War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [322]
“Hal-loo!” Just then came that inimitable hunting call, which unites in itself the deepest bass and the highest tenor; and around the corner came the head kennelman and huntsman Danilo, a wrinkled old hunter, his gray hair cut round in Ukrainian fashion, a hooked hunting whip in his hand, and with that expression of independence and scorn for everything in the world that only hunters have. He took off his Circassian hat before his master and looked at him scornfully. This scorn was not offensive for the master: Nikolai knew that this Danilo, who scorned everything and was above everything, was still his serf and his hunter.
“Danilo!” said Nikolai, timidly sensing that, at the sight of this hunting weather, these dogs, and his hunter, he was already being seized by that irresistible hunting feeling in which a man forgets all his former intentions, like a lovesick man in the presence of his beloved.
“What orders, Your Excellency?” asked a protodeacon’s bass, hoarse from hallooing, and two black, brilliant eyes looked from under their brows at the silent master. “So you can’t stand it?” these two eyes seemed to say.
“A pretty nice day, eh? For a chase and a gallop, eh?” said Nikolai, scratching Milka behind the ears.
Danilo did not reply and blinked his eyes.
“I sent Uvarka to listen at dawn,” his bass said after a moment’s silence. “He says she transferred them to the Otradnoe reserve, they were howling there.” (“Transferred” meant that the she-wolf they both knew about had gone with her cubs to the Otradnoe woods, which was a mile and a half from the house and was a small preserve.)
“We’ve got to go, then?” said Nikolai. “Meet me here with Uvarka.”
“As you say, sir!”
“And hold off the feeding.”
“Yes, sir.”
Five minutes later Danilo and Uvarka were standing in Nikolai’s big study. Though Danilo was of small stature, seeing him in the room produced an impression similar to seeing a horse or a bear standing there amidst the furniture and accessories of human life. Danilo felt it himself and, as usual, stayed near the door, trying to speak softly, not moving, so as not to break anything somehow in his master’s room, and trying to say everything as quickly as possible and get out into the open, from under the ceiling to under the sky.
Having finished his questioning and extorted from Danilo the admission that the dogs were all right (Danilo himself wanted to go), Nikolai ordered the horses saddled. But Danilo was just about to leave when Natasha, not yet dressed, her hair still undone, in her nanny’s big shawl, came into the room with quick steps. Petya ran in with her.
“You’re going?” said Natasha. “I just knew it. Sonya said you wouldn’t. I knew that on a day like this you couldn’t help going.”
“We’re going,” Nikolai answered reluctantly, being intent on some serious wolf hunting that day and not wanting to bring Natasha and Petya along. “We’re going, but only for wolves: you’d be bored.”
“You know it’s my greatest pleasure,” said Natasha. “That’s not nice—you’re going yourself, you’ve ordered the horses saddled, and you haven’t told us anything.”
“‘Vain are all barriers to Russians’3—we’re going!” cried Petya.
“But you’re not allowed: mama said you’re not allowed,” said Nikolai, turning to Natasha.
“No, I’m going, I’m certainly going,” Natasha said resolutely. “Danilo, order horses saddled for us,