Читать книгу Dracula - Брэм Стокер, Bram Stoker, John Edgar Browning - Страница 2

(Kept in shorthand.)

3 May. Bistritz. Left Munich at 8:35 p. M., on ist May, ar-

riving at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at

6:46, but train was an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful

place, from the glimpse which I got of it from the train and the

little I could walk through the streets. I feared to go very far

from the station, as we had 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 of noble width

and depth, took us among the traditions of Turkish rule.

We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to Klaus-

enburgh. 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. (Mem., get

recipe for Mina.) I asked the waiter, and he said it was called

«paprika hendl,» and that, as it was a national dish, I should

be able to get it anywhere along the Carpathians. I found my

smattering of German very useful here; indeed, I don’t know how

I should be able to get on without it.

Having had some time at my disposal when in London, I had

visited the British Museum, and made search among the books

and maps in the library regarding Transylvania; it had struck

me that some foreknowledge of the country could hardly fail

to have some importance 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 moun-

2 Dracula

tains; one of the wildest and least known portions of Europe.

I was not able to light on any map or work giving the exact

locality of the Castle Dracula, as there are no maps of this

country as yet to compare with our own Ordnance Survey maps;

but I found that Bistritz, the post town named by Count

Dracula, is a fairly well-known place. I shall enter here some of

my notes, as they may refresh my memory when I talk over my

travels with Mina.

In the population of Transylvania there are four distinct

nationalities: Saxons in the South, and mixed with them the Wal-

lachs, who are the descendants of the Dacians; Magyars in the

West, and Szekelys in the East and North. I am going among

the latter, who claim to be descended from Attila and the Huns.

This may be so, for when the Magyars conquered the country

in the eleventh century they found the Huns settled in it. 1^

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 stay may be very interest-

ing. (Mem., I must ask the Count all about them.)

I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough,

for I had all sorts of queer dreams. There was a dog howling all

night under my window, which may have had something to do

with it; or it may have been the paprika, for I had to drink up all

the water in my carafe, and was still thirsty. Towards morning

I slept and was wakened by the continuous knocking at my door,

so I guess I must have been sleeping soundly then. I had for

breakfast more paprika, and a sort of porridge of maize flour

which they said was «mamaliga,» and egg-plant stuffed with

forcemeat, a very excellent dish, which they call «impletata.»

(Mem., get recipe for this also.) I had to hurry breakfast, for the

train started a little before eight, or rather it ought to have

done so, for 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 further east you go the more unpunctual

are the trains. What ought they to be in China?

All day long we seemed to dawdle through a country which

was full of beauty of every kind. Sometimes we saw little towns

or castl^ on the top of steep hills such as we see in old missals;

sometimes we ran by rivers and streams which seemed from the

wide stony margin on each side of them to be subject to great

floods. It takes a lot of water, and running strong, to sweep the

outside edge of a river clear. At every station there were groups

of people, sometimes crowds, and in all sorts of attire. Some oi

Jonathan Harker’s Journal 3

them were just like the peasants at home or those I saw coming

through 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 clumsy about the waist. They had all full white

sleeves of some kind or other, 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 we saw 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, nearly 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. On

the stage they would be set down at once as some old Oriental

band of brigands. They are, however, I am told, very harmless

and rather wanting in natural self-assertion.

It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz,

which is a very interesting old place. Being practically on the

frontier for the Borgo Pass leads from it into Bukovina it

has had a very stormy existence, and it certainly shows marks

of it. Fifty years ago a series of great fires took place, which

made terrible havoc on five separate occasions. At the very be-

ginning of the seventeenth century it underwent a siege of three

weeks and lost 13,000 people, the casualties of war proper being

assisted by famine and disease.

Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone

Hotel, which I found, to my great delight, to be thoroughly old-

fashioned, for of course 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 faced a cheery-looking elderly woman in the usual peas-

ant dress white undergarment with long double apron, front,

and back, of coloured stuff fitting almost too tight for modesty.

