I had `
` never come. It may be that this strange night existence is telling on `
` me, but would that that were all! If there were any one to talk to I `
` could bear it, but there is no one. I have only the Count to speak `
` with, and he--I fear I am myself the only living soul within the `
` place. Let me be prosaic so far as facts can be. It will help me to `
` bear up, and imagination must not run riot with me. If it does I am `
` lost. Let me say at once how I stand, or seem to. `
` `
` I only slept a few hours when I went to bed, and feeling that I could `
` not sleep any more, got up. I had hung my shaving glass by the `
` window, and was just beginning to shave. Suddenly I felt a hand on my `
` shoulder, and heard the Count's voice saying to me, "Good morning." I `
` started, 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 face, his eyes blazed with a `
` sort of demoniac fury, and he suddenly made a grab at my throat. I `
` drew away and his hand touched the string of beads which held the `
` crucifix. It made an instant change in him, for the fury passed so `
` quickly that I could hardly believe that it was ever there. `
` `
` "Take care," he said, "take care how you cut yourself. It is more `
` dangerous that 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 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. 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 bottom 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 `
` terrific 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 3 `
` `
` `
` Jonathan Harker'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 helpless I sat down quietly, as quietly as I `
` have ever done anything in my life, and began to think over what was `
` best to be done. I am thinking still, and as yet have come to no `
` definite conclusion. Of one thing only am I certain. That it is no `
` use making my ideas known to the Count. He knows well that I am `
` imprisoned, 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 are 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 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 holding up his hand for silence? How was it that all the people `
` at Bistritz and on the coach had some terrible fear for me? What `
` meant the giving of the crucifix, of the garlic, of the wild rose, of `
` the mountain ash? `
` `
` Bless that good, good woman who hung the crucifix round my neck! For `
` it is a comfort and a strength to me whenever I touch it. It is odd `
` that a thing which I have been taught to regard with disfavour and as `
` idolatrous should in a time of loneliness and trouble be of help. Is `
` it that there is something in the essence of the thing itself, or that `
` it is a medium, a tangible help, in conveying memories of sympathy and `
` comfort? Some time, if it may be, I must examine this matter and try `
` to make up my mind about it. In the meantime I must find out all I `
` can about Count Dracula, as it may help me to understand. Tonight he `
` may talk of himself, if I turn the conversation that way. I must be `
` very careful, however, not to awake his suspicion. `
` `
` `
` Midnight.--I have had a long talk with the Count. I asked him a few `
` questions on Transylvania history, and he warmed up to the subject `
` wonderfully. In his speaking of things and people, and especially of `
` battles, he spoke as if he had been present at them all. This he `
` afterwards 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, aye, and of Asia and Africa too, till the peoples thought that `
` the werewolves themselves 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 Avar, the Bulgar, `
` or the Turk poured his thousands on our frontiers, we drove them back? `
` Is it strange that when Arpad and his legions swept through the `
` Hungarian fatherland he found us here when he reached the frontier, `
` that the Honfoglalas was completed there? And when the Hungarian `
` flood swept eastward, the Szekelys were claimed as kindred by the `
` victorious Magyars, and to us for centuries was trusted the guarding `
` of the frontier of Turkeyland. Aye, and more than that, endless duty `
` of the frontier guard, for as the Turks say, 'water sleeps, and the `
` enemy is sleepless.' Who more gladly than we throughout the Four `
` Nations received the 'bloody sword,' or at its warlike call flocked `
` quicker to the standard of the King? When was redeemed that great `
` shame of my nation, the shame of Cassova, when the flags of the `
` Wallach and the Magyar went down beneath the 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 `
`