In about five minutes, however, he began to get more quiet, and finally sank into a sort of melancholy, in which state he has remained up to nowThe attendant tells me that his screams whilst in the paroxysm were really appallingI found my hands full when I got in, attending to some of the other patients who were frightened by himIndeed, I can quite understand the effect, for the sounds disturbed even me, though I was some distance awayIt is now after the dinner hour of the asylum, and as yet my patient sits in a corner brooding, with a dull, sullen, woe-begone look in his face, which seems rather to indicate than to show something directlyI cannot quite understand it-Another change in my patientAt five o'clock I looked in on him, and found him seemingly as happy and contented as he used to beHe was catching flies and eating them, and was keeping note of his capture by making nailmarks on the edge of the door between the ridges of paddingWhen he saw me, he came over and apologized for his bad conduct, and asked me in a very humble, cringing way to be led back to his own room, and to have his notebook againI thought it well to humour him, so he is back in his room with the window openHe has the sugar of his tea spread out on the window sill, and is reaping quite a harvest of fliesHe is not now eating them, but putting them into a box, as of old, and is already examining the corners of his room to find a spiderI tried to get him to talk about the past few days, for any clue to his thoughts would be of immense help to me, but he would not riseFor a moment or two he looked very sad, and said in a sort of far away voice, as though saying it rather to himself than to me "All over! All over! He has deserted meNo hope for me now unless I do it myself!" Then suddenly turning to me in a resolute way, he said, "Doctor, won't you be very good to me and let me have a little more sugar? I think it would be very good for me "And the flies?" I said "Yes! The flies like it, too, and I like the flies, therefore I like it And there are people who know so little as to think that madmen do not argueI procured him a double supply, and left him as happy a man as, I suppose, any in the worldI wish I could fathom his mind-Another change in himI had been to see Miss Westenra, whom I found much better, and had just returned, and was standing at our own gate looking at the sunset, when once more I heard him yellingAs his room is on this side of the house, I could hear it better than in the morningIt was a shock to me to turn from the wonderful smoky beauty of a sunset over London, with its lurid lights and inky shadows and all the marvellous tints that come on foul clouds even as on foul water, and to realize all the grim sternness of my own cold stone building, with its wealth of breathing misery, and my own desolate heart to endure it allI reached him just as the sun was going down, and from his window saw the red disc sinkAs it sank he became less and less frenzied, and just as it dipped he slid from the hands that held him, an inert mass, on the floorIt is wonderful, however, what intellectual recuperative power lunatics have, for within a few minutes he stood up quite calmly and looked around himI signalled to the attendants not to hold him, for I was anxious to see what he would doHe went straight over to the window and brushed out the crumbs of sugarThen he took his fly box, and emptied it outside, and threw away the boxThen he shut the window, and crossing over, sat down on his bedAll this surprised me, so I asked him, "Are you going to keep flies any more?" "No," said he"I am sick of all that rubbish!" He certainly is a wonderfully interesting studyI wish I could get some glimpse of his mind or of the cause of his sudden passionThere may be a clue after all, if we can find why today his paroxysms came on at high noon and at sunsetCan it be that there is a malign influence of the sun at periods which affects certain natures, as at times the moon does others? We shall seeSEWARD, LONDON, TO VAN HELSING, AMSTERDAM "4 September-Patient still better shop today

