Here goes @Witchend
Ivan Petrovitch (Petri to his friends, Ivan to his wife, Petrovitch randomly in this book) buttoned his coat. His brother Stefan Petrovitch (Petrov to his friends, Stefan to his wife, Petrovitch randomly in this book) looked on. "It is time brother" Petrovitch said. "Yes brother, let us away" said Petrovitch. Their father Pietr Ivanovitch (Ivan to his friends, Pietr to his wife, Ivanovitch in this book, sometimes but you know... who knows when) had commanded them to scale the Alps in the winter snow. Wind shook the walls of the chalet, and the tiles of the roof rattled in the cold wind. Ivanovitch (who I've not decided also has a nickname Vlad) was a cruel man, absent from the lives of his sons. The only thing he cared for was money and the skiing that money afforded him.
[Five paragraphs about snow and ice]
"Are we to away Petri?" "It is time Ivan, fetch the carriage". "Pack it with sweets, champagne and meats, Petri". ""Where is the money to come from? Papa has said you are to be cut off."
[Fifty pages later]
The horses were whipped into action. "To France" said Vlad. The red, pinched faces of the villagers looked at at them.
It's the best I can do. Poor, boring Dostoyevsky.