Fjallkonan #4 | 3 February 1900

LAMP IN HAND, THE COUNT LED ME TO AN IRON-SHOD door, which he opened wide. We entered a well-lit living room, where the table had already been set and a fire was burning in the fireplace.

The Count went into a windowless octagonal chamber, where he opened a further door, inviting me into a large room—this would be my bedroom. On the table stood two lit wax candles in silver candlesticks, while another fire was crackling cosily in the open hearth.

“You are tired,” said the Count. “I assume you’ll want to tidy yourself up a bit before you eat, so I shall wait for you in the living room.”

I did as he said and then hurried back to the living room.

Dinner was on the table and the Count offered me a seat. “Please, eat whatever you like, but you must excuse me for not joining you, for I have had dinner already.”

I handed him the letter from my employer, Mr. Hawkins. He read it and handed it back to me with a genial smile. I, too, enjoyed the letter, as it stated:

“Sir Count,⁷²

I am terribly sorry for not personally tending to you, but I am suffering from gout, which for some time forbids me to make any journeys. Fortunately, I can send someone else in my place; someone whom I fully trust as a reliable, hard-working and energetic man. He is a young but very promising lawyer whom I have known since he was a boy, and he now works as an assistant in my law firm. I can absolutely guarantee that his proficiency in this field is excellent, and that he is silent as the grave. You may therefore discuss with him any legal particulars regarding the planned real estate purchase. I have informed him well, but to prepare for this journey he has also acquired a great deal of the necessary knowledge himself. Therefore, I highly recommend him, and am yours with humble respect,

Peter Hawkins.”

The Count lifted the lid of the tray on the table and again invited me to sit down. I didn’t need to be told a third time, and without further delay I began to eat. Although it was quite peppered, it was the best chicken fillet I have ever had.⁷³There was also a good salad, cheese, bread and butter, and an old bottle of sweet Tokay wine,⁷⁴ which all tasted ambrosial⁷⁵—as famished as I was. The exhaustion lifted from me, and when my client, presenting me with a cigar, offered me an armchair by the fireplace, I became so comfortable that I could have talked with him all night.

The Count sat right up against the light, directly in front of the fireplace, giving me a good vantage point to observe him. With eyes that lay deep beneath his beetle-brows and a nose like a vulture’s beak, his features appeared very harsh. He had a domed forehead peering out from the grey hair that ran down onto his shoulders; a white moustache that covered his mouth, in which I detected a hardness, or even cruelty, that disappeared when he spoke or laughed; impeccable teeth, except for his unusually long canines;⁷⁶ and white and elegant hands, though hairier than any man’s I have ever seen.

We talked about anything and everything,⁷⁷ including my journey to the castle and current political issues, about which he was very well informed. We also briefly touched upon the purpose of my trip, but he said that we would discuss it the next day.

There was a pause in our conversation, and when I cast a glance out the window I saw that dawn was breaking. All was quiet, until suddenly I heard the rushing sound of wolves. It was as though a streak of lightning flickered in the Count’s eyes, which glistened like a carrion bird’s.

“Hear, hear,” he said, “the children of the night—what tuneful tones!”⁷⁸ I thought the sounds were horrible, but he laughed gently and said, “Oh, dear Sir! You city dwellers cannot understand the sentiments of an old hunter.”⁷⁹

Then he stood up, saying, “You must be tired; I beg your pardon for keeping you awake this long. Your bedroom is ready and you may go to bed whenever you please. Feel free to sleep until after noon—you must rest yourself. It just so happens that I have to leave the castle and will probably not return until evening. You may be at ease. Sleep well and have pleasant dreams.”

He opened the door and bowed courteously, and I bid him good night, but I didn’t sleep until the sun had already risen high.

After waking up rather late in the day,⁸⁰ I reviewed what had happened the day before and chuckled at how adventurous my travel story would sound to Wilma when I came home.

I began looking around the bedroom. The bed curtains were made of heavy old silk and there were very expensive-looking tapestries on the walls. As for the furniture, one couldn’t get by with less than what was present; nevertheless, all the furnishings appear to be precious and antique. The wash-bowl, for example, was unusually small but made of solid gold.⁸¹

When I was dressed and ready I went into the room where I had dined the night before. It was a big hall with more tapestries on the walls. Cold food and wine were on the table, and as I came nearer I saw that it had only been set for one person. The Count had left me a note on the table, reading,

“I will be away from home for most of the day, but hope that you shall kindly forgive me for this impoliteness, which I cannot help. If you could arrange all your documents, we can talk upon my return.

