Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter XVII

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Anatole went out of the room and returned a few minutes laterwearing a fur coat girt with a silver belt, and a sable cap jauntilyset on one side and very becoming to his handsome face. Havinglooked in a mirror, and standing before Dolokhov in the same pose hehad assumed before it, he lifted a glass of wine.

　　"Well, good-by, Theodore. Thank you for everything and farewell!"said Anatole. "Well, comrades and friends..." he considered for amoment "...of my youth, farewell!" he said, turning to Makarin and theothers.

　　Though they were all going with him, Anatole evidently wished tomake something touching and solemn out of this address to hiscomrades. He spoke slowly in a loud voice and throwing out his chestslightly swayed one leg.

　　"All take glasses; you too, Balaga. Well, comrades and friends of myyouth, we've had our fling and lived and reveled. Eh? And now, whenshall we meet again? I am going abroad. We have had a good time- nowfarewell, lads! To our health! Hurrah!..." he cried, and emptyinghis glass flung it on the floor.

　　"To your health!" said Balaga who also emptied his glass, andwiped his mouth with his handkerchief.

　　Makarin embraced Anatole with tears in his eyes.

　　"Ah, Prince, how sorry I am to part from you!

　　"Let's go. Let's go!" cried Anatole.

　　Balaga was about to leave the room.

　　"No, stop!" said Anatole. "Shut the door; we have first to sit down.That's the way."

　　They shut the door and all sat down.

　　"Now, quick march, lads!" said Anatole, rising.

　　Joseph, his valet, handed him his sabretache and saber, and they allwent out into the vestibule.

　　"And where's the fur cloak?" asked Dolokhov. "Hey, Ignatka! Go toMatrena Matrevna and ask her for the sable cloak. I have heard whatelopements are like," continued Dolokhov with a wink. "Why, she'llrush out more dead than alive just in the things she is wearing; ifyou delay at all there'll be tears and 'Papa' and 'Mamma,' and she'sfrozen in a minute and must go back- but you wrap the fur cloakround her first thing and carry her to the sleigh."

　　The valet brought a woman's fox-lined cloak.

　　"Fool, I told you the sable one! Hey, Matrena, the sable!" heshouted so that his voice rang far through the rooms.

　　A handsome, slim, and pale-faced gypsy girl with glittering blackeyes and curly blue-black hair, wearing a red shawl, ran out with asable mantle on her arm.

　　"Here, I don't grudge it- take it!" she said, evidently afraid ofher master and yet regretful of her cloak.

　　Dolokhov, without answering, took the cloak, threw it overMatrena, and wrapped her up in it.

　　"That's the way," said Dolokhov, "and then so!" and he turned thecollar up round her head, leaving only a little of the face uncovered."And then so, do you see?" and he pushed Anatole's head forward tomeet the gap left by the collar, through which Matrena's brilliantsmile was seen.

　　"Well, good-by, Matrena," said Anatole, kissing her. "Ah, myrevels here are over. Remember me to Steshka. There, good-by! Good-by,Matrena, wish me luck!"

　　"Well, Prince, may God give you great luck!" said Matrena in hergypsy accent.

　　Two troykas were standing before the porch and two young driverswere holding the horses. Balaga took his seat in the front one andholding his elbows high arranged the reins deliberately. Anatole andDolokhov got in with him. Makarin, Khvostikov, and a valet seatedthemselves in the other sleigh.

　　"Well, are you ready?" asked Balaga.

　　"Go!" he cried, twisting the reins round his hands, and the troykatore down the Nikitski Boulevard.

　　"Tproo! Get out of the way! Hi!... Tproo!..." The shouting of Balagaand of the sturdy young fellow seated on the box was all that could beheard. On the Arbat Square the troyka caught against a carriage;something cracked, shouts were heard, and the troyka flew along theArbat Street.

　　After taking a turn along the Podnovinski Boulevard, Balaga began torein in, and turning back drew up at the crossing of the oldKonyusheny Street.

　　The young fellow on the box jumped down to hold the horses andAnatole and Dolokhov went along the pavement. When they reached thegate Dolokhov whistled. The whistle was answered, and a maidservantran out.

　　"Come into the courtyard or you'll be seen; she'll come outdirectly," said she.

　　Dolokhov stayed by the gate. Anatole followed the maid into thecourtyard, turned the corner, and ran up into the porch.

　　He was met by Gabriel, Marya Dmitrievna's gigantic footman.

　　"Come to the mistress, please," said the footman in his deep bass,intercepting any retreat.

　　"To what Mistress? Who are you?" asked Anatole in a breathlesswhisper.

　　"Kindly step in, my orders are to bring you in."

　　"Kuragin! Come back!" shouted Dolokhov. "Betrayed! Back!"

　　Dolokhov, after Anatole entered, had remained at the wicket gate andwas struggling with the yard porter who was trying to lock it. Witha last desperate effort Dolokhov pushed the porter aside, and whenAnatole ran back seized him by the arm, pulled him through the wicket,and ran back with him to the troyka.