Dracula's Guest
When we started for our drive the sun was shining brightly on Munich,and the air was full of the joyousness of early summer. Just as wewere about to depart, Herr Delbrueck (the maitre d'hotel of the QuatreSaisons, where I was staying) came down, bareheaded, to the carriageand, after wishing me a pleasant drive, said to the coachman, stillholding his hand on the handle of the carriage door:
'Remember you are back by nightfall. The sky looks bright but there isa shiver in the north wind that says there may be a sudden storm. ButI am sure you will not be late.' Here he smiled, and added, 'for youknow what night it is.'
Johann answered with an emphatic, 'Ja, mein Herr,' and, touching hishat, drove off quickly. When we had cleared the town, I said, aftersignalling to him to stop:
'Tell me, Johann, what is tonight?'
He crossed himself, as he answered laconically: 'Walpurgis nacht.'Then he took out his watch, a great, old-fashioned German silver thingas big as a turnip, and looked at it, with his eyebrows gatheredtogether and a little impatient shrug of his shoulders. I realisedthat this was his way of respectfully protesting against theunnecessary delay, and sank back in the carriage, merely motioninghim to proceed. He started off rapidly, as if to make up for losttime. Every now and then the horses seemed to throw up their heads andsniffed the air suspiciously. On such occasions I often looked roundin alarm. The road was pretty bleak, for we were traversing a sort ofhigh, wind-swept plateau. As we drove, I saw a road that looked butlittle used, and which seemed to dip through a little, winding valley.It looked so inviting that, even at the risk of offending him, Icalled Johann to stop--and when he had pulled up, I told him I wouldlike to drive down that road. He made all sorts of excuses, andfrequently crossed himself as he spoke. This somewhat piqued mycuriosity, so I asked him various questions. He answered fencingly,and repeatedly looked at his watch in protest. Finally I said:
'Well, Johann, I want to go down this road. I shall not ask you tocome unless you like; but tell me why you do not like to go, that isall I ask.' For answer he seemed to throw himself off the box, soquickly did he reach the ground. Then he stretched out his handsappealingly to me, and implored me not to go. There was just enough ofEnglish mixed with the German for me to understand the drift of histalk. He seemed always just about to tell me something--the very ideaof which evidently frightened him; but each time he pulled himself up,saying, as he crossed himself: 'Walpurgis-Nacht!'
I tried to argue with him, but it was difficult to argue with a manwhen I did not know his language. The advantage certainly rested withhim, for although he began to speak in English, of a very crude andbroken kind, he always got excited and broke into his nativetongue--and every time he did so, he looked at his watch. Then thehorses became restless and sniffed the air. At this he grew very pale,and, looking around in a frightened way, he suddenly jumped forward,took them by the bridles and led them on some twenty feet. I followed,and asked why he had done this. For answer he crossed himself, pointedto the spot we had left and drew his carriage in the direction of theother road, indicating a cross, and said, first in German, then inEnglish: 'Buried him--him what killed themselves.'
I remembered the old custom of burying suicides at cross-roads: 'Ah! Isee, a suicide. How interesting!' But for the life of me I could notmake out why the horses were frightened.
Whilst we were talking, we heard a sort of sound between a yelp and abark. It was far away; but the horses got very restless, and it tookJohann all his time to quiet them. He was pale, and said, 'It soundslike a wolf--but yet there are no wolves here now.'
'No?' I said, questioning him; 'isn't it long since the wolves were sonear the city?'
'Long, long,' he answered, 'in the spring and summer; but with thesnow the wolves have been here not so long.'
Whilst he was petting the horses and trying to quiet them, dark cloudsdrifted rapidly across the sky. The sunshine passed away, and a breathof cold wind seemed to drift past us. It was only a breath, however,and more in the nature of a warning than a fact, for the sun came outbrightly again. Johann looked under his lifted hand at the horizon andsaid:
'The storm of snow, he comes before long time.' Then he looked at hiswatch again, and, straightway holding his reins firmly--for the horseswere still pawing the ground restlessly and shaking their heads--heclimbed to his box as though the time had come for proceeding on ourjourney.
I felt a little obstinate and did not at once get into the carriage.
'Tell me,' I said, 'about this place where the road leads,' and Ipointed down.
Again he crossed himself and mumbled a prayer, before he answered, 'Itis unholy.'
'What is unholy?' I enquired.
'The village.'