1914
by
Bram Stoker
NOTE: DRACULA'S GUEST was excised
from the original DRACULA MSS
by his publisher because of the
length of the original book MSS.
It was published as a short story
in 1914, two years after Stoker's
death. Enjoy!
NEW WAVE PUBLISHERS 2103 N.
LIBERTY STREET PORTLAND OR 97217-4971
(503) 286-5577
When we started
for our drive the sun was shining
brightly
on Munich, and the air was full
of the joyousness of early summer.
Just as we were about to depart,
Herr Delbruck (the maitre d'hotel
of the Quatre Saisons, where
I was staying) came down bareheaded
to the carriage and, after wishing
me a pleasant drive, said to
the coachman, still holding his
hand on the handle of the carriage
door, "Remember you are back
by nightfall. The sky looks bright
but there is a shiver in the
north wind that says there may
be a sudden storm. But I am sure
you will not be late." Here he
smiled and added,"for you know
what night it is."
Johann answered
with an emphatic, "Ja,
mein Herr," and, touching his
hat, drove off quickly. When
we had cleared the town, I said,
after signalling to him to stop:
"Tell me, Johann,
what is tonight?"
He crossed
himself, as he answered laconically: "Walpurgis nacht." Then
he took out his watch, a great,
old-fashioned German silver thing
as big as a turnip and looked
at it, with his eyebrows gathered
together and a little impatient
shrug of his shoulders. I realized
that this was his way of respectfully
protesting against the unnecessary
delay and sank back in the carriage,
merely motioning him to proceed.
He started off rapidly, as if
to make up for lost time. Every
now and then the horses seemed
to throw up their heads and sniff
the air suspiciously. On such
occasions I often looked round
in alarm. The road was pretty
bleak, for we were traversing
a sort of high windswept plateau.
As we drove,I saw a road that
looked but little used and which
seemed to dip through a little
winding valley. It looked so
inviting that, even at the risk
of offending him, I called Johann
to stop--and when he had pulled
up, I told him I would like to
drive down that road. He made
all sorts of excuses and frequently
crossed himself as he spoke.
This somewhat piqued my curiosity,
so I asked him various questions.
He answered fencingly and repeatedly
looked at his watch in protest.
Finally I said, "Well, Johann,
I want to go down this road.
I shall not ask you to come unless
you like; but tell me why you
do not like to go, that is all
I ask." For answer he seemed
to throw himself off the box,
so quickly did he reach the ground.
Then he stretched out his hands
appealingly to me and implored
me not to go. There was just
enough of English mixed with
the German for me to understand
the drift of his talk. He seemed
always just about to tell me
something--the very idea of which
evidently frightened him; but
each time he pulled himself up
saying, "Walpurgis nacht!"
I tried to
argue with him, but it was
difficult to argue
with a man when I did not know
his language. The advantage certainly
rested with him, for although
he began to speak in English,
of a very crude and broken kind,
he always got excited and broke
into his native tongue--and every
time he did so, he looked at
his watch. Then the horses became
restless and sniffed the air.
At this he grew very pale, and,
looking around in a frightened
way, he suddenly jumped forward,
took them by the bridles,and
led them on some twenty feet.
I followed and asked why he had
done this. For an answer he crossed
himself, pointed to the spot
we had left, and drew his carriage
in the direction of the other
road, indicating a cross, and
said, first in German, then in
English, "Buried him--him what
killed themselves."
I remembered
the old custom of burying suicides
at cross
roads: "Ah! I see, a suicide.
How interesting!" But for the
life of me I could not make out
why the horses were frightened.
Whilst we were
talking, we heard a sort of
sound between
a yelp and a bark.It was far
away; but the horses got very
restless, and it took Johann
all his time to quiet them. He
was pale and said, "It sounds
like a wolf--but yet there are
no wolves here now."
"No?" I said, questioning him. "Isn't
it long since the wolves were
so near the city?"
