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Dracula's Guest · Dracula's Guest & Other Weird Tales

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Dracula's Guest. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the
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Recording by Robert White. Dracula's Guest by Bram Stoker. When we started
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for our drive, the sun was shining brightly on Munich, and the air
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was full of the joyousness of early summer. Just as we were about to
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depart, Herr. Delbrook, the Matre d'hotel of the Catrasazon where I was
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staying, came down bare headed to the carriage, and, after wishing me
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a pleasant drive, said to the coachman, still holding his hand on the
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handle of the carriage door, remember you are back by nightfall. The sky
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looks bright, but there is a shiver in the north wind that says there
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may be a sudden storm. But I am sure you will not be late
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here. He smiled, and added, for you know what night it is.
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Johann answered with an emphatic yar mane hair, and touching his hat,
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drove off quickly. When we had cleared the town, I said, after
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signaling to him to stop. Tell me, Johann, what is to night.
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He crossed himself as he answered laconically, valpurgis Nacht. Then he took
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out his watch, a great old fashioned German silver thing as big as a
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turnip, and looked at it with his eyebrows gathered together and a little impatient
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shrug of his shoulders. I realized that this was his way of respectfully protesting
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against the unnecessary delay, and sank back in the carriage, merely motioning him
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to proceed. He started off rapidly, as if to make up for lost
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time. Every now and then the horses seemed to throw up their heads and
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sniff the air suspiciously. On such occasions, often looked round in alarm.
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The road was pretty bleak, for we were traversing a sort of high windswept
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plateau. As we drove, I saw a road that looked but little used,
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and which seemed to dip through a little winding valley. It looked so
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inviting that, even at the risk of offending him, I called Johann to
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stop, and when he had pulled up, I told him I would like
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to drive down that road. He made all sorts of excuses and frequently crossed
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himself as he spoke. This somewhat piqued my curiosity, so I asked him
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various questions. He answered fencingly, and repeated looking at his watch in protest.
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Finally, I said, well, Johann, I want to go down
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this road. I shall not ask you to come unless you like, But
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tell me why you do not like to go, That is all I ask
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for answer he seemed to throw himself off the box, so quickly did he
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reach the ground. Then he wretched out his hands appealingly to me and implored
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me not to go. There was just enough of English mixed with the German
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for me to understand the drift of his talk. He seemed always just about
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to tell me something, the very idea of which evidently frightened him. But
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each time he pulled himself up, saying, as he crossed himself Valpurgisnacht.
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I tried to argue with him, but it was difficult to argue with a
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man when I did not know his language. The advantage certainly rested with him,
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for although he began to speak in English of a very crude and broken
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kind, he always got excited and broke into his native tongue, And every
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time he did so, he looked at his watch. Then the horses became
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restless and sniffed the air. At this he grew very pale, and looking
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around in a frightened way. He suddenly jumped forward, took them by the
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bridles, and led them on some twenty feet. I followed and asked why
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he had done this. For answer, he crossed himself and pointed to the
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spot we had left, and drew his carriage in the direction of the other
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road, indicating a cross, and said, first in German, then in
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English. Buried him him what killed themselves? I remembered the old custom of
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burying suicides at the cross roads. Ah, I see a suicide. How
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interesting. But for the life of me, I could not make out why
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the horses were frightened. Whilst we were talking, we heard a sort of
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sound between a yelp and a bark. It was far away, but the
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horses got very restless, and it took Johan all his time to quiet them.
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He was pale and said, it sounds like a wolf. But yet
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there are no wolves here now no, I said, questioning him, isn't
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it long since the wolves were so near the city? Long long? He
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answered, In the spring and summer but with the no, the wolves have
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been here not so long. While he was petting the horses and trying to
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quiet them, the dark clouds drifted rapidly across the sky. The sunshine passed
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away, and a breath of cold wind seemed to drift past us. It
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was only a breath, however, and more in the nature of a warning
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than a fact, for the sun came out brightly again. Johann looked under
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his lifted hand at the horizon and said, the storm of snow he comes
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before long time. Then he looked at his watch again and straightway, holding
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his reins firmly, for the horses were still pouring the ground restlessly and shaking
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their heads. He climbed to his box, as though the time had come
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for proceeding on our journey. I felt a little obstinate, and did not
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at once get into the carriage. Tell me, I said, about this
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place where the road leads, and I pointed down again. He crossed himself
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and mumbled a prayer before he answered, it is unholy. What is unholy?