When I came close she bowed and said, «The Herr English-

man?» «Yes,» I said, «Jonathan Harker.» She smiled, and gave

some message to an elderly man in white shirt-sleeves, 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 dili-

gence will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At

4 Dracula

the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you

to me. I trust that your journey from London has been a happy

one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land.

«Your friend,

«DRACULA.»

4 May. I found that my landlord had got a letter from the

Count, directing him to secure the best place on the coach for

me; but on making inquiries as to details he seemed somewhat

reticent, and pretended that he could not understand my Ger-

man. This could not be true, because up to then he had under-

stood it perfectly; at least, he answered my questions exactly

as if he did. He and his wife, the old lady who had received me,

looked at each other in a frightened sort of way. He mumbled

out that the money had been sent in a letter, and that was all

r _he knew. When I asked him if he knew Count Dracula, and

could tell me anything of his castle, both he and his wife crossed

themselves, and, saying that they knew nothing at all, simply

refused to speak further. It was so near the time of starting that

I had no time to ask any one else, for it was all very mysterious

and not by any means comforting.

Just before I was levying, the old lady came up to my room

and said in a very liysteric^L way:

«Must you go? Oh! young Herr, must you go? "She was in such

an excited state that she seemed to have lost her grip of what

German she knew, and mixed it all up with some other language

which I did not know at all. I was just able to follow her by

asking many questions. When I told her that I must go at once,

and that I was engaged on important business, she asked again:

«Do you know what day it is?» I answered that it was the

fourth of May. She shook her head as she said again:

«Oh, yes! I know that! I know that, but do you know what

day it is? "On my saying that I did not understand, she went on:

«It is the eve o|j^GegreJs^^

night, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the

world will have full sway? Do you know where you are going,

and what you are going to? "She was in such evident distress that

I tried to comfort her, but without effect. Finally she went down

on her knees and Implored 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, there was business to be done, and I

could allow nothing to interfere with it. I therefore tried to raise

her up, and said, as gravely as I could, that I thanked her, but

Jonathan Marker’s Journal 5

my duty was imperative, and that I must go. She then rose and

dried her eyes, and taking a crucifix from her neck offered it to

me. I did not know what to do, for, as an English Churchman,

I have been taught to regard such things as in some measure

idolatrous, and yet it seemed so ungracious to refuse an old lady

meaning so well and in such a state of mind. She saw, I suppose,

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 whilst I am waiting for

the coach, which is, of course, late; and the crucifix is still round

my neck. Whether it is the old lady’s fear, or the many ghostly

traditions of this place, or the crucifix itself, I do not know, 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, which seems jagged,

whether with trees or hills I know not, for it is so far off that big

things and little are mixed. I am not sleepy, and, as I am not to

be called till I awake, naturally I write till sleep comes. There

are many odd things to put down, and, lest who reads them may

fancy that I dined too well before I left Bistritz, let me put down

my dinner exactly. I dined on what they called «robber steak»

j bits of bacon, onion, and beef, seasoned with red pepper, and

strung on sticks and roasted over the fire, in the simple style of

the London cat’s meat’! The wine was Golden Mediasch, which

produces a queer sting on the tongue, which is, however, not dis-

agreeable. I had only a couple of glasses of this, and nothing else.

When I got on the coach the driver had not taken his seat,

and I saw him 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 which they call by a name meaning «word-bearer»

came and listened, and then looked at me, most of them pity-

ingly. I could hear a lot of words often repeated, queer words, for

there were many nationalities in the crowd; so I quietly got my

polyglot dictionary from my bag and looked them out. I must say

they were not cheering to me, for amongst them were" Ordog»

Satan, "pokol" hell, "stregoica «witch, "vrolokj» and» vlko-

slak» both of which mean__the same thing, one being, Slovak

and the other Servian for something that is either were-wolf or

vampire. (Mem., I must ask the Count about these superstitions>

6 Dracula

When we started, the crowd round the inn door, which had

by this time swelled to a considerable size, all made the sign of

the cross and pointed two fingers towards me. With some diffi-

culty I got a fellow-passenger to tell me what they meant; he

would not answer at first, but on learning that I was English,

he explained that it was a charm or guard against the evil eye.

