"stoker-dracula-168" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stoker Bram)

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 tomorrow of 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 Bukovina. 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-looking teeth, as
white as ivory. One of my companions whispered to another the line
from Burger's "Lenore:"-

"Denn die Todten reiten schnell"-

("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 the same time
putting out his two fingers and crossing himself. "Give me the
Herr's luggage," said the driver; and with exceeding alacrity my
bags were handed out and put in the caleche. Then I descended from the
side of the coach, as the caleche was close alongside, the driver
helping me with a hand which caught my arm in a grip of steel; his
strength must have been prodigious. Without a word he shook his reins,
the horses turned, and we swept into the darkness of the Pass. As I
looked back I saw the steam from the horses of the coach by the
light of the lamps, and projected against it the figures of my late
companions crossing themselves. Then the driver cracked his whip and
called to his horses, and off they swept on their way to Bukovina.
As they sank into the darkness I felt a strange chill, and a lonely
feeling came over me; but a cloak was thrown over my shoulders, and