diff --git a/.github/_typos.toml b/.github/_typos.toml index 874ad82ad..87860f0a9 100644 --- a/.github/_typos.toml +++ b/.github/_typos.toml @@ -10,5 +10,7 @@ extend-exclude = [ "_typos.toml", "docs/xmldocs/", "LLama.Web/wwwroot/", - "LLama/runtimes/deps/" + "LLama/runtimes/deps/", + "LLama.Benchmark/Assets/", + "LLama.Examples/Assets/" ] diff --git a/.github/download_models.py b/.github/download_models.py new file mode 100644 index 000000000..7d58011d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/.github/download_models.py @@ -0,0 +1,20 @@ +from huggingface_hub import hf_hub_download +import argparse + +if __name__ == '__main__': + parser = argparse.ArgumentParser() + parser.add_argument('--model-list', type=str, required=True) + parser.add_argument('--model-dir', type=str, required=True) + parser.add_argument('--endpoint', type=str, default='https://huggingface.co') + args = parser.parse_args() + + with open(args.model_list, 'r') as f: + repo_id, filename = f.readline().split(',') + + hf_hub_download( + repo_id=repo_id, + filename=filename, + local_dir=args.model_dir, + local_dir_use_symlinks=False, + endpoint=args.endpoint + ) \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/.github/workflows/benchmark.yml b/.github/workflows/benchmark.yml new file mode 100644 index 000000000..083517a6e --- /dev/null +++ b/.github/workflows/benchmark.yml @@ -0,0 +1,74 @@ +name: Benchmark Test +on: + push: + branches: [master] + pull_request: + branches: [master] +concurrency: + group: ${{ github.workflow }}-${{ github.ref }}-benchmark + cancel-in-progress: true + +jobs: + linux-benchmark-cuda: + if: contains(github.event.pull_request.labels.*.name, 'benchmark') + runs-on: [self-hosted, linux, gpu] + + strategy: + fail-fast: false + matrix: + build: [cuda11] + include: + - build: cuda11 + image: nvidia/cuda:11.7.1-devel-ubuntu22.04 + modeldir: /llamasharp_ci/models_benchmark + # - build: cuda12 + # image: nvidia/cuda:12.1.1-runtime-ubuntu22.04 + + container: + image: ${{ matrix.image }} + env: + BENCHMARK_MODEL_DIR: ${{ matrix.modeldir }} + ports: + - 80 + volumes: + - /llamasharp_ci:/llamasharp_ci + options: --gpus=all --ipc=host --runtime=nvidia + + steps: + - uses: actions/checkout@v4 + + - name: Install libraries + run: | + apt update + apt install -y curl libicu-dev + apt-get install wget + wget https://packages.microsoft.com/config/ubuntu/22.04/packages-microsoft-prod.deb -O packages-microsoft-prod.deb + dpkg -i packages-microsoft-prod.deb + rm packages-microsoft-prod.deb + apt-get update && apt-get install -y dotnet-sdk-8.0 + + - name: Prepare models + run: | + apt-get update + apt-get install -y python3.10 python3-pip + python3 --version + pip install huggingface_hub + python3 .github/download_models.py --model-dir ${{ matrix.modeldir }} --model-list LLama.Benchmark/Assets/models.txt --endpoint https://hf-mirror.com + + - name: Clear package cache + run: dotnet clean LLamaSharp.sln && dotnet nuget locals all --clear + - name: Restore packages + run: dotnet restore LLamaSharp.sln + - name: Build + run: | + dotnet clean + dotnet build LLama/LLamaSharp.csproj -c Release --no-restore + dotnet build LLama.Benchmark/LLama.Benchmark.csproj -c Release --no-restore + - name: Run benchmark test + run: dotnet run --project LLama.Benchmark/LLama.Benchmark.csproj -c Release --anyCategories LLama + - name: Upload artifacts + if: always() + uses: actions/upload-artifact@v3 + with: + name: Benchmark_Results + path: BenchmarkDotNet.Artifacts/results/* diff --git a/.github/workflows/main.yml b/.github/workflows/main.yml index aa0aefc96..fc716e55a 100644 --- a/.github/workflows/main.yml +++ b/.github/workflows/main.yml @@ -1,4 +1,4 @@ -name: CI +name: Unit Test on: push: branches: [master] diff --git a/.gitignore b/.gitignore index f7b8be305..ab25845f8 100644 --- a/.gitignore +++ b/.gitignore @@ -346,3 +346,5 @@ site/ /LLama.Unittest/Models/*.bin /LLama.Unittest/Models/*.gguf +/LLama.Benchmark/Models/*.bin +/LLama.Benchmark/Models/*.gguf \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/LLama.Benchmark/Assets/TextCompletionPrompts.txt b/LLama.Benchmark/Assets/TextCompletionPrompts.txt new file mode 100644 index 000000000..e550a9279 --- /dev/null +++ b/LLama.Benchmark/Assets/TextCompletionPrompts.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5379 @@ +CHAPTER I + +“Well, Prince, so Genoa and Lucca are now just family estates of the +Buonapartes. But I warn you, if you don’t tell me that this means war, +if you still try to defend the infamies and horrors perpetrated by that +Antichrist—I really believe he is Antichrist—I will have nothing +more to do with you and you are no longer my friend, no longer my +‘faithful slave,’ as you call yourself! But how do you do? I see I +have frightened you—sit down and tell me all the news.” + +It was in July, 1805, and the speaker was the well-known Anna Pávlovna +Schérer, maid of honor and favorite of the Empress Márya Fëdorovna. +With these words she greeted Prince Vasíli Kurágin, a man of high +rank and importance, who was the first to arrive at her reception. Anna +Pávlovna had had a cough for some days. She was, as she said, suffering +from la grippe; grippe being then a new word in St. Petersburg, used +only by the elite. + +All her invitations without exception, written in French, and delivered +by a scarlet-liveried footman that morning, ran as follows: + +“If you have nothing better to do, Count (or Prince), and if the +prospect of spending an evening with a poor invalid is not too terrible, +I shall be very charmed to see you tonight between 7 and 10—Annette +Schérer.” + +“Heavens! what a virulent attack!” replied the prince, not in the +least disconcerted by this reception. He had just entered, wearing an +embroidered court uniform, knee breeches, and shoes, and had stars on +his breast and a serene expression on his flat face. He spoke in that +refined French in which our grandfathers not only spoke but thought, and +with the gentle, patronizing intonation natural to a man of importance +who had grown old in society and at court. He went up to Anna Pávlovna, +kissed her hand, presenting to her his bald, scented, and