"Long, long," he answered, "in
the spring and summer; but with
the snow the wolves have been
here not so long."
Whilst he was petting the horses
and trying to quiet them, dark
clouds drifted rapidly across
the sky. The sunshine passed
away, and a breath of cold wind
seemed to drift over us.It was
only a breath, however, and more
of a warning than a fact, for
the sun came out brightly again.
Johann looked
under his lifted hand at the
horizon and said, "The
storm of snow, he comes before
long time." Then he looked at
his watch again, and, straightway
holding his reins firmly--for
the horses were still pawing
the ground restlessly and shaking
their heads--he climbed to his
box as though the time had come
for proceeding on our journey.
I felt a little obstinate and
did not at once get into the
carriage.
"Tell me," I said, "about this
place where the road leads," and
I pointed down.
Again he crossed
himself and mumbled a prayer
before he answered, "It
is unholy."
"What is unholy?" I
enquired.
"The village."
"Then there
is a village?"
"No, no. No
one lives there hundreds of
years."
My curiosity
was piqued, "But
you said there was a village."
"There was."
"Where is it
now?"
Whereupon he burst out into
a long story in German and English,
so mixed up that I could not
quite understand exactly what
he said. Roughly I gathered that
long ago, hundreds of years,
men had died there and been buried
in their graves; but sounds were
heard under the clay, and when
the graves were opened,men and
women were found rosy with life
and their mouths red with blood.
And so, in haste to save their
lives (aye, and their souls!--and
here he crossed himself)those
who were left fled away to other
places, where the living lived
and the dead were dead and not--not
something. He was evidently afraid
to speak the last words. As he
proceeded with his narration,
he grew more and more excited.
It seemed as if his imagination
had got hold of him, and he ended
in a perfect paroxysm of fear--white-faced,
perspiring, trembling, and looking
round him as if expecting that
some dreadful presence would
manifest itself there in the
bright sunshine on the open plain.
Finally, in
an agony of desperation, he
cried, "Walpurgis nacht!" and
pointed to the carriage for me
to get in.
All my English
blood rose at this,and standing
back I said, "You
are afraid, Johann--you are afraid.
Go home, I shall return alone,
the walk will do me good." The
carriage door was open. I took
from the seat my oak walking
stick--which I always carry on
my holiday excursions--and closed
the door, pointing back to Munich,
and said, "Go home,Johann--Walpurgis
nacht doesn't concern Englishmen."
The horses
were now more restive than
ever, and Johann was trying
to hold them in, while excitedly
imploring me not to do anything
so foolish. I pitied the poor
fellow, he was so deeply in earnest;
but all the same I could not
help laughing. His English was
quite gone now. In his anxiety
he had forgotten that his only
means of making me understand
was to talk my language, so he
jabbered away in his native German.
It began to be a little tedious.
After giving the direction, "Home!" I
turned to go down the cross road
into the valley.
With a despairing gesture,Johann
turned his horses towards Munich.
I leaned on my stick and looked
after him. He went slowly along
the road for a while, then there
came over the crest of the hill
a man tall and thin. I could
see so much in the distance.
When he drew near the horses,they
began to jump and kick about,
then to scream with terror. Johann
could not hold them in; they
bolted down the road, running
away madly. I watched them out
of sight, then looked for the
stranger; but I found that he,
too, was gone.
With a light heart I turned
down the side road through the
deepening valley to which Johann
had objected. There was not the
slightest reason,that I could
see, for his objection; and I
daresay I tramped for a couple
of hours without thinking of
time or distance and certainly
without seeing a person or a
house. So far as the place was
concerned, it was desolation
itself. But I did not notice
this particularly till, on turning
a bend in the road,I came upon
a scattered fringe of wood; then
I recognized that I had been
impressed unconsciously by the
desolation of the region through
which I had passed.
