smiling joyfully; and snatching the shawl from the footman, whom he
even pushed aside, he began wrapping it round the princess. Either
from awkwardness or intentionally (no one could have said which) after
the shawl had been adjusted he kept his arm around her for a long
time, as though embracing her.

Still smiling, she gracefully moved away, turning and glancing at
her husband. Prince Andrew's eyes were closed, so weary and sleepy did
he seem.

"Are you ready?" he asked his wife, looking past her.

Prince Hippolyte hurriedly put on his cloak, which in the latest
fashion reached to his very heels, and, stumbling in it, ran out
into the porch following the princess, whom a footman was helping into
the carriage.

"Princesse, au revoir," cried he, stumbling with his tongue as
well as with his feet.

The princess, picking up her dress, was taking her seat in the
dark carriage, her husband was adjusting his saber; Prince
Hippolyte, under pretense of helping, was in everyone's way.

"Allow me, sir," said Prince Andrew in Russian in a cold,
disagreeable tone to Prince Hippolyte who was blocking his path.

"I am expecting you, Pierre," said the same voice, but gently and
affectionately.