Sónya came along, wrapped in her cloak. She was only a couple of paces away when she saw him, and to her too he was not the Nikoláy she had known and always slightly feared. He was in a woman’s dress, with tousled hair and a happy smile new to Sónya. She ran rapidly toward him.

“Quite different and yet the same,” thought Nikoláy, looking at her face all lit up by the moonlight. He slipped his arms under the cloak that covered her head, embraced her, pressed her to him, and kissed her on the lips that wore a mustache and had a smell of burnt cork. Sónya kissed him full on the lips, and disengaging her little hands pressed them to his cheeks.

“Sónya!⁠ ⁠… Nicolas!”⁠ ⁠… was all they said. They ran to the barn and then back again, reentering, he by the front and she by the back porch.

When they all drove back from Pelagéya Danílovna’s, Natásha, who always saw and noticed everything, arranged that she and Luíza Ivánovna should go back in the sleigh with Dimmler, and Sónya with Nikoláy and the maids.