shining head, +and complacently seated himself on the sofa. + +“First of all, dear friend, tell me how you are. Set your friend’s +mind at rest,” said he without altering his tone, beneath the +politeness and affected sympathy of which indifference and even irony +could be discerned. + +“Can one be well while suffering morally? Can one be calm in times +like these if one has any feeling?” said Anna Pávlovna. “You are +staying the whole evening, I hope?” + +“And the fete at the English ambassador’s? Today is Wednesday. I +must put in an appearance there,” said the prince. “My daughter is +coming for me to take me there.” + +“I thought today’s fete had been canceled. I confess all these +festivities and fireworks are becoming wearisome.” + +“If they had known that you wished it, the entertainment would have +been put off,” said the prince, who, like a wound-up clock, by force +of habit said things he did not even wish to be believed. + +“Don’t tease! Well, and what has been decided about Novosíltsev’s +dispatch? You know everything.” + +“What can one say about it?” replied the prince in a cold, listless +tone. “What has been decided? They have decided that Buonaparte has +burnt his boats, and I believe that we are ready to burn ours.” + +Prince Vasíli always spoke languidly, like an actor repeating a stale +part. Anna Pávlovna Schérer on the contrary, despite her forty years, +overflowed with animation and impulsiveness. To be an enthusiast had +become her social vocation and, sometimes even when she did not +feel like it, she became enthusiastic in order not to disappoint the +expectations of those who knew her. The subdued smile which, though it +did not suit her faded features, always played round her lips expressed, +as in a spoiled child, a continual consciousness of her charming defect, +which she neither wished, nor could, nor considered it necessary, to +correct. + +In the midst of a conversation on political matters Anna Pávlovna burst +out: + +“Oh, don’t speak to me of Austria. Perhaps I don’t understand +things, but Austria never has wished, and does not wish, for war. She +is betraying us! Russia alone must save Europe. Our gracious sovereign +recognizes his high vocation and will be true to it. That is the one +thing I have faith in! Our good and wonderful sovereign has to perform +the noblest role on earth, and he is so virtuous and noble that God will +not forsake him. He will fulfill his vocation and crush the hydra of +revolution, which has become more terrible than ever in the person of +this murderer and villain! We alone must avenge the blood of the just +one.... Whom, I ask you, can we rely on?... England with her commercial +spirit will not and cannot understand the Emperor Alexander’s +loftiness of soul. She has refused to evacuate Malta. She wanted to +find, and still seeks, some secret motive in our actions. What answer +did Novosíltsev get? None. The English have not understood and cannot +understand the self-abnegation of our Emperor who wants nothing for +himself, but only desires the good of mankind. And what have they +promised? Nothing! And what little they have promised they will not +perform! Prussia has always declared that Buonaparte is invincible, and +that all Europe is powerless before him.... And I don’t believe a +word that Hardenburg says, or Haugwitz either. This famous Prussian +neutrality is just a trap. I have faith only in God and the lofty +destiny of our adored monarch. He will save Europe!” + +She suddenly paused, smiling at her own impetuosity. + +“I think,” said the prince with a smile, “that if you had been +sent instead of our dear Wintzingerode you would have captured the King +of Prussia’s consent by assault. You are so eloquent. Will you give me +a cup of tea?” + +“In a moment. À propos,” she added, becoming calm again, “I am +expecting two very interesting men tonight, le Vicomte de Mortemart, who +is connected with the Montmorencys through the Rohans, one of the best +French families. He is one of the genuine émigrés, the good ones. And +also the Abbé Morio. Do you know that profound thinker? He has been +received by the Emperor. Had you heard?” + +“I shall be delighted to meet them,” said the prince. “But +tell me,” he added with studied carelessness as if it had only just +occurred to him, though the question he was about to ask was the chief +motive of his visit, “is it true that the Dowager Empress wants +Baron Funke to be appointed first secretary at Vienna? The baron by all +accounts is a poor creature.” + +Prince Vasíli wished to obtain this post for his son, but others were +trying through the Dowager Empress Márya Fëdorovna to secure it for +the baron. + +Anna Pávlovna almost closed her eyes to indicate that neither she nor +anyone else had a right to criticize what the Empress desired or was +pleased with. + +“Baron Funke has been recommended to the Dowager Empress by her +sister,” was all she said, in a dry and mournful tone. + +As she named the Empress, Anna Pávlovna’s face suddenly assumed an +expression of profound and sincere devotion and respect mingled with +sadness, and this occurred every time she mentioned her illustrious +patroness. She added that Her Majesty had deigned to show Baron Funke +beaucoup d’estime, and again her face clouded over with sadness. + +The prince was silent and looked indifferent. But, with the womanly and +courtierlike quickness and tact habitual to her, Anna Pávlovna +wished both to rebuke him (for daring to speak as he had done of a man +recommended to the Empress) and at the same time to console him, so she +said: + +“Now about your family. Do you know that since your daughter came +out everyone has been enraptured by her? They say she is amazingly +beautiful.” + +The prince bowed to signify his respect and gratitude. + +“I often think,” she continued after a short pause, drawing nearer +to the prince and smiling amiably at him as if to show that political +and social topics were ended and the time had come for intimate +conversation—“I often think how unfairly sometimes the joys of life +are distributed. Why has fate given you two such splendid