by Bram Stoker
DRACULA'S GUEST
by
BRAM STOKER
First published 1914
To
MY SON
CONTENTS
Dracula's Guest 9 The Judge's House 26 The Squaw 50 The Secret of the Growing Gold 67 The Gipsy Prophecy 84 The Coming of Abel Behenna 96 The Burial of the Rats 120 A Dream of Red Hands 152 Crooken Sands 165
PREFACE
A few months before the lamented death of my husband--I might say evenas the shadow of death was over him--he planned three series of shortstories for publication, and the present volume is one of them. To hisoriginal list of stories in this book, I have added an hithertounpublished episode from _Dracula_. It was originally excised owing tothe length of the book, and may prove of interest to the many readersof what is considered my husband's most remarkable work. The otherstories have already been published in English and Americanperiodicals. Had my husband lived longer, he might have seen fit torevise this work, which is mainly from the earlier years of hisstrenuous life. But, as fate has entrusted to me the issuing of it, Iconsider it fitting and proper to let it go forth practically as itwas left by him.
FLORENCE BRAM STOKER
Dracula's Guest
When we started for our drive the sun was shining brightly on Munich,and the air was full of the joyousness of early summer. Just as wewere about to depart, Herr Delbrueck (the maitre d'hotel of the QuatreSaisons, where I was staying) came down, bareheaded, to the carriageand, after wishing me a pleasant drive, said to the coachman, stillholding his hand on the handle of the carriage door:
'Remember you are back by nightfall. The sky looks bright but there isa shiver in the north wind that says there may be a sudden storm. ButI am sure you will not be late.' Here he smiled, and added, 'for youknow what night it is.'
Johann answered with an emphatic, 'Ja, mein Herr,' and, touching hishat, drove off quickly. When we had cleared the town, I said, aftersignalling to him to stop:
'Tell me, Johann, what is tonight?'
He crossed himself, as he answered laconically: 'Walpurgis nacht.'Then he took out his watch, a great, old-fashioned German silver thingas big as a turnip, and looked at it, with his eyebrows gatheredtogether and a little impatient shrug of his shoulders. I realisedthat this was his way of respectfully protesting against theunnecessary delay, and sank back in the carriage, merely motioninghim to proceed. He started off rapidly, as if to make up for losttime. Every now and then the horses seemed to throw up their heads andsniffed the air suspiciously. On such occasions I often looked roundin alarm. The road was pretty bleak, for we were traversing a sort ofhigh, wind-swept plateau. As we drove, I saw a road that looked butlittle used, and which seemed to dip through a little, winding valley.It looked so inviting that, even at the risk of offending him, Icalled Johann to stop--and when he had pulled up, I told him I wouldlike to drive down that road. He made all sorts of excuses, andfrequently crossed himself as he spoke. This somewhat piqued mycuriosity, so I asked him various questions. He answered fencingly,and repeatedly looked at his watch in protest. Finally I said:
'Well, Johann, I want to go down this road. I shall not ask you tocome unless you like; but tell me why you do not like to go, that isall I ask.' For answer he seemed to throw himself off the box, soquickly did he reach the ground. Then he stretched out his handsappealingly to me, and implored me not to go. There was just enough ofEnglish mixed with the German for me to understand the drift of histalk. He seemed always just about to tell me something--the very ideaof which evidently frightened him; but each time he pulled himself up,saying, as he crossed himself: 'Walpurgis-Nacht!'
I tried to argue with him, but it was difficult to argue with a manwhen I did not know his language. The advantage certainly rested withhim, for although he began to speak in English, of a very crude andbroken kind, he always got excited and broke into his nativetongue--and every time he did so, he looked at his watch. Then thehorses became restless and sniffed the air. At this he grew very pale,and, looking around in a frightened way, he suddenly jumped forward,took them by the bridles and led them on some twenty feet. I followed,and asked why he had done this. For answer he crossed himself, pointedto the spot we had left and drew his carriage in the direction of theother road, indicating a cross, and said, first in German, then inEnglish: 'Buried him--him what killed themselves.'
