Dólokhov, without answering, took the cloak, threw it over Matrësha, and wrapped her up in it.

“That’s the way,” said Dólokhov, “and then so!” and he turned the collar up round her head, leaving only a little of the face uncovered. “And then so, do you see?” and he pushed Anatole’s head forward to meet the gap left by the collar, through which Matrësha’s brilliant smile was seen.

“Well, goodbye, Matrësha,” said Anatole, kissing her. “Ah, my revels here are over. Remember me to Stëshka. There, goodbye! Goodbye, Matrësha, wish me luck!”

“Well, Prince, may God give you great luck!” said Matrësha in her gypsy accent.

Two troykas were standing before the porch and two young drivers were holding the horses. Balagá took his seat in the front one and holding his elbows high arranged the reins deliberately. Anatole and Dólokhov got in with him. Makárin, Khvóstikov, and a valet seated themselves in the other sleigh.