Sonya, Natasha, Madame Schoss and two maids got into Nikolay's sledge. Into the old count's went Dimmler, his wife and Petya, while the other mummers, the house serfs, took their places in the last two sledges.
'Zakhar, you go on ahead!' shouted Nikolay to his father's coachman, so that he could overtake him on the way. The old count's sledge with Dimmler and his party on board lurched forward, its runners creaking as if they were frozen to the snow, and the big bell clanging. The trace-horses leant into the shafts and as their hooves plunged into the snow they kicked it up, hard and glittering like sugar.
Nikolay followed on behind the first sledge, and after him came the other two, crunching and grating. At first they drove down the narrow road at a slow trot. As they drove down past the garden, the leafless trees sometimes cast their shadows right across the road and hid the bright moonlight. But once they were out of the gates, the snowy plain, glittering with diamonds in a wash of midnight-blue, opened out on all sides, quiescent and bathed in moonlight. Now and again the first sledge would jolt over a pothole, followed by the next one and the one after that, and the sledges stretched out along the road, brutally assaulting the frozen stillness.
'Look, hare-tracks, lots of them!' Natasha's voice rang out through the frosty air.
'Isn't it bright, Nikolay?' said Sonya's voice.
Nikolay glanced round at Sonya, and bent down to take a closer look at her face. It was a new face, quite delightful with its black moustaches and eyebrows that peeped up at him from her furs - so close and yet so distant in the moonlight.
'That used to be Sonya,' thought Nikolay. He looked closer still and gave her a smile.
'What is it, Nikolay?'
'Nothing,' he said, turning back to his horses.
Once they were out on the well-travelled high road, smooth and shiny from sledge runners but lightly pitted by many a horseshoe-nail, with the marks visible in the moonlight, the horses needed no encouragement as they strained at the reins and quickened their pace. The left-hand trace-horse, bending his head down, jerked against his traces. The shaft-horse swayed from side to side, pricking up his ears as if to say, 'Shall we go now, or wait a bit longer?' Zakhar's sledge was well in front but it stood out distinctly, black on white, and they could hear the disappearing echo of its deep-toned bell. Yells and laughter and the sound of people talking floated back from his sledge.
'Right, my darlings!' shouted Nikolay, heaving the reins to one side, and cracking the whip. It was only the sudden onrush of wind straight in their faces and the straining new gallop of the trace-horses that told them the sledge was now hurtling along. Nikolay glanced back. The whooping and yelling and cracking of whips told him the other sledges were coming up fast, with the shaft-horses under the lash. Their own shaft-horse was swinging steadily along under his shaft-bow, with no hint of falling back and every promise of giving more and more if asked to do so.
Nikolay caught up with the first sledge. They were charging downhill on to a wide, well-travelled road through a meadow down by the river.
'Where are we now?' Nikolay wondered. 'Must be Kosoy meadow, I suppose. No, this is somewhere new. I've never seen this before. This isn't Kosoy meadow and that's not Dyomkin hill. Could be anywhere. It's somewhere new. It's a magical place. Who cares?' And yelling to his horses, he began to overtake the first sledge. Zakhar held his horses back and turned his face to them, white to the eyebrows with hoar-frost.
Nikolay gave his horses their head. Zakhar, reaching forward with both arms, clicked his tongue and did the same, calling out, 'Hold on, sir!'
The sledges flew along side by side, faster and faster, and the horses' hooves were a galloping blur. Nikolay pulled slightly ahead. Zakhar, with his arms still straining forward, raised one hand holding the reins.
'No chance, sir,' he yelled, but Nikolay got the last out of his three galloping horses and managed to get past Zakhar. The horses sprayed all their faces with powdery snow, close by they heard the ringing of the bells, and the horses' galloping legs blurred with the shadows of the sledge they were passing. Sounds came from all sides with the girls shrieking as the runners whistled over the snow.
Nikolay then brought his horses to a halt and looked around. Still the same enchanted plain all round them, bathed in moonlight, with a scattering of stars on its surface.
