Dracula's Guest

Dracula's Guest was excised from the original Dracula manuscript by 
its publisher because of the length of the original book. It was 
published as a short story in 1914, two years after Stoker's death.
==The Story==
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 we were about to depart, Herr Delbruck (the maitre d'hotel 
of the Quatre Saisons, where I was staying) came down bareheaded to 
the carriage and, after wishing me a pleasant drive, said to the 
coachman, still holding his hand on the handle of the carriage door, 
"Remember you are back by nightfall. The sky looks bright but there 
is a shiver in the north wind that says there may be a sudden storm. 
But I am sure you will not be late." Here he smiled and added, "for 
you know what night it is."
Johann answered with an emphatic, "Ja, mein Herr," and, touching 
his hat, drove off quickly. When we had cleared the town, I said, 
after signalling 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 thing 
as big as a turnip and looked at it, with his eyebrows gathered 
together and a little impatient shrug of his shoulders. I realized 
that this was his way of respectfully protesting against the 
unnecessary delay and sank back in the carriage, merely motioning him 
to proceed. He started off rapidly, as if to make up for lost time. 
Every now and then the horses seemed to throw up their heads and sniff 
the air suspiciously. On such occasions I often looked round in 
alarm. The road was pretty bleak, for we were traversing a sort of 
high windswept plateau. As we drove, I saw a road that looked but 
little used and which seemed to dip through a little winding valley. 
It looked so inviting that, even at the risk of offending him, I 
called Johann to stop--and when he had pulled up, I told him I would 
like to drive down that road. He made all sorts of excuses and 
frequently crossed himself as he spoke. This somewhat piqued my 
curiosity, 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 to come unless you like; but tell me why you do 
not like to go, that is all I ask." For answer he seemed to throw 
himself off the box, so quickly did he reach the ground. Then he 
stretched out his hands appealingly to me and implored me not to go. 
There was just enough of English mixed with the German for me to 
understand the drift of his talk. He seemed always just about to 
tell me something--the very idea of which evidently frightened him; 
but each time he pulled himself up saying, "Walpurgis nacht!"
I tried to argue with him, but it was difficult to argue with a 
man when I did not know his language. The advantage certainly rested 
with him, for although he began to speak in English, of a very crude 
and broken kind, he always got excited and broke into his native 
tongue--and every time he did so, he looked at his watch. Then the 
horses 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 an answer he crossed 
himself, pointed to the spot we had left, and drew his carriage in 
the direction of the other road, indicating a cross, and said, first 
in German, then in English, "Buried him--him what killed themselves."
I remembered the old custom of burying suicides at cross roads: 
"Ah! I see, a suicide. How interesting!" But for the life of me I 
could not make out why the horses were frightened.
Whilst we were talking, we heard a sort of sound between a yelp 
and a bark. It was far away; but the horses got very restless, and 
it took Johann all his time to quiet them. He was pale and said, "It 
sounds like a wolf--but yet there are no wolves here now."
"No?" I said, questioning him. "Isn't it long since the wolves 
were so near the city?"
"Long, long," he answered, "in the spring and summer; but with the 
snow the wolves have been here not so long."
Whilst he was petting the horses and trying to quiet them, dark 
clouds drifted rapidly across the sky. The sunshine passed away, and 
a breath of cold wind seemed to drift over us. It was only a breath, 
however, and more of a warning than a fact, for the sun came out 
brightly again.
Johann looked under his lifted hand at the horizon and said, "The 
storm of snow, he comes before long time." Then he looked at his 
watch again, and, straightway holding his reins firmly--for the 
horses were still pawing the ground restlessly and shaking their 
heads--he climbed to his box as though the time had come for 
proceeding on our journey.
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 
I pointed down.
Again he crossed himself and mumbled a prayer before he answered, 
"It is unholy."
"What is unholy?" I enquired.
"The village."
"Then there is a village?"
"No, no. No one lives there hundreds of years."
My curiosity was piqued, "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, 
so mixed up that I could not quite understand exactly what he said. 
Roughly I gathered that long ago, hundreds of years, men had died 
there and been buried in their graves; but sounds were heard under 
the clay, and when the graves were opened, men and women were found 
rosy with life and their mouths red with blood. And so, in haste to 
save their lives (aye, and their souls!--and here he crossed himself) 
those who were left fled away to other places, where the living lived 
and the dead were dead and not--not something. He was evidently 
afraid to speak the last words. As he proceeded with his narration, 
he grew more and 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 dreadful presence would manifest itself there 
in the bright sunshine on the open plain.
Finally, in an agony of desperation, he cried, "Walpurgis nacht!" 
and pointed to the carriage for me to get in.
