and she's frozen in
a minute and must go back--but you wrap the fur cloak round 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!" he shouted so
that his voice rang far through the rooms.

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

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

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

"That's the way," said Dolokhov, "and then so!" and he turned the collar
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 to meet the
gap left by the collar, through which Matrena's brilliant smile was
seen.

"Well, good-by, Matrena," said Anatole, kissing her. "Ah, my revels 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 her gypsy
accent.

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

"Well, are you ready?" asked Balaga.

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

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

After taking a turn along the Podnovinski Boulevard, Balaga began to
rein in, and turning back drew up at the crossing of the old Konyusheny
Street.

The young fellow on the box jumped down to hold the horses and Anatole
and Dolokhov went along the pavement. When they reached the gate
Dolokhov whistled. The whistle was answered, and a maidservant ran out.

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

Dolokhov stayed by the gate. Anatole followed the maid into the
courtyard, turned the cor