Transylvania, 1888
A woman who stepped to the White Rose Inn was gorgeously, splendidly elegant. Although she was old, her face had rosy, luminous complexion; she was dressed in the walking-gown of richly crimson velvet, and her black cape was lined with lilac satin. She watched around her, then she walked directly to the table of a young priest.
"Can I sit here?" she asked.
"Please do... " the priest began, but the old woman had already sat down.
"I am Rosangela Kárpáthy ," she said. "No, my mother was not Italian, but the name is quite real; she thought roses and angels were symbols of purity and beauty."
Young priest smiled. His hair was as black as his cassock, his face handsome. "I am Colin Murray, traveling from London to Vienna."
"I have understood that the landlord keeps this place clean and the food is good," Rosangela said.
"This borscht is delicious," Colin smiled. He tasted his ruby red wine and for some reason Rosangela watched his drinking with pleasure.
He also noticed that the peasants had started to stare at them. Rosangela saw that Colin had seen; she smiled mockingly.
"They fear vampires and witches," she said.
"Vampires and witches?" Colin asked.
"Superstition," she said. "The sewer fantasies to scapegoat helpless old women." She changed a subject with ease. "I have a house outside the village. I know this is perfectly respectable place but I would like to offer my hospitality tonight; the coach to Vienna doesn´t depart until ten tomorrow morning."
Colin smiled. "You are very kind."
"I am only a lonely old woman, that´s all," came the answer. "Do you come with me?"
"I would be delighted," Colin said, his curiosity awakened.