"Freda Warrington - Dracula the Undead" - читать интересную книгу автора (Warrington Freda)

my Hungarian, of course, is non-existent, so why she should be in awe of me I do not
know! She asked what I was writing, and I told her that I always keep up a journal,
however uneventful our domestic life may sometimes be (I thank God for those quiet
times, I must confess).
I suppose I am a creature of routine. Besides, I was determined that the end of those
dreadful events would not mark the end of my diary-keeping. There is Quincey's
capricious health to provide drama enough, and Jonathan's work at Hawkins & Harker, of
course.
I am missing Quincey terribly, though I know he is safe in the care of Mrs Seward,
Mary and his nurse. I have written to him every day since we left England. He reads well
and is quite the young man, as I have been telling Elena! I have always encouraged him
to read. At least he will have rich compensation in life for being less vigorous than his
fellows.
But let me not dwell on dial now. Very strange, as I said, that this journey should feel
so familiar yet so different. The season is warm and lush, and we make our way without
the urgency that so oppressed us before. This time we have leisure to enjoy the tranquil
green slopes of central Transylvania. There are long gradual climbs, where brown and
white sheep graze on the grassy hillsides that appear to sweep up to the very sky. We
passed a tall flour mill where horses and donkeys stood with their muzzles in nosebags,
waiting for their loads to be milled. We also see many wagons drawn by oxen and
buffalo, as the train makes its way past dense beech woods and along fertile valleys
where red-roofed villages and ochre churches nestle. The buildings are quite beautiful,
with decorative plasterwork under the eaves, pillars and wrought-iron balconies. The
shepherds - who wear ankle-length fleece coats and have ferocious-looking white dogs
with spiked collars - hold an honoured place here, so Emil tells us. I notice so much that I
failed to see last time! I reflected then, I recall, what a pleasure it would be to fill our
minds and memories with all the wonders of this beautiful wild country. Jonathan seems
at peace, but sometimes he is quiet, and lines gather in his dear face. Then I know he is
remembering. Dr Seward, too, often looks sombre, but Van Helsing is hearty, reminding
us that the past is over, that we triumphed and must therefore retrace our steps with light
hearts.
All the same, the nearer we go to Castle Dracula, the more nervous I feel. Yet I am
strangely excited, too, for I know there is nothing there now to harm us. I must be
cheerful, at all events. Jonathan broods enough for both of us, and it is my duty to be
strong for him.
We are arriving at Bistritz. Once we are at our hotel, Dr Seward and Lord Godalming
will go to procure a carriage and horses to convey us to Emil's friends in the foothills of
the Carpathians. That will make the last stage of our journey far less arduous, and
possible to complete, we hope, in a day. That eases my anxiety considerably, most of all
for Dr Van Helsing who, for all his lion-like spirit, is not a young man and tires easily.


22 July
Today we travelled from Bistritz to the farm, with Jonathan, Dr Seward and Lord
Godalming taking it in turns to drive. We wound our way through hilly farmland, the
great spruce-covered folds of the mountains drawing ever closer, and beyond them the
bare peaks wreathed with cloud on the horizon. The villages have long rows of single-
storey dwellings built of wood and stone or brick, wrought-iron gates leading to tidy
yards with conical hayricks constructed around poles. All seems fecund, with fruit trees
everywhere; apple and plum, pear, apricot and cherry.