touched my arm as we swept round the base of a hill and opened
up the lofty, snow-covered peak of a mountain, which seemed, as
we wound en our serpentine way, to be right before us:
«Look! Isten szek!» «God’s seat!» and he crossed him-
self reverently.
As we wound on our endless way, and the sun sank lower and
lower behind us, the shadows of the evening began to creep
round us. This was emphasised by the fact that the snowy
mountain-top still held the sunset, and seemed to glow out with
a delicate cool pink. Here and there we passed Cszeks and Slo-
vaks, all in picturesque attire, but I noticed that goitre was
painfully prevalent. By the roadside were many crosses, and as
w^sw^r^b^mj^mp_a_nions jill crossed themselves. Here and
there was a peasant man or woman kneeling before a shrine,
who did not even turn round as we approached, but seemed in
the self-surrender of devotion to have neither eyes nor ears for
the outer world. There were many things new to me: for instance,
hay-ricks in the trees, and here and there very beautiful masses
of weeping birch, their white stems shining like silver through
the delicate green of the leaves. Now and again we passed a
leiter-wagon the ordinary peasant’s cart with its long, snake-
like vertebra, calculated to suit the inequalities of the road. On
this were sure to be seated quite a group of home-coming peas-
ants, the Cszeks with their white, and the Slovaks with their
coloured, sheepskins, the latter carrying lance-fashion their
long staves, with axe at end. As the evening fell it began to
get very cold, and the growing twilight seemed to merge into
one dark mistiness the gloom of the trees, oak, beech, and pine,
though in the valleys which ran deep between the spurs of the
hills, as we ascended through the Pass, the dark firs stood out
here and there against the background of late-lying snow.
Sometimes, as the road was. cut through the pine woods that
seemed in the darkness to be closing down upon us, great masses
8 Dracula
of greyness, which here and there bestrewed the trees, pro-
duced a peculiarly weird and.. solemn effect, which carried on the
thoughts and grim fancies engendered earlier in the evening,
when the falling sunset threw into strange relief the ghost-like
clouds which amongst the Carpathians seem to wind ceaselessly
through the valleys. Sometimes the hills were so steep that,
despite our driver’s haste, the horses could only go slowly. I
wished to get down and walk up them, as we do at home, but
the driver would not hear of it. "No, no,» he said; "you must not
walk here; the dogs are too fierce»; and then he added, with what
he evidently meant for grim pleasantry for he looked round to
catch the approving smile of the rest «and you may have
enough of such matters before you go to sleep.» The only stop
he would make was a moment’s pause to light his lamps.
When it grew dark there seemed to be some excitement
amongst the passengers, and they kept speaking to him, one
after the other, as though urging him to further speed. He lashed
the horses unmercifully with his long whip, and with wild cries
of encouragement urged them on to further exertions. Then
through the darkness I could see a sort of patch of grey light
ahead of us, as though there were a cleft in the hills. The excite-
ment of the passengers grew greater; the crazy coach rocked on
its great leather springs, and swayed like a boat tossed on a
stormy sea. I had to hold on. The road grew more level, and we
appeared to fly along. Then the mountains seemed to come
nearer to us on each side and to frown down upon us; we were
entering on the Borgo Pass. One by one several of the passengers
offered me gifts, which they pressed upon me with an earnest-
ness which would take no denial; these were certainly of an odd
and varied kind, but each was given in simple good faith, with
a kindly word, and a blessing, and that strange mixture of fear-
meaning movements which I had seen outside the hotel at
Bistritz the sign of the cross and the guard against the evil eye.
Then, as we flew along, the driver leaned forward, and on each
side the passengers, craning over the edge of the coach, peered
eagerly into the darkness. It was evident that something very
exciting was either happening or expected, but though I asked
each passenger, no one would give me the slightest explanation.
This state of excitement kept on for some little time; and at last
we saw before us the Pass opening out on the eastern side. There
were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy,
oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though the mountain
range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got
Jonathan Marker’s Journal 9
into the thunderous one. I was now myself looking out for the
conveyance which was to take me to the Count. Each moment
I expected to see the glare of lamps through the blackness; but
all was dark. The only light was the flickering rays of our own
lamps, in which the steam from our hard-driven horses rose in
a white cloud. We could see now the sandy road lying white
before us, but there was on it no sign of a vehicle. The passen-
gers drew back with a sigh of gladness, which seemed to mock
my own disappointment. I was already thinking what I had best
do, when the driver, looking at his watch, said to the others
something which I could hardly hear, it was spoken so quietly
and in so low a tone; I thought it was «An hour less than the
time.» Then turning to me, he said in German worse than my
own:
«There is no carriage here. The Herr is not expected after all.
He will now come on to Bukovina, and return to-morrow or
the next day; better the next day.» Whilst he was speaking the
horses began to neigh and snort and plunge wildly, so that the
driver had to hold them up. Then, amongst a chorus of screams
from the peasants and a universal crossing of themselves, a
caleche, with four horses, drove up behind us, overtook us, and
drew up beside the coach. I could see from the flash of our
lamps, as the rays fell on them, that the horses were coal-black
and splendid animals. They were driven by a tall man, with a
long brown beard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide
his face from us. I could only see the gleam of a pair of very
bright eyes, which seemed red in the lamplight, as he turned to
us. He said to the driver:
«You are early to-night, my friend.» The man stammered in
reply:
«The English Herr was in a hurry,» to which the stranger
replied:
«That is why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to Buko-
vina. You cannot deceive me, my friend; I know too much, and
my horses are swift.» As he spoke he smiled, and the lamplight
fell on a hard-looking mouth, with very red lips and sharp-look-
ing teeth, as white as ivory. One of my companions whispered
to another the line from Burger’s" Lenore " :
«Denri die Todten reiten schnelPV-
(«For the dead travel fast,») ___^
The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up
with a gleaming smile. The passenger turned his face away, at
io Dracula
the same time putting out his two fingers and crossing himself.
«Give me the Herr’s luggage,» said the driver; and with exceed-
ing alacrity my bags were handed out and put in the caleche.
Then I descended from the side of the coach, as the caleche was
close alongside, the driver helping me with a hand which caught
my arm in a grip of steel; his strength must have been prodi-
gious. Without a word he shook his reins, the horses turned, and
we swept into the darkness of the Pass. As I looked back I saw
the steam from the horses of the coach by the light of the lamps,
and projected against it the figures of my late companions cross-
ing themselves. Then the driver cracked his whip and called