When it grew dark the the passengers seemed to get rather excited. They kept speaking to the driver, one after the other, apparently asking him for greater speed. The driver beat the horses unmercifully with his long whip, and his wild cries of encouragement urged them to make even more effort. Through the darkness I saw a sort of patch of grey light ahead of us, as though there were a cleft in the hills. The passengers became even more excited. 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 of the road and to frown down upon us. We were entering the Borgo Pass.

Several of the passengers offered me gifts, which they insisted I should take. They were very earnest and would not allow me to refuse. The gifts were certainly of an odd and varied kind, but each was given honestly, with a kindly word, and a blessing. And there were the same signs of fear which I had seen outside the hotel at Bistritz - the sign of the cross and the guard against the evil eye. We flew along, the driver leaning forward, and on each side the passengers, leaning over the edge of the coach, peered eagerly into the darkness. I could see that something very exciting was either happening or expected to happen, but though I asked each passenger, no one would tell me what it was.