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Capítulo 4

Huck's sleep was extremely restless for several hours, though he could not find any obvious reason to disturb it. He awoke to bright sunshine. He got up and gazed out the window for a long time at the desolate, ruined courtyard. Weeds grew everywhere on the stone path, and dust swirled in every corner. The dragon-carved archway was as enigmatic as the Sphinx.

The corridor outside the Hack Gate was silent. In fact, so far he could not see any servants in the entire castle, nor could he hear any servants walking or talking.

After washing and changing, he returned to the room where he had eaten the previous night. There, he found a cold breakfast already prepared, and the coffee still warming in the pot on the fireplace.

There was a card on the table with Dracula's handwriting: "I must leave for a moment, don't wait for me." Dracula thought he was used to this. He sat down and enjoyed his breakfast. After finishing, he looked for someone to call upon his servant to let him know he had finished eating, but he couldn't find him.

He poured himself some coffee and sat a while longer, examining the simple furnishings of the room, a strange and stark contrast to the Earl's wealth. His tableware was still gold, exquisitely inlaid, and undoubtedly very valuable. The chairs and sofas in his two rooms, surrounded by canopies, were made of the most expensive and luxurious fabrics. They were very old, though; Huck felt he had seen them before in Hampton Court Palace.

But there were still many strange things. For example, there wasn't even a simple mirror in any of the rooms he had seen; it seemed he would have to take out his little shaving mirror from his bag before he could shave or comb his hair.

Even more strangely, he had not seen a single servant, nor heard any human voices or footsteps. Occasionally, there were the cries of birds and the howls of wolves, accompanied by the sighing of the wind as it passed through the windows and battlements.

After finishing his coffee, Huck wrote a letter as his master had requested, and as he had expected, the contents of the letter were easily visible due to the transparent paper.

After finishing his task, he looked around, looking for a book to read—he didn't want to explore the castle without the Earl's permission.

He had neither books nor newspapers in his own room, so he went out into the hallway and tried to open another door. To his delight, he found a fairly large study that was clean and tidy.

What pleased Huck even more was the abundance of English books in the study, filling several shelves, along with bound volumes of English magazines and newspapers. The room had a pleasant, frequently used feel. A few English books and newspapers were casually placed on the central table, though none of them were recent.

The books cover a wide range of subjects: history, geography, politics, biology, geometry, law—all related to Britain and the customs and traditions of the British people.

After lingering in the study for about an hour, Huck returned to his room and began to record his recent experiences and impressions, still determined to be as faithful as possible.

May 11th—I'm starting to fear that the entries in this notebook are becoming increasingly lengthy; however, I'm glad I've been detailed from the beginning, because everything in this place and its inhabitants is strange and makes me uneasy. I hope I can leave safely, or that I was never here at all. Perhaps the impressions of the previous night have made me momentarily confused—I hope so! I could bear it if I could talk to someone, but there's no one in the fortress. My only conversation partner is the Count, and he stopped writing here, because he couldn't and didn't want to record his half-formed fears and thoughts.

After another fruitless search for a mirror, he took out his own small shaving mirror from his suitcase and hung it by the window where the light was better. Realizing that it was impossible to find a servant, he lit a fire himself and then put a small basin of water in the fireplace to heat it.

He took out his razor, rubbed it back and forth on his short leather belt a few times, and began to shave, humming a tune as he did so. The bright sunlight, the sparrows chirping by the window, and the sense of accomplishment from successfully completing the unusual contract together dispelled the vague fear and anxiety in his heart.

He told himself that the events of last night—the strange journey, the wolves, his unusual client—had had such a strong effect on his nerves. But this morning he felt as if he had left those fantasies behind.

Hark thought to himself, no wonder Lamfey had fallen ill when he came here earlier. Hark wasn't sure if Lamfey had ever stayed at Dracula's castle, or even been here—he'd have to ask Dracula to find out. But even the most mentally stable person would succumb to such pressure—

"Good morning."

The two words came from behind Huck, almost in the center of the room, and since no one was reflected in the small mirror, Huck had to suppress his shock as he turned around. The razor in his hand inevitably cut a small gash on his chin.

Count Dracula stood about an arm's length behind him, still wearing the clothes from the previous night, with a smile on his face.

Huck murmured a response, then involuntarily turned to look in the mirror in astonishment. His eyes and mind confirmed that there was indeed no image of Dracula in the mirror, while everything else in the room was clearly visible.

His master clearly understood his confusion. But it was equally clear that he had no intention of offering any explanation.

"Watch out!" Dracula suddenly said angrily, "Be careful not to cut yourself! It's much more dangerous here than you think!"

The count stepped forward, causing Huck to involuntarily step back.

"It was this wretched thing that cut you! It's a piece of trash born of human vanity. Don't use it!" Afterwards, when Huck tried to recall what had happened in the next instant, he couldn't be sure. He hadn't seen Dracula touch the small mirror, but the mirror had twisted and shattered, scattering many sharp and bright shards that landed on the carpet.