I remembered the old custom of burying suicides at cross-roads: 'Ah! Isee, a suicide. How interesting!' But for the life of me I could notmake out why the horses were frightened.
Whilst we were talking, we heard a sort of sound between a yelp and abark. It was far away; but the horses got very restless, and it tookJohann all his time to quiet them. He was pale, and said, 'It soundslike a wolf--but yet there are no wolves here now.'
'No?' I said, questioning him; 'isn't it long since the wolves were sonear the city?'
'Long, long,' he answered, 'in the spring and summer; but with thesnow the wolves have been here not so long.'
Whilst he was petting the horses and trying to quiet them, dark cloudsdrifted rapidly across the sky. The sunshine passed away, and a breathof cold wind seemed to drift past us. It was only a breath, however,and more in the nature of a warning than a fact, for the sun came outbrightly again. Johann looked under his lifted hand at the horizon andsaid:
'The storm of snow, he comes before long time.' Then he looked at hiswatch again, and, straightway holding his reins firmly--for the horseswere still pawing the ground restlessly and shaking their heads--heclimbed to his box as though the time had come for proceeding on ourjourney.
I felt a little obstinate and did not at once get into the carriage.
'Tell me,' I said, 'about this place where the road leads,' and Ipointed down.
Again he crossed himself and mumbled a prayer, before he answered, 'Itis unholy.'
'What is unholy?' I enquired.
'The village.'
'Then there is a village?'
'No, no. No one lives there hundreds of years.' My curiosity waspiqued, 'But you said there was a village.'
'There was.'
'Where is it now?'
Whereupon he burst out into a long story in German and English, somixed up that I could not quite understand exactly what he said, butroughly I gathered that long ago, hundreds of years, men had diedthere and been buried in their graves; and sounds were heard under theclay, and when the graves were opened, men and women were found rosywith life, and their mouths red with blood. And so, in haste to savetheir lives (aye, and their souls!--and here he crossed himself) thosewho were left fled away to other places, where the living lived, andthe dead were dead and not--not something. He was evidently afraid tospeak the last words. As he proceeded with his narration, he grew moreand more excited. It seemed as if his imagination had got hold of him,and he ended in a perfect paroxysm of fear--white-faced, perspiring,trembling and looking round him, as if expecting that some dreadfulpresence would manifest itself there in the bright sunshine on theopen plain. Finally, in an agony of desperation, he cried:
'Walpurgis nacht!' and pointed to the carriage for me to get in. Allmy English blood rose at this, and, standing back, I said:
'You are afraid, Johann--you are afraid. Go home; I shall returnalone; the walk will do me good.' The carriage door was open. I tookfrom the seat my oak walking-stick--which I always carry on my holidayexcursions--and closed the door, pointing back to Munich, and said,'Go home, Johann--Walpurgis-nacht doesn't concern Englishmen.'
/> The horses were now more restive than ever, and Johann was trying tohold them in, while excitedly imploring me not to do anything sofoolish. I pitied the poor fellow, he was deeply in earnest; but allthe same I could not help laughing. His English was quite gone now. Inhis anxiety he had forgotten that his only means of making meunderstand was to talk my language, so he jabbered away in his nativeGerman. It began to be a little tedious. After giving the direction,'Home!' I turned to go down the cross-road into the valley.
With a despairing gesture, Johann turned his horses towards Munich. Ileaned on my stick and looked after him. He went slowly along the roadfor a while: then there came over the crest of the hill a man tall andthin. I could see so much in the distance. When he drew near thehorses, they began to jump and kick about, then to scream with terror.Johann could not hold them in; they bolted down the road, running awaymadly. I watched them out of sight, then looked for the stranger, butI found that he, too, was gone.
