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 Mohács, 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 Romanovs 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.)