I never felt anybody?s loss more Eva had come gradually nearer and nearer to her father, as he told the story,?her small lips apart, her eyes wide and earnest with absorbing interest As he finished, she suddenly threw her arms around his neck, burst into tears, and sobbed convulsively ?Eva, dear child! what is the matter?? said StClare, as the child?s small frame trembled and shook with the violence of her feelings?This child,? he added, ?ought not to hear any of this kind of thing,?she?s nervous ?No, papa, I?m not nervous,? said Eva, controlling herself, suddenly, with a strength of resolution singular in such a child?I?m not nervous, but these things sink into my heart ?What do you mean, Eva?? ?I can?t tell you, papa, I think a great many thoughtsPerhaps some day I shall tell you ?Well, think away, dear,?only don?t cry and worry your papa,? said StClare, ?Look here,?see what a beautiful peach I have got for you Eva took it and smiled, though there was still a nervous twiching about the corners of her mouth ?Come, look at the gold-fish,? said StClare, taking her hand and stepping on to the verandahA few moments, and merry laughs were heard through the silken curtains, as Eva and StClare were pelting each other with roses, and chasing each other among the alleys of the court There is danger that our humble friend Tom be neglected amid the adventures of the higher born; but, if our readers will accompany us up to a little loft over the stable, they may, perhaps, learn a little of his affairsIt was a decent room, containing a bed, a chair, and a small, rough stand, where lay Tom?s Bible and hymn-book; and where he sits, at present, with his slate before him, intent on something that seems to cost him a great deal of anxious thought The fact was, that Tom?s home-yearnings had become so strong that he had begged a sheet of writing-paper of Eva, and, mustering up all his small stock of literary attainment acquired by Mas?r George?s instructions, he conceived the bold idea of writing a letter; and he was busy now, on his slate, getting out his first draftTom was in a good deal of trouble, for the forms of some of the letters he had forgotten entirely; and of what he did remember, he did not know exactly which to useAnd while he was working, and breathing very hard, in his earnestness, Eva alighted, like a bird, on the round of his chair behind him, and peeped over his shoulder ?O, Uncle Tom! what funny things you are making, there!? ?I?m trying to write to my poor old woman, Miss Eva, and my little chil?en,? said Tom, drawing the back of his hand over his eyes; ?but, some how, I?m feard I shan?t make it out ?I wish I could help you, Tom! I?ve learnt to write some year I could make all the letters, but I?m afraid I?ve forgotten So Eva put her golden head close to his, and the two commenced a grave and anxious discussion, each one equally earnest, and about equally ignorant; and, with a deal of consulting and advising over every word, the composition began, as they both felt very sanguine, to look quite like writing ?Yes, Uncle Tom, it really begins to look beautiful,? said Eva, gazing delightedly on it?How pleased your wife?ll be, and the poor little children! O, it?s a shame you ever had to go away from them! I mean to ask papa to let you go back, some time ?Missis said that she would send down money for me, as soon as they could get it together,? said Tom?I?m ?spectin, she willYoung Mas?r George, he said he?d come for me; and he gave me this yer dollar as a sign;? and Tom drew from under his clothes the precious dollar ?O, he?ll certainly come, then!? said Eva?I?m so glad!? ?And I wanted to send a letter, you know, to let ?em know whar I was, and tell poor Chloe that I was well off,?cause she felt so drefful, poor soul!? ?I say Tom!? said StClare?s voice, coming in the door at this moment Tom and Eva both started ?What?s here?? said StClare, coming up and looking at the slate ?O, it?s Tom?s letterI?m helping him to write it,? said Eva; ?isn?t it nice?? ?I wouldn?t discourage either of you,? said StClare, ?but I rather think, Tom, you?d better get me to write your letter for shop you

"Oh," said the Professor, "then you are nearer the beginning, both of you, than friend John here, who has to go a long way back before he can even get so far as to begin It was evident that he recognized my return to my old doubting frame of mind without my saying a wordThen, turning to the other two, he said with intense gravity, "I want your permission to do what I think good this nightIt is, I know, much to ask, and when you know what it is I propose to do you will know, and only then how muchTherefore may I ask that you promise me in the dark, so that afterwards, though you may be angry with me for a time, I must not disguise from myself the possibility that such may be, you shall not blame yourselves for anything "That's frank anyhow," broke in Quincey"I'll answer for the ProfessorI don't quite see his drift, but I swear he's honest, and that's good enough for me "I thank you, Sir," said Van Helsing proudly"I have done myself the honour of counting you one trusting friend, and such endorsement is dear to me He held out a hand, which Quincey took Then Arthur spoke out, "DrVan Helsing, I don't quite like to 'buy a pig in a poke', as they say in Scotland, and if it be anything in which my honour as a gentleman or my faith as a Christian is concerned, I cannot make such a promiseIf you can