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."

I did not drink any, but it was good to know it was there all the same. I felt a little strange, and not a little frightened. I think that if I had the chance to do anything else I would have done that instead of going on with that journey into the night. The carriage went at a hard pace straight along the road. Then we turned around completely and went along another straight road. It seemed to me that we were going over and over the same piece of the road. I looked for some part of the scenery I could recognize, and when we went past it again, I knew that was exactly what we were doing. I would have liked to have asked the driver what this was about. However, I was afraid to do this, since even if it was being done deliberately, there was nothing I could do about it anyway.