bang! went the first sleigh over a cradle hole in the snow of the road, and each of the other sleighs jolted in the same way, and rudely breaking the frost-bound stillness, the troykas began to speed along the road, one after the other.
“A hare’s track, a lot of tracks!” rang out Natásha’s voice through the frost-bound air.
“How light it is, Nicolas!” came Sónya’s voice.
Nikoláy glanced round at Sónya, and bent down to see her face closer. Quite a new, sweet face with black eyebrows and mustaches peeped up at him from her sable furs—so close and yet so distant—in the moonlight.
“That used to be Sónya,” thought he, and looked at her closer and smiled.
“What is it, Nicolas?”
“Nothing,” said he and turned again to the horses.
When they came out onto the beaten high road—polished