him and at the sparkling sky, felt himself again in fairyland.
“Sónya, is it well with thee ?” he asked from time to time.
“Yes!” she replied. “And with thee ?”
When halfway home Nikoláy handed the reins to the coachman and ran for a moment to Natásha’s sleigh and stood on its wing.
“Natásha!” he whispered in French, “do you know I have made up my mind about Sónya?”
“Have you told her?” asked Natásha, suddenly beaming all over with joy.
“Oh, how strange you are with that mustache and those eyebrows! … Natásha—are you glad?”
“I am so glad, so glad! I was beginning to be vexed with you. I did not tell you, but you have been treating her badly. What a heart she has, Nicolas! I am horrid sometimes, but I was ashamed to be happy while Sónya was not,” continued Natásha. “Now I am so glad! Well, run back to her.”