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- Стр. 646/1273
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"
No
,
stop
!
"
said
Anatole
.
"
Shut
the
door
;
we
have
first
to
sit
down
.
That
's
the
way
.
"
They
shut
the
door
and
all
sat
down
.
"
Now
,
quick
march
,
lads
!
"
said
Anatole
,
rising
.
Joseph
,
his
valet
,
handed
him
his
sabretache
and
saber
,
and
they
all
went
out
into
the
vestibule
.
"
And
where
's
the
fur
cloak
?
"
asked
Dólokhov
.
"
Hey
,
Ignátka
!
Go
to
Matrëna
Matrévna
and
ask
her
for
the
sable
cloak
.
I
have
heard
what
elopements
are
like
,
"
continued
Dólokhov
with
a
wink
.
"
Why
,
she
'll
rush
out
more
dead
than
alive
just
in
the
things
she
is
wearing
;
if
you
delay
at
all
there
'll
be
tears
and
'
Papa
'
and
'
Mamma
,
'
and
she
's
frozen
in
a
minute
and
must
go
back
--
but
you
wrap
the
fur
cloak
round
her
first
thing
and
carry
her
to
the
sleigh
.
"
The
valet
brought
a
woman
's
fox-lined
cloak
.
"
Fool
,
I
told
you
the
sable
one
!
Hey
,
Matrëna
,
the
sable
!
"
he
shouted
so
that
his
voice
rang
far
through
the
rooms
.
A
handsome
,
slim
,
and
pale-faced
gypsy
girl
with
glittering
black
eyes
and
curly
blue-black
hair
,
wearing
a
red
shawl
,
ran
out
with
a
sable
mantle
on
her
arm
.
"
Here
,
I
do
n't
grudge
it
--
take
it
!
"
she
said
,
evidently
afraid
of
her
master
and
yet
regretful
of
her
cloak
.
Dólokhov
,
without
answering
,
took
the
cloak
,
threw
it
over
Matrëna
,
and
wrapped
her
up
in
it
.
