Dracula / Дракула. Брэм Стокер

d arrived late and would start as near the correct time as possible. The impression I had was that we were leaving the West and entering the East; the most western of splendid bridges over the Danube, which is here very wide and deep, took us among the traditions of Turkish rule.

      We left very near the correct time, and came to Klausenburgh in the late evening. Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel Royale. I had for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken done up some way with red pepper, which was very good but thirsty. I asked the waiter, and he said it was a national dish called “paprika hendl,” and that I would be able to get it anywhere along the Carpathians. I found my little knowledge of German very useful here; indeed, I don't know how I would be able to get on without it.

      When in London, I had visited the British Museum library and found some information about Transylvania; I had thought that some knowledge of the country would be important in dealing with a nobleman of that country. I find that the district he named is in the extreme east of the country, just on the borders of three states, Transylvania, Moldavia and Bukovina, in the midst of the Carpathian mountains; one of the wildest and least known parts of Europe. I was not able to find the exact locality of the Castle Dracula on any map or in any book, but I found that Bistritz, the post-town named by Count Dracula, is a rather well-known place. I will write here some of my notes, as they may refresh my memory when I tell Mina about my travels.

      I read that every known superstition in the world is gathered into the horseshoe of the Carpathians, as if it were the centre of some sort of imaginative whirlpool; if so, my visit may be very interesting. (I must ask the Count all about them.)

      I did not sleep well, for I had all sorts of queer dreams. Perhaps, it was because of a dog howling all night under my window; or it was because of the paprika, for I had to drink up all the water in my carafe, and was still thirsty. Towards morning I slept soundly and was wakened by a loud knock at my door. I had for breakfast more paprika, and a sort of porridge of maize flour which they said was “mamaliga,” and eggplant stuffed with forcemeat, a very excellent dish, which they call “impletata.” I had to hurry breakfast, for the train started a little before eight. But after rushing to the station at 7:30 I had to sit in the carriage for more than an hour before we began to move. It seems to me that the farther east you go, the more unpunctual are the trains. What ought they to be in China?

      All day long we went through a country which was full of beauty of every kind. Sometimes we saw little towns or castles on the top of steep hills. At every station there were groups of people, sometimes crowds, and in all sorts of clothes. Some of them were dressed just like the peasants at home or in France and Germany, with short jackets and round hats and home-made trousers; but others were very picturesque. The women looked pretty, except when you got near them, but they were very ungainly about the waist. They had all full white sleeves, and most of them had big belts with a lot of strips of something fluttering from them like the dresses in a ballet, but of course there were petticoats under them. The strangest figures were the Slovaks, who were more barbarian than the rest, with their big cow-boy hats, great baggy dirty-white trousers, white linen shirts, and enormous heavy leather belts, almost a foot wide, all studded over with brass nails. They wore high boots, with their trousers tucked into them, and had long black hair and heavy black moustaches. They are very picturesque, but do not look prepossessing. In the theatre they would act the part of some old Oriental band of brigands. But I am told that they are very harmless and rather lacking in natural self-assertion.

      We got to Bistritz at dusk. It is a very interesting old place. It has had a very stormy existence. At the very beginning of the seventeenth century it endured a siege of three weeks and lost 13,000 people because of the war, famine and disease.

      Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone Hotel. I liked it very much because it was very old-fashioned, and I wanted to see all I could of the ways of the country. I was evidently expected, for when I got near the door I was met by a cheerful elderly woman in the usual peasant dress – white undergarment with long double apron, front, and back, of coloured fabric, that fitted almost too tightly for modesty. She bowed and said, “The Herr Englishman?” “Yes,” I said, “Jonathan Harker.” She smiled, and said something to an elderly man, who had followed her to the door. He went, but immediately returned with a letter: “My friend, welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting you. Sleep well to-night. At three to-morrow the stagecoach will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to me. I hope that your journey from London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your visit to my beautiful land.

“Your friend,“DRACULA.”

      4 May. My landlord told me that the Count, in his letter to him, had directed him to get the best place on the coach for me. But when I wanted to get some details, he pretended that he could not understand my German. He and his wife looked at each other in a frightened sort of way. He murmured that the money had been sent in a letter, and that was all he knew. When I asked him if he knew Count Dracula, and could tell me anything of his castle, he and his wife crossed themselves and, saying that they knew nothing at all, simply refused to speak further. It was all very mysterious and not at all comforting.

      Just before I was leaving, the old lady came up to my room and said in a very hysterical way:

      “Must you go? Oh! young Herr, must you go?” She was in such an anxious state that it seemed that she had lost all knowledge of German, and spoke in some other language which I did not know at all. I had to ask her many questions before I was able to understand her. When I told her that I must go at once, and that I had an important business, she asked again:

      “Do you know what day it is?” I said that it was the fourth of May. She shook her head as she said again:

      “Oh, yes! I know that! But it is the eve of St. George's Day. Do you not know that to-night, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will have full power? Do you know where you are going, and what you are going to?”

      Her anxiety was so evident that I tried to comfort her, but without effect. Finally she went down on her knees and begged 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, I had business to do, and I could not allow anything to interfere with it. So I thanked her, but said that my business was urgent, and that I must go. She then rose, took a crucifix from her neck and offered it to me. I did not know what to do, for, as an English Churchman, I had been taught to consider such things idolatrous, and yet it seemed so impolite to refuse an old lady in such a state of mind. She saw, I think, 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 while I am waiting for the coach, which is, of course, late; and the crucifix is still round my neck. I do not know whether it is the old lady's fear, or the many superstitious traditions of this place, or the crucifix itself, 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. I am not sleepy, and, naturally, I write till sleep comes. There are many strange things to write down.

      When I got on the coach the driver had not taken his seat, and I saw that he was 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 came and listened, and then looked at me, most of them with pity. A lot of queer words were often repeated. So I quietly got my polyglot dictionary from my bag and looked them up. I must say they were not cheering to me, for amongst them were “Ordog” – Satan, “pokol” – hell, “stregoica” – witch, “vrolok” – either werewolf or vampire. (I must ask the Count about these superstitions).

      When the coach started, the people round the inn door all made the sign of the cross and pointed two fingers towards me. I asked a fellow-passenger to tell me what they meant. He