In a few minutes four sleighs with three horses abreast to each, their
harness jingling with bells, drew up in a line before the steps, the
runners creaking and crunching over the frozen snow. Natacha was the
foremost, and the first to tune her spirits to the pitch of this
carnival freak. This mirth, in fact, proved highly infectious, and
reached its height of tumult and excitement when the party went down the
steps and packed themselves into the sleighs, laughing and shouting to
each other at the top of their voices. Two of the sleighs were drawn by
light cart-horses, to the third the count's carriage horses 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 Pétia,
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