7 MAY, MORNING

I WILL CONTINUE WHERE I LEFT OFF WRITING ABOUT THE events of the last few days.⁶⁵

Although I have not yet seen it in daylight, the courtyard of the castle seems unusually large to me.

Upon arrival here at the castle, the driver helped me out of the calèche, and again I saw what a hellishly large fellow⁶⁶ he was. I am more than six feet tall⁶⁷ and of matching build, but I felt as though he could toss me away like a glove. He took my luggage from the calèche and put it down beside me. Ahead of me was a stone staircase leading up to an ornamental gate.

The driver tugged on the bell rope and the sound reverberated in the distance. Then he jumped onto the calèche, struck the horses, and in an instant disappeared through some passageway in the walls.

From the castle no sound could be heard, nor could light be seen in the windows. As I stood there kicking my heels, I considered waking up the residents by banging on the door when I heard footsteps on the stone floor inside, and then the gate opened.

An old woman appeared, wearing what seemed like national Hungarian dress—or the attire of some other nation found in this region. She bowed, looking at me with a strange smile, which gave me the impression that she was deaf and dumb—as was later confirmed.⁶⁸ But I didn’t take too much notice of her, as I soon spotted the man behind her—who drew all my attention.

He was tall and old with white hair and a long white moustache. He, too, was wearing some kind of folk costume, dark and trimmed with galloons.⁶⁹ He held an old silver lamp in his hand, and even before I had reached the top of the staircase, he greeted me very politely in fluent, slightly accented English, saying,

“Welcome to my house! Enter freely and merrily.”⁷⁰

As I stepped over the threshold he grasped my hand tightly. His grip was so forceful that it made me wince, especially because his hand was so cold, and the chill shot right to the bone. He then welcomed me again, and although I presumed that this was my prospective client, I felt compelled to ask,

“Count Dracula?”

He nodded and replied in a friendly tone,

“I am Dracula. Yes, please be welcome, Mr. Harker; I have eagerly been awaiting your arrival. But you are tired and cold—you have travelled a long way in the night and you are not used to such journeys. You could do with some rest and refreshments.”⁷¹

He motioned to the old woman and she rushed out to fetch my luggage.