I suppose she saw from my face that I was not sure what to do. So she put the crucifix round my neck and said, "Do it for your mother". Then she went out of the room. I am writing about this in my diary whilst I am waiting for the coach. The coach is, of course, late; and the crucifix is still round my neck. Whether it is the old lady's fear, or because so many people here believe in things like ghosts, or the crucifix , I do not know, but I am not feeling nearly as relaxed as I usually do. If this book reaches Mina before I do, she can read my goodbye here. Here comes the coach!

5 May. I am at the Castle. The gray of the morning has passed, and the sun is high. I am not sure whether I can see mountains or trees in the distance, because everything is so far away that it is difficult to see what is what. I am not sleepy, and, as I can sleep late, naturally I want to write until I fall asleep. I have many strange things to write about. In case anyone who reads this thinks that I imagined them because I ate too much last night, let me say exactly what I had for dinner.

I had what they called "robber steak" -- bits of bacon, onion, and beef, flavoured with red pepper. This was put on sticks, and cooked over the fire, a very simple way of cooking that you see in poor parts of London. The wine was called Golden Mediasch, the taste on the tongue is unusual but not unpleasant. I had only a couple of glasses of wine anyway, and nothing else. When I got on the coach, the driver had not taken his seat. I saw him talking to the landlady. They were talking about me, and every now and then they looked at me. Some of the people who were sitting on the bench outside the door came and listened, and then looked at me. They seemed to be sorry for me for some reason.