This was not very plel^nt for me, just starting for an unknown

place to meet an unknown man; but every one seemed so kind-

hearted, and so sorrowful, and so sympathetic that I could not

but be touched. I shall never forget the last glimpse which I

had of the inn-yard and its crowd of picturesque figures, all cross-

ing themselves, as they stood round the wide archway, with its

background of rich foliage of oleander and orange trees in green

tubs clustered in the centre of the yard. Then our driver, whose

wide linen drawers covered the whole front of the box-seat

«gotza» they call them cracked his big whip over his four

small horses, which ran abreast, and we set off on our journey.

I soon lost sight and recollection of ghostly fears in the beauty

of the scene as we drove along, although had I known the lan-

guage, or rather languages, which my fellow-passengers were

speaking, I might not have been able to throw them off so easily.

Before us lay a green sloping land full of forests and woods, with

here and there steep hills, crowned with clumps of trees or with

farmhouses, the blank gable end to the road. There was every-

where a bewildering mass of fruit blossom apple, plum, pear,

cherry; and as we drove by I could see the green grass under the

trees spangled with the fallen petals. In and out amongst these

green hills of what they call here the «Mittel Land» ran the

road, losing itself as it swept round the grassy curve, or was shut

out by the straggling ends of pine woods, which here and there

ran down the hillsides like tongues of flame. The road was

rugged, but still we seemed to fly over it with a feverish haste.

I could not understand then what the haste meant, but the

driver was evidently bent on losing no time in reaching Borgo

Prund. I was told that this road is in summertime excellent,

but that it had not yet been put in order after the winter snows.

In this respect it is different from the general run of roads in

the Carpathians, for it is an old tradition that they are not to

be kept in too good order. Of old the Hospadars would not re-

pair them, lest the Turk should think that they were preparing

to bring in foreign troops, and so hasten the war which was al-

ways really at loading point.

Beyond the green swelling hills of the Mittel Land rose mighty

Jonathan Harker’s Journal 7

slopes of forest up to the lofty steeps of the Carpathians them-

selves. Right and left of us they towered, with the afternoon sun

falling full upon them and bringing out all the glorious colours

of this beautiful range, deep blue and purple in the shadows of

the peaks, green and brown where grass and rock mingled, and

an endless perspective of jagged rock and pointed crags, till these

were themselves lost in the distance, where the snowy peaks

rose grandly. Here and there seemed mighty rifts in the moun-

tains, through which, as the sun began to sink, we saw now and

again the white gleam of falling water. One of my companions

touched my arm as we swept round the base of a hill and opened

up the lofty, snow-covered peak of a mountain, which seemed, as

we wound en our serpentine way, to be right before us:

«Look! Isten szek!» «God’s seat!» and he crossed him-

self reverently.

As we wound on our endless way, and the sun sank lower and

lower behind us, the shadows of the evening began to creep

round us. This was emphasised by the fact that the snowy

mountain-top still held the sunset, and seemed to glow out with

a delicate cool pink. Here and there we passed Cszeks and Slo-

vaks, all in picturesque attire, but I noticed that goitre was

painfully prevalent. By the roadside were many crosses, and as

w^sw^r^b^mj^mp_a_nions jill crossed themselves. Here and

there was a peasant man or woman kneeling before a shrine,

who did not even turn round as we approached, but seemed in

the self-surrender of devotion to have neither eyes nor ears for

the outer world. There were many things new to me: for instance,

hay-ricks in the trees, and here and there very beautiful masses

of weeping birch, their white stems shining like silver through

the delicate green of the leaves. Now and again we passed a

leiter-wagon the ordinary peasant’s cart with its long, snake-

like vertebra, calculated to suit the inequalities of the road. On

this were sure to be seated quite a group of home-coming peas-

ants, the Cszeks with their white, and the Slovaks with their

coloured, sheepskins, the latter carrying lance-fashion their

long staves, with axe at end. As the evening fell it began to

get very cold, and the growing twilight seemed to merge into

one dark mistiness the gloom of the trees, oak, beech, and pine,

though in the valleys which ran deep between the spurs of the

hills, as we ascended through the Pass, the dark firs stood out

here and there against the background of late-lying snow.