All my English blood rose at this, and standing back I said, "You 
are afraid, Johann--you are afraid. Go home, I shall return alone, 
the walk will do me good." The carriage door was open. I took from 
the seat my oak walking stick--which I always carry on my holiday 
excursions--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 
to hold them in, while excitedly imploring me not to do anything so 
foolish. I pitied the poor fellow, he was so deeply in earnest; but 
all the same I could not help laughing. His English was quite gone 
now. In his anxiety he had forgotten that his only means of making 
me understand was to talk my language, so he jabbered away in his 
native German. 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. I leaned on my stick and looked after him. He went slowly 
along the road for a while, then there came over the crest of the 
hill a man tall and thin. I could see so much in the distance. When 
he drew near the horses, they began to jump and kick about, then to 
scream with terror. Johann could not hold them in; they bolted down 
the road, running away madly. I watched them out of sight, then 
looked for the stranger; but I found that he, too, was gone.
With a light heart I turned down the side road through the 
deepening valley to which Johann had objected. There was not the 
slightest reason, that I could see, for his objection; and I daresay 
I tramped for a couple of hours without thinking of time or distance 
and certainly without seeing a person or a house. So far as the 
place was concerned, it was desolation itself. But I did not notice 
this particularly till, on turning a bend in the road, I came upon a 
scattered fringe of wood; then I recognized that I had been impressed 
unconsciously by the desolation of the region through which I had 
passed.
I sat down to rest myself and began to look around. It struck me 
that it was considerably colder than it had been at the commencement 
of my walk--a sort of sighing sound seemed to be around me with, now 
and then, high overhead, a sort of muffled roar. Looking upwards I 
noticed that great thick clouds were drafting rapidly across the sky 
from north to south at a great height. There were signs of a coming 
storm in some lofty stratum of the air. I was a little chilly, and, 
thinking that it was the sitting still after the exercise of walking, 
I resumed my journey.
The ground I passed over was now much more picturesque. There 
were no striking objects that the eye might single out, but in all 
there was a charm of beauty. I took little heed of time, and it was 
only when the deepening twilight forced itself upon me that I began 
to think of how I should find my way home. The air was cold, and 
the drifting of clouds high overhead was more marked. They were 
accompanied by a sort of far away rushing sound, through which 
seemed to come at intervals that mysterious cry which the driver 
had said came from a wolf. For a while I hesitated. I had said I 
would see the deserted village, so on I went and presently came on a 
wide stretch of open country, shut in by hills all around. Their 
sides were covered with trees which spread down to the plain, dotting 
in clumps the gentler slopes and hollows which showed here and 
there. I followed with my eye the winding of the road and saw that 
it curved close to one 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 to fall. I thought of the miles and miles of bleak country I 
had passed, and then hurried on to seek shelter of the wood in 
front. Darker and darker grew the sky, and faster and heavier fell 
the snow, till the earth before and around me was a glistening white 
carpet the further edge of which was lost in misty vagueness. The 
road was here but crude, and when on the level its boundaries were 
not so marked as when it passed through the cuttings; and in a 
little while I found that I must have strayed from it, for I missed 
underfoot the hard surface, and my feet sank deeper in the grass and 
moss. Then the wind grew stronger and blew with ever increasing 
force, till I was fain to run before it. The air became icy cold, 
and in spite of my exercise I began to suffer. The snow was now 
falling so thickly and whirling around 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 
comparative silence I could hear the rush of the wind high overhead. 
Presently the blackness of the storm had become merged in the 
darkness of the night. By-and-by the storm seemed to be passing 
away, it now only came in fierce puffs or blasts. At such moments 
the weird sound of the wolf appeared to be echoed by many similar 
sounds around me.
Now and again, through the black mass of drifting cloud, came a 
straggling ray of moonlight which lit up the expanse and showed me 
that I was at the edge of a dense mass of cypress and yew trees. As 
the snow had ceased to fall, I walked out from the shelter and began 
to investigate more closely. It appeared to me that, amongst so 
many old foundations as I had passed, there might be still standing 
a house in which, though in ruins, I could find some sort of shelter 
for a while. As I skirted the edge of the copse, I found that a low 
wall encircled it, and following this I presently found an opening. 
Here the cypresses formed an alley leading up to a square mass of 
some kind of building. Just as I caught sight of this, however, the 
drifting clouds obscured the moon, and I passed up the path in 
darkness. The wind must have grown colder, for I felt myself shiver 
as I walked; but there 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 to cease to beat. But this was only momentarily; for suddenly 
the moonlight broke through the clouds showing me that I was in a 
graveyard and that the square object before me was a great massive 
tomb 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 which 
appeared to resume its course with a long, low howl, as of many dogs 
or wolves. I was awed and shocked, and I felt the cold perceptibly 
grow upon me till it seemed to grip me by the heart. Then while the 
flood of moonlight still fell on the marble tomb, the storm gave 
further evidence of renewing, as though it were returning on its 
track. Impelled by some sort of fascination, I approached the 
sepulchre to see what it was and why such a thing stood alone in 
such a place. I walked 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--for the structure was composed of a few vast blocks of 
stone--was a great iron spike or stake. On going to the back I 
saw, graven in great Russian letters:
THE DEAD TRAVEL FAST.
