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"That depends on our luck in starting, else why shouldn't we be there in time?" replied Balaga. "Didn't we get you to Tver in seven hours? I think you remember that, your excellency?" "Do you know, one Christmas I drove from Tver," said Anatole, smilingly at the recollection and turning to Makarin who gazed rapturously at him with wide-open eyes.
Dolokhov put away the money, called a footman whom he ordered to bring something for them to eat and drink before the journey, and went into the room where Khvostikov and Makarin were sitting. Anatole lay on the sofa in the study leaning on his elbow and smiling pensively, while his handsome lips muttered tenderly to himself. "Come and eat something. Have a drink!"
In a sleigh drawn by two gray trotting-horses that were bespattering the dashboard with snow, Anatole and his constant companion Makarin dashed past. Anatole was sitting upright in the classic pose of military dandies, the lower part of his face hidden by his beaver collar and his head slightly bent.
Makarin embraced Anatole with tears in his eyes. "Ah, Prince, how sorry I am to part from you! "Let's go. Let's go!" cried Anatole. Balaga was about to leave the room. "No, stop!" said Anatole. "Shut the door; we have first to sit down. That's the way." They shut the door and all sat down. "Now, quick march, lads!" said Anatole, rising.
"Well, comrades and friends..." he considered for a moment "...of my youth, farewell!" he said, turning to Makarin and the others. Though they were all going with him, Anatole evidently wished to make something touching and solemn out of this address to his comrades. He spoke slowly in a loud voice and throwing out his chest slightly swayed one leg. "All take glasses; you too, Balaga.
Balaga took his seat in the front one and holding his elbows high arranged the reins deliberately. Anatole and Dolokhov got in with him. Makarin, Khvostikov, and a valet seated themselves in the other sleigh. "Well, are you ready?" asked Balaga. "Go!" he cried, twisting the reins round his hands, and the troyka tore down the Nikitski Boulevard. "Tproo! Get out of the way!
Two witnesses for the mock marriage Khvostikov, a retired petty official whom Dolokhov made use of in his gambling transactions, and Makarin, a retired hussar, a kindly, weak fellow who had an unbounded affection for Kuragin were sitting at tea in Dolokhov's front room.
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