Chapter 10
6 September
"My dear Art,
"My news today is not so good. Lucy this morning had gone back a bit. There is,
however, one good thing which has arisen from it. Mrs. Westenra was naturally
anxious concerning Lucy, and has consulted me professionally about her. I took
advantage of the opportunity, and told her that my old master, Van Helsing, the
great specialist, was coming to stay with me, and that I would put her in his
charge conjointly with myself. So now we can come and go without alarming her
unduly, for a shock to her would mean sudden death, and this, in Lucy's weak
condition, might be disastrous to her. We are hedged in with difficulties, all of us,
my poor fellow, but, please God, we shall come through them all right. If any
need I shall write, so that, if you do not hear from me, take it for granted that I am
simply waiting for news, In haste,
"Yours ever,"
John Seward
7 September.--The first thing Van Helsing said to me when we met at Liverpool
Street was, "Have you said anything to our young friend, to lover of her?"
"No," I said. "I waited till I had seen you, as I said in my telegram. I wrote him a
letter simply telling him that you were coming, as Miss Westenra was not so well,
and that I should let him know if need be."
"Right, my friend," he said. "Quite right! Better he not know as yet. Perhaps he
will never know. I pray so, but if it be needed, then he shall know all. And, my
good friend John, let me caution you. You deal with the madmen. All men are
mad in some way or the other, and inasmuch as you deal discreetly with your
madmen, so deal with God's madmen too, the rest of the world. You tell not your
madmen what you do nor why you do it. You tell them not what you think. So you
shall keep knowledge in its place, where it may rest, where it may gather its kind
around it and breed. You and I shall keep as yet what we know here, and here."
He touched me on the heart and on the forehead, and then touched himself the
same way. "I have for myself thoughts at the present. Later I shall unfold to you."
"Why not now?" I asked. "It may do some good. We may arrive at some
decision."He looked at me and said, "My friend John, when the corn is grown,
even before it has ripened, while the milk of its mother earth is in him, and the
sunshine has not yet begun to paint him with his gold, the husbandman he pull
the ear and rub him between his rough hands, and blow away the green chaff,
and say to you, 'Look! He's good corn, he will make a good crop when the time
comes.' "
I did not see the application and told him so. For reply he reached over and took
my ear in his hand and pulled it playfully, as he used long ago to do at lectures,
and said, "The good husbandman tell you so then because he knows, but not till
then. But you do not find the good husbandman dig up his planted corn to see if