“Ah！ ah！…” screamed Natasha, rolling her eyes with horror.
“But what did he do？ Did he talk like a man？”
“Yes, like a man. Everything as it should be, and began to try and win her over, and she should have kept him in talk till the cock crew; but she got frightened,—simply took fright, and hid her face in her hands. And he caught her up. Luckily the maids ran in that minute…”
“Come, why are you scaring them？” said Pelagea Danilovna.
“Why, mamma, you tried your fate yourself…” said her daughter.
“And how do they try fate in a granary？” asked Sonya.
“Why, at a time like this they go to the granary and listen. And according to what you hear,—if there’s a knocking and a tapping, it’s bad; but if there’s a sound of sifting corn, it is good. But sometimes it happens…”
“Mamma, tell us what happened to you in the granary？”
Pelagea Danilovna smiled.
“Why, I have forgotten…” she said. “I know none of you will go.”
“No, I’ll go. Pelagea Danilovna, do let me, and I’ll go,” said Sonya.
“Oh, well, if you’re not afraid.”
“Luisa Ivanovna, may I？” asked Sonya.
Whether they were playing at the ring and string game, or the rouble game, or talking as now, Nikolay did not leave Sonya’s side, and looked at her with quite new eyes. It seemed to him as though to-day, for the first time, he had, thanks to that corked moustache, seen her fully as she was. Sonya certainly was that evening gay, lively, and pretty, as Natasha had never seen her before.
“So, this is what she is, and what a fool I have been！” he kept thinking, looking at her sparkling eyes, at the happy, ecstatic smile dimpling her cheeks under the moustache. He had never seen that smile before.
“I’m not afraid of anything,” said Sonya. “May I go at once？” She got up. They told Sonya where the granary was; how she was to stand quite silent and listen, and they gave her a cloak. She threw it over her head and glanced at Nikolay.
“How exquisite that girl is！” he thought. “And what have I been thinking about all this time？”
Sonya went out into the corridor to go to the granary. Nikolay hastily went out to the front porch, saying he was too hot. It certainly was stuffy indoors from the crowd of people.
Outside there was the same still frost, the same moonlight, only even brighter than before. The light was so bright, and there were so many stars sparkling in the snow, that the sky did not attract the eye, and the real stars were hardly noticeable. The sky was all blackness and dreariness, the earth all brightness.
“I’m a fool; a fool！ What have I been waiting for all this time？” thought Nikolay; and running out into the porch he went round the corner of the house along the path leading to the back door. He knew Sonya would come that way. Half-way there was a pile of logs of wood, seven feet long. It was covered with snow and cast a shadow. Across it and on one side of it there fell on the snow and the path a network of shadows from the bare old lime-trees. The wall and roof of the granary glittered in the moonlight, as though hewn out of some precious stone. There was the sound of the snapping of wood in the garden, and all was perfect stillness again. The lungs seemed breathing in, not air, but a sort of ever-youthful power and joy.
From the maid-servants’ entrance came the tap of feet on the steps; there was a ringing crunch on the last step where the snow was heaped, and the voice of the old maid said：
“Straight on, along this path, miss. Only don’t look round！”
“I’m not afraid,” answered Sonya’s voice, and Sonya’s little feet in their dancing-shoes came with a ringing, crunching sound along the path towards Nikolay.
Sonya was muffled up in the cloak. She was two paces away when she saw him. She saw him, too, not as she knew him, and as she was always a little afraid of him. He was in a woman’s dress, with towzled hair, and a blissful smile that was new to Sonya. She ran quickly to him.
“Quite different, and still the same,” thought Nikolay, looking at her face, all lighted up by the moon. He slipped his hands under the cloak that covered her head, embraced her, drew her to him, and kissed the lips that wore a moustache and smelt of burnt cork. Sonya kissed him full on the lips, and putting out her little hands held them against his cheeks on both sides.
“Sonya！…Nikolenka！…” was all they said. They ran to the granary and went back to the house, each at their separate door.