With a light heart I turned down the side road through the deepeningvalley to which Johann had objected. There was not the slightestreason, that I could see, for his objection; and I daresay I trampedfor a couple of hours without thinking of time or distance, andcertainly without seeing a person or a house. So far as the place wasconcerned, it was desolation itself. But I did not notice thisparticularly till, on turning a bend in the road, I came upon ascattered fringe of wood; then I recognised that I had been impressedunconsciously by the desolation of the region through which I hadpassed.
I sat down to rest myself, and began to look around. It struck me thatit was considerably colder than it had been at the commencement of mywalk--a sort of sighing sound seemed to be around me, with, now andthen, high overhead, a sort of muffled roar. Looking upwards I noticedthat great thick clouds were drifting rapidly across the sky fromNorth to South at a great height. There were signs of coming storm insome lofty stratum of the air. I was a little chilly, and, thinkingthat it was the sitting still after the exercise of walking, I resumedmy journey.
The ground I passed over was now much more picturesque. There were nostriking objects that the eye might single out; but in all there was acharm of beauty. I took little heed of time and it was only when thedeepening twilight forced itself upon me that I began to think of howI should find my way home. The brightness of the day had gone. The airwas cold, and the drifting of clouds high overhead was more marked.They were accompanied by a sort of far-away rushing sound, throughwhich seemed to come at intervals that mysterious cry which the driverhad said came from a wolf. For a while I hesitated. I had said I wouldsee the deserted village, so on I went, and presently came on a widestretch of open country, shut in by hills all around. Their sides werecovered with trees which spread down to the plain, dotting, in clumps,the gentler slopes and hollows which showed here and there. I followedwith my eye the winding of the road, and saw that it curved close toone of the densest of these clumps and was lost behind it.
As I looked there came a cold shiver in the air, and the snow began tofall. I thought of the miles and miles of bleak country I had passed,and then hurried on to seek the shelter of the wood in front. Darkerand darker grew the sky, and faster and heavier fell the snow, tillthe earth before and around me was a glistening white carpet thefurther edge of which was lost in misty vagueness. The road was herebut crude, and when on the level its boundaries were not so marked, aswhen it passed through the cuttings; and in a little while I foundthat I must have strayed from it, for I missed underfoot the hardsurface, and my feet sank deeper in the grass and moss. Then the windgrew stronger and blew with ever increasing force, till I was fain torun before it. The air became icy-cold, and in spite of my exercise Ibegan to suffer. The snow was now falling so thickly and whirlingaround me in such rapid eddies that I could hardly keep my eyes open.Every now and then the heavens were torn asunder by vivid lightning,and in the flashes I could see ahead of me a great mass of trees,chiefly yew and cypress all heavily coated with snow.
I was soon amongst the shelter of the trees, and there, in comparativesilence, I could hear the rush of the wind high overhead. Presentlythe blackness of the storm had become merged in the darkness of thenight. By-and-by the storm seemed to be passing away: it now only camein fierce puffs or blasts. At such moments the weird sound of thewolf appeared to be echoed by many similar sounds around me.
Now and again, through the black mass of drifting cloud, came astraggling ray of moonlight, which lit up the expanse, and showed methat I was at the edge of a dense mass of cypress and yew trees. Asthe snow had ceased to fall, I walked out from the shelter and beganto investigate more closely. It appeared to me that, amongst so manyold foundations as I had passed, there might be still standing a housein which, though in ruins, I could find some sort of shelter for awhile. As I skirted the edge of the copse, I found that a low wallencircled it, and following this I presently found an opening. Herethe cypresses formed an alley leading up to a square mass of some kindof building. Just as I caught sight of this, however, the driftingclouds obscured the moon, and I passed up the path in darkness. Thewind must have grown colder, for I felt myself shiver as I walked; butthere was hope of shelter, and I groped my way blindly on.
