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d shawl and holding a sable cloak on her arm。
“Here； I don’t grudge it； take it；” she said； in visible fear of her lord and regretful at losing the cloak。
Dolohov； making her no answer； took the cloak； flung it about Matryosha； and wrapped her up in it。
“That’s the way；” said Dolohov。 “And then this is the way；” he said and he turned the collar up round her head； leaving it only a little open before the face。 “And then this is the way； do you see？” and he moved Anatole’s head forward to meet the open space left by the collar； from which Matryosha’s flashing smile peeped out。
“Well； good…bye； Matryosha；” said Anatole； kissing her。 “Ah； all my fun here is over！ Give my love to Styoshka。 There； good…bye！ Good…bye； Matryosha； wish me happiness。”
“God grant you great happiness； prince；” said Matryosha； with her gypsy accent。
At the steps stood two three…horse sledges； two stalwart young drivers were holding them。 Balaga took his seat in the foremost； and holding his elbows high； began deliberately arranging the reins in his hands。 Anatole and Dolohov got in with him。 Makarin； Hvostikov； and the valet got into the other sledge。
“Ready； eh？” queried Balaga。 “Off！” he shouted； twisting the reins round his hands； and the sledge flew at break…neck pace along the Nikitsky Boulevard。
“Tprroo！ Hi！ … Tproo！！” Balaga and the young driver on the box were continually shouting。
In Arbatsky Square the sledge came into collision with a carriage； there was a crash and shouts； and the sledge flew off along Arbaty。 Turning twice along Podnovinsky； Balaga began to pull up； and turning back； stopped the horses at the Old Equerrys’ crossing。
A smart young driver jumped down to hold the horses by the bridle； Anatole and Dolohov walked along the pavement。 On reaching the gates； Dolohov whistled。 The whistle was answered； and a maid…servant ran out。
“Come into the courtyard； or you’ll be seen； she is coming in a minute；” she said。
Dolohov stayed at the gate。 Anatole followed the maid into the courtyard； turned a corner； and ran up the steps。
He was met by Gavrilo； Marya Dmitryevna’s huge groom。
“Walk this way to the mistress；” said the groom in his bass； blocking up the doorway。
“What mistress？ And who are you？” Anatole asked in a breathless whisper。
“Walk in； my orders are to show you in。”
“Kuragin！ back！” shouted Dolohov。 “Treachery； back！”
Dolohov； at the little back gate where he had stopped； was struggling with the porter； who was trying to shut the gate after Anatole as he ran in。 With a desperate effort Dolohov shoved away the porter； and clutching at Anatole； pulled him through the gate； and ran back with him to the sledge。
Chapter 18
MARYA DMITRYEVNA coming upon Sonya weeping in the corridor had forced her to confess everything。 Snatching up Natasha’s letter and reading it； Marya Dmitryevna went in to Natasha； with the letter in her hand。
“Vile girl； shameless hussy！” she said to her。 “I won’t hear a word！” Pushing aside Natasha； who gazed at her with amazed but tearless eyes； she locked her into the room； and giving orders to her gate porter to admit the persons who would be coming that evening； but not to allow them to pass out again； and giving her grooms orders to show those persons up to her； she seated herself in the drawing…room awaiting the abductors。
When Gavrilo came to announce to Marya Dmitryevna that the persons who had come had run away； she got up frowning； and clasping her hands behind her； walked a long while up and down through her rooms； pondering what she was to do。 At midnight she walked towards Natasha’s room； feeling the key in her pocket。 Sonya was sitting sobbing in the corridor； “Marya Dmitryevna； do； for God’s sake； let me go in to her！” she said。
Marya Dmitryevna； making her no reply； opened the door and went in。 “Hateful； disgusting； in my house； the nasty hussy； only I’m sorry for her father！” Marya Dmitryevna was thinking； trying to allay her wrath。 “Hard as it may be； I will forbid any one to speak of it； and will conceal it from the count。” Marya Dmitryevna walked with resolute steps into the room。
Natasha was lying on the sofa； she had her head hidden in her hands and did not stir。 She was lying in exactly the same position in which Marya Dmitryevna had left her。
“You’re a nice girl； a very nice girl！” said Marya Dmitryevna。 “Encouraging meetings with lovers in my house！ There’s no use in humbugging。 You listen when I speak to you。” Marya Dmitryevna touched her on the arm。 “You listen when I speak。 You’ve disgraced yourself like the lowest wench。 I don’t know what I couldn’t do to you； but I feel for your father。 I will hide it from him。”
Natasha did not change her position； only her whole body began to writhe with noiseless； convulsive sobs； which choked her。 Marya Dmitryevna looked round at Sonya； and sat down on the edge of the sofa beside Natasha。
“It’s lucky for him that he escaped me； but I’ll get hold of him；” she said in her coarse voice。 “Do you hear what I say； eh？” She put her big hand under Natasha’s face； and turned it towards her。 Both Marya Dmitryevna and Sonya were surprised when they saw Natasha’s face。 Her eyes were glittering and dry； her lips tightly compressed； her cheeks looked sunken。
“Let me be … what do I … I shall die。…” she articulated； with angry effort； tore herself away from Marya Dmitryevna； and fell back into the same attitude again。
“Natalya！ …” said Marya Dmitryevna。 “I wish for your good。 Lie still； come； lie still like that then； I won’t touch you； and listen。… I’m not going to tell you how wrongly you have acted。 You know that yourself。 But now your father’s coming back to…morrow。 What am I to tell him？ Eh？”
Again Natasha’s body heaved with sobs。
“Well； he will hear of it； your brother； your betrothed！”
“I have no betrothed； I have refused him；” cried Natasha。
“That makes no difference；” pursued Marya Dmitryevna。 “Well； they hear of it。 Do you suppose they will let the matter rest？ Suppose he— your father； I know him—if he challenges him to a duel； will that be all right？ Eh？”
“Oh； let me be； why did you hinder everything！ Why？ why？ who asked you to？” cried Natasha； getting up from the sofa； and looking vindictively at Marya Dmitryevna。
“But what was it you wanted？” screamed Marya Dmitryevna； getting hot again。 “Why； you weren’t shut up； were you？ Who hindered his coming to the house？ Why carry you off； like some gypsy wench？ … If he had carried you off； do you suppose they wouldn’t have caught him？ Your father； or brother； or betrothed？ He’s a wretch； a scoundrel； that’s what he is！”
“He’s better than any of you；” cried Natasha； getting up。 “If you hadn’t meddled … O my God； what does it mean？ Sonya； why did you？ Go away！ …” And she sobbed with a despair with which people only bewail a trouble they feel they have brought on themselves。
Marya Dmitryevna was beginning to speak again； but Natasha cried； “Go away； go away； you all hate me and despise me！” And she flung herself again on the sofa。
Marya Dmitryevna went on for some time longer lecturing Natasha； and urging on her that it must all be kept from the count； that no