children? +I don’t speak of Anatole, your youngest. I don’t like him,” she +added in a tone admitting of no rejoinder and raising her eyebrows. +“Two such charming children. And really you appreciate them less than +anyone, and so you don’t deserve to have them.” + +And she smiled her ecstatic smile. + +“I can’t help it,” said the prince. “Lavater would have said I +lack the bump of paternity.” + +“Don’t joke; I mean to have a serious talk with you. Do you know +I am dissatisfied with your younger son? Between ourselves” (and her +face assumed its melancholy expression), “he was mentioned at Her +Majesty’s and you were pitied....” + +The prince answered nothing, but she looked at him significantly, +awaiting a reply. He frowned. + +“What would you have me do?” he said at last. “You know I did all +a father could for their education, and they have both turned out fools. +Hippolyte is at least a quiet fool, but Anatole is an active one. That +is the only difference between them.” He said this smiling in a way +more natural and animated than usual, so that the wrinkles round +his mouth very clearly revealed something unexpectedly coarse and +unpleasant. + +“And why are children born to such men as you? If you were not a +father there would be nothing I could reproach you with,” said Anna +Pávlovna, looking up pensively. + +“I am your faithful slave and to you alone I can confess that my +children are the bane of my life. It is the cross I have to bear. That +is how I explain it to myself. It can’t be helped!” + +He said no more, but expressed his resignation to cruel fate by a +gesture. Anna Pávlovna meditated. + +“Have you never thought of marrying your prodigal son Anatole?” she +asked. “They say old maids have a mania for matchmaking, and though I +don’t feel that weakness in myself as yet, I know a little person who +is very unhappy with her father. She is a relation of yours, Princess +Mary Bolkónskaya.” + +Prince Vasíli did not reply, though, with the quickness of memory and +perception befitting a man of the world, he indicated by a movement of +the head that he was considering this information. + +“Do you know,” he said at last, evidently unable to check the sad +current of his thoughts, “that Anatole is costing me forty thousand +rubles a year? And,” he went on after a pause, “what will it be in +five years, if he goes on like this?” Presently he added: “That’s +what we fathers have to put up with.... Is this princess of yours +rich?” + +“Her father is very rich and stingy. He lives in the country. He is +the well-known Prince Bolkónski who had to retire from the army under +the late Emperor, and was nicknamed ‘the King of Prussia.’ He is +very clever but eccentric, and a bore. The poor girl is very unhappy. +She has a brother; I think you know him, he married Lise Meinen lately. +He is an aide-de-camp of Kutúzov’s and will be here tonight.” + +“Listen, dear Annette,” said the prince, suddenly taking Anna +Pávlovna’s hand and for some reason drawing it downwards. “Arrange +that affair for me and I shall always be your most devoted slave-slafe +with an f, as a village elder of mine writes in his reports. She is rich +and of good family and that’s all I want.” + +And with the familiarity and easy grace peculiar to him, he raised the +maid of honor’s hand to his lips, kissed it, and swung it to and fro +as he lay back in his armchair, looking in another direction. + +“Attendez,” said Anna Pávlovna, reflecting, “I’ll speak to +Lise, young Bolkónski’s wife, this very evening, and perhaps the +thing can be arranged. It shall be on your family’s behalf that I’ll +start my apprenticeship as old maid.” + + + + + +CHAPTER II + +Anna Pávlovna’s drawing room was gradually filling. The highest +Petersburg society was assembled there: people differing widely in age +and character but alike in the social circle to which they belonged. +Prince Vasíli’s daughter, the beautiful Hélène, came to take her +father to the ambassador’s entertainment; she wore a ball dress and +her badge as maid of honor. The youthful little Princess Bolkónskaya, +known as la femme la plus séduisante de Pétersbourg, * was also there. +She had been married during the previous winter, and being pregnant did +not go to any large gatherings, but only to small receptions. Prince +Vasíli’s son, Hippolyte, had come with Mortemart, whom he introduced. +The Abbé Morio and many others had also come. + + * The most fascinating woman in Petersburg. + +To each new arrival Anna Pávlovna said, “You have not yet seen my +aunt,” or “You do not know my aunt?” and very gravely conducted +him or her to a little old lady, wearing large bows of ribbon in her +cap, who had come sailing in from another room as soon as the guests +began to arrive; and slowly turning her eyes from the visitor to her +aunt, Anna Pávlovna mentioned each one’s name and then left them. + +Each visitor performed the ceremony of greeting this old aunt whom not +one of them knew, not one of them wanted to know, and not one of them +cared about; Anna Pávlovna observed these greetings with mournful and +solemn interest and silent approval. The aunt spoke to each of them in +the same words, about their health and her own, and the health of Her +Majesty, “who, thank God, was better today.” And each visitor, +though politeness prevented his showing impatience, left the old woman +with a sense of relief at having performed a vexatious duty and did not +return to her the whole evening. + +The young Princess Bolkónskaya had brought some work in a +gold-embroidered velvet bag. Her pretty little upper lip, on which a +delicate dark down was just perceptible, was too short for her teeth, +but it lifted all the more sweetly, and was especially charming when she +occasionally drew it down to meet the lower lip. As is always the case +with a thoroughly attractive woman, her defect—the shortness of her +upper lip and her half-open mouth—seemed to be her own special and +peculiar form of beauty. Everyone brightened at the sight of this pretty +young woman, so soon to become a mother, so full of life and health, and +carrying her burden so lightly. Old