she was given it by an old woman who came down to this village at some point from the river cliffs near Vlad's castle. The girl also told me that her family name is Getzi, although she seemed to have no inkling of its significance. You can imagine my excitement at this: I was in all likelihood standing face-to-face with a descendant of Vlad Dracula. The thought was both astonishing and unnerving (although the girl's purity of face and graceful demeanor were as far as possible from anything monstrous or cruel). When I tried to return the coin she seemed to insist I keep it, which I've done for now, though I shall certainly try again to give it back. We arranged to talk further tomorrow, and I must desist now to make a sketch of the coin, and to study my dictionary in the hope of being able to ask her more about her family and their origins.
My dear friend,
Last night I made a little further headway in speaking with the young woman I told you about - her name is indeed Getzi, and she spelled it for me with the same spelling Georgescu gave me for my notes. I was astonished by the quickness of her understanding, as we tried to converse, and found that in addition to great natural gifts of perception she can read and write and was able to help me look up words in my dictionary. I enjoyed watching her mobile face and bright, dark eyes fill with each new comprehension. She has never learned another language, of course, but I have no doubt she could do so with ease, had she the right instruction.
This struck me as a remarkable phenomenon, to find such intelligence in this remote and simple place; perhaps it is further proof that she is descended from noble, educated, clever people. Her father's family came here so long ago that no one remembers it, but some of them were Hungarian, as far as I could make out. She said her father believes himself heir to the prince of the Castle Arges and that there is treasure buried there, something all the peasants here apparently think. With difficulty, I made out that they believe that on certain saints' days a supernatural light illuminates the site of the buried treasure, but everyone in the villages is too much afraid to go looking for it. The girl's gifts, so clearly superior to her surroundings, kept reminding me of those of Hardy's beautiful Tess of the d'Urbervilles, the noble milkmaid. I know you don't venture past 1800, my friend, but I reread the book last year and I recommend it to you as a detour from your usual strolls. I doubt there is any treasure, by the way, or Georgescu would have found it already.
She also explained to me the startling fact that one member of each generation of her family is stamped on the skin with a tiny dragon. This, as much as her name, and her father's story about it, has convinced me that she is part of a living branch of the Order of the Dragon. I would like to talk with her father, but when I proposed this, she looked so distressed that I would have been a cad to pursue it. This culture is a traditional one, to an extreme, and I am wary of jeopardizing her reputation with her people - I'm certain she's taken a risk even in speaking alone with me and am all the more grateful for her interest and assistance.
I'm off now to walk in the woods a bit; I have so much to think about here that I feel I need to clear my head a bit.
My dear friend, my only confidant,
Two days have passed, and I hardly know how to write to you about them, or if I shall ever show this to anyone. These two days have made for me the difference of a lifetime. They have filled me with equal portions of hope and fear. I feel that in their course I have stepped across a line into a new life.
What it will mean, ultimately, I cannot tell. I am both the happiest man in creation and the most anxious.
Two nights ago, after I last wrote to you, I met again the angelic young woman I have been describing, and our conversations this time led to a sudden change - a kiss, in fact - before she fled. I was