I sat down to rest myself and
began to look around. It struck
me that it was considerably colder
than it had been at the commencement
of my walk--a sort of sighing
sound seemed to be around me
with, now and then, high overhead,
a sort of muffled roar. Looking
upwards I noticed that great
thick clouds were drafting rapidly
across the sky from north to
south at a great height.There
were signs of a coming storm
in some lofty stratum of the
air. I was a little chilly, and,
thinking that it was the sitting
still after the exercise of walking,
I resumed my journey.
The ground I passed over was
now much more picturesque. There
were no striking objects that
the eye might single out, but
in all there was a charm of beauty.I
took little heed of time, and
it was only when the deepening
twilight forced itself upon me
that I began to think of how
I should find my way home. The
air was cold, and the drifting
of clouds high overhead was more
marked. They were accompanied
by a sort of far away rushing
sound, through which seemed to
come at intervals that mysterious
cry which the driver had said
came from a wolf. For a while
I hesitated. I had said I would
see the deserted village, so
on I went and presently came
on a wide stretch of open country,
shut in by hills all around.
Their sides were covered with
trees which spread down to the
plain, dotting in clumps the
gentler slopes and hollows which
showed here and there.I followed
with my eye the winding of the
road and saw that it curved close
to one of the densest of these
clumps and was lost behind it.
As I looked there came a cold
shiver in the air, and the snow
began to fall. I thought of the
miles and miles of bleak country
I had passed, and then hurried
on to seek shelter of the wood
in front. Darker and darker grew
the sky, and faster and heavier
fell the snow, till the earth
before and around me was a glistening
white carpet the further edge
of which was lost in misty vagueness.
The road was here but crude,
and when on the level its boundaries
were not so marked as when it
passed through the cuttings;
and in a little while I found
that I must have strayed from
it, for I missed underfoot the
hard surface, and my feet sank
deeper in the grass and moss.
Then the wind grew stronger and
blew with ever increasing force,
till I was fain to run before
it. The air became icy-cold,
and in spite of my exercise I
began to suffer. The snow was
now falling so thickly and whirling
around me in such rapid eddies
that I could hardly keep my eyes
open. Every now and then the
heavens were torn asunder by
vivid lightning, and in the flashes
I could see ahead of me a great
mass of trees, chiefly yew and
cypress all heavily coated with
snow.
I was soon amongst the shelter
of the trees, and there in comparative
silence I could hear the rush
of the wind high overhead. Presently
the blackness of the storm had
become merged in the darkness
of the night. By-and-by the storm
seemed to be passing away,it
now only came in fierce puffs
or blasts. At such moments the
weird sound of the wolf appeared
to be echoed by many similar
sounds around me.
Now and again, through the
black mass of drifting cloud,
came a straggling ray of moonlight
which lit up the expanse and
showed me that I was at the edge
of a dense mass of cypress and
yew trees. As the snow had ceased
to fall, I walked out from the
shelter and began to investigate
more closely. It appeared to
me that, amongst so many old
foundations as I had passed,
there might be still standing
a house in which, though in ruins,I
could find some sort of shelter
for a while. As I skirted the
edge of the copse, I found that
a low wall encircled it, and
following this I presently found
an opening. Here the cypresses
formed an alley leading up to
a square mass of some kind of
building. Just as I caught sight
of this, however, the drifting
clouds obscured the moon, and
I passed up the path in darkness.
The wind must have grown colder,
for I felt myself shiver as I
walked; but there was hope of
shelter, and I groped my way
blindly on.
I stopped, for there was a
sudden stillness. The storm had
passed; and, perhaps in sympathy
with nature's silence, my heart
seemed to cease to beat. But
this was only momentarily; for
suddenly the moonlight broke
through the clouds showing me
that I was in a graveyard and
that the square object before
me was a great massive tomb of
marble, as white as the snow
that lay on and all around it.
With the moonlight there came
a fierce sigh of the storm which
appeared to resume its course
with a long, low howl, as of
many dogs or wolves.I was awed
and shocked, and I felt the cold
perceptibly grow upon me till
it seemed to grip me by the heart.
