“I say, Balagá,” said Anatole, putting his hands on the man’s shoulders, “do you care for me or not? Eh? Now, do me a service.⁠ ⁠… What horses have you come with? Eh?”

“As your messenger ordered, your special beasts,” replied Balagá.

“Well, listen, Balagá! Drive all three to death but get me there in three hours. Eh?”

“When they are dead, what shall I drive?” said Balagá with a wink.

“Mind, I’ll smash your face in! Don’t make jokes!” cried Anatole, suddenly rolling his eyes.

“Why joke?” said the driver, laughing. “As if I’d grudge my gentlemen anything! As fast as ever the horses can gallop, so fast we’ll go!”

“Ah!” said Anatole. “Well, sit down.”

“Yes, sit down!” said Dólokhov.