Bram Stoker

No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and how dear to his heart and eye the morn­ing can be.

. I sat down and simply cried.

man’s death is not a calf’s

big child-brain of his is

pre­cip­ice

“How dare you touch him, any of you? How dare you cast eyes on him when I had for­bid­den it? Back, I tell you all! This man be­longs to me

, I too can love; you yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it not so? Well, now I prom­ise you that when I am done with him you shall kiss him at your will. Now go! go! I must awaken him, for there is work to be done.”

low wail, as of a half-smothered child.

In the pop­u­la­tion of Transylvania there are four dis­tinct na­tion­al­it­ies: Sax­ons in the South, and mixed with them the Wal­lachs, who are the des­cend­ants of the Da­cians; Mag­yars in the West, and Szekelys in the East and North. I am go­ing among the lat­ter, who claim to be des­cen­ded from At­tila and the Huns. This may be so, for when the Mag­yars conquered the coun­try in the el­ev­enth cen­tury they found the Huns settled in it. I read that every known su­per­sti­tion in the world is gathered into the horse­shoe of the Carpath­i­ans, as if it were the centre of some sort of ima­gin­at­ive whirl­pool; if so my stay may be very in­ter­est­ing.

smat­ter­ing