Война и мир

Chapter 17

           Sheknewitwasrightinfront.

           InKúdrino,fromtheNikítski,Présnya,andPodnovínskStreetscameseveralothertrainsofvehiclessimilartotheRostóvs’,andastheypassedalongtheSadóvayaStreetthecarriagesandcartsformedtworowsabreast.

           AstheyweregoingroundtheSúkharevwatertowerNatásha,whowasinquisitivelyandalertlyscrutinizingthepeopledrivingorwalkingpast,suddenlycriedoutinjoyfulsurprise:

           “Dearme!Mamma,Sónya,look,it’she!”

           “Who?Who?”

           “Look!Yes,onmyword,it’sBezúkhov!”saidNatásha,puttingherheadoutofthecarriageandstaringatatall,stoutmaninacoachman’slongcoat,whofromhismannerofwalkingandmovingwasevidentlyagentlemanindisguise,andwhowaspassingunderthearchoftheSúkharevtoweraccompaniedbyasmall,sallow-faced,beardlessoldmaninafriezecoat.

           “Yes,itreallyisBezúkhovinacoachman’scoat,withaqueer-lookingoldboy.Really,”saidNatásha,“look,look!”

           “No,it’snothe.Howcanyoutalksuchnonsense?”

           “Mamma,”screamedNatásha,“I’llstakemyheadit’she!Iassureyou!Stop,stop!”shecriedtothecoachman.

           Butthecoachmancouldnotstop,forfromtheMeshchánskiStreetcamemorecartsandcarriages,andtheRostóvswerebeingshoutedattomoveonandnotblocktheway.

           Infact,however,thoughnowmuchfartheroffthanbefore,theRostóvsallsawPierre—orsomeoneextraordinarilylikehim—inacoachman’scoat,goingdownthestreetwithheadbentandaseriousfacebesideasmall,beardlessoldmanwholookedlikeafootman.

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