men and dull dispirited young ones +who looked at her, after being in her company and talking to her a +little while, felt as if they too were becoming, like her, full of life +and health. All who talked to her, and at each word saw her bright smile +and the constant gleam of her white teeth, thought that they were in a +specially amiable mood that day. + +The little princess went round the table with quick, short, swaying +steps, her workbag on her arm, and gaily spreading out her dress sat +down on a sofa near the silver samovar, as if all she was doing was a +pleasure to herself and to all around her. “I have brought my work,” +said she in French, displaying her bag and addressing all present. +“Mind, Annette, I hope you have not played a wicked trick on me,” +she added, turning to her hostess. “You wrote that it was to be quite +a small reception, and just see how badly I am dressed.” And she +spread out her arms to show her short-waisted, lace-trimmed, dainty gray +dress, girdled with a broad ribbon just below the breast. + +“Soyez tranquille, Lise, you will always be prettier than anyone +else,” replied Anna Pávlovna. + +“You know,” said the princess in the same tone of voice and still in +French, turning to a general, “my husband is deserting me? He is going +to get himself killed. Tell me what this wretched war is for?” she +added, addressing Prince Vasíli, and without waiting for an answer she +turned to speak to his daughter, the beautiful Hélène. + +“What a delightful woman this little princess is!” said Prince +Vasíli to Anna Pávlovna. + +One of the next arrivals was a stout, heavily built young man with +close-cropped hair, spectacles, the light-colored breeches fashionable +at that time, a very high ruffle, and a brown dress coat. This stout +young man was an illegitimate son of Count Bezúkhov, a well-known +grandee of Catherine’s time who now lay dying in Moscow. The young man +had not yet entered either the military or civil service, as he had only +just returned from abroad where he had been educated, and this was his +first appearance in society. Anna Pávlovna greeted him with the nod she +accorded to the lowest hierarchy in her drawing room. But in spite of +this lowest-grade greeting, a look of anxiety and fear, as at the sight +of something too large and unsuited to the place, came over her face +when she saw Pierre enter. Though he was certainly rather bigger than +the other men in the room, her anxiety could only have reference to +the clever though shy, but observant and natural, expression which +distinguished him from everyone else in that drawing room. + +“It is very good of you, Monsieur Pierre, to come and visit a poor +invalid,” said Anna Pávlovna, exchanging an alarmed glance with her +aunt as she conducted him to her. + +Pierre murmured something unintelligible, and continued to look round as +if in search of something. On his way to the aunt he bowed to the little +princess with a pleased smile, as to an intimate acquaintance. + +Anna Pávlovna’s alarm was justified, for Pierre turned away from the +aunt without waiting to hear her speech about Her Majesty’s health. +Anna Pávlovna in dismay detained him with the words: “Do you know the +Abbé Morio? He is a most interesting man.” + +“Yes, I have heard of his scheme for perpetual peace, and it is very +interesting but hardly feasible.” + +“You think so?” rejoined Anna Pávlovna in order to say something +and get away to attend to her duties as hostess. But Pierre now +committed a reverse act of impoliteness. First he had left a lady before +she had finished speaking to him, and now he continued to speak to +another who wished to get away. With his head bent, and his big feet +spread apart, he began explaining his reasons for thinking the abbé’s +plan chimerical. + +“We will talk of it later,” said Anna Pávlovna with a smile. + +And having got rid of this young man who did not know how to behave, she +resumed her duties as hostess and continued to listen and watch, ready +to help at any point where the conversation might happen to flag. As +the foreman of a spinning mill, when he has set the hands to work, goes +round and notices here a spindle that has stopped or there one that +creaks or makes more noise than it should, and hastens to check the +machine or set it in proper motion, so Anna Pávlovna moved about her +drawing room, approaching now a silent, now a too-noisy group, and by a +word or slight rearrangement kept the conversational machine in steady, +proper, and regular motion. But amid these cares her anxiety about +Pierre was evident. She kept an anxious watch on him when he approached +the group round Mortemart to listen to what was being said there, and +again when he passed to another group whose center was the abbé. + +Pierre had been educated abroad, and this reception at Anna +Pávlovna’s was the first he had attended in Russia. He knew that all +the intellectual lights of Petersburg were gathered there and, like a +child in a toyshop, did not know which way to look, afraid of missing +any clever conversation that was to be heard. Seeing the self-confident +and refined expression on the faces of those present he was always +expecting to hear something very profound. At last he came up to Morio. +Here the conversation seemed interesting and he stood waiting for an +opportunity to express his own views, as young people are fond of doing. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Anna Pávlovna’s reception was in full swing. The spindles hummed +steadily and ceaselessly on all sides. With the exception of the aunt, +beside whom sat only one elderly lady, who with her thin careworn face +was rather out of place in this brilliant society, the whole company had +settled into three groups. One, chiefly masculine, had formed round +the abbé. Another, of young people, was grouped round the beautiful +Princess Hélène, Prince Vasíli’s daughter, and the little Princess +Bolkónskaya, very pretty and rosy, though rather too plump for her age. +The third group was gathered round Mortemart and Anna Pávlovna. + +The vicomte was a nice-looking young man with soft features and polished +manners, who evidently considered himself a celebrity but out of +politeness modestly placed himself at the disposal of the circle in +which he found himself. Anna Pávlovna was obviously serving him up as +a treat to her guests. As a clever maître d’hôtel serves up as a +specially choice delicacy a piece of meat that no one who had seen it in +the kitchen would have cared to eat, so Anna Pávlovna served up to +her guests, first the vicomte and then the abbé, as peculiarly choice +morsels. The group about Mortemart immediately began discussing the +murder of the Duc d’Enghien. The vicomte said that the Duc d’Enghien +had perished by his own magnanimity, and that there were particular +reasons for Buonaparte’s hatred of him. + +“Ah, yes! Do tell us all about it, Vicomte,” said Anna Pávlovna, +with a pleasant feeling that there was something à la Louis XV in the +sound of that sentence: “Contez nous çela, Vicomte.” + +The vicomte bowed and smiled courteously in token of his willingness to +comply. Anna Pávlovna arranged a group round him, inviting everyone to +listen to his tale. + +“The vicomte knew the duc personally,” whispered Anna Pávlovna to +one of the guests. “The vicomte is a wonderful raconteur,” said she +to another. “How evidently he belongs to the best society,” said she +to a third; and the vicomte was served up to the company in the choicest +and most advantageous style, like a well-garnished joint of roast beef +on a hot dish. + +The vicomte wished to begin his story and gave a subtle smile. + +“Come over here, Hélène, dear,” said Anna Pávlovna to the +beautiful young princess who was sitting some way off, the center of +another group. + +The princess smiled. She rose with the same unchanging smile with which +she had first entered the room—the smile of a perfectly beautiful +woman. With a slight rustle of her white dress trimmed with moss +and ivy, with a gleam of white shoulders, glossy hair, and sparkling +diamonds, she passed between the men who made way for her, not looking +at any of them but smiling on all, as if graciously allowing each the +privilege of admiring her beautiful figure and shapely shoulders, +back, and bosom—which in the fashion of those days were very much +exposed—and she seemed to bring the glamour of a ballroom with her as +she moved toward Anna Pávlovna. Hélène was so lovely that not only +did she not show any trace of coquetry, but on the contrary she even +appeared shy of her unquestionable and all too victorious beauty. She +seemed to wish, but to be unable, to diminish its effect. + +“How lovely!” said everyone who saw her; and the vicomte lifted his +shoulders and dropped his eyes as if startled by something extraordinary +when she took her seat opposite and beamed upon him also with her +unchanging smile. + +“Madame, I doubt my ability before such an audience,” said he, +smilingly inclining his head. + +The princess rested her bare round arm on a little table and considered +a reply unnecessary. She smilingly waited. All the time the story was +being told she sat upright, glancing now at her beautiful round arm, +altered in shape by its pressure on the table, now at her still more +beautiful bosom, on which she readjusted a diamond necklace. From time +to time she smoothed the folds of her dress, and whenever the story +produced an effect she glanced at Anna Pávlovna, at once adopted just +the expression she saw on the maid of honor’s face, and again relapsed +into her radiant smile. + +The little princess had also left the tea table and followed Hélène. + +“Wait a moment, I’ll get my work.... Now then, what are you +thinking of?” she went on, turning to Prince Hippolyte. “Fetch me my +workbag.” + +There was a general movement as the princess, smiling and talking +merrily to everyone at once, sat down and gaily arranged herself in her +seat. + +“Now I am all right,” she said, and asking the vicomte to begin, she +took up her work. + +Prince Hippolyte, having brought the workbag, joined the circle and +moving a chair close to hers seated himself beside her. + +Le charmant Hippolyte was surprising by his extraordinary resemblance +to his beautiful sister, but yet more by the fact that in spite of +this resemblance he was exceedingly ugly. His features were like his +sister’s, but while in her case everything was lit up by a joyous, +self-satisfied, youthful, and constant smile of animation, and by the +wonderful classic beauty of her figure, his face on the contrary +was dulled by imbecility and a constant expression of sullen +self-confidence, while his body was thin and weak. His eyes, nose, and +mouth all seemed puckered into a vacant, wearied grimace, and his arms +and legs always fell into unnatural positions. + +“It’s not going to be a ghost story?” said he, sitting down beside +the princess and hastily adjusting his lorgnette, as if without this +instrument he could not begin to speak. + +“Why no, my dear fellow,” said the astonished narrator, shrugging +his shoulders. + +“Because I hate ghost stories,” said Prince Hippolyte in a tone +which showed that he only understood the meaning of his words after he +had uttered them. + +He spoke with such self-confidence that his hearers could not be sure +whether what he said was very witty or very stupid. He was dressed in +a dark-green dress coat, knee breeches of the color of cuisse de nymphe +effrayée, as he called it, shoes, and silk stockings. + +The vicomte told his tale very neatly. It was an anecdote, then current, +to the effect that the Duc d’Enghien had gone secretly to Paris to +visit Mademoiselle George; that at her house he came upon Bonaparte, +who also enjoyed the famous actress’ favors, and that in his presence +Napoleon happened to fall into one of the fainting fits to which he was +subject, and was thus at the duc’s mercy. The latter spared him, and +this magnanimity Bonaparte subsequently repaid by death. + +The story was very pretty and interesting, especially at the point +where the rivals suddenly recognized one another; and the ladies looked +agitated. + +“Charming!” said Anna Pávlovna with an inquiring glance at the +little princess. + +“Charming!” whispered the little princess, sticking the needle into +her work as if to testify that the interest and fascination of the story +prevented her from going on with it. + +The vicomte appreciated this silent praise and smiling gratefully +prepared to continue, but just then Anna Pávlovna, who had kept a +watchful eye on the young man who so alarmed her, noticed that he was +talking too loudly and vehemently with the abbé, so she hurried to the +rescue. Pierre had managed to start a conversation with the abbé about +the balance of power, and the latter, evidently interested by the young +man’s simple-minded eagerness, was explaining his pet theory. Both +were talking and listening too eagerly and too naturally, which was why +Anna Pávlovna disapproved. + +“The means are ... the balance of power in Europe and the rights of +the people,” the abbé was saying. “It is only necessary for one +powerful nation like Russia—barbaric as she is said to be—to place +herself disinterestedly at the head of an alliance having for its object +the maintenance of the balance of power of Europe, and it would save the +world!” + +“But how are you to get that balance?” Pierre was beginning. + +At that moment Anna Pávlovna came up and, looking severely at Pierre, +asked the Italian how he stood Russian climate. The Italian’s +face instantly changed and assumed an offensively affected, sugary +expression, evidently habitual to him when conversing with women. + +“I am so enchanted by the brilliancy of the wit and culture of the +society, more especially of the feminine society, in which I have had +the honor of being received, that I have not yet had time to think of +the climate,” said he. + +Not letting the abbé and Pierre escape, Anna Pávlovna, the more +conveniently to keep them under observation, brought them into the +larger circle. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Just then another visitor entered the drawing room: Prince Andrew +Bolkónski, the little princess’ husband. He was a very handsome young +man, of medium height, with firm, clearcut features. Everything about +him, from his weary, bored expression to his quiet, measured step, +offered a most striking contrast to his quiet, little wife. It was +evident that he not only knew everyone in the drawing room, but had +found them to be so tiresome that it wearied him to look at or listen to +them. And among all these faces that he found so tedious, none seemed +to bore him so much as that of his pretty wife. He turned away from +her with a grimace that distorted his handsome face, kissed Anna +Pávlovna’s hand, and screwing up his eyes scanned the whole company. + +“You are off to the war, Prince?” said Anna Pávlovna. + +“General Kutúzov,” said Bolkónski, speaking French and stressing +the last syllable of the general’s name like a Frenchman, “has been +pleased to take me as an aide-de-camp....” + +“And Lise, your wife?” + +“She will go to the country.” + +“Are you not ashamed to deprive us of your charming wife?” + +“André,” said his wife, addressing her husband in the same +coquettish manner in which she spoke to other men, “the vicomte has +been telling us such a tale about Mademoiselle George and Buonaparte!” + +Prince Andrew screwed up his eyes and turned away. Pierre, who from +the moment Prince Andrew entered the room had watched him with glad, +affectionate eyes, now came up and took his arm. Before he looked round +Prince Andrew frowned again, expressing his annoyance with whoever was +touching his arm, but when he saw Pierre’s beaming face he gave him an +unexpectedly kind and pleasant smile. + +“There now!... So you, too, are in the great world?” said he to +Pierre. + +“I knew you would be here,” replied Pierre. “I will come to supper +with you. May I?” he added in a low voice so as not to disturb the +vicomte who was continuing his story. + +“No, impossible!” said Prince Andrew, laughing and pressing +Pierre’s hand to show that there was no need to ask the question. He +wished to say something more, but at that moment Prince Vasíli and his +daughter got up to go and the two young men rose to let them pass. + +“You must excuse me, dear Vicomte,” said Prince Vasíli to the +Frenchman, holding him down by the sleeve in a friendly way to prevent +his rising. “This unfortunate fete at the ambassador’s deprives me +of a pleasure, and obliges me to interrupt you. I am very sorry to leave +your enchanting party,” said he, turning to Anna Pávlovna. + +His daughter, Princess Hélène, passed between the chairs, lightly +holding up the folds of her dress, and the smile shone still more +radiantly on her beautiful face. Pierre gazed at her with rapturous, +almost frightened, eyes as she passed him. + +“Very lovely,” said Prince Andrew. + +“Very,” said Pierre. + +In passing Prince Vasíli seized Pierre’s hand and said to Anna +Pávlovna: “Educate this bear for me! He has been staying with me +a whole month and this is the first time I have seen him in society. +Nothing is so necessary for a young man as the society of clever +women.” + + +Anna Pávlovna smiled and promised to take Pierre in hand. She knew his +father to be a connection of Prince Vasíli’s. The elderly lady who +had been sitting with the old aunt rose hurriedly and overtook Prince +Vasíli in the anteroom. All the affectation of interest she had assumed +had left her kindly and tear-worn face and it now expressed only anxiety +and fear. + +“How about my son Borís, Prince?” said she, hurrying after him into +the anteroom. “I can’t remain any longer in Petersburg. Tell me what +news I may take back to my poor boy.” + +Although Prince Vasíli listened reluctantly and not very politely +to the elderly lady, even betraying some impatience, she gave him an +ingratiating and appealing smile, and took his hand that he might not go +away. + +“What would it cost you to say a word to the Emperor, and then he +would be transferred to the Guards at once?” said she. + +“Believe me, Princess, I am ready to do all I can,” answered Prince +Vasíli, “but it is difficult for me to ask the Emperor. I should +advise you to appeal to Rumyántsev