Then while the flood of moonlight
still fell on the marble tomb,
the storm gave further evidence
of renewing, as though it were
returning on its track. Impelled
by some sort of fascination,
I approached the sepulchre to
see what it was and why such
a thing stood alone in such a
place.I walked around it and
read, over the Doric door, in
German--
COUNTESS DOLINGEN OF GRATZ
IN STYRIA
SOUGHT AND FOUND DEATH
1801
On the top
of the tomb, seemingly driven
through the solid marble--for
the structure was composed of
a few vast blocks of stone--was
a great iron spike or stake.
On going to the back I saw, graven
in great Russian letters: "The
dead travel fast."
There was something so weird
and uncanny about the whole thing
that it gave me a turn and made
me feel quite faint. I began
to wish, for the first time,
that I had taken Johann's advice.
Here a thought struck me, which
came under almost myssterious
circumstances and with a terrible
shock. This was Walpurgis Night!
Walpurgis Night was when, according
to the belief of millions of
people, the devil was abroad--when
the graves were opened and the
dead came forth and walked. When
all evil things of earth and
air and water held revel. This
very place the driver had specially
shunned. This was the depopulated
village of centuries ago.This
was where the suicide lay; and
this was the place where I was
alone--unmanned, shivering with
cold in a shroud of snow with
a wild storm gathering again
upon me! It took all my philosophy,
all the religion I had been taught,all
my courage,not to collapse in
a paroxysm of fright.
And now a perfect tornado burst
upon me. The ground shook as
though thousands of horses thundered
across it; and this time the
storm bore on its icy wings,
not snow, but great hailstones
which drove with such violence
that they might have come from
the thongs of Balearic slingers--hailstones
that beat down leaf and branch
and made the shelter of the cypresses
of no more avail than though
their stems were standing corn.
At the first I had rushed to
the nearest tree;but I was soon
fain to leave it and seek the
only spot that seemed to afford
refuge, the deep Doric doorway
of the marble tomb. There, crouching
against the massive bronze door,
I gained a certain amount of
protection from the beating of
the hailstones, for now they
only drove against me as they
ricochetted from the ground and
the side of the marble.
As I leaned against the door,
it moved slightly and opened
inwards. The shelter of even
a tomb was welcome in that pitiless
tempest and I was about to enter
it when there came a flash of
forked lightning that lit up
the whole expanse of the heavens.
In the instant, as I am a living
man, I saw, as my my eyes turned
into the darkness of the tomb,
a beautiful woman with rounded
cheeks and red lips, seemingly
sleeping on a bier. As the thunder
broke overhead, I was grasped
as by the hand of a giant and
hurled out into the storm. The
whole thing was so sudden that,
before I could realize the shock,
moral as well as physical, I
found the hailstones beating
me down. At the same time I had
a strange, dominating feeling
that I was not alone. I looked
towards the tomb. Just then there
came another blinding flash which
seemed to strike the iron stake
that surmounted the tomb and
to pour through to the earth,
blasting and crumbling the marble,
as in a burst of flame. The dead
woman rose for a moment of agony
while she was lapped in the flame,
and her bitter scream of pain
was drowned in the thundercrash.
The last thing I heard was this
mingling of dreadful sound,as
again I was seized in the giant
grasp and dragged away, while
the hailstones beat on me and
the air around seemed reverberant
with the howling of wolves. The
last sight that I remembered
was a vague, white, moving mass,as
if all the graves around me had
sent out the phantoms of their
sheeted dead, and that they were
closing in on me through the
white cloudiness of the driving
hail.
Gradually there came a sort
of vague beginning of consciousness,
then a sense of weariness that
was dreadful. For a time I remembered
nothing, but slowly my senses
returned. My feet seemed positively
racked with pain, yet I could
not move them. They seemed to
be numbed. There was an icy feeling
at the back of my neck and all
down my spine, and my ears, like
my feet, were dead yet in torment;
but there was in my breast a
sense of warmth which was by
comparison delicious.It was as
a nightmare--a physical nightmare,
if one may use such an expression;
for some heavy weight on my chest
made it difficult for me to breathe.