assure me that what you intend does not violate either of these two, then I give my consent at once, though for the life of me, I cannot understand what you are driving at "I accept your limitation," said Van Helsing, "and all I ask of you is that if you feel it necessary to condemn any act of mine, you will first consider it well and be satisfied that it does not violate your reservations "Agreed!" said ArthurAnd now that the pourparlers are over, may I ask what it is we are to do?" "I want you to come with me, and to come in secret, to the churchyard at Kingstead Arthur's face fell as he said in an amazed sort of way, "Where poor Lucy is buried?" The Professor bowed Arthur went on, "And when there?" "To enter the tomb!" Arthur stood up"Professor, are you in earnest, or is it some monstrous joke? Pardon me, I see that you are in earnest He sat down again, but I could see that he sat firmly and proudly, as one who is on his dignityThere was silence until he asked again, "And when in the tomb?" "To open the coffin "This is too much!" he said, angrily rising again"I am willing to be patient in all things that are reasonable, but in this, this desecration of the grave, of one who?" He fairly choked with indignation The Professor looked pityingly at him"If I could spare you one pang, my poor friend," he said, "God knows I wouldBut this night our feet must tread in thorny paths, or later, and for ever, the feet you love must walk in paths of flame!" Arthur looked up with set white face and said, "Take care, sir, take care!" "Would it not be well to hear what I have to say?" said Van Helsing"And then you will at least know the limit of my purposeShall I go on?" "That's fair enough," broke in Morris After a pause Van Helsing went on, evidently with an effort, "Miss Lucy is dead, is it not so? Yes! Then there can be no wrong to herBut if she be not dead?" Arthur jumped to his feet, "Good God!" he cried"What do you mean? Has there been any mistake, has she been buried alive?" He groaned in anguish that not even hope could soften "I did not say she was alive, my childI go no further than to say that she might be UnDead "UnDead! Not alive! What do you mean? Is this all a nightmare, or what is it?" "There are mysteries which men can only guess at, which age by age they may solve only in partBelieve me, we are now on the verge of oneMay I cut off the head of dead Miss Lucy?" "Heavens and earth, no!" cried Arthur in a storm of passion"Not for the wide world will I consent to any mutilation of her dead bodyVan Helsing, you try me too farWhat have I done to you that you should torture me so? What did that poor, sweet girl do that you should want to cast such dishonour on her grave? Are you mad, that you speak of such things, or am I mad to listen to them? Don't dare think more of such a shop desecration

At first I inclined to slack off sail and beat about till the fog was liftedBut whiles, I thocht that if the Deil was minded to get us into the Black Sea quick, he was like to do it whether we would or noIf we had a quick voyage it would be no to our miscredit wi' the owners, or no hurt to our traffic, an' the Old Mon who had served his ain purpose wad be decently grateful to us for no hinderin' him This mixture of simplicity and cunning, of superstition and commercial reasoning, aroused Van Helsing, who said, "Mine friend, that Devil is more clever than he is thought by some, and he know when he meet his match!" The skipper was not displeased with the compliment, and went on, "When we got past the Bosphorus the men began to grumbleSome o' them, the Roumanians, came and asked me to heave overboard a big box which had been put on board by a queer lookin' old man just before we had started frae LondonI had seen them speer at the fellow, and put out their twa fingers when they saw him, to guard them against the evil eyeMan! but the supersteetion of foreigners is pairfectly rideeculous! I sent them aboot their business pretty quick, but as just after a fog closed in on us I felt a wee bit as they did anent something, though I wouldn't say it was again the big boxWell, on we went, and as the fog didn't let up for five days I joost let the wind carry us, for if the Deil wanted to get somewheres, well, he would fetch it up a'reetAn' if he didn't, well, we'd keep a sharp lookout anyhowSure eneuch, we had a fair way and deep water all the timeAnd two days ago, when the mornin' sun came through the fog, we found ourselves just in the river opposite GalatzThe Roumanians were wild, and wanted me right or wrong to take out the box and fling it in the riverI had to argy wi' them aboot it wi' a handspikeAn' when the last o' them rose off the deck wi' his head in his hand, I had convinced them that, evil eye or no evil eye, the