3 May. Bistritz. I left Munich at eight in the evening and came east into a country of forests and mountains. At the inn the landlady begged me not to go. "Do you know what day it is?" she said. "Tonight is the eve of St George's Day, and when the clock strikes midnight all the evil things in the world will have full sway." She hung a rosary round my neck and would not take it back. The other passengers on the coach looked at me with pity and made signs against the evil eye. At the Borgo Pass a calèche was waiting, drawn by four coal-black horses, and the driver had a long brown beard and very bright eyes. We drove on into the darkness. Wolves began to howl on both sides of the road, closer and closer, and the horses shook with fear. The driver got down and held up his hands, and the wolves fell back as if he had commanded them. At last we came to a ruined castle, and there was no light in any window.