they dash by a distance of a few rods.[1] "Yes, she must have suspected something; she has taken the reins herself; she is standing up and driving," says the decorous sleigh. "No, no, we'll catch up with them and pay them back." It is a desperate race. Will they overtake them or not? "We shall," says the decorous sleigh with enthusiasm. "No," it cries in despair; then, with new enthusiasm says, "Yes, we shall."
"They are gaining on us," says the riotous sleigh in despair. "They won't catch up with us," it says in enthusiasm. "Will they catch us or not?"
In the decorous sleigh were seated the Kirsánofs and Beaumonts; in the riotous sleigh were four young men and one lady, and it was she who was the ringleader in the riotous sleigh.
"Your health, mesdames and messieurs. We are very glad to see you again," she says from the platform of the factory stairs.—"Gentlemen, help the ladies out of the sleighs," she adds, addressing her companions.
Hurry up! hurry up into the parlors! The cold has reddened all their cheeks.
"How do you do, you dear old man?"[2]
"He isn't an old man at all, Katerina Vasílyevna. What made you tell me that he was old? He will be flirting with me next thing. Will you do it, you dear little old man?" asks the lady of the riotous sleigh.
"I will," says Pólozof, delighted because she gently caressed his gray whiskers.
"Children, will you let him flirt with me?"
"Of course we will," says one of the young men.
"No, no!" say the three others.
But why is the lady of the riotous sleigh dressed all in black? Is it mourning or caprice?
"O dear me, I am tired!" she said, throwing herself on the Turkish divan which occupied the whole length of the side of the parlor. "Children, more cushions! Not for me alone, but I think the other ladies are tired."
"Yes; you have tired us all out! "says Katerina Vasílyevna.
"The race with you over the rough road broke me all up!" says Viéra Pavlovna.