property and the trust of my owners were better in my hands than in the river DanubeThey had, mind ye, taken the box on the deck ready to fling in, and as it was marked Galatz via Varna, I thocht I'd let it lie till we discharged in the port an' get rid o't althegitherWe didn't do much clearin' that day, an' had to remain the nicht at anchorBut in the mornin', braw an' airly, an hour before sunup, a man came aboard wi' an order, written to him from England, to receive a box marked for one Count DraculaSure eneuch the matter was one ready to his handHe had his papers a' reet, an' glad I was to be rid o' the dam' thing, for I was beginnin' masel' to feel uneasy at itIf the Deil did have any luggage aboord the ship, I'm thinkin' it was nane ither than that same!" "What was the name of the man who took it?" asked DrVan Helsing with restrained eagerness "I'll be tellin' ye quick!" he answered, and stepping down to his cabin, produced a receipt signed "Immanuel Hildesheim Burgen-strasse 16 was the addressWe found out that this was all the Captain knew, so with thanks we came away We found Hildesheim in his office, a Hebrew of rather the Adelphi Theatre type, with a nose like a sheep, and a fezHis arguments were pointed with specie, we doing the punctuation, and with a little bargaining he told us what he knewThis turned out to be simple but importantHe had received a letter from Mrde Ville of London, telling him to receive, if possible before sunrise so as to avoid customs, a box which would arrive at Galatz in the Czarina CatherineThis he was to give in charge to a certain Petrof Skinsky, who dealt with the Slovaks who traded down the river to the portHe had been paid for his work by an English bank note, which had been duly cashed for gold at the Danube International BankWhen Skinsky had come to him, he had taken him to the ship and handed over the box, so as to save porterage We then sought for Skinsky, but were unable to find himOne of his neighbors, who did not seem to bear him any affection, said that he had gone away two days before, no one knew whitherThis was corroborated by his landlord, who had received by messenger the key of the house together with the rent due, in English moneyThis had been between ten and eleven o'clock last nightWe were at a standstill again Whilst we were talking one came running and breathlessly gasped out that the body of Skinsky had been found inside the wall of the churchyard of StPeter, and that the throat had been torn open as if by some wild animalThose we had been speaking with ran off to see the horror, the women crying shop out

In no place save from the windows in the castle walls is there an available exitThe castle is a veritable prison, and I am a prisoner! CHAPTER 3 Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued When I found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feeling came over meI rushed up and down the stairs, trying every door and peering out of every window I could find, but after a little the conviction of my helplessness overpowered all other feelingsWhen I look back after a few hours I think I must have been mad for the time, for I behaved much as a rat does in a trapWhen, however, the conviction had come to me that I was helpless I sat down quietly, as quietly as I have ever done anything in my life, and began to think over what was best to be doneI am thinking still, and as yet have come to no definite conclusionOf one thing only am I certainThat it is no use making my ideas known to the CountHe knows well that I am imprisoned, and as he has done it himself, and has doubtless his own motives for it, he would only deceive me if I trusted him fully with the factsSo far as I can see, my only plan will be to keep my knowledge and my fears to myself, and my eyes openI am, I know, either being deceived, like a baby, by my own fears, or else I am in desperate straits, and if the latter be so, I need, and shall need, all my brains to get through I had hardly come to this conclusion when I heard the great door below shut, and knew that the Count had returnedHe did not come at once into the library, so I went cautiously to my own room and found him making the bedThis was odd, but only confirmed what I had all along thought, that there are no servants in the houseWhen later I saw him through the chink of the hinges of the door laying the table in the dining room, I was assured of itFor if he does himself all these menial offices, surely it is proof that there is no one else in the castle, it must have been the Count himself who was the driver of the coach that brought me hereThis is a terrible thought, for if so, what does it mean that he could control the wolves, as he did, by only holding up his hand for silence? How was it that all