As Huck stood there stunned, the Count calmly and deliberately took the razor from Huck's almost numb hands. Huck saw him turn around and raise his hands to cup his face—the Count's arms and shoulders, draped in a red robe, trembled spasmodically.

He turned to face Huck again, paused for a moment, adopting a posture like that of a barber—or assassin—with his right hand still gripping the razor tightly. Huck held his breath for a moment, vaguely noticing that the blood on the razor had somehow been wiped dry.

Dracula wiped his red lips. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he asked, "I need the letter you wrote—have you finished it?"

Huck stammered, "It's written, sir—it's on the table."

"very good."

Dracula gestured with his chin and hand for Huck to stay still. Then, he gently reached his left hand under Huck's chin, lifting Huck's half-shaved face slightly to bathe it in the sunlight streaming in through the open window.

The sharp razor moved closer to the cheek that was still not shaved, the blade cutting quickly and precisely across the skin—a movement that was carefully controlled.

Meanwhile, Huck maintained his original posture, as if his body knew he must not move an inch, so that although his heart was pounding with fear, his body dared not tremble.

A bayonet in the hands of a madman or a demon...

Another meticulous shave removed the remaining stubble and soap suds. Then, another gentle shave. The Count seemed completely absorbed in the shaving process, speaking in monotonous, almost soliloquized voices.

“My dear friend, let me advise you… no, let me warn you, very seriously… if you leave these rooms, you will not be able to sleep anywhere else in the castle. This is an ancient castle… full of memories… foolish people will have nightmares when they sleep…”

The old man's voice faded. Huck saw Dracula's burning eyes fixed on his throat, or rather, below his throat—the place where the Gypsy cross necklace was now exposed, thanks to his open collar from shaving.

“I believe I understand,” Huck heard himself whisper. “I’ve seen a lot—strange things—here.”

However, the count may not have heard him, for he had already turned away, not even having finished shaving. The unwiped razor was suddenly placed on the table where the three letters had been taken; then the heavy door slammed shut, as if bearing the weight of an end.

Chapter Four

That evening, the halls of Shilling Manor were filled with lively conversation and laughter. A harpist tuned his instrument and began to play an episode from Gilbert and Sullivan's recent opera. One carriage after another drove up the winding road, stopped to release elegantly dressed guests, and then drove off to await their departure.

In the center of the hall stood a thin, gray-haired elderly woman, elegantly dressed, greeting the arriving guests. She was Mrs. Wertner, Lucy's widowed mother and the owner of the estate. Mrs. Wertner's health had never been good, so during lulls in the guests' arrivals, she would rest on a bench, fanning herself.

Mina, dressed neatly, stepped out of the room, but had not yet joined the small group of people downstairs. She stood at the top of the stairs, hesitant, gazing at the joyful scene below, feeling that it was very incongruous with her own mood.

Since Jonathan left, Mino often worried about her fiancé in Eastern Europe, though she always told herself that her worries were unfounded. More than a week had passed, and apart from a short message stamped with a Paris postmark, Jonathan hadn't written again, and that message contained no information about Renhe.

Lucy, dressed in her new gown, hurried down the upstairs corridor. "Found you! Mina, come down. Someone has to help me entertain all the guests tonight. Mom, as usual, loves parties, but she's already overwhelmed..."

Mina said noncommittally, "I'll be down in a bit..."

"Oh, come on! This is good for you, it will allow you to stop worrying about Jonathan for a while."

Lucy looked at herself in the mirror on the wall and adjusted her red hair. "I'm so happy, I don't know what to do! I think at least three people will propose to me tonight. Oh, Mina, I wish I could have several!"

Her words were enough to distract Mina. "You can't marry all three of them!"

“Why not?” Lucy turned to her friend. Her question was almost serious; it sounded like a plea for help. “Tell me, why can’t a girl marry three men, or several men?”

Before Mina could explain, Lucy's attention shifted to the guests who had just arrived in the living room below. She whispered excitedly, "One of my suitors has arrived!"

The male guest who had just arrived at the banquet was indeed remarkable. He was a tall young man with a small black mustache, wearing a top-brimmed American Western hat and cowboy boots. His entire outfit looked expensive, but it was quite unusual for London. Occasionally, a long leather scabbard could be seen hanging on his belt on the inside left side of his coat.

Mina asked curiously, "What's that?"

Lucy said proudly, "He was a Texan, Quincy P. Morley, a friend of Arthur, and also a friend of Dr. Seaworth. The three of them had explored all over the world."

Has Mr. Morley proposed to you?

“Uh—I think he’ll bring it up anytime. Mina, isn’t that great? He’s young and fresh. I can imagine him like—like a wild stallion, between my legs.”

Mina blushed, but forced a smile and said, "What you said was really explicit!"

“I know—don’t worry, darling, I did it on purpose to make you blush; you blush so beautifully.”

"I hope that's the only reason you spoke that way. What's Mr. Morley wearing in that leather sheath under his coat?"

Lucy almost burst out laughing. "Dear Quincy, he always carries an amazing amount of—tools—wherever he goes!"

"Lucy!"

“But it really is, darling—he really has it. I’ll show you!” Lucy said, then ran downstairs, only slowing down slightly at the bottom to greet Quincy.