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I inquired, the village? Then there is a village, No,
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no, No, one lives there hundreds of years. My curiosity was piqued,
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But you said there was a village, there was, where is it
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now? Whereupon he burst out into a long story in German and English,
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so mixed up that I could not quite understand exactly what he said, but
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roughly I gathered that long ago, hundreds of years, men had died there
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and been buried in their graves, and sounds were heard under the clay,
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and when the graves were opened, men and women were found rosy with life,
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and their mouths red with blood, and so in haste to save their
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lives, ay, and their souls. And here he crossed himself. Those
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who were left fled away to other places, where the living lived and the
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dead were dead, and not not something he was evidently afraid to speak the
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last words. As he with his narration, he grew more and more excited.
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It seemed as if imagination had got hold of him, and he ended
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in a perfect paroxysm of fear, white faced, perspiring, trembling, and
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looking round him, as if expecting that some dreadful presence would manifest itself there
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in the bright sunshine on the open plain. Finally, in an agony of
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desperation, he cried Valpurgisnacht and pointed to the carriage for me to get in.
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All my English blood rose at this, and standing back, I said,
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you're afraid, Johann, you are afraid. Go home. I shall
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return alone. The walk will do me good. The carriage door was open.
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I took from the seat my oak walking stick, which I always carry
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on my holiday excursions, and closed the door, pointing back to Munich,
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and said, go home, Johann. Valpurgisnacht doesn't concern Englishmen. The horses
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were now more restive than ever, and Johann was trying to hold them in,
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while excitedly imploring me not to do anything so foolish. I pitied the
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poor fellow. He was deeply in earnest, but all the same I could
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not help laughing. His English was quite gone now. In his anxiety,
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he had forgotten that his only means of making me understand was to talk my
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language. So he jabbered away in his native German. It began to be
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a little tedious. After giving the direction home, I turned to go down
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the cross road into the valley. With a despairing gesture, Johann turned his
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horses towards Munich. I leaned on my stick and looked after him. He
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went slowly along the road for a while. Then there came over the crest
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of the hill a man, tall and thin, I could see so much
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in the distance. When he drew near the horses, they began to jump
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and kick about, then to scream with terror. Johann could not hold them
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in. They bolted down the road, running away madly. I watched them
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out of sight, then looked for the stranger, but I found that he
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too was gone. With a light heart, I turned down the side road
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through the deepening valley to which Johann had objected. There was not the slightest
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reason that I could see for his objection, and I dare say I tramped
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for a couple of hours without thinking of time or distance, and certainly without
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seeing a person or a house. So far as the place was concerned,
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it was desolation itself. But I did not notice this particularly till on turning
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a bend in the road, I came upon a scattered fringe of wood.
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Then I recognized that I had been impressed unconsciously by the desolation of the region
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through which I had passed. I sat down to rest myself and began to
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look round. It struck me that it was considerably colder than it had been
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at the commencement of my walk. A sort of sighing sound seemed to be
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around me with now, and then high overhead, a sort of roar.
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Looking upwards, I noticed that great, thick clouds were drifting rapidly across the
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sky from north to south at a great height. There were signs of coming
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storm in some lofty stratum of the air. I was a little chilly,
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and, thinking that it was the sitting still after the exercise of walking,
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I resumed my journey. The ground I passed over was now much more picturesque.
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There were no striking objects that the eye might single out, but in
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all there was a charm of beauty. I took little heed of time,
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and it was only when the deepening twilight forced itself upon me that I began
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to think of how I should find my way home. The brightness of the
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day had gone, the air was cold, and the drifting of clouds high
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overhead was more marked. They were accompanied by a sort of far away,
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rushing sound through which seemed to come at intervals. That mysterious cry which the
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driver had said came from a wolf. For a while I hesitated. I
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had said I would see the deserted village. So on I went, and
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presently came on a wide stretch of open country, shut in by hills.
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All around their sides were covered with trees which spread down to the plain,
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dotting in clumps the gentler slopes and hollows which showed here and there. I
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followed with my eye the winding of the road, and saw that it curved
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close to one of the densest of these clumps, and was lost behind it.
