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" and went out of the room. I am writing this part of the 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 the many ghostly superstitions of the people here, or the crucifix , I do not know, but I am not feeling nearly as relaxed as usual. If this book reaches Mina before I do, she can read my goodbye here. Here comes the coach!

5 May. The Castle.--The gray of the morning has passed, and the sun is high over the distant horizon, which seems jagged, whether with trees or hills I don't know, for it 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 till sleep comes. I have many strange things to write about. In case anyone who reads this thinks that I dined too well before I left Bistritz and imagined them, let me say exactly what I had for dinner.

I had what they called "robber steak" -- bits of bacon, onion, and beef, seasoned with red pepper. This was put on sticks, and roasted over the fire, a very simple way of cooking that you see in poor parts of London. The wine was Golden Mediasch, the taste on the tongue is unusual but not disagreeable. 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 obviously talking about me, for 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, most of them with pity.