through Prince Golítsyn. That would +be the best way.” + +The elderly lady was a Princess Drubetskáya, belonging to one of the +best families in Russia, but she was poor, and having long been out of +society had lost her former influential connections. She had now come to +Petersburg to procure an appointment in the Guards for her only son. +It was, in fact, solely to meet Prince Vasíli that she had obtained an +invitation to Anna Pávlovna’s reception and had sat listening to +the vicomte’s story. Prince Vasíli’s words frightened her, an +embittered look clouded her once handsome face, but only for a moment; +then she smiled again and clutched Prince Vasíli’s arm more tightly. + +“Listen to me, Prince,” said she. “I have never yet asked you +for anything and I never will again, nor have I ever reminded you of my +father’s friendship for you; but now I entreat you for God’s sake to +do this for my son—and I shall always regard you as a benefactor,” +she added hurriedly. “No, don’t be angry, but promise! I have asked +Golítsyn and he has refused. Be the kindhearted man you always were,” +she said, trying to smile though tears were in her eyes. + +“Papa, we shall be late,” said Princess Hélène, turning her +beautiful head and looking over her classically molded shoulder as she +stood waiting by the door. + +Influence in society, however, is a capital which has to be economized +if it is to last. Prince Vasíli knew this, and having once realized +that if he asked on behalf of all who begged of him, he would soon be +unable to ask for himself, he became chary of using his influence. But +in Princess Drubetskáya’s case he felt, after her second appeal, +something like qualms of conscience. She had reminded him of what was +quite true; he had been indebted to her father for the first steps in +his career. Moreover, he could see by her manners that she was one of +those women—mostly mothers—who, having once made up their minds, +will not rest until they have gained their end, and are prepared if +necessary to go on insisting day after day and hour after hour, and even +to make scenes. This last consideration moved him. + +“My dear Anna Mikháylovna,” said he with his usual familiarity and +weariness of tone, “it is almost impossible for me to do what you +ask; but to prove my devotion to you and how I respect your father’s +memory, I will do the impossible—your son shall be transferred to the +Guards. Here is my hand on it. Are you satisfied?” + +“My dear benefactor! This is what I expected from you—I knew your +kindness!” He turned to go. + +“Wait—just a word! When he has been transferred to the Guards...” +she faltered. “You are on good terms with Michael Ilariónovich +Kutúzov ... recommend Borís to him as adjutant! Then I shall be at +rest, and then...” + +Prince Vasíli smiled. + +“No, I won’t promise that. You don’t know how Kutúzov is pestered +since his appointment as Commander in Chief. He told me himself that +all the Moscow ladies have conspired to give him all their sons as +adjutants.” + +“No, but do promise! I won’t let you go! My dear benefactor...” + +“Papa,” said his beautiful daughter in the same tone as before, +“we shall be late.” + +“Well, au revoir! Good-by! You hear her?” + +“Then tomorrow you will speak to the Emperor?” + +“Certainly; but about Kutúzov, I don’t promise.” + +“Do promise, do promise, Vasíli!” cried Anna Mikháylovna as he +went, with the smile of a coquettish girl, which at one time probably +came naturally to her, but was now very ill-suited to her careworn face. + +Apparently she had forgotten her age and by force of habit employed +all the old feminine arts. But as soon as the prince had gone her face +resumed its former cold, artificial expression. She returned to the +group where the vicomte was still talking, and again pretended to +listen, while waiting till it would be time to leave. Her task was +accomplished. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + +“And what do you think of this latest comedy, the coronation at +Milan?” asked Anna Pávlovna, “and of the comedy of the people of +Genoa and Lucca laying their petitions before Monsieur Buonaparte, and +Monsieur Buonaparte sitting on a throne and granting the petitions of +the nations? Adorable! It is enough to make one’s head whirl! It is as +if the whole world had gone crazy.” + +Prince Andrew looked Anna Pávlovna straight in the face with a +sarcastic smile. + +“‘Dieu me la donne, gare à qui la touche!’’ * They say he was +very fine when he said that,” he remarked, repeating the words in +Italian: “‘Dio mi l’ha dato. Guai a chi la tocchi!’’ + + * God has given it to me, let him who touches it beware! + +“I hope this will prove the last drop that will make the glass run +over,” Anna Pávlovna continued. “The sovereigns will not be able to +endure this man who is a menace to everything.” + +“The sovereigns? I do not speak of Russia,” said the vicomte, polite +but hopeless: “The sovereigns, madame... What have they done for Louis +XVII, for the Queen, or for Madame Elizabeth? Nothing!” and he became +more animated. “And believe me, they are reaping the reward of their +betrayal of the Bourbon cause. The sovereigns! Why, they are sending +ambassadors to compliment the usurper.” + +And sighing disdainfully, he again changed his position. + +Prince Hippolyte, who had been gazing at the vicomte for some time +through his lorgnette, suddenly turned completely round toward the +little princess, and having asked for a needle began tracing the Condé +coat of arms on the table. He explained this to her with as much gravity +as if she had asked him to do it. + +“Bâton de gueules, engrêlé de gueules d’azur—maison Condé,” +said he. + +The princess listened, smiling. + +“If Buonaparte remains on the throne of France a year longer,” the +vicomte continued, with the air of a man who, in a matter with which +he is better acquainted than anyone else, does not listen to others but +follows the current of his own thoughts, “things will have gone too +far. By intrigues, violence, exile, and executions, French society—I +mean good French society—will have been forever