I stopped, for there was a sudden stillness. The storm had passed;and, perhaps in sympathy with nature's silence, my heart seemed tocease to beat. But this was only momentarily; for suddenly themoonlight broke through the clouds, showing me that I was in agraveyard, and that the square object before me was a great massivetomb of marble, as white as the snow that lay on and all around it.With the moonlight there came a fierce sigh of the storm, whichappeared to resume its course with a long, low howl, as of many dogsor wolves. I was awed and shocked, and felt the cold perceptibly growupon me till it seemed to grip me by the heart. Then while the floodof moonlight still fell on the marble tomb, the storm gave furtherevidence of renewing, as though it was returning on its track.Impelled by some sort of fascination, I approached the sepulchre tosee what it was, and why such a thing stood alone in such a place. Iwalked around it, and read, over the Doric door, in German:
COUNTESS DOLINGEN OF GRATZ IN STYRIA SOUGHT AND FOUND DEATH 1801
On the top of the tomb, seemingly driven through the solid marble--forthe structure was composed of a few vast blocks of stone--was a greatiron spike or stake. On going to the back I saw, graven in greatRussian letters:
'The dead travel fast.'
There was something so weird and uncanny about the whole thing that itgave me a turn and made me feel quite faint. I began to wish, for thefirst time, that I had taken Johann's advice. Here a thought struckme, which came under almost mysterious circumstances and with aterrible shock. This was Walpurgis Night!
Walpurgis Night, when, according to the belief of millions of people,the devil was abroad--when the graves were opened and the dead cameforth and walked. When all evil things of earth and air and water heldrevel. This very place the driver had specially shunned. This was thedepopulated village of centuries ago. This was where the suicide lay;and this was the place where I was alone--unmanned, shivering withcold in a shroud of snow with a wild storm gathering again upon me! Ittook all my philosophy, all the religion I had been taught, all mycourage, not to collapse in a paroxysm of fright.
And now a perfect tornado burst upon me. The ground shook as thoughthousands of horses thundered across it; and this time the storm boreon its icy wings, not snow, but great hailstones which drove with suchviolence that they might have come from the thongs of Balearicslingers--hailstones that beat down leaf and branch and made theshelter of the cypresses of no more avail than though their stems werestanding-corn. At the first I had rushed to the nearest tree; but Iwas soon fain to leave it and seek the only spot that seemed to affordrefuge, the deep Doric doorway of the marble tomb. There, crouchingagainst the massive bronze door, I gained a certain amount ofprotection from the beating of the hailstones, for now they only droveagainst
me as they ricocheted from the ground and the side of themarble.
As I leaned against the door, it moved slightly and opened inwards.The shelter of even a tomb was welcome in that pitiless tempest, and Iwas about to enter it when there came a flash of forked-lightning thatlit up the whole expanse of the heavens. In the instant, as I am aliving man, I saw, as my eyes were turned into the darkness of thetomb, a beautiful woman, with rounded cheeks and red lips, seeminglysleeping on a bier. As the thunder broke overhead, I was grasped as bythe hand of a giant and hurled out into the storm. The whole thing wasso sudden that, before I could realise the shock, moral as well asphysical, I found the hailstones beating me down. At the same time Ihad a strange, dominating feeling that I was not alone. I lookedtowards the tomb. Just then there came another blinding flash, whichseemed to strike the iron stake that surmounted the tomb and to pourthrough to the earth, blasting and crumbling the marble, as in a burstof flame. The dead woman rose for a moment of agony, while she waslapped in the flame, and her bitter scream of pain was drowned in thethundercrash. The last thing I heard was this mingling of dreadfulsound, as again I was seized in the giant-grasp and dragged away,while the hailstones beat on me, and the air around seemed reverberantwith the howling of wolves. The last sight that I remembered was avague, white, moving mass, as if all the graves around me had sent outthe phantoms of their sheeted-dead, and that they were closing in onme through the white cloudiness of the driving hail.