Mina stood on the balcony, watching. Lucy took Quincy's arm and pulled him close, causing her mother, standing at the other end of the hall, to stare at her disapprovingly.

A moment later, Lucy actually reached under the Texan's coat, pulled out a long hunting knife from its sheath, and waved it cheerfully at Mina, who was about to come downstairs.

Mina dutifully entertained the guests for about half an hour, then she began to drift off again. As she fell into thought, struggling to suppress her concern for Jonathan, Lucy approached her once more.

This time, the red-haired girl was completely captivated.

"They're all here. I really think all three of them will propose to me tonight. What should I do?"

Mina didn't know whether to laugh or cry at her friend's romantic predicament. "So, did that Texan finally speak up?"

"Yes!"

Mina looked for Mr. Quincy Morley and found him standing at the other end of the room, gazing longingly at Lucy. "I was almost afraid to ask—what did he say?"

"Propose!" Lucy was completely absorbed in her own feelings and didn't even notice Mina's teasing question.

She seemed to have mixed feelings of worry and joy, saying, "I told him there was another person... I didn't say there were two people, but in fact they will all be here—look, Dr. Jack Schiewer is here."

On the other side of the hall, a man in his early thirties, with a serious demeanor, was about to hand a hat and gloves to a servant.

“He’s outstanding,” Lucy added. “He’s young enough not to be boring, but he’s already running a large mental hospital on his own. I thought he was a perfect match for you, and that you could be the one to get engaged to him.”

"A mental hospital! I understand. So naturally you thought of me."

There was a hint of cruelty in Lucy's laughter, then her gaze swept over Mina's shoulder, and her expression changed.

Mina turned her head and saw a man she had heard of but never seen walk into the hall. This man must be Arthur Honw, the future Lord Goethemin. He arrived closely behind Dr. Schiewert, and was not only handsome and noble, but also very wealthy. He and the doctor exchanged an uneasy glance.

Mina asked softly, "Number three?"

She didn't receive a verbal answer, but in fact, she didn't need one. The answer was clear from Lucy's expression and her delight at seeing the newcomer emerge. Lucy hurried through the crowded hall to greet him.

Chapter Five

That same evening, in the remote Carpathian Mountains, young lawyer Jonathan Hack entered the study of Dracula's castle. He saw the Earl reclining on the sofa, reading a British railway guide, which included timetables for the railway system and other modes of transport.

Harker stopped in his tracks upon seeing the Earl. The Earl, however, was serene and pleased, as if no conflict had ever arisen between them. He sat up and greeted his guest warmly.

“I’m glad you found this place, because I’m sure there’s a lot here that will interest you. These—” Dracula paused, pointing to some books with his long-fingered fingers—“have been my friends all these years, bringing me many, many moments of joy. Through them I’ve learned about your great England and fallen in love with this country even more. It’s just a pity that my knowledge of English is limited to books. My friend, it seems you can understand what I’m saying.”

“But Earl,” Hack assured him, “your English is very fluent!”

Dracula remained seated in the armchair, nodding solemnly. "Vampire, you flatter me too much, my friend, but I fear I still have a long way to go. True, I know grammar and recognize quite a few words, but I still don't speak well."

Hack insisted, "Your English is really excellent."

“Not entirely,” the old man replied. “I know very well that if I went to London, none of your compatriots would fail to see me as a foreigner. That’s not enough for me. Here I am a nobleman; ordinary people know me, I am the master. But a stranger in a foreign country is nothing; nobody knows him, and naturally nobody cares about him.”

“I have been the master for a long time and I hope to continue to be the master—or at least no one else can be my master.”

Harker found this view quite reasonable and could only express his agreement. Their conversation lasted for quite some time; it was entirely a discussion between two rational and intellectual people, and it touched on a wide range of topics.

He was simply dismissed when Huck raised the question of whether he could leave the castle.

Harker spent most of his days sleeping, and his nights reading, strolling, or chatting with the Earl. For Harker, time seemed to stand still, existing in a chilling monotony, until he no longer knew the exact date when he took notes.

What he found most unbearable was his concern for Mina—her pride in his achievements must have long since turned to worry, and then to fear—not only for his safety, but also for his complete silence that indicated his love had cooled, or even that he had changed his mind.

Finally, one night, Huck left his room, determined to explore the castle boldly, no longer just the uncontrolled confinement he had been under for the past few weeks.

He was gradually coming to believe that his situation here could only be described as "imprisonment." After being forced to stay for more than a few weeks, his initially tentative and disciplined exploration gradually turned into an urgent one, which led him to a terrifying discovery: there were doors everywhere, doors, doors, but almost all of them were fortress doors, all locked and bolted—except for the high windows, there was no way out at all.

This castle was essentially a prison, and he was indeed a prisoner!

When Huck reached this conclusion, a frenzied feeling surged through him. He rushed up and down the stairs, trying to open every door and looking out of every window he could find. But the feeling of helplessness quickly overwhelmed him, surpassing all his other sensations.

At that moment, he sat down calmly—he had never been so calm in his life—and began to ponder.