There was something so weird and uncanny about the whole thing 
that it gave me a turn and made me feel quite faint. I began to 
wish, for the first time, that I had taken Johann's advice. Here a 
thought struck me, which came under almost myssterious circumstances 
and with a terrible shock. This was Walpurgis Night!
Walpurgis Night was when, according to the belief of millions of 
people, the devil was abroad--when the graves were opened and the 
dead came forth and walked. When all evil things of earth and air 
and water held revel. This very place the driver had specially 
shunned. This was the depopulated village of centuries ago. This 
was where the suicide lay; and this was the place where I was 
alone--unmanned, shivering with cold in a shroud of snow with a 
wild storm gathering again upon me! It took all my philosophy, all 
the religion I had been taught, all my courage, not to collapse in 
a paroxysm of fright.
And now a perfect tornado burst upon me. The ground shook as 
though thousands of horses thundered across it; and this time the 
storm bore on its icy wings, not snow, but great hailstones which 
drove with such violence that they might have come from the thongs of 
Balearic slingers--hailstones that beat down leaf and branch and made 
the shelter of the cypresses of no more avail than though their stems 
were standing corn. At the first I had rushed to the nearest tree; 
but I was soon fain to leave it and seek the only spot that seemed 
to afford refuge, the deep Doric doorway of the marble tomb. There, 
crouching against the massive bronze door, I gained a certain amount 
of protection from the beating of the hailstones, for now they only 
drove against me as they ricochetted from the ground and the side of 
the marble.
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 I was about to enter it when there came a flash of forked 
lightning that lit up the whole expanse of the heavens. In the 
instant, as I am a living man, I saw, as my eyes turned into the 
darkness of the tomb, a beautiful woman with rounded cheeks and red 
lips, seemingly sleeping on bier. As the thunder broke overhead, I 
was grasped as by the hand of a giant and hurled out into the storm. 
The whole thing was so sudden that, before I could realize the shock, 
moral as well as physical, I found the hailstones beating me down. 
At the same time I had a strange, dominating feeling that I was not 
alone. I looked towards the tomb. Just then there came another 
blinding flash which seemed to strike the iron stake that surmounted 
the tomb and to pour through to the earth, blasting and crumbling 
the marble, as in a burst of flame. The dead woman rose for a moment 
of agony while she was lapped in the flame, and her bitter scream of 
pain was drowned in the thundercrash. The last thing I heard was 
this mingling of dreadful sound, as again I was seized in the giant 
grasp and dragged away, while the hailstones beat on me and the air 
around seemed reverberant with the howling of wolves. The last sight 
that I remembered was a vague, white, moving mass, as if all the 
graves around me had sent out the phantoms of their sheeted dead, 
and that they were closing in on me through the white cloudiness of 
the driving hail.
***
Gradually there came a sort of vague beginning of consciousness, 
then a sense of weariness that was dreadful. For a time I remembered 
nothing, but slowly my senses returned. My feet seemed positively 
racked 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 in my breast a sense of warmth which was by comparison 
delicious. It was as a nightmare--a physical nightmare, if one may 
use such an expression; for some heavy weight on my chest made it 
difficult for me to breathe.
This period of semilethargy seemed to remain a long time, and as 
it faded away I must have slept or swooned. Then came a sort of 
loathing, like the first stage of seasickness, and a wild desire to 
be free of something--I knew not what. A vast stillness enveloped 
me, as though all the world were asleep or dead--only broken by the 
low panting as of some animal close to me. I felt a warm rasping at 
my throat, then came a consciousness of the awful truth which chilled 
me to the heart and sent the blood surging up through my brain. Some 
great animal was lying on me and now licking my throat. I feared to 
stir, for some instinct of prudence bade me lie still; but the brute 
seemed to realize that there was now some change in me, for it raised 
its head. Through my eyelashes I saw above me the two great flaming 
eyes of a gigantic wolf. Its sharp white teeth gleamed in the gaping 
red mouth, and I could feel its hot breath fierce and acrid upon me.