'Zakhar's shouting for me to turn left. Why should I?' thought Nikolay. 'Aren't we supposed to be going to the Melyukovs'? This can't be Melyukovka! We could be anywhere, and anything could be happening to us - and whatever is happening to us is very strange and very nice.' He peered back into the sledge.
'Look, his moustache and his eyelashes are all white,' said one of the strange, pretty, exotic figures sitting there, sporting fine moustaches and eyebrows.
'I think that person used to be Natasha,' thought Nikolay; 'and that was Madame Schoss, or maybe not. And that Circassian with the moustaches, I don't know who he is, but I love her.'
'Anybody feeling cold?' he asked them. The only answer was laughter. Dimmler yelled across from the next sledge, probably something funny, but they couldn't hear what he was shouting.
'Yes, yes,' other voices answered, raised in laughter.
But here they were in a kind of enchanted forest with shifting, black shadows and the glitter of diamonds, and a flight of marble steps, and the silvery roofs of enchanted buildings, and the yelp of wild animals. 'And if this really is Melyukovka,' thought Nikolay, 'it's a very funny thing that we've driven through a land that could have been anywhere and ended up here.'
It was indeed Melyukovka, and here came the footmen and maid-servants running out to meet them with lights and beaming faces.
'Who is it?' asked a voice from the entrance.
'It's the mummers from the count's. I can tell by the horses,' other voices answered.
CHAPTER 11
Pelageya Melyukov, a broadly built, energetic lady, was sitting in her drawing-room, wearing spectacles and a baggy casual dress, surrounded by her daughters, doing what she could to keep boredom at bay. They were quietly dropping melted wax into water and watching the shadows of the shapes that came out, when suddenly they heard noises in the vestibule - footsteps and the voices of people arriving.
In from the vestibule trooped the hussars, fine ladies, witches, clowns and bears, clearing their throats and wiping the hoar-frost off their faces out in the hall, where candles were hurriedly lit. The clown - Dimmler - and the old lady - Nikolay - started a dance. Surrounded by the shrieking children, the mummers hid their faces and spoke in false voices as they bowed to their hostess and dispersed about the room.
'Bless me, they're all unrecognizable! Oh, that's Natasha! Look who she's pretending to be! Who is it she reminds me of? And here's Herr Dimmler - very handsome, too! I hardly knew him. Look at him dancing! Oh, my goodness, here's a Circassian! Little Sonya looks so nice like that! And who's this? Well, you've done us a power of good! Nikita, Vanya - take these tables away. And we were having such a quiet time! . . . Ha-ha-ha! . . . That hussar, look at that hussar! Just like a boy! And the legs! . . . I can't see!' came the various calls.
Natasha, the young Melyukovs' favourite, disappeared with them into the back rooms, where burnt cork and various dressing-gowns and pieces of men's clothing were ordered, procured by the servants and received by bare, girlish arms reaching out through a half-open door. Within ten minutes all the young Melyukovs were ready to come out and join the mummers.
Mme Melyukov had given instructions for the guests to be given plenty of room and she had also arranged for them all to have refreshments, gentry and serfs; now she walked through the crowd of mummers, wearing her spectacles and a half-suppressed smile, scrutinizing them carefully but without recognizing anybody. Not only did she fail to spot the Rostovs and Dimmler, she couldn't even pick out her own daughters or recognize her late husband's dressing-gowns and the bits of his uniform they were wearing.
'Now who can this be?' she kept saying, addressing a governess
but staring straight into the face of her own daughter disguised as a Kazan Tatar. 'Must be a Rostov, I suppose. Well, Mr Hussar, which regiment do you belong to?' she asked Natasha. 'Give that Turk a fruit pastille,' she said to footman walking round with refreshments. 'His laws don't forbid it.'
Sometimes, as she watched the weird and laughable antics of the dancers, who were now letting themselves go on the strength of their undoubted anonymity, Mme Melyukov buried her face in her handkerchief while her elderly and portly figure shook from top to toe with irrespressible laughter and indulgence.
'My little Sasha, my little Sasha!' she cried out.
