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

"Must you go? Oh young Herr, must you go?" She was in such an
excited state that she seemed to have lost her grip of what German she
knew, and mixed it all up with some other language which I did not
know at all. I was just able to follow her by asking many questions.
When I told her that I must go at once, and that I was engaged on
important business, she asked again:

"Do you know what day it is?" I answered that it was the fourth of
May. She shook her head as she said again:

"Oh, yes! I know that! I know that but do you know what day it
is?" On my saying that I did not understand, she went on:

"It is the eve of St. George's Day. Do you not know that to-night,
when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will
have full sway? Do you know where you are going, and what you are
going to?" She was in such evident distress that I tried to comfort
her, 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.
How ever, there was business to be done, and I could allow nothing
to interfere with it. I therefore 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 good-bye. Here comes
the coach!

5 May. The Castle.- The grey 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 call "robber steak"- bits of bacon, onion, and
beef, seasoned with red pepper, and strung on sticks and roasted
over the fire, in the simple style of the London cat's meat! The
wine was Golden Mediasch, which produces a queer sting on the
tongue, which is, however, not disagreeable. I had only a couple of