the people at Bistritz and on the coach had some terrible fear for me? What meant the giving of the crucifix, of the garlic, of the wild rose, of the mountain ash? Bless that good, good woman who hung the crucifix round my neck! For it is a comfort and a strength to me whenever I touch itIt is odd that a thing which I have been taught to regard with disfavour and as idolatrous should in a time of loneliness and trouble be of helpIs it that there is something in the essence of the thing itself, or that it is a medium, a tangible help, in conveying memories of sympathy and comfort? Some time, if it may be, I must examine this matter and try to make up my mind about itIn the meantime I must find out all I can about Count Dracula, as it may help me to understandTonight he may talk of himself, if I turn the conversation that wayI must be very careful, however, not to awake his suspicion-I have had a long talk with the CountI asked him a few questions on Transylvania history, and he warmed up to the subject wonderfullyIn his speaking of things and people, and especially of battles, he spoke as if he had been present at them allThis he afterwards explained by saying that to a Boyar the pride of his house and name is his own pride, that their glory is his glory, that their fate is his fateWhenever he spoke of his house he always said "we", and spoke almost in the plural, like a king speakingI wish I could put down all he said exactly as he said it, for to me it was most fascinatingIt seemed to have in it a whole history of the countryHe grew excited as he spoke, and walked about the room pulling his great white moustache and grasping anything on which he laid his hands as though he would crush it by main strengthOne thing he said which I shall put down as nearly as I can, for it tells in its way the story of his race "We Szekelys have a right to be proud, for in our veins flows the blood of many brave races who fought as the lion fights, for lordshipHere, in the whirlpool of European races, the Ugric tribe bore down from Iceland the fighting spirit which Thor and Wodin gave them, which their Berserkers displayed to such fell intent on the seaboards of Europe, aye, and of Asia and Africa too, till the peoples thought that the werewolves themselves had comeHere, too, when they came, they found the Huns, whose warlike fury had swept the earth like a living flame, till the dying peoples held that in their veins ran the blood of those old witches, who, expelled from Scythia had mated with the devils in the desertFools, fools! What devil or what witch was ever so great as Attila, whose blood is in these veins?" He held up his arms"Is it a wonder that we were a conquering race, that we were proud, that when the Magyar, the Lombard, the Avar, the Bulgar, or the Turk poured his thousands on our frontiers, we drove them back? Is it strange that when Arpad and his legions swept through the Hungarian fatherland he found us here when he reached the frontier, that the Honfoglalas was completed there? And when the Hungarian flood swept eastward, the Szekelys were claimed as kindred by the victorious Magyars, and to us for centuries was trusted the guarding of the frontier of TurkeylandAye, and more than that, endless duty of the frontier guard, for as the Turks say, 'water sleeps, and the enemy is sleepless' Who more gladly than we throughout the Four Nations received the 'bloody sword,' or at its warlike call flocked quicker to the standard of the King? When was redeemed that great shame of my nation, the shame of Cassova, when the flags of the Wallach and the Magyar went down beneath the Crescent? Who was it but one of my own race who as Voivode crossed the Danube and beat the Turk on his own ground? This was a Dracula indeed! Woe was it that his own unworthy brother, when he had fallen, sold his people to the Turk and brought the shame of slavery on them! Was it not this Dracula, indeed, who inspired that other of his race who in a later age again and again brought his forces over the great river into Turkeyland, who, when he was beaten back, came again, and again, though he had to come alone from the bloody field where his troops were being slaughtered, since he knew that he alone could ultimately triumph! They said that he thought only of himselfBah! What good are peasants without a leader? Where ends the war without a brain and heart to conduct it? Again, when, after the battle of Mohacs, we threw off the Hungarian yoke, we of the Dracula blood were amongst their leaders, for our spirit would not brook that we were not freeAh, young sir, the Szekelys, and the Dracula as their heart's blood, their brains, and their swords, can boast a record that mushroom growths like the Hapsburgs and the Romanoffs can never shop reach