book, newspaper, or even writing materials, so I opened another
door in the room and found a sort of library. The door opposite
mine I tried, but found locked.
In the library I found, to my great delight, a vast number of
English books, whole shelves full of them, and bound volumes of
magazines and newspapers. A table in the center was littered with
English magazines and newspapers, though none of them were of very
recent date. The books were of the most varied kind, history,
geography, politics, political economy, botany, geology, law, all
relating to England and English life and customs and manners. There
were even such books of reference as the London Directory, the
"Red" and "Blue" books, Whitaker's Almanac, the Army and Navy
Lists, and it somehow gladdened my heart to see it, the Law
List.
Whilst I was looking at the books, the door opened, and the
Count entered. He saluted me in a hearty way, and hoped that I had
had a good night's rest. Then he went on.
"I am glad you found your way in here, for I am sure there is
much that will interest you. These companions," and he laid his
hand on some of the books, "have been good friends to me, and for
some years past, ever since I had the idea of going to London, have
given me many, many hours of pleasure. Through them I have come to
know your great England, and to know her is to love her. I long to
go through the crowded streets of your mighty London, to be in the
midst of the whirl and rush of humanity, to share its life, its
change, its death, and all that makes it what it is. But alas! As
yet I only know your tongue through books. To you, my friend, I
look that I know it to speak."
"But, Count," I said, "You know and speak English thoroughly!"
He bowed gravely.
"I thank you, my friend, for your all too-flattering estimate,
but yet I fear that I am but a little way on the road I would
travel. True, I know the grammar and the words, but yet I know not
how to speak them.
"Indeed," I said, "You speak excellently."how to speak them.
"Indeed," I said, "You speak excellently."
"Not so," he answered. "Well, I know that, did I move and speak
in your London, none there are who would not know me for a
stranger. That is not enough for me. Here I am noble. I am a Boyar.
The common people know me, and I am master. But a stranger in a
strange land, he is no one. Men know him not, and to know not is to
care not for. I am content if I am like the rest, so that no man
stops if he sees me, or pauses in his speaking if he hears my
words, `Ha, ha! A stranger!' I have been so long master that I
would be master still, or at least that none other should be master
of me. You come to me not alone as agent of my friend Peter
Hawkins, of Exeter, to tell me all about my new estate in London.
You shall, I trust, rest here with me a while, so that by our
talking I may learn the English intonation. And I would that you
tell me when I make error, even of the smallest, in my speaking. I
am sorry that I had to be away so long today, but you will, I know
forgive one who has so many important affairs in hand." Of course I
said all I could about being willing, and asked if I might come
into that room when I chose. He answered, "Yes, certainly," and
added.
"You may go anywhere you wish in the castle, except where the
doors are locked, where of course you will not wish to go. There is
reason that all things are as they are, and did you see with my
eyes and know with my knowledge, you would perhaps better
understand." I said I was sure of this, and then he went on.
"We are in Transylvania, and Transylvania is not England. Our
ways are not your ways, and there shall be to you many strange
things. Nay, from what you have told me of your experiences
already, you know something of what strange things there may
be."
This led to much conversation, and as it was evident that he
wanted to talk, if only for talking's sake, I asked him many
questions regarding things that had already happened to me or comequestions regarding things that had already happened to me or come
within my notice. Sometimes he sheered off the subject, or turned
the conversation by pretending not to understand, but generally he
answered all I asked most frankly. Then as time went on, and I had
got somewhat bolder, I asked him of some of the strange things of
the preceding night, as for instance, why the coachman went to the
places where he had seen the blue flames. He then explained to me
that it was commonly believed that on a certain night of the year,
last night, in fact, when all evil spirits are supposed to have
unchecked sway, a blue flame is seen over any place where treasure
has been concealed.
"That treasure has been hidden," he went on, "in the region
through which you came last night, there can be but little doubt.
For it was the ground fought over for centuries by the Wallachian,
the Saxon, and the Turk. Why, there is hardly a foot of soil in all
this region that has not been enriched by the blood of men,
patriots or invaders. In the old days there were stirring times,
when the Austrian and the Hungarian came up in hordes, and the
patriots went out to meet them, men and women, the aged and the
children too, and waited their coming on the rocks above the
passes, that they might sweep destruction on them with their
artificial avalanches. When the invader was triumphant he found but
little, for whatever there was had been sheltered in the friendly
soil."
"But how," said I, "can it have remained so long undiscovered,
when there is a sure index to it if men will but take the trouble
to look? "The Count smiled, and as his lips ran back over his gums,
the long, sharp, canine teeth showed out strangely. He
answered.
"Because your peasant is at heart a coward and a fool! Those
flames only appear on one night, and on that night no man of this
land will, if he can help it, stir without his doors. And, dear
sir, even if he did he would not know what to do. Why, even the
peasant that you tell me of who marked the place of the flame would