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As I looked, there came a cold shiver in the air, and
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the snow began to fall. I thought of the miles and miles of bleak
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country I had passed, and then hurried on to seek the shelter of the
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wood in front. Darker and darker grew the sky, and faster and heavier
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fell the snow, till the earth before and around me was a glistening white
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carpet, the further edge of which was lost in misty vagueness. The road
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was here but crude, and when on the l its boundaries were not so
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marked. And when it passed through the cuttings and in a little while I
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found that I must have strayed from it, for I missed under foot the
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hard surface, and my feet sank deeper in the grass and moss. Then
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the wind grew stronger and blew with ever increasing force, till I was fain
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to run before it. The air became icy cold, and in spite of
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my exercise, I began to suffer. The snow was now falling so thickly
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and whirling around me in such rapid eddies that I could hardly keep my eyes
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open. Every now and then the heavens were torn asunder by vivid lightning,
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and in the flashes I could see ahead of me a great mass of trees,
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chiefly ew and cypress, all heavily coated with snow. I was soon
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amongst the shelter of the trees, and there, in comparative silence, I
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could hear the rush of the wind high overhead. Presently, the blackness of
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the storm had become merged in the darkness of the night. By and by
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the storm seemed to be passing away. It now only came in fierce puffs
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or blasts. At such moments, the weird sound of the wolf appeared to
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be echoed by many similar sounds around me. Now and again, through the
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black mass of drifting cloud came a straggling ray of moonlight, which lit up
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the expanse and showed me that I was at the edge of a dense mass
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of cypress and yew trees. As the snow had ceased to fall, I
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walked out from the shelter and began to investigate more closely. It appeared to
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me that among so many old foundations as I had passed, there might still
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be standing a house in which, though in ruins, I could find some
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sort of shelter for a while. As I skirted the edge of the copse,
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I found that a low wall encircled it, and following this I presently
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found an opening. Here the cypress formed an alley leading up to a square
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mass of some kind of building. Just as I caught sight of this,
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however, the drifting clouds obscured the moon, and I passed up the path
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in darkness. The wind must have grown colder, for I felt myself shiver
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as I walked, but there was hope of shelter, and I groped my
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way blindly. On I stopped, for there was a sudden stillness the storm
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had passed, and, perhaps in sympathy with nature's silence, my heart seemed
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to cease to beat. But this was only momentarily, for suddenly the moonlight
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broke through the clouds, showing me that I was in a graveyard, and
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that the square object before me was a great, massive tomb of marble,
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as white as the snow that lay on and all around it. With the
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moonlight, there came a fierce sigh of the storm, which appeared to resume
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its course with a long, low howl as of many dogs or wolves.
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I was awed and shocked, and felt the cold perceptibly grow upon me,
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till it seemed to grip me by the heart. Then, while the flood
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of moonlight still fell on the marble tomb, the storm gave further evidence of
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renewing, as though it was returning on its track. Impelled by some sort
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of fascination, I approached the sepulcher to see what it was and why such
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a thing stood alone in such a place. I walked around it and read
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over the Doric door. In German, Countess Dolingen of Grat's in Sterea sought
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and found death eighteen o one on the top of the tomb, seemingly driven
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through the solid marble, for the structure was composed of a few vast blocks
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of stone. Was a great iron spike or stake. On going to the
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back, I saw graven in great Russian letters, the dead travel fast.
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There was something so weird and uncanny about the whole thing that it gave me
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a turn and made me feel quite faint. I began to wish for the
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first time that I had taken Johann's advice. Here a thought struck me,
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which came under almost mysterious circumstances, and with a terrible shock. This was
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Valpurgus Knight. Valpurgus Knight, when, according to the belief of millions of
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people, the devil was abroad, when the graves were opened, and the
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dead came forth and walked, when all evil things of earth and air and
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water held revel this very place the driver had specially shunned. This was the
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depopulated village of centuries ago. This was where the suicide lay. And this
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was the place where I was alone, unmanned, shivering with cold, in
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a shroud of snow, with a wild storm gathering again upon me. It
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took all my philosophy, all the religion. I had been taught, all
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my courage not to collapse in a paroxysm of fright. And now a perfect
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tornado burst upon me. The ground shook as though thousands of horses thundered across
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it, And this time the storm bore on its icy wings not snow,
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but great hailstones, which drove with such violence that they might have come from
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the throngs of Bellairic singers. Hailstones that beat down leaf and branch, and
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made the shelter of the cypresses of no more avail than though their stems were
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standing corn. At the first I had rushed to the nearest tree, but
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I was soon fain to leave it and seek the only spot that seemed to
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afford refuge, the deep doric doorway of the marble tomb. There, crouching
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against the massive bronze door, I gained a certain amount of protection from the
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beating of the hailstones, for now they only drove against me as they ricocheted
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from the ground and the side of the marble. As I leaned against the
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door, it moved slightly and opened inwards. The shelter of even the tomb
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was welcome in that pitiless tempest, and I was about to enter it when
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there came a flash of forked lightning that lit up the whole expanse of the
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heavens. In the instant as I am a living man, I saw,
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as my eyes were turned into the darkness of the tomb, a beautiful woman
