From the very first these secluded spots of beauty attracted me more than anything else; indescribable is the spell that they throw over me, almost inexplicable the delight with which they fill my soul!
As in many other countries, the Rumanian monks and nuns knew how to select the most enchanting places for their homes of peace.
I have wandered from one to another, discovering many a hidden treasure, visiting the richest and the poorest, those easy of access and those hidden away in mountain valleys, where the traveller's foot but rarely strays.
Some I was only able to reach on horseback, having climbed over hill and dale, up or down stony passes, followed by troops of white-clad peasants, mounted on shaggy, dishevelled ponies, sure-footed as mountain-goats.
Once at dusk, after a whole day's riding over the mountains, I came quite suddenly upon one of these far-away sanctuaries, whitewashed, strangely picturesque, half-hidden amongst pines and venerable beech-trees with trunks like giants turned suddenly to stone—giants that in their last agony are twisting their arms in useless despair.
On my approach the bells began ringing—their clear and strident voices proclaiming their joy to the skies.
I rode through the covered portal into the walled-in court. Before I could dismount I was surrounded by a dark swarm of nuns making humble gestures of greeting, crossing themselves, falling to their knees, and pressing their foreheads against the stones on the ground, catching hold of my hands or part of my garment, which they kissed, whilst they cried and murmured, mumbling many a prayer.
"THIS PORCH IS DECORATED ALL OVER WITH FRESCOES" (p. [26]).