"Welcome to my house! Enter it because you wish to, and for no other reason!" He did not try to step forward to meet me. Instead he stood like a statue, as though his welcome had turned him to stone. However, as soon as I had stepped through the door, he moved quickly forward. He held out his hand and took mine. His grip was so powerful that it was almost painful. II noticed that his hand seemed cold as ice, more like the hand of a dead man than the hand of someone alive.

Again he said, "Welcome to my house! Enter freely. Go safely, and leave something of the happiness you bring!" His handshake was exactly as strong as the handshake of the driver had been. I had never had the chance to see the driver's face, and for a moment I thought that I was still talking to him. So to make sure, I asked in a questioning way, "Count Dracula?"

He bowed very politely as he replied, "I am Dracula, and I you are welcome, Mr. Harker, to my house. Come in, the night air is cold, and you must need to eat and rest." As he was speaking, he hung the lamp on the wall. Then he stepped forward, and picked up my luggage. He had carried it in before I could stop him. I did not want an old man (and a Count too) to carry my bags, but I could not persuade him to put them down. "No, sir, you are my guest. It is late, and my servants are not available. Let me make sure that you are comfortable."