claimed as kindred by the victorious Magyars, and to us for centuries was trusted the guarding of the frontier of Turkeyland.  Aye, and more than that, endless duty of the frontier guard, for as the Turks say, ’water sleeps, and the enemy is sleepless.’  Who more gladly than we throughout the Four Nations received the ‘bloody sword,’ or at its warlike call flocked quicker to the standard of the King?  When was redeemed that great shame of my nation, the shame of Cassova, when the flags of the Wallach and the Magyar went down beneath the Crescent?  Who was it but one of my own race who as Voivode crossed the Danube and beat the Turk on his own ground?  This was a Dracula indeed!  Woe was it that his own unworthy brother, when he had fallen, sold his people to the Turk and brought the shame of slavery on them!  Was it not this Dracula, indeed, who inspired that other of his race who in a later age again and again brought his forces over the great river into Turkeyland, who, when he was beaten back, came again, and again, though he had to come alone from the bloody field where his troops were being slaughtered, since he knew that he alone could ultimately triumph!  They said that he thought only of himself.  Bah!  What good are peasants without a leader?  Where ends the war without a brain and heart to conduct it?  Again, when, after the battle of Mohacs, we threw off the Hungarian yoke, we of the Dracula blood were amongst their leaders, for our spirit would not brook that we were not free.  Ah, young sir, the Szekelys, and the Dracula as their heart’s blood, their brains, and their swords, can boast a record that mushroom growths like the Hapsburgs and the Romanoffs can never reach.  The warlike days are over.  Blood is too precious a thing in these days of dishonourable peace, and the glories of the great races are as a tale that is told.”

It was by this time close on morning, and we went to bed. (Mem., this diary seems horribly like the beginning of the “Arabian Nights,” for everything has to break off at cockcrow, or like the ghost of Hamlet’s father.)

12 May.—­Let me begin with facts, bare, meager facts, verified by books and figures, and of which there can be no doubt.  I must not confuse them with experiences which will have to rest on my own observation, or my memory of them.  Last evening when the Count came from his room he began by asking me questions on legal matters and on the doing of certain kinds of business.  I had spent the day wearily over books, and, simply to keep my mind occupied, went over some of the matters I had been examined in at Lincoln’s Inn.  There was a certain method in the Count’s inquiries, so I shall try to put them down in sequence.  The knowledge may somehow or some time be useful to me.