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with rounded cheeks and red lips, seemingly sleeping on a bear. As the
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thunder broke overhead, I was grasped as by the hand of a giant,
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and hurled out into the storm. The whole thing was so sudden that before
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I could realize the shock moral as well as physical, I found the heilstones
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beating me down. At the same time, I had a strange, dominating
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feeling that I was not alone. I looked towards the tomb. Just then
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there came another blinding flash which seemed to strike the iron stake that surmounted the
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tomb and to pour through to the earth, blasting and crumbling the marble as
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in a burst of flame. The dead woman rose for a moment of agony
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while she was lapped in the flame, and her bitter scream of pain was
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drowned in the thunder crash. The last thing I heard was this mingling of
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dreadful sound, as again I was seized in the giant grasp and dragged away,
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while the hailstones beat on me, and the air around seemed reverberant with
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the howling of wolves. The last thing that I remembered was a vague,
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white, moving mass, as if all the graves around me had sent out
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the phantoms of their sheeted dead, and that they were closing in on me
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through the white cloudiness of the driving hail. Gradually there came a sort of
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vague beginning of consciousness, then a sense of weariness that was dreadful. For
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a time I remembered nothing, but slowly my senses returned. My feet seemed
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positively wracked with pain, yet I could not move them. They seemed to
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be numbed. There was an icy feeling at the back of my neck and
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all down my spine and my ears, like my feet were dead yet in
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torment. But there was in my breast a sense of warmth which was by
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comparison delicious. It was a nightmare, a physical knight, it may,
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if one may use such an expression, for some heavy weight on my chest
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made it difficult for me to breathe. This period of semi lethargy seemed to
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remain a long time, and as it faded away, I must have slept
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or swooned. Then came a sort of loathing, like the first stage of
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sea sickness, and a wild desire to be free from something I knew,
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not what. A vast stillness enveloped me, as though all the world were
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asleep or dead, only broken by the low panting as of some animal close
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to me. I felt a warm rasping at my throat. Then came a
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consciousness of the awful truth, which chilled me to the heart and sent the
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blood surging up through my brain. Some great animal was lying on me and
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now licking my throat. I feared to stir, but some instinct of prudence
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bade me lie still. But the brute seemed to realize that there was now
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some change in me, for it raised its head. Through my eyelashes.
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I saw above me the two great flaming eyes of a gigantic wolf. Its
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sharp white teeth gleamed in the gaping red mouth, and I could feel its
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hot breath, fierce and acrid, upon me. For another spell of time,
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I remembered no more. Then I became conscious of a low growl,
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followed by a yelp, renewed again and again. Then, seemingly very far
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away, I heard her, Halla, Halla, as of many voices calling
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in unison. Cautiously, I raised my head and looked in the direction whence
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the sound came, but the cemetery blocked my view. The wolf still continued
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to yelp in a strange way, and a red glare began to move around
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the grove of cypresses, as though following the sound. As the voices drew
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closer, the wolf yelped faster and louder. I feared to make either sound
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or motion. Nearer came the red glow over the white pall, which stretched
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into the darkness around me. Then, all at once, from beyond the
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trees, there came, at a trot a troop of horsemen bearing torches.
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The wolf rose from my breast and made for the cemetery. I saw one
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of the horsemen, soldiers by their caps and long military cloaks, raise his
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carbine and take aim. A companion knocked up his arm, and I heard
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the ball whiz over my head. He had evidently taken my body for that
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of the wolf. Another sighted the animal as it slunk away, and a
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shot followed. Then, at a gallop, the troop rode forward, some
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towards me, others following the wolf as it disappeared amongst the snow clad cypresses.
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As they drew nearer, I tried to move, but was powerless,
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although I could see and hear all that went on around me. Two or
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three of the soldiers jumped from their horses and knelt beside me. One of
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them raised my head and placed his hand over my heart. Good news,
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comrades, he cried, His heart still beats. Then some brandy was poured
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down my throat. It put vigor into me, and I was able to
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open my eyes fully and look around. Lights and shadows were moving among the
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trees, and I heard men call to one another. They drew together,
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uttering fright and exclamations, and the lights flashed as the others came pouring out
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of the cemetery, pell mell like men possessed. When the further ones came
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close to us, those who were around me asked them eagerly, well have
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you found him? The reply rang out hurriedly, No, No, come
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away, quick quick, This is no place to stay, and on this
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of all nights. What is it? Was a question asked in all manner
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of keys. The answer came variously and all indefinitely, as though the men
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were moved by some common impulse to speak, yet were restrained by some common
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fear from giving their thoughts. It it indeed gibbered one whose wits had plainly
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given out for the moment a wolf, and yet not wolf. Another put
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in, shudderingly, no use trying for him without the sacred bullet. A
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third remark, in a more ordinary manner, serve us right for coming out
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on this night. Truly we have earned our thousand marks. Were the ejaculations
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of a fourth? There was blood on the broken marble. Another said,
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after a pause, the lightning never bought that there. And for him is
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he safe? Look at his throat, see, comrades, the wolf has
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been lying on him and keeping his blood warm. The officer looked at my
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throat and replied, he is all right. The skin is not pierced.
