One man, older than the others present, suddenly pushed forward with a scared and angry look and wanted to seize hold of Dolokhov's shirt.
"I say, this is folly! He'll be killed," said this more sensible man.
Anatole stopped him.
"Don't touch him! You'll startle him and then he'll be killed.

Eh ?...
What then ?...

Eh ?" Dolokhov turned round and, again holding on with both hands, arranged himself on his seat.
"If anyone comes meddling again," said he, emitting the words separately through his thin compressed lips, "I will throw him down there.

Now then!" Saying this he again turned round, dropped his hands, took the bottle and lifted it to his lips, threw back his head, and raised his free hand to balance himself.

One of the footmen who had stooped to pick up some broken glass remained in that position without taking his eyes from the window and from Dolokhov's back.