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,