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What does it all mean? We should never have found him but for the
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yelping of the wolf. What came of it? Asked the man who was
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holding up my head, and who seemed the least panic stricken of the party,
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for his hands were steady and without tremor. On his sleeve was the
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chevron of a petty officer. It went to its home, answered the man,
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whose long face was pallid, and who actually shook with terror as he
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glanced around him fearfully. There are graves enough there in which it may lie.
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Come, comrades, come quickly, let us leave this cursed spot.
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The officer raised me to a sitting posture as he uttered a word of command.
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Then several men placed me upon a horse. He sprang to the saddle
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behind me, took me in his arms, gave the word to advance,
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and, turning our faces away from the cypresses, we rode away in swift
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military order. As yet my tongue refused its office, and I was before
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silent. I must have fallen asleep, for the next thing I remembered was
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finding myself standing up, supported by a soldier on each side of me.
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It was almost broad daylight, and to the north a red streak of sunlight
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was reflected like a path of blood over the waist of snow. The officer
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was telling the men to say nothing of what they had seen, except that
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they found an English stranger guarded by a large dog. Dog that was no
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dog cut in the man who had exhibited such fear, I think I know
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a wolf when I see one, the young officer answered, calmly. I
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said, dog dog, reiterated the other ironically. It was evident that his
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courage was rising with the sun, and pointing to me, he said,
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look at his throat. Is that the work of a dog master. Instinctively
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I raised my hand to my throat, and as I touched it, I
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cried out in pain. The men crowded round to look, some stooping down
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from their saddles, and again there came the calm voice of the young officer,
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a dog, as I said, If aught else was said, we
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should only be laughed at. I was then mounted behind a trooper and we
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rode on into the suburbs of Munich. Here we came across a stray carriage
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into which I was lifted, and it was driven off to the catrasson the
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young officer accompanying me, whilst a trooper followed this horse, and the others
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rode off to their barracks. When we arrived, her delbrook rushed so quickly
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down the steps to meet me, that it was apparent he had been watching
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within. Taking me by both hands, he solicitously led me in. The
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officer saluted me and was turning to withdraw when I recognized his purpose and insisted
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that he should come to my rooms over a glass of wine. I warmly
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thanked him and his brave comrades for saving me. He replied simply that he
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was more than glad, and that her Delbrook had at first taken steps to
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make all the searching party please, at which ambiguous utterance the matred' hootel smiled,
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while the officer pleaded duty and withdrew. But her Delbrook, I inquired,
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how and why was it that soldiers searched for me. He shrugged his
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shoulders, as if in depreciation of his own deed, as he replied,
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I was so fortunate as to obtain leave from the commander of the regiment in
27:59
which I served to ask for volunteers. But how did you know I was
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lost? I asked. The driver came hither with the remains of his carriage,
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which had been upset when the horses ran away. But surely you would
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not send a search party of soldiers merely on his account. Oh no,
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he answered, But even before the coachman arrived, I had this telegram from
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the boyar whose guest you are. And he took from his pocket a telegram
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which he handed to me, and I read, Bistritz, be careful of
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my guest. His safety is most precious to me. Should aught happen to
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him, or if he be missed, spare nothing to find him and insure
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his safety. He is English and therefore adventurous. There are often dangers from
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snow and wolves at night. Lose not a moment if you suspect harm to
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him. I answer your zeal with my fortune, Dracula. As I held
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the telegram in my hand, the room seemed to whirl around me. And
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if the attentive Matre d'hotel had not caught me, I think I should have
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fallen. There was something so strange in all this, something so weird and
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impossible to imagine, that there grew on me a sense of my being in
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some way the sport of opposite forces, the mere vague idea of which seemed
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in a way to paralyze me. I was certainly under some form of mysterious
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protection from a distant country had come in the very nick of time, a
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message that took me out of the danger of the snow sleep and the jaws
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of the wolf. End of Dracula's Guest Recording by Robert White,