Chapter 12 Chapter Eleven

I went again to the library in Amsterdam and found that Mr. Binnaz had found something for me during my absence.He spoke to me in good English. "Our young historian. I have something for you, which will help your research." I followed him to his desk and watched him pull out a book. "It's not an old book," he said, "but it tells some old stories that might help you in your dissertation." The title of the book was The Carpathian Tales, a large nineteenth-century volume privately published by an English collector named Robert Digby.In the preface, Digby describes the wild mountains and wild waters he traveled and the various foreign languages ​​he heard.His stories are so romantic that reading them is like hearing a wild voice.There are two stories about "King Dracula" that I can't wait to finish.The first tells of Dracula's penchant for devouring the corpses of people who have been impaled to death in the wild.According to the book, one day a servant complained to Dracula that the house smelled too bad.Therefore, the king asked his men to impale the servant first, so as not to disturb the dying servant again with the smell of the person who died later.Digby gives another version of the story, in which Dracula tortures the servant by ordering him to find a wooden stick twice as long as the one he stabbed to death.

The second story is equally outrageous.On one occasion, Sultan Mehmed II sent two envoys to Dracula.The two did not remove their headscarves during the audience.Dracula asked why they were so disrespectful to him, and they replied that they were just following the traditions of their country. "Then let me help you cement your traditions," replied the king, and nailed their turbans to their heads. I copied down the two versions of Digby's story. Mr. Binnarz came over to ask me how things were going, and I asked him if he could find some documents on Dracula left by Dracula's contemporaries.

"Of course," he nodded solemnly, saying that he would help me find it as long as he had time. Few places in the world are more colorful than a breezy, fiery sunny Venice.The whole city is like a sail, a ship at anchor, ready to set off at any time.Amsterdam is known as the 'Venice of the North' and this fine weather is sure to refresh it.But here, there are fly in the ointment - for example, the fountain taps in the back street that should be spraying water are just dripping.In the bright sunlight, St. Mark's mount was hopping listlessly. I expressed my emotion towards the deserted prosperity in front of me.

My father smiled. "You have a good sense of the atmosphere," he said. Well, Venice is known for her stage presence, and she doesn't mind if she seems a bit overworked, as long as people from all over the world rush to see her. He pointed to the outdoor cafes, "You won't be disappointed in the evening."A well-set stage needs a softer light than this.You will be amazed at the transformation. " Dad took his last sip of beer and opened a guide book. "Yes," he said suddenly. "This is San Marco. You know that the Duchy of Venice has been the rival of Byzantium for centuries, and it is also a great maritime power. In fact, Venice has taken a lot of things from Byzantium, including the horses that participated in the tournament."

I looked out from under our awning toward St. Mark's mount.The bronze horses seemed to be plodding along the dripping lead roofs behind them.The whole cathedral seemed to dissolve in this glare—incomparably bright and hot, like fiery jewels. "Speaking of which," said my father, "when St. Mark's Church was built, it was partly modeled after the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul." "Istanbul?" I asked slyly. "You mean it looks like Hagia Sophia?" "Of course, Hagia Sophia was ravaged by the Ottomans, so you'll see those minarets outside of it, and the huge shield holding the holy book of Muslims inside. But there's also a clear Christian and Byzantine dome, like San Marco."

"Do they look like the ones here?" I asked, pointing across the square. "Yes, it is, but even more spectacular. The size of the place is unbelievable. Can't help but amaze you." "Oh," I said, "I'll have another drink, okay?" My father stared at me suddenly, but it was too late.Now I know he has been to Istanbul himself.