grumbling at a young girl who stood panting, having just run in through the cold from the serfs’ quarters.
“Stop playing—there’s a time for everything,” said the old woman.
“Let her alone, Kondrátevna,” said Natásha. “Go, Mavrúshka, go.”
Having released Mavrúshka, Natásha crossed the dancing hall and went to the vestibule. There an old footman and two young ones were playing cards. They broke off and rose as she entered.
“What can I do with them?” thought Natásha.
“Oh, Nikíta, please go … where can I send him? … Yes, go to the yard and fetch a fowl, please, a cock, and you, Misha, bring me some oats.”
“Just a few oats?” said Misha, cheerfully and readily.
“Go, go quickly,” the old man urged him.
“And you, Fëdor, get me a piece of chalk.”
On her way past the butler’s pantry