Atlas Nightshade

Day 5

In the library I found, to my great delight, a vast number of English

books, whole shelves full of them, and bound volumes of magazines and

newspapers. A table in the centre was littered with English magazines

and newspapers, though none of them were of very recent date. The books

were of the most varied kind--history, geography, politics, political

economy, botany, geology, law--all relating to England and English life

and customs and manners. There were even such books of reference as the

London Directory, the "Red" and "Blue" books, Whitaker's Almanac, the

Army and Navy Lists, and--it somehow gladdened my heart to see it--the

Law List.

Whilst I was looking at the books, the door opened, and the Count

entered. He saluted me in a hearty way, and hoped that I had had a good

night's rest. Then he went on:--

"I am glad you found your way in here, for I am sure there is much that

will interest you. These companions"--and he laid his hand on some of

the books--"have been good friends to me, and for some years past, ever

since I had the idea of going to London, have given me many, many hours

of pleasure. Through them I have come to know your great England; and to

know her is to love her. I long to go through the crowded streets of

your mighty London, to be in the midst of the whirl and rush of

humanity, to share its life, its change, its death, and all that makes

it what it is. But alas! as yet I only know your tongue through books.

To you, my friend, I look that I know it to speak."

"But, Count," I said, "you know and speak English thoroughly!" He bowed

gravely.

"I thank you, my friend, for your all too-flattering estimate, but yet I

fear that I am but a little way on the road I would travel. True, I know

the grammar and the words, but yet I know not how to speak them."

"Indeed," I said, "you speak excellently."

"Not so," he answered. "Well, I know that, did I move and speak in your

London, none there are who would not know me for a stranger. That is not

enough for me. Here I am noble; I am _boyar_; the common people know me,

and I am master. But a stranger in a strange land, he is no one; men

know him not--and to know not is to care not for. I am content if I am

like the rest, so that no man stops if he see me, or pause in his

speaking if he hear my words, 'Ha, ha! a stranger!' I have been so long

master that I would be master still--or at least that none other should

be master of me. You come to me not alone as agent of my friend Peter

Hawkins, of Exeter, to tell me all about my new estate in London. You

shall, I trust, rest here with me awhile, so that by our talking I may

learn the English intonation; and I would that you tell me when I make

error, even of the smallest, in my speaking. I am sorry that I had to be

away so long to-day; but you will, I know, forgive one who has so many

important affairs in hand."

Of course I said all I could about being willing, and asked if I might

come into that room when I chose. He answered: "Yes, certainly," and

added:--

"You may go anywhere you wish in the castle, except where the doors are

locked, where of course you will not wish to go. There is reason that

all things are as they are, and did you see with my eyes and know with

my knowledge, you would perhaps better understand." I said I was sure of

this, and then he went on:--

"We are in Transylvania; and Transylvania is not England. Our ways are

not your ways, and there shall be to you many strange things. Nay, from

what you have told me of your experiences already, you know something of

what strange things there may be."

This led to much conversation; and as it was evident that he wanted to

talk, if only for talking's sake, I asked him many questions regarding

things that had already happened to me or come within my notice.

Sometimes he sheered off the subject, or turned the conversation by

pretending not to understand; but generally he answered all I asked most

frankly. Then as time went on, and I had got somewhat bolder, I asked

him of some of the strange things of the preceding night, as, for

instance, why the coachman went to the places where he had seen the blue

flames. He then explained to me that it was commonly believed that on a

certain night of the year--last night, in fact, when all evil spirits

are supposed to have unchecked sway--a blue flame is seen over any place

where treasure has been concealed. "That treasure has been hidden," he

went on, "in the region through which you came last night, there can be

but little doubt; for it was the ground fought over for centuries by the

Wallachian, the Saxon, and the Turk. Why, there is hardly a foot of soil

in all this region that has not been enriched by the blood of men,

patriots or invaders. In old days there were stirring times, when the

Austrian and the Hungarian came up in hordes, and the patriots went out

to meet them--men and women, the aged and the children too--and waited

their coming on the rocks above the passes, that they might sweep

destruction on them with their artificial avalanches. When the invader

was triumphant he found but little, for whatever there was had been

sheltered in the friendly soil."

"But how," said I, "can it have remained so long undiscovered, when

there is a sure index to it if men will but take the trouble to look?"

The Count smiled, and as his lips ran back over his gums, the long,

sharp, canine teeth showed out strangely; he answered:--

"Because your peasant is at heart a coward and a fool! Those flames only

appear on one night; and on that night no man of this land will, if he

can help it, stir without his doors. And, dear sir, even if he did he

would not know what to do. Why, even the peasant that you tell me of who

marked the place of the flame would not know where to look in daylight

even for his own work. Even you would not, I dare be sworn, be able to

find these places again?"

"There you are right," I said. "I know no more than the dead where even

to look for them." Then we drifted into other matters.

"Come," he said at last, "tell me of London and of the house which you

have procured for me." With an apology for my remissness, I went into my

own room to get the papers from my bag. Whilst I was placing them in

order I heard a rattling of china and silver in the next room, and as I

passed through, noticed that the table had been cleared and the lamp

lit, for it was by this time deep into the dark. The lamps were also lit

in the study or library, and I found the Count lying on the sofa,

reading, of all things in the world, an English Bradshaw's Guide. When I

came in he cleared the books and papers from the table; and with him I

went into plans and deeds and figures of all sorts. He was interested in

everything, and asked me a myriad questions about the place and its

surroundings. He clearly had studied beforehand all he could get on the

subject of the neighbourhood, for he evidently at the end knew very much

more than I did. When I remarked this, he answered:--

"Well, but, my friend, is it not needful that I should? When I go there

I shall be all alone, and my friend Harker Jonathan--nay, pardon me, I

fall into my country's habit of putting your patronymic first--my friend

Jonathan Harker will not be by my side to correct and aid me. He will be

in Exeter, miles away, probably working at papers of the law with my

other friend, Peter Hawkins. So!"

We went thoroughly into the business of the purchase of the estate at

Purfleet. When I had told him the facts and got his signature to the

necessary papers, and had written a letter with them ready to post to

Mr. Hawkins, he began to ask me how I had come across so suitable a

place. I read to him the notes which I had made at the time, and which I

inscribe here:--

"At Purfleet, on a by-road, I came across just such a place as seemed to

be required, and where was displayed a dilapidated notice that the place

was for sale. It is surrounded by a high wall, of ancient structure,

built of heavy stones, and has not been repaired for a large number of

years. The closed gates are of heavy old oak and iron, all eaten with

rust.

"The estate is called Carfax, no doubt a corruption of the old _Quatre

Face_, as the house is four-sided, agreeing with the cardinal points of

the compass. It contains in all some twenty acres, quite surrounded by

the solid stone wall above mentioned. There are many trees on it, which

make it in places gloomy, and there is a deep, dark-looking pond or

small lake, evidently fed by some springs, as the water is clear and

flows away in a fair-sized stream. The house is very large and of all

periods back, I should say, to mediæval times, for one part is of stone

immensely thick, with only a few windows high up and heavily barred with

iron. It looks like part of a keep, and is close to an old chapel or

church. I could not enter it, as I had not the key of the door leading

to it from the house, but I have taken with my kodak views of it from

various points. The house has been added to, but in a very straggling

way, and I can only guess at the amount of ground it covers, which must

be very great. There are but few houses close at hand, one being a very

large house only recently added to and formed into a private lunatic

asylum. It is not, however, visible from the grounds."

When I had finished, he said:--