For another spell of time I remembered no more. Then I became 
conscious of a low growl, followed by a yelp, renewed again and 
again. Then seemingly very far away, I heard a "Holloa! holloa!" 
as of many voices calling in unison. Cautiously I raised my head 
and looked in the direction whence the sound came, but the cemetery 
blocked my view. The wolf still continued to yelp in a strange way, 
and a red glare began to move round the grove of cypresses, as though 
following the sound. As the voices drew closer, the wolf yelped 
faster and louder. I feared to make either sound or motion. Nearer 
came the red glow over the white pall which stretched into the 
darkness around me. Then all at once from beyond the trees there 
came at a trot a troop of horsemen bearing torches. The wolf rose 
from my breast and made for the cemetery. I saw one of the horsemen 
(soldiers by their caps and their long military cloaks) raise his 
carbine and take aim. A companion knocked up his arm, and I heard 
the ball whiz over my head. He had evidently taken my body for that 
of the wolf. Another sighted the animal as it slunk away, and a shot 
followed. Then, at a gallop, the troop rode forward--some towards 
me, others following the wolf as it disappeared amongst the snow-clad 
cypresses.
As they drew nearer I tried to move but was powerless, although I 
could see and hear all that went on around me. Two or three of the 
soldiers jumped from their horses and knelt beside me. One of them 
raised 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 vigor into me, 
and I was able to open my eyes fully and look around. Lights and 
shadows were moving among the trees, and I heard men call to one 
another. They drew together, uttering frightened exclamations; and 
the lights flashed as the others came pouring out of the cemetery 
pell-mell, like men possessed. When the further ones came close to 
us, those who were around 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 this of all nights!"
"What was it?" was the question, asked in all manner of keys. The 
answer came variously and all indefinitely as though the men were 
moved by some common impulse to speak yet were restrained by some 
common fear from giving their thoughts.
"It--it--indeed!" gibbered one, whose wits had plainly given out 
for the moment.
"A wolf--and yet not a wolf!" another put in shudderingly.
"No use trying for him without the sacred bullet," a third 
remarked in a more ordinary manner.
"Serve us right for coming out on this night! Truly we have 
earned our thousand marks!" were the ejaculations of a fourth.
"There was blood on the broken marble," another said after a 
pause, "the lightning never brought that there. And for him--is 
he safe? Look at his throat! See comrades, the wolf has been lying 
on him 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? We should 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 
who seemed the least panic-stricken of the party, for his hands were 
steady and without tremor. On his sleeve was the chevron of a petty 
officer.
"It went 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 
of command; then several men placed me upon a horse. He sprang to 
the saddle 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 must have fallen asleep; for the next thing I remembered was 
finding myself standing up, supported by a soldier on each side of 
me. It was almost broad daylight, and to the north a red streak of 
sunlight was reflected like a path of blood over the waste of snow. 
The officer was telling the men to say nothing of what they had seen, 
except that they found an English stranger, guarded by a large dog.
"Dog! that was no dog," cut in the man who had exhibited such 
fear. "I think 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 his 
courage was rising with the sun; and, pointing to me, he said, "Look 
at his throat. Is that the work of a dog, master?"
Instinctively I raised my hand to my throat, and as I touched it I 
cried out in pain. The men crowded round to look, some stooping down 
from their saddles; and again there came the calm voice of the young 
officer, "A dog, as I said. If aught else were said we should only 
be laughed at."
I was then mounted behind a trooper, and we rode on into the 
suburbs of Munich. Here we came across a stray carriage into which 
I was lifted, and it was driven off to the Quatre Saisons--the young 
officer accompanying me, whilst a trooper followed with his horse, 
and the others rode off to their barracks.
When we arrived, Herr Delbruck rushed so quickly down the steps to 
meet me, that it was apparent he had been watching within. Taking me 
by both hands he solicitously led me in. The officer saluted me and 
was turning to withdraw, when I recognized his purpose and insisted 
that he should come to my rooms. Over a glass of wine I warmly 
thanked him and his brave comrades for saving me. He replied simply 
that he was more than glad, and that Herr Delbruck had at the first 
taken steps to make all the searching party pleased; at which 
ambiguous utterance the maitre d'hotel smiled, while the officer 
pleaded duty and withdrew.
"But Herr Delbruck," I enquired, "how and why was it that the 
soldiers searched for me?"
He shrugged his shoulders, as if in depreciation of his own deed, 
as he replied, "I was so fortunate as to obtain leave from the 
commander of the regiment in which I serve, 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 
had been upset when the horses ran away."
"But surely you would not send a search party of soldiers merely 
on this account?"
"Oh, no!" he answered, "but even before the coachman arrived, I 
had this telegram from the Boyar whose guest you are," and he took 
from his 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 I 
should have fallen. There was something so strange in all this, 
something so weird and impossible to imagine, that there grew on me 
a sense of my being in some way the sport of opposite forces--the 
mere vague idea of which seemed in a way to paralyze me. I was 
certainly under some form of mysterious protection. From a distant 
country had come, in the very nick of time, a message that took me 
out of the danger of the snow sleep and the jaws of the wolf.
Category:Books
Category:Demon/Devil