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Jonathan Harker’s Journal

           Theyareverypicturesque,butdonotlookprepossessing. OnthestagetheywouldbesetdownatonceassomeoldOrientalbandofbrigands. Theyare,however,Iamtold,veryharmlessandratherwantinginnaturalself-assertion. 

           ItwasonthedarksideoftwilightwhenwegottoBistritz,whichisaveryinterestingoldplace. BeingpracticallyonthefrontierfortheBorgoPassleadsfromitintoBukovinaithashadaverystormyexistence,anditcertainlyshowsmarksofit. Fiftyyearsagoaseriesofgreatfirestookplace,whichmadeterriblehavoconfiveseparateoccasions. Attheverybeginningoftheseventeenthcenturyitunderwentasiegeofthreeweeksandlost13,000people,thecasualtiesofwarproperbeingassistedbyfamineanddisease. 

           CountDraculahaddirectedmetogototheGoldenKroneHotel,whichIfound,tomygreatdelight,tobethoroughlyold-fashioned,forofcourseIwantedtoseeallIcouldofthewaysofthecountry. 

           Iwasevidentlyexpected,forwhenIgotnearthedoorIfacedacheery-lookingelderlywomanintheusualpeasantdresswhiteundergarmentwithalongdoubleapron,front,andback,ofcolouredstufffittingalmosttootightformodesty. WhenIcamecloseshebowedandsaid, "TheHerrEnglishman?" 

           "Yes,"Isaid,"JonathanHarker." 

           Shesmiled,andgavesomemessagetoanelderlymaninwhiteshirtsleeves,whohadfollowedhertothedoor. 

           Hewent,butimmediatelyreturnedwithaletter: 

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