"stoker-dracula-168" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stoker Bram)

encamped in the courtyard. These Szgany are gipsies; I have notes of
them in my book. They are peculiar to this part of the world, though
allied to the ordinary gipsies all the world over. There are thousands
of them in Hungary and Transylvania, who are almost outside all law.
They attach themselves as a rule to some great noble or boyar, and
call themselves by his name. They are fearless and without religion,
save superstition, and they talk only their own varieties of the
Romany tongue.

I shall write some letters home, and shall try to get them to have
them posted. I have already spoken them through my window to begin
acquaintanceship. They took their hats off and made obeisance and many
signs, which, however, I could not understand any more than I could
their spoken language...

I have written the letters. Mina's is in shorthand, and I simply ask
Mr. Hawkins to communicate with her. To her I have explained my
situation, but without the horrors which I may only surmise. It
would shock and frighten her to death were I to expose my heart to
her. Should the letters not carry, then the Count shall not yet know
my secret or the extent of my knowledge...

I have given the letters; I threw them through the bars of my window
with a gold piece, and made what signs I could to have them posted.
The man who took them pressed them to his heart and bowed, and then
put them in his cap. I could do no more. I stole back to the study,
and began to read. As the Count did not come in, I have written
here...

The Count has come. He sat down beside me, and said in his smoothest
voice as he opened two letters:-

"The Szgany has given me these, of which, though I know not whence
they come, I shall, of course, take care. See!"- he must have looked
at it- "one is from you, and to my friend Peter Hawkins; the other"-
here he caught sight of the strange symbols as he opened the envelope,
and the dark look came into his face, and his eyes blazed wickedly-
"the other is a vile thing, an outrage upon friendship and
hospitality! It is not signed. Well! so it cannot matter to us." And
he calmly held letter and envelope in the flame of the lamp till
they were consumed. Then he went on:-

"The letter to Hawkins- that I shall, of course, send on, since it
is yours. Your letters are sacred to me. Your pardon, my friend,
that unknowingly I did break the seal. Will you not cover it again?"
He held out the letter to me, and with a courteous bow handed me a
clean envelope. I could only redirect it and hand it to him in
silence. When he went out of the room I could hear the key turn
softly. A minute later I went over and tried it, and the door was
locked.