Дракула

Jonathan Harker’s Journal

           Thenthemountainsseemedtocomenearertousoneachsideandtofrowndownuponus. WewereenteringontheBorgoPass. Onebyoneseveralofthepassengersofferedmegifts,whichtheypresseduponmewithanearnestnesswhichwouldtakenodenial. Thesewerecertainlyofanoddandvariedkind,buteachwasgiveninsimplegoodfaith,withakindlyword,andablessing,andthatsamestrangemixtureoffear-meaningmovementswhichIhadseenoutsidethehotelatBistritzthesignofthecrossandtheguardagainsttheevileye. Then,asweflewalong,thedriverleanedforward,andoneachsidethepassengers,craningovertheedgeofthecoach,peeredeagerlyintothedarkness. Itwasevidentthatsomethingveryexcitingwaseitherhappeningorexpected,butthoughIaskedeachpassenger,noonewouldgivemetheslightestexplanation. Thisstateofexcitementkeptonforsomelittletime.AndatlastwesawbeforeusthePassopeningoutontheeasternside. Thereweredark,rollingcloudsoverhead,andintheairtheheavy,oppressivesenseofthunder. Itseemedasthoughthemountainrangehadseparatedtwoatmospheres,andthatnowwehadgotintothethunderousone. IwasnowmyselflookingoutfortheconveyancewhichwastotakemetotheCount. EachmomentIexpectedtoseetheglareoflampsthroughtheblackness,butallwasdark. Theonlylightwastheflickeringraysofourownlamps,inwhichthesteamfromourhard-drivenhorsesroseinawhitecloud. Wecouldseenowthesandyroadlyingwhitebeforeus,buttherewasonitnosignofavehicle. Thepassengersdrewbackwithasighofgladness,whichseemedtomockmyowndisappointment. IwasalreadythinkingwhatIhadbestdo,whenthedriver,lookingathiswatch,saidtotheotherssomethingwhichIcouldhardlyhear,itwasspokensoquietlyandinsolowatone,Ithoughtitwas "Anhourlessthanthetime." Thenturningtome,hespokeinGermanworsethanmyown. 

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