This period of semilethargy
seemed to remain a long time,
and as it faded away I must have
slept or swooned. Then came a
sort of loathing, like the first
stage of seasickness, and a wild
desire to be free of something--I
knew not what.A vast stillness
enveloped me, as though all the
world were asleep or dead--only
broken by the low panting as
of some animal close to me. I
felt a warm rasping at my throat,
then came a consciousness of
the awful truth which chilled
me to the heart and sent the
blood surging up through my brain.
Some great animal was lying on
me and now licking my throat.
I feared to stir, for some instinct
of prudence bade me lie still;
but the brute seemed to realize
that there was now some change
in me, for it raised its head.
Through my eyelashes I saw above
me the two great flaming eyes
of a gigantic wolf. Its sharp
white teeth gleamed in the gaping
red mouth, and I could feel its
hot breath fierce and acrid upon
me.
For another
spell of time I remembered
no more. Then I became
conscious of a low growl, followed
by a yelp, renewed again and
again. Then seemingly very far
away, I heard a "Holloa! holloa!" as
of many voices calling in unison.
Cautiously I raised my head and
looked in the direction whence
the sound came, but the cemetery
blocked my view. The wolf still
continued to yelp in a strange
way, and a red glare began to
move round the grove of cypresses,
as though following the sound.
As the voices drew closer, the
wolf yelped faster and louder.
I feared to make either sound
or motion. Nearer came the red
glow over the white pall which
stretched into the darkness around
me. Then all at once from beyond
the trees there came at a trot
a troop of horsemen bearing torches.
The wolf rose from my breast
and made for the cemetery. I
saw one of the horsemen (soldiers
by their caps and their long
military cloaks) raise his carbine
and take aim. A companion knocked
up his arm,and I heard the ball
whiz over my head. He had evidently
taken my body for that of the
wolf. Another sighted the animal
as it slunk away, and a shot
followed. Then, at a gallop,
the troop rode forward--some
towards me, others following
the wolf as it disappeared amongst
the snow-clad cypresses.
As they drew nearer I tried
to move but was powerless, although
I could see and hear all that
went on around me. Two or three
of the soldiers jumped from their
horses and knelt beside me. One
of them raised my head and placed
his hand over my heart.
"Good news, comrades!" he cried. "His
heart still beats!"
Then some brandy
was poured down my throat;
it put vigor
into me, and I was able to open
my eyes fully and look around.
Lights and shadows were moving
among the trees, and I heard
men call to one another. They
drew together, uttering frightened
exclamations; and the lights
flashed as the others came pouring
out of the cemetery pell-mell,
like men possessed. When the
further ones came close to us,
those who were around me asked
them eagerly, "Well, have you
found him?"
The reply rang
out hurriedly, "No!
no! Come away quick-quick! This
is no place to stay, and on this
of all nights!"
"What was it?" was
the question, asked in all
manner of keys.The
answer came variously and all
indefinitely as though the men
were moved by some common impulse
to speak yet were restrained
by some common fear from giving
their thoughts.
"It--it--indeed!" gibbered
one, whose wits had plainly given
out for the moment.
"A wolf--and yet not a wolf!" another
put in shudderingly.
"No use trying for him without
the sacred bullet," a third remarked
in a more ordinary manner.
"Serve us right for coming
out on this night!Truly we have
earned our thousand marks!" were
the ejaculations of a fourth.
"There was blood on the broken
marble," another said after a
pause, "the lightning never brought
that there. And for him -- is
he safe? Look at his throat!
See comrades, the wolf has been
lying on him and keeping his
blood warm."
The officer
looked at my throat and replied, "He
is all right, the skin is not
pierced. What
does it all mean? We should never
have found him but for the yelping
of the wolf."