Sometimes, as the road was. cut through the pine woods that

seemed in the darkness to be closing down upon us, great masses

8 Dracula

of greyness, which here and there bestrewed the trees, pro-

duced a peculiarly weird and.. solemn effect, which carried on the

thoughts and grim fancies engendered earlier in the evening,

when the falling sunset threw into strange relief the ghost-like

clouds which amongst the Carpathians seem to wind ceaselessly

through the valleys. Sometimes the hills were so steep that,

despite our driver’s haste, the horses could only go slowly. I

wished to get down and walk up them, as we do at home, but

the driver would not hear of it. "No, no,» he said; "you must not

walk here; the dogs are too fierce»; and then he added, with what

he evidently meant for grim pleasantry for he looked round to

catch the approving smile of the rest «and you may have

enough of such matters before you go to sleep.» The only stop

he would make was a moment’s pause to light his lamps.

When it grew dark there seemed to be some excitement

amongst the passengers, and they kept speaking to him, one

after the other, as though urging him to further speed. He lashed

the horses unmercifully with his long whip, and with wild cries

of encouragement urged them on to further exertions. Then

through the darkness I could see a sort of patch of grey light

ahead of us, as though there were a cleft in the hills. The excite-

ment of the passengers grew greater; the crazy coach rocked on

its great leather springs, and swayed like a boat tossed on a

stormy sea. I had to hold on. The road grew more level, and we

appeared to fly along. Then the mountains seemed to come

nearer to us on each side and to frown down upon us; we were

entering on the Borgo Pass. One by one several of the passengers

offered me gifts, which they pressed upon me with an earnest-

ness which would take no denial; these were certainly of an odd

and varied kind, but each was given in simple good faith, with

a kindly word, and a blessing, and that strange mixture of fear-

meaning movements which I had seen outside the hotel at

Bistritz the sign of the cross and the guard against the evil eye.

Then, as we flew along, the driver leaned forward, and on each

side the passengers, craning over the edge of the coach, peered

eagerly into the darkness. It was evident that something very

exciting was either happening or expected, but though I asked

each passenger, no one would give me the slightest explanation.

This state of excitement kept on for some little time; and at last

we saw before us the Pass opening out on the eastern side. There

were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy,

oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though the mountain

range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got

Jonathan Marker’s Journal 9

into the thunderous one. I was now myself looking out for the

conveyance which was to take me to the Count. Each moment

I expected to see the glare of lamps through the blackness; but

all was dark. The only light was the flickering rays of our own

lamps, in which the steam from our hard-driven horses rose in

a white cloud. We could see now the sandy road lying white

before us, but there was on it no sign of a vehicle. The passen-

gers drew back with a sigh of gladness, which seemed to mock

my own disappointment. I was already thinking what I had best

do, when the driver, looking at his watch, said to the others

something which I could hardly hear, it was spoken so quietly

and in so low a tone; I thought it was «An hour less than the

time.» Then turning to me, he said in German worse than my

own:

«There is no carriage here. The Herr is not expected after all.

