War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [332]
VII
When Ilagin took leave of Nikolai in the evening, Nikolai was so far from home that he accepted his uncle’s offer to quit the hunt and spend the night with him (the uncle) in his village of Mikhailovka.
“And if you come to my place—right you are!—that will be even better,” said the uncle. “You see, it’s wet weather,” the uncle said, “you’d get some rest, the little countess would be taken in the droshky.” The uncle’s offer was accepted, a hunter was sent to Otradnoe for the droshky, and Nikolai went to the uncle’s with Natasha and Petya.
Some five men servants, big and small, ran out to the front porch to meet the master. Dozens of women, old, big and little, stuck themselves out from the back porch to look at the arriving hunters. The presence of Natasha, a woman, a lady, on horseback, raised the curiosity of the uncle’s people to such a degree of astonishment that many, unabashed by her presence, went up to her, looked into her eyes, and made remarks about her, as about some wonder on display, which was not a human being and could not hear or understand that they were talking about her.
“Arinka, look, she sits sideways! She sits and her skirt hangs down…See, there’s a little horn!”
“Saints alive, a little knife!…”
“See, like a Tartar woman!”
“How is it you don’t go head over heels?” the boldest of them said, addressing Natasha directly.
The uncle dismounted by the porch of his small wooden house sunk in a garden, and, looking over his domestics, shouted peremptorily that the superfluous people should take themselves off and everything necessary should be done to receive the guests and the hunt.
They all dispersed. The uncle helped Natasha down from the horse and led her by the arm up the shaky plank steps of the porch. The house, unplastered, with timber walls, was not very clean inside—one could see that the aim of those living in it did not consist in keeping it spotless—but there were also no signs of neglect. The entryway smelled of fresh apples and was hung with wolf and fox pelts.
The uncle led his guests through the front hall into a small reception room with a folding table and red chairs, then to a drawing room with a round birch table and a sofa, then to the study, with a torn sofa, a worn rug, and portraits of Suvorov, the host’s father and mother, and himself in military uniform. The study smelled strongly of tobacco and dogs.
In the study the uncle asked his guests to sit down and make themselves at home, and he himself left. Rugai with his still dirty back came into the study and lay on the sofa, cleaning himself with his tongue and teeth. From the study led a corridor in which one could see screens with torn curtains. From behind the screens came women’s laughter and whispering. Natasha, Nikolai, and Petya took their coats off and sat down on the sofa. Petya leaned on his arm and immediately fell asleep; Natasha and Nikolai sat silently. Their faces were burning, they were very hungry and very merry. They looked at each other (after the hunt, inside the house, Nikolai no longer considered it necessary to display his male superiority before his sister); Natasha winked at her brother, the two restrained themselves for a time, then burst into ringing laughter, before they managed to think up a pretext for their laughter.
A little later the uncle came in wearing a jerkin, dark blue trousers, and low boots. And Natasha felt that this same costume, in which she had looked upon her uncle with astonishment and mockery at Otradnoe, was a genuine costume, in no way worse than frock coats and tailcoats. The uncle was also merry; not only was he not offended by the laughter of the brother and sister (it would not have entered his head that they might laugh at his way of life), but he joined in their causeless laughter himself.
“That’s the young countess—right you are!—I’ve never seen another like her!” he said, handing a pipe with a long chibouk to Rostov, and, with a habitual gesture, tucking another, its chibouk cut short, between three fingers.