War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [342]
Servants dressed up as bears, Turks, innkeepers, ladies, frightening and funny, brought cold air and merriment in with them, first huddling timidly in the front hall; then, hiding behind each other, they crowded into the reception room; and, shyly at first, then more merrily and concertedly, songs, jigs, round dances, and Christmas games began. The countess recognized the faces, laughed at the costumes, and went to the drawing room. Count Ilya Andreich sat in the reception room with a beaming smile, approving of the games. The young people disappeared somewhere.
Half an hour later an old lady in a farthingale appeared in the room among the other mummers—this was Nikolai. The Turkish woman was Petya. A clown—this was Dimmler; the hussar was Natasha, and the Circassian was Sonya, with mustache and eyebrows drawn with burnt cork.
After indulgent surprise, nonrecognition, and praise from the noncostumed side, the young people decided their disguises were so good that they had to be shown to somebody else.
Nikolai, who wanted to give everyone a ride over the excellent road in his troika, suggested that they take a dozen or so of the dressed-up servants and go to their uncle’s.
“Ah, you’ll just disturb the old man!” said the countess. “And there’s no room to turn around in his place. If you go anywhere, it should be to the Melyukovs’.”
Mrs. Melyukov was a widow with children of various ages, along with their governesses and governors, who lived three miles from the Rostovs.
“That, ma chère, is a bright idea,” the old count picked up, all aroused. “Let me dress up now, and I’ll go with you. I’ll rouse Pashette, too.”
But the countess did not consent to let the count go: he had had a pain in his leg all those days. It was decided that Ilya Andreich should not go, but that if Louisa Ivanovna (Mme Schoss) went, then the young ladies could go to Mrs. Melyukov’s. Sonya, always timid and shy, was the most insistent in begging Louisa Ivanovna not to refuse them.
Sonya’s outfit was the best of all. Her mustache and eyebrows were remarkably becoming. Everyone told her that she was very beautiful, and she was in an animatedly energetic mood unusual for her. Some inner voice told her that her fate was to be decided that night or never, and in a man’s clothes she seemed a completely different person. Louisa Ivanovna consented and in half an hour four troikas with harness bells and sleigh bells, their runners screeching and squeaking over the frosty snow, drove up to the porch.
Natasha first set the tone for the holiday merriment, and that merriment, reflected from one to another, intensified more and more, and reached its highest point at the moment when they all went out into the cold and, talking, calling out to each other, laughing, and shouting, got into the sleighs.
Two of the troikas were for everyday driving; the third was the old count’s, with an Orel trotter in the shafts; the fourth was Nikolai’s own, with a small, shaggy black shaft horse. Nikolai, in his old lady’s outfit, over which he put a belted hussar’s cape, stood in the middle of his sleigh with a short grip on the reins.
It was so bright that he could see the harness plates gleaming in the moonlight and the eyes of the horses glancing fearfully at their passengers, who were making a great noise under the dark roof of the porch.
Natasha, Sonya, Mme Schoss, and two maids got into Nikolai’s sleigh. Dimmler, his wife, and Petya got into the old count’s sleigh; the dressed-up servants got into the other two.
“You go ahead, Zakhar!” Nikolai cried to his father’s coachman, so as to have the chance to outrun him on the road.
The old count’s troika, with Dimmler and the other mummers, set off ahead, its runners screeching as if freezing to the snow, its deep-toned bell clanging. The outrunners pressed