* * * * *
Gradually there came a sort of vague beginning of consciousness; thena sense of weariness that was dreadful. For a time I rememberednothing; but slowly my senses returned. My feet seemed positivelyracked with pain, yet I could not move them. They seemed to be numbed.There was an icy feeling at the back of my neck and all down my spine,and my ears, like my feet, were dead, yet in torment; but there was inmy breast a sense of warmth which was, by comparison, delicious. Itwas as a nightmare--a physical nightmare, if one may use such anexpression; for some heavy weight on my chest made it difficult for meto breathe.
This period of semi-lethargy seemed to remain a long time, and as itfaded away I must have slept or swooned. Then came a sort of loathing,like the first stage of sea-sickness, and a wild desire to be freefrom something--I knew not what. A vast stillness enveloped me, asthough all the world were asleep or dead--only broken by the lowpanting as of some animal close to me. I felt a warm rasping at mythroat, then came a consciousness of the awful truth, which chilled meto the heart and sent the blood surging up through my brain. Somegreat animal was lying on me and now licking my throat. I feared tostir, for some instinct of prudence bade me lie still; but the bruteseemed to realise that there was now some change in me, for it raisedits head. Through my eyelashes I saw above me the two great flamingeyes of a gigantic wolf. Its sharp white teeth gleamed in the gapingred mouth, and I could feel its hot breath fierce and acrid upon me.
For another spell of time I remembered no more. Then I becameconscious of a low growl, followed by a yelp, renewed again and again.Then, seemingly very far away, I heard a 'Holloa! holloa!' as of manyvoices calling in unison. Cautiously I raised my head and looked inthe direction whence the sound came; but the cemetery blocked my view.The wolf still continued to yelp in a strange way, and a red glarebegan to move round the grove of cypresses, as though following thesound. As the voices drew closer, the wolf yelped faster and louder. Ifeared to make either sound or motion. Nearer came the red glow, overthe white pall which stretched into the darkness around me. Then allat once from beyond the trees there came at a trot a troop of horsemenbearing torches. The wolf rose from my breast and made for thecemetery. I saw one of the horsemen (soldiers by their caps and theirlong military cloaks) raise his carbine and take aim. A companionknocked up his arm, and I heard the ball whizz over my head. He hadevidently taken my body for that of the wolf. Another sighted theanimal as it slunk away, and a shot followed. Then, at a gallop, thetroop rode forward--some towards me, others following the wolf as itdisappeared amongst the snow-clad cypresses.
As they drew nearer I tried to move, but was powerless, although Icould see and hear all that went on around me. Two or three of thesoldiers jumped from their horses and knelt beside me. One of themraised my head, and placed his hand over my heart.
'Good news, comrades!' he cried. 'His heart still beats!'
Then some brandy was poured down my throat; it put vigour into me, andI was able to open my eyes fully and look around. Lights and shadowswere moving among the trees, and I heard men call to one another. Theydrew together, uttering frightened exclamations; and the lightsflashed as the others came pouring out of the cemetery pell-mell, likemen possessed. When the further ones came close to us, those who werearound me asked them eagerly:
'Well, have you found him?'
The reply rang out hurriedly:
'No! no! Come away quick--quick! This is no place to stay, and on thisof all nights!'
'What was it?' was the question, asked in all manner of keys. Theanswer came variously and all indefinitely as though the men weremoved by some common impulse to speak, yet were restrained by somecommon fear from giving their thoughts.
'It--it--indeed!' gibbered one, whose wits had plainly given out forthe moment.
'A wolf--and yet not a wolf!' another put in shudderingly.
'No use trying for him without the sacred bullet,' a third remarked ina more ordinary manner.
'Serve us right for coming out on this night! Truly we have earnedour thousand marks!' were the ejaculations of a fourth.
'There was blood on the broken marble,' another said after apause--'the lightning never brought that there. And for him--is hesafe? Look at his throat! See, comrades, the wolf has been lying onhim and keeping his blood warm.'
The officer looked at my throat and replied:
'He is all right; the skin is not pierced. What does it all mean? Weshould never have found him but for the yelping of the wolf.'
