Fjallkonan #37 | 24 September 1900

I HAVE NOW WRITTEN DOWN EVERYTHING THAT HAS HAPPENED to me, and although it’s but a few words, it’s clear enough to convince me that this was no dream—or at least no ordinary dream. To be certain, I went to the top floor in broad daylight and had a look around. I went into the tower room and everything appeared just as it had the night before. The furnishings were untouched and nothing had been moved. The pillows on the window-bench were in a pile, exactly as I recall arranging them so that I would be more comfortable, and I no doubt recognized the silk that the benches were lined with. It was all exactly as I remembered it to be. I found cigar ash on the window sill, which I had left there while smoking. I also saw footprints in the dust on the floor, which apparently had not been swept in a very long time, and traces left as if by a light dress. Thus I have no doubt that my memories are accurate. I know that I was up there that evening, although the Count denies it. But I cannot understand why he does so. It would be more understandable were he to reproach me for violating his instructions not to go up there.²⁰³ Perhaps then I might accept the idea that everything I believe has happened to me may have been but a dream.²⁰⁴

When we met last night the Count had already arrived in the library, quite contrary to his habit. He was most amiable in manner and had taken a number of English and Austrian lawbooks from the bookcase to show me, to help make my evening as pleasant as possible. It is truly amazing how much his English has improved in such a short time. He must have a keen ear, as he catches on to pronunciation at a staggering pace. By now it’s hardly possible to hear that he isn’t an Englishman, save for single words in which the intonation is too difficult for him. I praised him for this, and it appeared he’d appreciated the compliment.

“I’m glad to hear that, dear Harker,” he said with great enthusiasm. “Do you think that in a few weeks, let’s say—or a month—I could speak your beautiful language like an Englishman? Don’t you think that Londoners will immediately hear that I am a foreigner? I owe you a lot, my friend, and I will repay the favor, you may count on it.”

I said that he would learn the language best—or the pronunciation, rather, as he can already build perfect sentences—once he is in London. Once there, he would hear other people speak as well and get to know the various dialects.

“No, it must be as I say. I do not want to risk drawing attention to myself or being laughed at when I come to London.²⁰⁵ What do you think? I am buried in work and I’m willing to pay for some proper help. There are, however, certain things that cannot be paid for with money, and such is the case with the favor and the pleasure that you have bestowed on me. I hope you will enjoy staying with me here for the time being, and you should be able to rest here after a hard day of work. There are plenty of law books in my library, and among them are many rare publications that you will not easily find in larger collections. There is a treasure trove here for an intelligent lawyer, and I know with certainty that this castle has a good deal to offer you—far more than you suspect … I am sure you will not be bored.”

I didn’t know what to think. I thought I detected a sarcastic undertone in his words, and throughout our conversation I considered telling him all that I had chanced upon, asking him to speak to me openly—but I dropped the idea, and it was probably for the best. Instead I merely mentioned that my employer might dislike it if I were to stay here much longer, potentially for weeks on end.

“I have told you that you will be my guest for now. You must inform your employer—and in any case, a few more weeks will not make any difference. We will speak no more of it.”

He gave me such a dark look as he said this that I realized it would be wisest not to mention another word about my wish to leave. I am to be imprisoned here, willingly or not.²⁰⁶ Yet I still don’t understand why he keeps me here; he pretends that he needs my English lessons, but that is nothing but pretext. He must have another reason that I cannot figure out.

I have now decided not to stay here, though he wishes to keep me. I will not be granted permission to leave, on neither good nor bad terms, so there’s nothing else I can do but try to escape secretly.

When I embarked on this journey—like on any other business trip—I expected to complete it within a few days, but now I have become a captive, fearing for my life under the power of an Oriental tyrant.²⁰⁷

No. I have to get out of here. Staying here will be unbearable. I can already feel that I’ve lost my normal sense of composure. I have always been known to be an impassive person and have aimed not to let others unduly influence me. This is the first time that I’ve felt seriously compelled to bow to someone else’s will.

If only I had some task at hand, so that I would not feel so restless.

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I am now starting to write an essay for the Law Journal on the legal procedures of Hungary, past and present. The Count was right when he said that his library is an inexhaustible treasure for a lawyer. It could have been of great use, had the circumstances been different. It is always better to know than not, and in such a situation as I am in now, idleness can be very harmful, so I work intensively and immerse myself in the books.