After several dances, some of them with singing, Mme Melyukov told everyone, servants and gentry alike, to form a large circle. Some string was provided along with a ring and a silver rouble, and they started playing games.
By the time an hour had passed all the costumes were crumpled and untidy. Corked moustaches and eyebrows were being smudged away from burning, perspiring and happy faces. Mme Melyukov was beginning to tell who was who among the mummers. She went into raptures over the clever costumes and the way they suited everyone, especially the young ladies, and she thanked them all for brightening their day. The guests were then invited to take supper in the drawing-room, while the servants were catered for in the hall.
'Oh no, you can't go fortune-telling in an empty bath-house - it's terrifying!' said one person over supper, an old maid who lived with the Melyukovs.
'What do you mean?' asked the Melyukovs' eldest daughter.
'Well, I can't see you doing it. It takes some courage . . .'
'I will,' said Sonya.
'Tell us what happened to that young lady,' said the second girl.
'Well, what happened was this,' said the old maid. 'This young lady went out, took a cockerel, set a table for two, everything just as it should be, and sat down. She sat there for a while, then suddenly what does she hear? Somebody coming - a sledge drives up jingling all sorts of bells. She can hear him coming. In walks a kind of human figure, something like an officer, and he sits down across from her in his proper place.'
'Ah! Ah!' screamed Natasha, goggling with horror.
'Go on. What did he do? Did he talk?'
'Oh yes, a human voice. Everything just as it should be, and he started to woo her with fine words, and she should have kept him going till the cock crowed, but she got scared - it was too much for her and she buried her face in her hands. And he grabbed hold of her . . . It was her lucky day - the maids ran in . . .'
'Go on with you, scaring them like that,' said Mme Melyukov.
'Oh, Mamma, you've done your share of fortune-telling,' said her daughter.
'What's this about fortune-telling in a barn?' asked Sonya.
'Oh, like now, for instance, you just go into a barn and listen. And it all depends on what you hear - if there's a rapping and a banging, that's bad, but if you hear a scattering of corn, it's good. But sometimes what you hear is . . .'
'Mamma, tell us what happened when you went into the barn.'
Mme Melyukov gave a smile.
'Oh, I've forgotten all that,' she said. 'Anyway, nobody here is going.'
'Yes, I will. Let me go. I want to,' said Sonya.
'Oh well, if you're not too scared.'
'Madame Schoss, may I?' asked Sonya.
Whether they had been playing the ring-on-the-string game or the rouble game or just talking as they were now, Nikolay had never left Sonya's side and now he looked at her in a completely new way. It was if he was looking at her for the first time, all because of that corked moustache, and seeing her for what she really was. That evening Sonya certainly looked happier, livelier and prettier than Nikolay had ever seen her before.
'So, this is what she's like. What a fool I've been!' he kept thinking, looking at her sparkling eyes and the happy, rapturous smile dimpling her cheeks alongside that moustache, a smile he had never seen before.
'I'm not scared,' said Sonya. 'Can I go straightaway?' She got to her feet. They told her where the barn was, and how to stand, keep quiet and listen, and they gave her a heavy coat. She threw it over her head and glanced at Nikolay.
'That girl is gorgeous!' he thought. 'What have I been thinking about all this time?'
Sonya went out into the corridor to walk over to the barn. Nikolay hurried out on to the front steps, saying he was too hot. It certainly was stuffy indoors from the crowd of people.
Outside there was the same frosty stillness and the same moonlight, except that it was even brighter than before. The light was so bright, and there were so many stars sparkling in the snow that the sky was no attraction and the real stars were hardly noticeable. The sky was nothing but dreary blackness, the earth as bright as day.
'I'm a fool, a complete fool! What have I been waiting for all this time?' thought Nikolay, skipping down from the porch and scuttling round the corner of the house along the path leading to the back door. He knew Sonya would come this way. Half-way round he saw the dark shadow cast by a snow-covered stack of logs criss-crossed all over by a network of other shadows from the bare old lime-trees that fell on the snow and the path to the barn. The log wall and roof of the barn glittered in the moonlight, as if they had been hewn out of some precious stone. There was a crackling of twigs in the garden, and then everything relapsed into perfect stillness. Nikolay's lungs seemed to breathe in something more than air, something like the power and joy of eternal youth.
