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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.
Anatole, with uniform unbuttoned, walked to and fro from the room where the witnesses were sitting, through the study to the room behind, where his French valet and others were packing the last of his things. Dolokhov was counting the money and noting something down. "Well," he said, "Khvostikov must have two thousand." "Give it to him, then," said Anatole.
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!"
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!
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