He will now come on to Bukovina, and return to-morrow or

the next day; better the next day.» Whilst he was speaking the

horses began to neigh and snort and plunge wildly, so that the

driver had to hold them up. Then, amongst a chorus of screams

from the peasants and a universal crossing of themselves, a

caleche, with four horses, drove up behind us, overtook us, and

drew up beside the coach. I could see from the flash of our

lamps, as the rays fell on them, that the horses were coal-black

and splendid animals. They were driven by a tall man, with a

long brown beard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide

his face from us. I could only see the gleam of a pair of very

bright eyes, which seemed red in the lamplight, as he turned to

us. He said to the driver:

«You are early to-night, my friend.» The man stammered in

reply:

«The English Herr was in a hurry,» to which the stranger

replied:

«That is why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to Buko-

vina. You cannot deceive me, my friend; I know too much, and

my horses are swift.» As he spoke he smiled, and the lamplight

fell on a hard-looking mouth, with very red lips and sharp-look-

ing teeth, as white as ivory. One of my companions whispered

to another the line from Burger’s" Lenore " :

«Denri die Todten reiten schnelPV-

(«For the dead travel fast,») ___^

The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up

with a gleaming smile. The passenger turned his face away, at

io Dracula

the same time putting out his two fingers and crossing himself.

«Give me the Herr’s luggage,» said the driver; and with exceed-

ing alacrity my bags were handed out and put in the caleche.

Then I descended from the side of the coach, as the caleche was

close alongside, the driver helping me with a hand which caught

my arm in a grip of steel; his strength must have been prodi-

gious. Without a word he shook his reins, the horses turned, and

we swept into the darkness of the Pass. As I looked back I saw

the steam from the horses of the coach by the light of the lamps,

and projected against it the figures of my late companions cross-

ing themselves. Then the driver cracked his whip and called

to his horses, and off they swept on their way to Bukovina. As

they sank into the darkness I felt a strange chill, and a lonely

feefing came over me; but a cloak was thrown over my shoul-

ders, and a rug across my knees, and the driver said in excellent

German:

«The night is chill, mein Herr, and my master the Count bade

me take all care of you. There is a flask of slivovitz (the plum

brandy of the country) underneath the seat, if you should re-

quire it.» I did not take any, but it was a comfort to know it was

there all the same. I felt a little strangely, and not a little fright-

ened. I think had there been any alternative I should have

taken it, instead of prosecuting that unknown night journey.

The carriage went at a hard pace straight along, then we made

a complete turn and went along another straight road. It seemed

to me that we were simply going over and over the same ground

again; and so I took note of some salient point, and found that

this was so. I would have liked to have asked the driver what

this all meant, but I really feared to do so, for I thought that,

placed as I was, any protest would have had no effect in case

there had been an intention to delay. By-and-by, however, as I

was curious to know how time was passing, I struck a match,

and by its flame looked at my watch; it was within a few min-

utes of midnight. This gave me a sort of shock, for I suppose the

general superstition about midnight was increased by my recent

experiences. I waited with a sick feeling of suspense.

Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down

the road a long, agonised wailing, as if from fear. The sound

was taken up by another dog, and then another and another,

till, borne on the wind which now sighed softly through the Pass,

a wild howling began, which seemed to come from all over the

country, as far as the imagination could grasp it through the

gloom of the night. At the first howl the horses began to strain

Jonathan Marker’s Journal n

and rear, but the driver spoke to them soothingly, and they

quieted down, but shivered and sweated as though after a run-

away from sudden fright. Then, far off in the distance, from the

mountains on each side of us began a louder and a sharper howl-

ing that of wolves which affected both the horses and myself

in the same way for I was minded to jump from the caleche

and run, whilst they reared again and plunged madly, so that

the driver had to use all his great strength to keep them from

bolting. In a few minutes, however, my own ears got accustomed

to the sound, and the horses so far became quiet that the driver

was able to descend and to stand before them. He petted and

soothed them, and whispered something in their ears, as I have

heard of horse-tamers doing, and with extraordinary effect, for

under his caresses they became quite manageable again, though

they still trembled. The driver again took his seat, and shaking

his reins, started off at a great pace. This tune, after going to

the far side of the Pass, he suddenly turned down a narrow road-

way which ran sharply to the right.

