Fjallkonan #17 | 2 May 1900

THE NEXT EVENING¹⁵⁷ THE COUNT ASKED ME, “Have you not written to your employer, that fine old gentleman Mr. Peter Hawkins, or anyone else since you came here?”

I told him truthfully that I had not done so, for I didn’t know how I would send such letters.

He shrugged and stroked his moustache, saying,

“Yes, we here in the mountains lack many of the luxuries that you have in your splendid London. It is a long way from here to Borgo,¹⁵⁸ and unfortunately I do not have many servants to run errands for me, but if you write them this evening—I also happen to have many letters to write—I will take care of them all in one go. Please write, my friend,” he said, resting his hand firmly on my shoulder. “Write to Mr. Peter Hawkins and anyone else you like. Tell them that you feel comfortable here, as I hope you do, and that you are going to stay here for the period we have agreed upon.”

I made a final attempt to escape sooner from his custody.

“You trouble yourself too much for my sake,” I said. “Do you really want me to stay for so long? I am afraid that you will be bored to death having me here.” I tried to sound as if I were making a joke.

“I have already told you, and so it still stands,” he replied in such a steely tone that it felt useless to make any further objections. “When your employer made his arrangement with me regarding your trip here, the intention was, of course, to have my interests taken care of—and that my needs would come first and foremost. As you will come to see, I don’t ask for favors that I would not readily return.”

I bowed in silence. I hadn’t heard him speak in this fashion before, and I cannot deny that I was growing irritated.¹⁵⁹ But then he immediately changed his demeanor, saying,

“I did not expect that my friend’s assistant would be so much to my liking, as you have turned out to be. You will have to excuse my stubbornness and grant me the pleasure of your stay.”

I bowed again. How could I protest? I was—and am—convinced that although he is a man of great intellect, he must be a bit unhinged, and perhaps even dangerous when something is done against his will. Given my current circumstances, I better avoid disobeying him. It would also be in my employer’s best interest for me to give in to his wishes.

I wrote to Wilma, my fiancée, telling her more or less that I felt comfortable here, and that the Count’s castle was pleasurable. I also told her that the Count had asked me to stay with him for a few more weeks.

I wrote another letter to my boss, informing him that the Count seemed happy with the real estate purchase and that he wanted me to stay with him at the castle for a while longer.

When I finished my letters the Count sat down at the table in the chair I’d been sitting in and began to write his own, while I read a book. However, I couldn’t help but glance to see whom the Count’s letters were addressed to. I found that the intended recipients included Samuel Billington in Whitby,¹⁶⁰ Seutner’s shipping company in Varna,¹⁶¹ Coret’s Bank in London,¹⁶² and Klopstock’s Bank¹⁶³ in Vienna. When he was finished writing the Count collected all the letters and set off, bidding me farewell.

“I have several things to take care of tonight and hope that you will excuse me for saying good night earlier than usual. I hope that you have enough here to keep yourself entertained until you go to bed,” he said, pointing to the bookcase. “The food is on the table, but I am in a hurry.”

From the way his eyes flickered and his lips trembled, I could tell that he was excited about something. This surprised me, as until then he’d seemed to be in such a balanced mood.