to be read at dusk

To be Read at Duskby Charles DickensOne, two, three, four, five. There were five of them.Five couriers, sitting on a bench outside the convent on the summitof the Great St. Bernard in Switzerland, looking at the remoteheights, stained by the setting sun as if a mighty quantity of redwine had been broached upon the mountain top, and had not yet hadtime to sink into the snow.This is not my simile. It was made for the occasion by thestoutest courier, who was a German. None of the others took anymore notice of it than they took of me, sitting on another bench onthe other side of the convent door, smoking my cigar, like them,...

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