Footsteps could be heard tip-tapping down the steps of the back porch and crunching on the last step which was thick with snow, and an old maid-servant's voice called out, 'Straight down the path, miss. Mind you don't look round!'
'I'm not scared,' answered Sonya's voice, and her little feet in their thin slippers came rasping and crunching down the path towards Nikolay.
Sonya was walking along muffled up in the big coat. She was no more than a couple of paces away when she saw him. She saw him now not as he had always been, slightly intimidating. He was wearing his woman's dress, his hair was all tousled, and there was a blissful smile on his face, one that Sonya had never seen before. She rushed up to him.
'Totally different, and just the same,' thought Nikolay, staring down at her face, bright in the moonlight. He slipped his hands under the coat that she had thrown over her head, put his arms round her, pulled her close and kissed the lips, which sported a moustache and smelt of burnt cork. Sonya kissed him back full on the lips, freed her tiny hands and cupped his cheeks with them.
'Sonya!'
'Nikolay!'
That was all they said.
They ran over to the barn and when they returned to the house they went by different porches.
CHAPTER 12
As they were setting off home from Mme Melyukov's Natasha, who never missed anything worth noticing, managed to get them all to change places so that she and Mme Schoss got into one sledge with Dimmler, leaving Sonya to travel in another one with Nikolay and the maids.
No longer interested in overtaking, Nikolay drove smoothly all the way home, constantly gazing at Sonya through the flickering glow of the weird moonlight, searching beyond those eyebrows and moustaches for a glimpse of two different Sonyas, the old one and the new one from whom he had now resolved never to be parted. His eyes were constantly on her, and as both visions of Sonya impressed themselves upon him, recreating in his memory the smell of burnt cork that had blurred with the thrill of their kiss, he began to drink in great lungfuls of frosty air, he glanced down at the speeding earth and up at the glittering heavens, and he knew he was back in fairyland.
'Sonya, do you feel good?' he asked once or twice, with a meaningful shift to the intimate ty form.
'Oh yes. You too?' answered Sonya, also calling him ty.
Half-way home, Nikolay handed the reins to a coachman, ran over to Natasha's sledge for a moment and stood on the running-board.
'Natasha,' he whispered in French, 'listen, I've made up my mind about Sonya.'
'Hav
e you told her?' asked Natasha, suddenly aglow with delight.
'Oh, Natasha, you do look funny with that moustache and those eyebrows! Are you pleased?'
'Of course I'm pleased. I really am! I was beginning to lose patience with you. I never told you, but you've been treating her very badly. A girl with a heart like that, Nikolay. Of course I'm pleased! I know I can be horrible, but I did feel awkward about being so happy on my own, and Sonya not being happy,' Natasha went on. 'Now, I really am pleased. Go on, get back to her.'
'I will in a minute. Oh, you don't know how funny you look!' said Nikolay, staring closely and discovering in her as well, his own sister, something strangely warm and enchanting that he had never seen before. 'Natasha, it's magic, isn't it?'
'Yes,' she answered, 'and you've done the right thing.'
'If only I'd seen her before as she is now,' Nikolay was thinking, 'I'd have asked her long ago what to do, and I'd have done anything she said, and everything would have been all right.'
'So, you are pleased, and I have done the right thing?' he asked.
'Of course you have! Mamma and I had a few words about it only the other day. Mamma said she was setting a trap for you. How could she say that? I almost lost my temper with her. I won't have a bad word said or thought about Sonya. There's nothing but good in her.'
'So it is the right thing to do?' said Nikolay, closely examining the look on her face to see whether she was telling the truth. Then he hopped off the sledge, crunched down into the snow and dashed back to his own troika. She was still sitting there, the same Circassian complete with moustache, happy smile and sparkling eyes, peeping out from under the sable hood, and this was Sonya, the Sonya who was now certain to become his happy and loving future wife.