ov had drunk three bottles
of wine with him and, despite the jolting ruts across the snow-covered
road, did not once wake up on the way to Moscow, but lay at the bottom
of the sleigh beside Rostov, who grew more and more impatient the nearer
they got to Moscow.

"How much longer? How much longer? Oh, these insufferable streets,
shops, bakers' signboards, street lamps, and sleighs!" thought Rostov,
when their leave permits had been passed at the town gate and they had
entered Moscow.

"Denisov! We're here! He's asleep," he added, leaning forward with his
whole body as if in that position he hoped to hasten the speed of the
sleigh.

Denisov gave no answer.

"There's the corner at the crossroads, where the cabman, Zakhar, has his
stand, and there's Zakhar himself and still the same horse! And here's
the little shop where we used to buy gingerbread! Can't you hurry up?
Now then!"

"Which house is it?" asked the driver.

"Why, that one, right at the end, the big one. Don't you see? That's our
house," said Rostov. "Of course, it's our house! Denisov, Denisov! We're
almost there!"

Denisov raised his head, coughed, and made no answer.

"Dmitri," said Rostov to his valet on the box, "those lights are in our
house, aren't they?"

"Yes, sir, and there's a light in your father's study."

"Then they've not gone to bed yet? What do you think? Mind now,
don't forget to put out my new coat," added Rostov, fingering his new
mustache. "Now then, get on," he shouted to the driver. "Do wake up,
Vaska!" he went on, turning to Denisov, whose head was again nodding.
"Come, get on! You shall have three rubles for vodka--get on!" Rostov
shouted, when the sleigh was only three houses from his door. It seemed
to him the horses were not moving at all. At last the sleigh bore to the
right, drew up at an entrance, and Rostov saw overhead the old familiar
cornice with a bit of plaster broken off, the porch, and the post by the
side of the pavement. He sprang out before the sleigh stopped, and ran
into the hall. The house stood cold and silent, as if quite regardless
of who had come to it. There was no one in the hall. "Oh God! Is
everyone all right?" he thought, stopping for a moment with a sinking
heart, and then immediately starting to run along the hall and up the
warped steps of the familiar staircase. The well-known old door handle,
which always angered the countess when it was not properly cleaned,
turned as loosely as ever. A so