'What became of it?' asked the man who was holding up my head, and whoseemed the least panic-stricken of the party, for his hands weresteady and without tremor. On his sleeve was the chevron of a pettyofficer.
'It went to its home,' answered the man, whose long face was pallid,and who actually shook with terror as he glanced around him fearfully.'There are graves enough there in which it may lie. Come,comrades--come quickly! Let us leave this cursed spot.'
The officer raised me to a sitting posture, as he uttered a word ofcommand; then several men placed me upon a horse. He sprang to thesaddle behind me, took me in his arms, gave the word to advance; and,turning our faces away from the cypresses, we rode away in swift,military order.
As yet my tongue refused its office, and I was perforce silent. I musthave fallen asleep; for the next thing I remembered was finding myselfstanding up, supported by a soldier on each side of me. It was almostbroad daylight, and to the north a red streak of sunlight wasreflected, like a path of blood, over the waste of snow. The officerwas telling the men to say nothing of what they had seen, except thatthey found an English stranger, guarded by a large dog.
'Dog! that was no dog,' cut in the man who had exhibited such fear. 'Ithink I know a wolf when I see one.'
The young officer answered calmly: 'I said a dog.'
'Dog!' reiterated the other ironically. It was evident that hiscourage was rising with the sun; and, pointing to me, he said, 'Lookat his throat. Is that the work of a dog, master?'
Instinctively I raised my hand to my throat, and as I touched it Icried out in pain. The men crowded round to look, some stooping downfrom their saddles; and again there came the calm voice of the youngofficer:
'A dog, as I said. If aught else were said we should only be laughedat.'
I was then mounted behind a trooper, and we rode on into the suburbsof Munich. Here we came across a stray carriage, into which I waslifted, and it was driven off to the Quatre Saisons--the young officeraccompanying me, whilst a trooper followed with his horse, and
theothers rode off to their barracks.
When we arrived, Herr Delbrueck rushed so quickly down the steps tomeet me, that it was apparent he had been watching within. Taking meby both hands he solicitously led me in. The officer saluted me andwas turning to withdraw, when I recognised his purpose, and insistedthat he should come to my rooms. Over a glass of wine I warmly thankedhim and his brave comrades for saving me. He replied simply that hewas more than glad, and that Herr Delbrueck had at the first takensteps to make all the searching party pleased; at which ambiguousutterance the maitre d'hotel smiled, while the officer pleaded dutyand withdrew.
'But Herr Delbrueck,' I enquired, 'how and why was it that the soldierssearched for me?'
He shrugged his shoulders, as if in depreciation of his own deed, ashe replied:
'I was so fortunate as to obtain leave from the commander of theregiment in which I served, to ask for volunteers.'
'But how did you know I was lost?' I asked.
'The driver came hither with the remains of his carriage, which hadbeen upset when the horses ran away.'
'But surely you would not send a search-party of soldiers merely onthis account?'
'Oh, no!' he answered; 'but even before the coachman arrived, I hadthis telegram from the Boyar whose guest you are,' and he took fromhis pocket a telegram which he handed to me, and I read:
_Bistritz_.
Be careful of my guest--his safety is most precious to me. Should aught happen to him, or if he be missed, spare nothing to find him and ensure his safety. He is English and therefore adventurous. There are often dangers from snow and wolves and night. Lose not a moment if you suspect harm to him. I answer your zeal with my fortune.--_Dracula_.
As I held the telegram in my hand, the room seemed to whirl around me;and, if the attentive maitre d'hotel had not caught me, I think Ishould have fallen. There was something so strange in all this,something so weird and impossible to imagine, that there grew on me asense of my being in some way the sport of opposite forces--the merevague idea of which seemed in a way to paralyse me. I was certainlyunder some form of mysterious protection. From a distant country hadcome, in the very nick of time, a message that took me out of thedanger of the snow-sleep and the jaws of the wolf.
