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