Soon we were hemmed in with trees, which in places arched

right over the roadway till we passed as through a tunnel; and

again great frowning rocks guarded us boldly on either side.

Though we were in shelter, we could hear the rising wind, for

it moaned and whistled through the rocks, and the branches of

the trees crashed together as we swept along. It grew colder and

colder still, and fine, powdery snow began to fall, so that soon

we and all around us were covered with a white blanket. The

keen wind still carried the howling of the dogs, though this grew

fainter as we went on our way. The baying of the wolves sounded

nearer and nearer, as though they were closing round on us from

every side. I grew dreadfully afraid, and the horses shared my

fear. The driver, however, was not in the least disturbed; he

kept turning his head to left and right, but I could not see any-

thing through the darkness.

Suddenly, away on our left, I saw a faint flickering blue flame.

The driver saw it at the same moment; he at once checked the

horses, and, jumping to the ground, disappeared into the dark-

ness. I did not know what to do, the less as the howling of the

wolves grew closer; but while I wondered the driver suddenly

appeared again, and without a word took his seat, and we re-

sumed our journey. I think I must have fallen asleep and kept

dreaming of the incident, for it seemed to be repeated endlessly,

and now looking back, it is like a sort of awful nightmare. Once

the flame appeared so near the road, that even in the darkness

12 -Dracula

around us I could watch the driver’s motions. He went rapidly

to where the blue flame arose it must have been very faint,

for it did not seem to illumine the place around it at all and

gathering a few stones, formed them into some device. Once

there appeared a strange optical effect: when he stood between

me and the flame he did not obstruct it, for I could see its ghostly

flicker all the same. This startled me, but as the effect was only

momentary, I took it that my eyes deceived me straining through

the darkness. Then for a time there were no blue flames, and we

sped onwards through the gloom, with the howling of the wolves

around us, as though they were following in a moving circle.

At last there came a time when the driver went further afield

than he had yet gone, and during his absence, the horses began

to tremble worse than ever and to snort and scream with fright.

I could not see any cause for it, for the howling of the wolves

had ceased altogether; but just then the moon, sailing through

the black clouds, appeared behind the jagged crest of a beet-

ling, pine-clad rock, and by its light I saw around us a ring of

wolves, with white teeth and lolling red tongues, with long,

sinewy limbs and shaggy hair. They were a hundred times more

terrible in the grim silence which held them than even when they

howled. For myself, I felt a sort of paralysis of fear. It is only

when a man feels himself face to face with such horrors that he

can understand their true import.

All at once the wolves began to howl as though the moonlight

had had some peculiar effect on them. The horses jumped about

and reared, and looked helplessly round with eyes that rolled in

a way painful to see; but the living ring of terror encompassed

them on every side; and they had perforce to remain within it.

I called to the coachman to come, for it seemed to me that our

only chance was to try to break out through the ring and to aid

his approach. I shouted and beat the side of the caleche, hoping

by the noise to scare the wolves from that side, so as to give him

a chance of reaching the trap. How he came there, I know not,

but I heard his voice raised in a tone of imperious command,

and looking towards the sound, saw him stand hi the roadway.

As he swept his long arms, as though brushing aside some im-

palpable obstacle, the wolves fell back and back further still. Just

then a heavy cloud passed across the face of the moon, so that

we were again hi darkness.

When I could see again the driver was climbing into the

caleche, and the wolves had disappeared. This was all so strange

and uncanny that a dreadful fear came upon me, and I was

Jonathan Marker’s Journal 13

afraid to speak or move. The time seemed interminable as we

swept on our way, now in almost complete darkness, for the roll-

ing clouds obscured the moon. We kept on ascending, with oc-

casional periods of quick descent, but in the main always

ascending. Suddenly, I became conscious of the fact that the

driver was in the act of pulling up the horses in the courtyard of

a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no ray

of light, and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line

against the moonlit sky.