I saw the door-handle move. I sank back in my seat, having just
had time to replace the letters as they had been and to resume
my book before the Count, holding still another letter in his hand,
entered the room. He took up the letters on the table and
stamped them carefully, and then turning to me, said:
«I trust you will forgive me, but I have much work to do in
private this evening. You will, I hope, find all things as you
wish.» At the door he turned, and after a moment’s pause said:
«Let me advise you, my dear young friend nay, let me warn
you with all seriousness, that should you leave these rooms you
will not by any chance go to sleep in any other part of the castle.
It is old, and has many, memories, and there are bad dreams for
those who sleep unwisely. Be warned! Should sleep now or ever
overcome you, or be like to do, then haste to your own chamber
or to these rooms, for your rest will then be safe. But if you be
not careful in this respect, then» He finished his speecn.-in_a,
gruesome way, for he motioned with his hands as if he were
washing them. I quite understood; my only doubt was as to
whether any dream could be more terrible than the unnatural,
horrible net of gloom and mystery which seemed closing around
me.
Later. I endorse the last words written, but this time there
(s no doubt in question. I shall not fear to sleep in any place where
32 Dracula
he is not. I have placed the crucifix over the head of my bed I
imagine that my rest is thus freer from dreams; and there it
shall remain.
When he left me I went to my room. After a little while, not
hearing any sound, I came out and went up the stone stair to
where I could look out towards the South. There was some sense
of freedom in the vast expanse, inaccessible though it was to me,
as compared with the narrow darkness of the courtyard. Look-
ing out on this, I felt that I was indeed in prison, and I seemed
to want a breath of fresh air, though it were of the night. I am
beginning to feel this nocturnal existence tell on me. It is destroy-
ing my nerve. I start at my own shadow, and am full of all sorts
of horrible imaginings. God knows that there is ground for my
terrible fear in this accursed place! I looked out over the beau-
tiful expanse, bathed in soft yellow moonlight till it was al-
most as light as day. In the soft light the distant hills became
melted, and the shadows in the valleys and gorges of velvety
blackness. The mere beauty seemed to cheer me; there was peace
and comfort in every breath I drew. As I leaned from the win>
dow my eye was caught by something moving a storey below
me, and somewhat to my left, where I imagined, from the order
of the rooms, that the windows of the Count’s own room would
look out. The window at which I stood was tall and deep, stone-
mullioned, and though weatherworn, was still complete; but it
was evidently many a day since the case had been there. I drew
back behind the stonework, and looked carefully out.
What I saw was the Count’s head coming out from the win-
dow. I did not see the face, but I knew the man by the neck and
the movement of his back and arms. In any case I could not mis-
take the hands which I had had so many opportunities of study-
ing. I was at first interested and somewhat amused, for it is won-
derful how small a matter will interest and amuse a man when
he is a prisoner. But my very feelings changed to repulsion and
terror when I saw the whQle_maa_slowly. emerge_ from the win-
dow and begin to crawl down the castle wall over that dreadful
abyss, face down with his cloak spreading out around him like
great wings. At first I could not believe my eyes. I thought it
was some trick of the moonlight, some weird effect of shadow; but
I kept looking, and it could be no delusion. I saw the fingers and
toes grasp the corners of the stones, worn clear of the mortar
by the stress of years, anr> by thus using every projection and
inequality move downwaius with considerable speed, just as a
lizard moves along a wall.
Jonathan Marker’s Journal 33
What manner of man is this, or what manner of creature is
it in the semblance of man? I feel the dread of this horrible place
overpowering me; I am in fear in awful fear and there is no
escape for me; I am encompassed about with terrors that I dare
not think of.…
15 May. Once more have I seen the Count go out in his liz-
ard fashion. He moved downwards in a sidelong way, some hun-
dred feet down, and a good deal to the left. He vanished into
some hole or window. When his head had disappeared, I leaned
out to try and see more, but without avail the distance was too
great to allow a proper angle of sight. I knew he had left the
castle now, and thought to use the opportunity to explore more
than I had dared to do as yet. I went back to the room, and tak-
ing a lamp, tried all the doors. They were all locked, as I had
expected, and the locks were comparatively new; but I went
down the stone stairs to the hall where I had entered originally.
I found I could pull back the bolts easily enough and unhook
the great chains; but the door was locked, and the key was gone!
That key must be in the Count’s room; I must watch should his
door be unlocked, so that I may get it and escape. I went on to
make a thorough examination of the various stairs and passages,
and to try the doors that opened from them. One or two small
rooms near the hall were open, but there was nothing to see in
them except old furniture, dusty with age and moth-eaten. At
last, however, I found one door at the