it.

"That's not the way, that's not the way, Sonya!" cried Natasha turning
her head and clutching with both hands at her hair which the maid who
was dressing it had not time to release. "That bow is not right. Come
here!"

Sonya sat down and Natasha pinned the ribbon on differently.

"Allow me, Miss! I can't do it like that," said the maid who was holding
Natasha's hair.

"Oh, dear! Well then, wait. That's right, Sonya."

"Aren't you ready? It is nearly ten," came the countess' voice.

"Directly! Directly! And you, Mamma?"

"I have only my cap to pin on."

"Don't do it without me!" called Natasha. "You won't do it right."

"But it's already ten."

They had decided to be at the ball by half past ten, and Natasha had
still to get dressed and they had to call at the Taurida Gardens.

When her hair was done, Natasha, in her short petticoat from under which
her dancing shoes showed, and in her mother's dressing jacket, ran up to
Sonya, scrutinized her, and then ran to her mother. Turning her mother's
head this way and that, she fastened on the cap and, hurriedly kissing
her gray hair, ran back to the maids who were turning up the hem of her
skirt.

The cause of the delay was Natasha's skirt, which was too long. Two
maids were turning up the hem and hurriedly biting off the ends of
thread. A third with pins in her mouth was running about between the
countess and Sonya, and a fourth held the whole of the gossamer garment
up high on one uplifted hand.

"Mavra, quicker, darling!"

"Give me my thimble, Miss, from there..."

"Whenever will you be ready?" asked the count coming to the door. "Here
is some scent. Peronskaya must be tired of waiting."

"It's ready, Miss," said the maid, holding up the shortened gauze dress
with two fingers, and blowing and shaking something off it, as if by
this to express a consciousness of the airiness and purity of what she
held.

Natasha began putting on the dress.

"In a minute! In a minute! Don't come in, Papa!" she cried to her father
as he opened the door--speaking from under the filmy skirt which still
covered her whole face.

Sonya slammed the door to. A minute later they let the count in. He was
wearing a blue swallow-tail coat, shoes and stockings, and was perfumed
and his hair pomaded.

"Oh, Papa! how nice you look! Charming!" cried Natasha, as she stood in
the middle of the room smoothing out the folds of the gauze.

"If you please, Miss! allow me," said the