"What became of it?" asked
the man who was holding up my
head and who seemed the least
panic-stricken of the party,
for his hands were steady and
without tremor. On his sleeve
was the chevron of a petty officer.
"It went home," answered the
man, whose long face was pallid
and who actually shook with terror
as he glanced around him fearfully. "There
are graves enough there in which
it may lie. Come, comrades--come
quickly! Let us leave this cursed
spot."
The officer raised me to a
sitting posture, as he uttered
a word of command; then several
men placed me upon a horse.He
sprang to the saddle behind me,
took me in his arms, gave the
word to advance; and, turning
our faces away from the cypresses,
we rode away in swift military
order.
As yet my tongue refused its
office, and I was perforce silent.
I must have fallen asleep; for
the next thing I remembered was
finding myself standing up, supported
by a soldier on each side of
me. It was almost broad daylight,
and to the north a red streak
of sunlight was reflected like
a path of blood over the waste
of snow. The officer was telling
the men to say nothing of what
they had seen, except that they
found an English stranger, guarded
by a large dog.
"Dog! that was no dog," cut
in the man who had exhibited
such fear. "I think I know a
wolf when I see one."
The young officer
answered calmly, "I said a
dog."
"Dog!" reiterated the other
ironically.It was evident that
his courage was rising with the
sun; and, pointing to me, he
said, "Look at his throat. Is
that the work of a dog, master?"
Instinctively
I raised my hand to my throat,
and as I touched
it I cried out in pain. The men
crowded round to look, some stooping
down from their saddles;and again
there came the calm voice of
the young officer, "A dog, as
I said. If aught else were said
we should only be laughed at."
I was then mounted behind a
trooper, and we rode on into
the suburbs of Munich. Here we
came across a stray carriage
into which I was lifted , and
it was driven off to the Quatre
Saisons--the young officer accompanying
me, whilst a trooper followed
with his horse, and the others
rode off to their barracks.
When we arrived, Herr Delbruck
rushed so quickly down the steps
to meet me, that it was apparent
he had been watching within.
Taking me by both hands he solicitously
led me in.The officer saluted
me and was turning to withdraw,
when I recognized his purpose
and insisted that he should come
to my rooms. Over a glass of
wine I warmly thanked him and
his brave comrades for saving
me. He replied simply that he
was more than glad, and that
Herr Delbruck had at the first
taken steps to make all the searching
party pleased; at which ambiguous
utterance the maitre d'hotel
smiled, while the officer plead
duty and withdrew.
"But Herr Delbruck," I enquired, "how
and why was it that the soldiers
searched for me?"
He shrugged
his shoulders, as if in depreciation
of his
own deed, as he replied, "I was
so fortunate as to obtain leave
from the commander of the regiment
in which I serve, to ask for
volunteers."
"But how did you know I was
lost?" I asked.
"The driver
came hither with the remains
of his carriage,
which had been upset when the
horses ran away."
"But surely
you would not send a search
party of soldiers merely
on this account?"
"Oh, no!" he answered, "but
even before the coachman arrived,
I had this telegram from the
Boyar whose guest you are," and
he took from his pocket a telegram
which he handed to me, and I
read:
Bistritz. Be careful of my
guest--his safety is most precious
to me. Should aught happen to
him, or if he be missed, spare
nothing to find him and ensure
his safety. He is English and
therefore adventurous. There
are often dangers from snow and
wolves and night. Lose not a
moment if you suspect harm to
him. I answer your zeal with
my fortune. --Dracula.
As I held the
telegram in my hand,the room
seemed to whirl around me,and
if the attentive maitre d'hotel
had not caught me,I think I
should have fallen. There was
something so strange in all
this, something so weird and
impossible to imagine, that
there grew on me a sense of my
being in some way the sport of
opposite forces--the mere vague
idea of which seemed in a way
to paralyze me. I was certainly
under some form of mysterious
protection. From a distant country
had come, in the very nick of
time, a message that took me
out of the danger of the snow
sleep and the jaws of the wolf.
END
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