"Brian Stoker - Dracula" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stoker Bram)

but without effect. Finally, she went down on her knees and implored
me not to go; at least to wait a day or two before starting.

It was all very ridiculous but I did not feel comfortable.
However, there was business to be done, and I could allow
nothing to interfere with it.

I tried to raise her up, and said, as gravely as I could, that I thanked her,
but my duty was imperative, and that I must go.

She then rose and dried her eyes, and taking a crucifix from her neck
offered it to me.

I did not know what to do, for, as an English Churchman, I have
been taught to regard such things as in some measure idolatrous,
and yet it seemed so ungracious to refuse an old lady meaning
so well and in such a state of mind.

She saw, I suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put
the rosary round my neck and said, "For your mother's sake,"
and went out of the room.

I am writing up this part of the diary whilst I am waiting for the coach,
which is, of course, late; and the crucifix is still round my neck.

Whether it is the old lady's fear, or the many ghostly
traditions of this place, or the crucifix itself, I do not know,
but I am not feeling nearly as easy in my mind as usual.

If this book should ever reach Mina before I do, let it bring my goodbye.
Here comes the coach!


5 May. The Castle.--The gray of the morning has passed,
and the sun is high over the distant horizon, which seems jagged,
whether with trees or hills I know not, for it is so far off
that big things and little are mixed.

I am not sleepy, and, as I am not to be called till I awake,
naturally I write till sleep comes.

There are many odd things to put down, and, lest who reads
them may fancy that I dined too well before I left Bistritz,
let me put down my dinner exactly.

I dined on what they called "robber steak"--bits of bacon, onion, and beef,
seasoned with red pepper, and strung on sticks, and roasted over the fire,
in simple style of the London cat's meat!

The wine was Golden Mediasch, which produces a queer sting on the tongue,