Without a word the driver shook his reins, the horses turned, and we drove into the darkness of the pass. I looked back and saw the steam from the horses of the coach in the light of its lamps, and the dark shapes of my recent travelling companions. Then the coach driver's whip gave a bang and the horses, and the people on the coach set off on their way to Bukovina. As they vanished into the darkness I felt a strange chill, and started to feel very lonely. But the driver put a cloak over my shoulders, and a rug across my knees. He said in excellent German "The night is chill, mein Herr, and my master the Count ordered me take good care of you. There is a flask of slivovitz (the plum brandy of the country) underneath the seat, if you should require it."