Dracula. Bram Stoker

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,»