-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Лев Толстой
-
- Война и мир
-
- Стр. 930/1273
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Efím
,
the
old
coachman
,
who
was
the
only
one
the
countess
trusted
to
drive
her
,
sat
perched
up
high
on
the
box
and
did
not
so
much
as
glance
round
at
what
was
going
on
behind
him
.
From
thirty
years
'
experience
he
knew
it
would
be
some
time
yet
before
the
order
,
"
Be
off
,
in
God
's
name
!
"
would
be
given
him
:
and
he
knew
that
even
when
it
was
said
he
would
be
stopped
once
or
twice
more
while
they
sent
back
to
fetch
something
that
had
been
forgotten
,
and
even
after
that
he
would
again
be
stopped
and
the
countess
herself
would
lean
out
of
the
window
and
beg
him
for
the
love
of
heaven
to
drive
carefully
down
the
hill
.
He
knew
all
this
and
therefore
waited
calmly
for
what
would
happen
,
with
more
patience
than
the
horses
,
especially
the
near
one
,
the
chestnut
Falcon
,
who
was
pawing
the
ground
and
champing
his
bit
.
At
last
all
were
seated
,
the
carriage
steps
were
folded
and
pulled
up
,
the
door
was
shut
,
somebody
was
sent
for
a
traveling
case
,
and
the
countess
leaned
out
and
said
what
she
had
to
say
.
Then
Efím
deliberately
doffed
his
hat
and
began
crossing
himself
.
The
postilion
and
all
the
other
servants
did
the
same
.
"
Off
,
in
God
's
name
!
"
said
Efím
,
putting
on
his
hat
.
"
Start
!
"
The
postilion
started
the
horses
,
the
off
pole
horse
tugged
at
his
collar
,
the
high
springs
creaked
,
and
the
body
of
the
coach
swayed
.
The
footman
sprang
onto
the
box
of
the
moving
coach
which
jolted
as
it
passed
out
of
the
yard
onto
the
uneven
roadway
;
the
other
vehicles
jolted
in
their
turn
,
and
the
procession
of
carriages
moved
up
the
street
.
In
the
carriages
,
the
calèche
,
and
the
phaeton
,
all
crossed
themselves
as
they
passed
the
church
opposite
the
house
.
Those
who
were
to
remain
in
Moscow
walked
on
either
side
of
the
vehicles
seeing
the
travelers
off
.
Rarely
had
Natásha
experienced
so
joyful
a
feeling
as
now
,
sitting
in
the
carriage
beside
the
countess
and
gazing
at
the
slowly
receding
walls
of
forsaken
,
agitated
Moscow
.
Occasionally
she
leaned
out
of
the
carriage
window
and
looked
back
and
then
forward
at
the
long
train
of
wounded
in
front
of
them
.
Almost
at
the
head
of
the
line
she
could
see
the
raised
hood
of
Prince
Andrew
's
calèche
.
She
did
not
know
who
was
in
it
,
but
each
time
she
looked
at
the
procession
her
eyes
sought
that
calèche
.
She
knew
it
was
right
in
front
.
In
Kúdrino
,
from
the
Nikítski
,
Présnya
,
and
Podnovínsk
Streets
came
several
other
trains
of
vehicles
similar
to
the
Rostóvs
'
,
and
as
they
passed
along
the
Sadóvaya
Street
the
carriages
and
carts
formed
two
rows
abreast
.
As
they
were
going
round
the
Súkharev
water
tower
Natásha
,
who
was
inquisitively
and
alertly
scrutinizing
the
people
driving
or
walking
past
,
suddenly
cried
out
in
joyful
surprise
:
"
Dear
me
!
Mamma
,
Sónya
,
look
,
it
's
he
!
"
"
Who
?
Who
?
"
"
Look
!
Yes
,
on
my
word
,
it
's
Bezúkhov
!
"
said
Natásha
,
putting
her
head
out
of
the
carriage
and
staring
at
a
tall
,
stout
man
in
a
coachman
's
long
coat
,
who
from
his
manner
of
walking
and
moving
was
evidently
a
gentleman
in
disguise
,
and
who
was
passing
under
the
arch
of
the
Súkharev
tower
accompanied
by
a
small
,
sallow-faced
,
beardless
old
man
in
a
frieze
coat
.
"
Yes
,
it
really
is
Bezúkhov
in
a
coachman
's
coat
,
with
a
queer-looking
old
boy
.
Really
,
"
said
Natásha
,
"
look
,
look
!
"
