es were
harnessed, and one of these was reputed a famous trotter from Orlow's
stable; the fourth sleigh, with its rough-coated, black shaft-horse, was
Nicolas's private property. In his marquise costume, over which he had
thrown his hussar's cloak, fastened with a belt round the waist, he
stood gathering up the reins. The moon was shining brightly, reflected
in the plating of the harness and in the horses' anxious eyes as they
turned their heads in uneasy amazement at the noisy group that clustered
under the dark porch. Natacha, Sonia, and Mme. Schoss, with two women
servants, got into Nicolas's sleigh; Dimmler and his wife, with Petia,
into the count's; the rest of the mummers packed into the other sleighs.

"Lead the way, Zakhare!" cried Nicolas, to his father's coachman,
promising himself the pleasure of outstripping him presently; the
count's sleigh swayed and strained, the runners, which the frost had
already glued to the ground, creaked, the bells rang out, the horses
closed up for a pull, and off they went over the glittering, hard snow,
flinging it up right and left like spray of powdered sugar. Nicolas
started next, and the others followed along the narrow way, with no less
jingling and creaking. While they drove under the wall of the park the
shadows of the tall, skeleton trees lay on the road, checkering the
broad moonlight; but as soon as they had left it behind them, the wide
and spotless plain spread on all sides, its whiteness broken by myriads
of flashing sparks and spangles of reflected light. Suddenly a rut
caused the foremost sleigh to jolt violently, and then the others in
succession; they fell away a little, their intrusive clatter breaking
the supreme and solemn silence of the night.

"A hare's tracks!" exclaimed Natacha, and her voice pierced the frozen
air like an arrow.

"How light it is, Nicolas," said Sonia. Nicolas turned round to look at
the pretty face with its black mustache, under the sable hood, looking
at once so far away and so close in the moonshine. "It is not Sonia at
all," he said, smiling.

"Why, what is the matter?"

"Nothing," said he, returning to his former position.

When they got out on the high-road, beaten and ploughed by horses' hoofs
and polished with the tracks of sleighs, his steeds began to pull and go
at a great pace. The near horse, turning away his head, was galloping
rather wildly, while the horse in the shafts pricked his ears and still
seemed to doubt whe