k, which is mainly from the earlier years of his
strenuous life. But, as fate has entrusted to me the issuing of it, I
consider it fitting and proper to let it go forth practically as it
was left by him.

FLORENCE BRAM STOKER

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 we
were about to depart, Herr Delbrueck (the maitre d'hotel of the Quatre
Saisons, where I was staying) came down, bareheaded, to the carriage
and, after wishing me a pleasant drive, said to the coachman, still
holding his hand on the handle of the carriage door:

'Remember you are back by nightfall. The sky looks bright but there is
a shiver in the north wind that says there may be a sudden storm. But
I am sure you will not be late.' Here he smiled, and added, 'for you
know what night it is.'

Johann answered with an emphatic, 'Ja, mein Herr,' and, touching his
hat, drove off quickly. When we had cleared the town, I said, after
signalling 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 thing
as big as a turnip, and looked at it, with his eyebrows gathered
together and a little impatient shrug of his shoulders. I realised
that this was his way of respectfully protesting against the
unnecessary delay, and sank back in the carriage, merely motioning
him to proceed. He started off rapidly, as if to make up for lost
time. Every now and then the horses seemed to throw up their heads and
sniffed the air suspiciously. On such occasions I often looked round
in alarm. The road was pretty bleak, for we were traversing a sort of
high, wind-swept plateau. As we drove, I saw a road that looked but
little used, and which seemed to dip through a little, winding valley.
It looked so inviting that, even at the risk of offending him, I
called Johann to stop--and when he had pulled up, I told him I would
like to drive down that road. He made all sorts of excuses, and
frequently crossed himself as he spoke. This somewhat piqued my
curiosity, 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 to
come unless you like; but tell me why you do not like to go, that