Much obliged, your D–a”⁸²

After I had eaten—the meal was good, though seasoned and cooked in a different way than I’m used to—I looked for a bell to call the servants but found nothing of the sort. I then tried to open the door to the corridor and was surprised to find it locked. Strange are the habits of this house.

All was silent as the grave. I looked out the window and saw the old woman from the night before fetching water. It was between four and five o’clock, so I went back to my bedroom and began looking through and sorting the papers relating to the property purchase. Then I returned to the dining room and tried to open two of the other doors, but they were also solidly locked. The third door, however, was unbolted and led to a large corner room where the sun shone in. As I entered, I saw that it was the Count’s library. There were large shelves with books—some still handwritten, and some very old—that seemed to cover topics such as astrology, alchemy⁸³ and magic of the Middle Ages; they were written in various languages that I didn’t understand, but what surprised me most was the large collection of English volumes I found—old and new, covering a variety of subjects, from poetry, old tales and sagas, to scientific publications and ordinary reference books. Markings and reader comments showed that all of them had been read. On the table lay English newspapers and magazines.

I began to entertain myself with the books and sat with them until the sun went down. The sunset was the most glorious I have ever seen—incomparable to any I have enjoyed in other places, except perhaps in the Highlands of Scotland.⁸⁴ But when the sun sank beneath the horizon, everything changed in a heartbeat; the air became cold and moisture-laden, while the colors faded under the pale shimmer of the rising moon. The swallows disappeared and in their place came bats, which are plentiful around here. One flew in through the window, and as I am disgusted by these creatures I hurried to close it.⁸⁵

When I looked back from the window I was startled—I was not alone. It was dusk now, and although it was not as bright as day, the moon shone through the window, casting light onto the scene.

At the table in the middle of the room stood a woman, slender and dressed in light colors. She rested one hand on a chair near the table, and with the other she held a shawl to her shoulder. She was young and fair-skinned, and she seemed to be looking at me with curiosity.

I bowed and said in my best German,

“Please forgive me, Miss—I was expecting the Count.”⁸⁶

As I said this, she moved closer to me and replied in German, with traces of an exotic accent, “You are the foreigner we were expecting. Be welcome. It is lonely in the castle; lonely in these mountains.”

Her voice was curiously clear. It felt as though the sound of her words pierced my every nerve, but I was not sure whether it was a pleasant or unpleasant feeling. All I knew was that she caressed some strings within me that before had been untouched, and it flustered me quite a bit. I felt my heartbeat quicken, as if I had a fever.⁸⁷

I’m not quick to be overcome by women—in fact I’m considered rather impassive and reserved, and since I was a boy I have never loved anyone else but my Wilma. But as I watched this woman while she spoke to me, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

She stood in front of me in the moonlight, and I couldn’t recall ever seeing a girl of such breathtaking beauty. I won’t provide a detailed description, as words can do her no justice, but she had golden-blonde hair, which was bound in a chignon. Her eyes: blue and large.⁸⁸ Her dress resembled those worn by beauty icons from the turn of the century—like Queen Josephine⁸⁹—with her neck and upper chest revealed. Around her neck she wore a necklace of glittering⁹⁰ diamonds.

“You admire the view,” she said. “They say that our mountains are beautiful. Indeed they are. But they are so barren, so barren. Here one lives like a prisoner, wanting to go out into the world—to the big world … to men. There are no men here, and I am so fond of men.” She reached out as she said this, as if overcome, and her eyes appeared to flash in the moonlight.

“I am glad that you have come here,” she said. “You look so handsome and masculine—that is an advantage⁹¹ here in the Carpathians. It will be our pleasure to get to know you.”⁹²

I didn’t know how to respond, as I was completely beside myself—my foremost desire was to take her in my arms and kiss her. I moved closer to her, but she disappeared when the Count suddenly entered the room with a lamp in his hand. She must have snuck out behind him, or gone through a secret door in the room.