I myself was looking for the carriage which should be waiting here to take me to the Count. I expected at any moment to see its lamps shining through the night, but everything was dark. The only light was the flickering of our own lamps. In that light I saw a white cloud of steam rising from our hard working horses. We could see the sandy white-coloured road in front of us, but there was no sign of a vehicle on it. The passengers sat back with a sigh of gladness, which seemed to mock my own disappointment. I was already thinking about what I should do next, when the driver looked at his watch, and said something to the others. He spoke so quietly that I could hardly hear his voice, but I thought he said "An hour less than the time." Then turning to me, he spoke in German which was even 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 tomorrow or the next day, better the next day."

Whilst he was speaking the horses began to neigh and snort and jump about wildly, so that the driver had to hold them. There was a chorus of screams from the peasants who all crossed themselves. A carriage with four horses drove up behind us, overtook us, and stopped beside the coach. I could see from our lamps that the horses were coal-black and splendid animals. They were driven by a tall man, who had a long brown beard and a big black hat which seemed to hide his face from us. I could only see the gleam of a pair of very bright eyes. In the lamplight, these eyes seemed to be red.