War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [382]
He crossed himself towards the front corner14 and went up to Dolokhov, holding out his small, dark hand.
“My respects to Fyodor Ivanovich,” he said, bowing.
“Greetings, brother. Well, there he is.”
“How do you do, Your Excellency,” he said to the entering Anatole, and held out his hand again.
“I say, Balaga,” said Anatole, placing his hands on the man’s shoulders, “do you love me, or not? Eh? Now do me a service…What horses have you brought? Eh?”
“As your messenger told me, it’s your own beasts,” said Balaga.
“Listen, then, Balaga! Do in the whole troika, but we’ve got to make it in three hours. Eh?”
“If I do them in, what’ll I drive with?” Balaga said, winking.
“I’ll smash you in the mug, this is no laughing matter!” Anatole shouted, suddenly goggling his eyes.
“Who’s laughing?” the coachman said with a chuckle. “There’s no sparing horses for my gentlemen. We’ll go as fast as they can gallop.”
“Eh!” said Anatole. “Well, sit down.”
“Yes, sit down!” said Dolokhov.
“I’ll stand, Fyodor Ivanovich.”
“Nonsense, sit down, drink,” said Anatole, and he poured him a big glass of Madeira. The coachman’s eyes lit up at the sight of the wine. He declined out of propriety, then drank and wiped his mouth with a red silk handkerchief tucked inside his hat.
“When do we go, Your Excellency?”
“Let’s see…” Anatole looked at his watch. “We’ll go at once. Look sharp, Balaga. Eh? Will you make it?”
“If we start out with good luck, why shouldn’t we make it?” said Balaga. “We used to get you to Tver in seven hours. You surely remember, Your Excellency.”
“You know, I once drove from Tver on Christmas Eve,” said Anatole with a smile of recollection, addressing Makarin, who tenderly gazed all eyes at Kuragin. “Would you believe, Makarka, it took our breath away, we flew so fast. We drove into a wagon train, leaped right over two wagons. Eh?”
“Some horses those were!” Balaga went on with the same story. “I hitched up young outrunners to the chestnut,” he turned to Dolokhov, “and would you believe, Fyodor Ivanych, the beasts flew for forty miles; my hands froze, I couldn’t hold on to the reins, it was so cold. I dropped the reins—‘Take ’em, Your Excellency’—and just flopped down in the sleigh. And it’s not that we urged ’em on—there was no holding ’em back till we got there. The devils made it in three hours. Only the left outrunner dropped dead.”
XVII
Anatole left the room and came back in a few moments wearing a fur coat with a silver belt and a sable hat, dashingly cocked to one side, which was very becoming to his handsome face. After looking in the mirror, he stood in front of Dolokhov in the same posture he had assumed in front of the mirror and took a glass of wine.
“Well, Fedya, farewell, thanks for everything, farewell,” said Anatole. “Well, comrades, friends…” he pondered “…of my…youth, farewell,” he turned to Makarin and the others.
Though they were all going with him, Anatole evidently wanted to make something touching and solemn out of this address to his friends. He spoke in a slow, loud voice and, thrusting out his chest, moved one leg forward.
“Everybody take a glass; you, too, Balaga. Well, comrades, friends of my youth, we’ve caroused, lived, caroused. Eh? When will we see each other again? I’m going abroad. We’ve lived—farewell, lads. To your health! Hurrah!…” he said, drank his glass, and smashed it on the floor.
“Your health!” said Balaga, also drinking his glass and wiping his mouth with his handkerchief. Makarin, tears in his eyes, embraced Anatole.
“Ah, Prince, I feel so sad parting with you,” he said.
“Let’s go, let’s go!” cried Anatole.
Balaga started for the door.
“No, wait,” said Anatole. “Close the door, we have to sit down.15 There.” They closed the door and sat down.
“Well, off we go now, lads!” said Anatole, getting up.
The valet Joseph handed Anatole a bag and a sword, and they all went out to the front hall.
“And where’s the fur coat?” said Dolokhov. “Hey, Ignashka! Go to Matryona Matveevna, ask for her sable