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Later, Jonathan finds the Count in the castle's crumbling courtyard, amid the statuary and overgrown verge, sleeves rolled to his elbows, trowel in hand. Working the rich Transylvanian earth by moonlight in a scene so jarringly domestic as to almost overwrite the evening's violence...
Almost. Still, there's surprise in Jonathan's voice as he fumbles, "I didn't realize—"
"That I might cultivate as well as destroy? Yes, well: eternity affords varied pursuits," Dracula says, looking Jonathan over with his usual sharpness. Then he softens slightly. "And do you, Jonathan, enjoy gardening?"
Jonathan swallows. "I don't remember."
"Come. Let us find out."