Dracula

I heard a heavy step approaching behind the great door, and saw the

gleam of a coming light. Then there was the sound of rattling chains and

the clanking of massive bolts drawn back, and the great door swung open.

Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white moustache,

and clad in black from head to foot, without a single speck of colour about

him anywhere. He held in his hand an antique silver lamp, in which the

flame burned, throwing long quivering shadows as it flickered in the draught

of the open door.

The old man motioned me in with his right hand with a courtly

gesture, saying in excellent English, but with a strange intonation,

“Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own free will!”

He made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue,

as though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone. The instant,

however, that I had stepped over the threshold, he moved impulsively

forward, and holding out his hand grasped mine with a strength which

made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it

seemed cold as ice, more like the hand of a dead than a living man.

Again he said, “Welcome to my house! Enter freely. Go safely, and

leave something of the happiness you bring!”

I said interrogatively, “Count Dracula?”