destroyed, and +then....” + +He shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands. Pierre wished to +make a remark, for the conversation interested him, but Anna Pávlovna, +who had him under observation, interrupted: + +“The Emperor Alexander,” said she, with the melancholy which +always accompanied any reference of hers to the Imperial family, “has +declared that he will leave it to the French people themselves to choose +their own form of government; and I believe that once free from the +usurper, the whole nation will certainly throw itself into the arms +of its rightful king,” she concluded, trying to be amiable to the +royalist emigrant. + +“That is doubtful,” said Prince Andrew. “Monsieur le Vicomte quite +rightly supposes that matters have already gone too far. I think it will +be difficult to return to the old regime.” + +“From what I have heard,” said Pierre, blushing and breaking into +the conversation, “almost all the aristocracy has already gone over to +Bonaparte’s side.” + +“It is the Buonapartists who say that,” replied the vicomte without +looking at Pierre. “At the present time it is difficult to know the +real state of French public opinion.” + +“Bonaparte has said so,” remarked Prince Andrew with a sarcastic +smile. + +It was evident that he did not like the vicomte and was aiming his +remarks at him, though without looking at him. + +“‘I showed them the path to glory, but they did not follow +it,’” Prince Andrew continued after a short silence, again quoting +Napoleon’s words. “‘I opened my antechambers and they crowded +in.’ I do not know how far he was justified in saying so.” + +“Not in the least,” replied the vicomte. “After the murder of the +duc even the most partial ceased to regard him as a hero. If to some +people,” he went on, turning to Anna Pávlovna, “he ever was a hero, +after the murder of the duc there was one martyr more in heaven and one +hero less on earth.” + +Before Anna Pávlovna and the others had time to smile their +appreciation of the vicomte’s epigram, Pierre again broke into the +conversation, and though Anna Pávlovna felt sure he would say something +inappropriate, she was unable to stop him. + +“The execution of the Duc d’Enghien,” declared Monsieur Pierre, +“was a political necessity, and it seems to me that Napoleon +showed greatness of soul by not fearing to take on himself the whole +responsibility of that deed.” + +“Dieu! Mon Dieu!” muttered Anna Pávlovna in a terrified whisper. + +“What, Monsieur Pierre... Do you consider that assassination shows +greatness of soul?” said the little princess, smiling and drawing her +work nearer to her. + +“Oh! Oh!” exclaimed several voices. + +“Capital!” said Prince Hippolyte in English, and began slapping his +knee with the palm of his hand. + +The vicomte merely shrugged his shoulders. Pierre looked solemnly at his +audience over his spectacles and continued. + +“I say so,” he continued desperately, “because the Bourbons fled +from the Revolution leaving the people to anarchy, and Napoleon alone +understood the Revolution and quelled it, and so for the general good, +he could not stop short for the sake of one man’s life.” + +“Won’t you come over to the other table?” suggested Anna +Pávlovna. + +But Pierre continued his speech without heeding her. + +“No,” cried he, becoming more and more eager, “Napoleon is great +because he rose superior to the Revolution, suppressed its abuses, +preserved all that was good in it—equality of citizenship and freedom +of speech and of the press—and only for that reason did he obtain +power.” + +“Yes, if having obtained power, without availing himself of it to +commit murder he had restored it to the rightful king, I should have +called him a great man,” remarked the vicomte. + +“He could not do that. The people only gave him power that he might +rid them of the Bourbons and because they saw that he was a great +man. The Revolution was a grand thing!” continued Monsieur Pierre, +betraying by this desperate and provocative proposition his extreme +youth and his wish to express all that was in his mind. + +“What? Revolution and regicide a grand thing?... Well, after that... +But won’t you come to this other table?” repeated Anna Pávlovna. + +“Rousseau’s Contrat Social,” said the vicomte with a tolerant +smile. + +“I am not speaking of regicide, I am speaking about ideas.” + +“Yes: ideas of robbery, murder, and regicide,” again interjected an +ironical voice. + +“Those were extremes, no doubt, but they are not what is most +important. What is important are the rights of man, emancipation from +prejudices, and equality of citizenship, and all these ideas Napoleon +has retained in full force.” + +“Liberty and equality,” said the vicomte contemptuously, as if at +last deciding seriously to prove to this youth how foolish his words +were, “high-sounding words which have long been discredited. Who does +not love liberty and equality? Even our Saviour preached liberty and +equality. Have people since the Revolution become happier? On the +contrary. We wanted liberty, but Buonaparte has destroyed it.” + +Prince Andrew kept looking with an amused smile from Pierre to the +vicomte and from the vicomte to their hostess. In the first moment of +Pierre’s outburst Anna Pávlovna, despite her social experience, was +horror-struck. But when she saw that Pierre’s sacrilegious words +had not exasperated the vicomte, and had convinced herself that it was +impossible to stop him, she rallied her forces and joined the vicomte in +a vigorous attack on the orator. + +“But, my dear Monsieur Pierre,” said she, “how do you explain the +fact of a great man executing a duc—or even an ordinary man who—is +innocent and untried?” + +“I should like,” said the vicomte, “to ask how monsieur explains +the 18th Brumaire; was not that an imposture? It was a swindle, and not +at all like the conduct of a great man!” + +“And the prisoners he killed in Africa? That was horrible!” said the +little princess, shrugging her shoulders. + +“He’s a low fellow, say what you will,” remarked Prince Hippolyte. + +Pierre, not knowing whom to answer, looked at them all and smiled. His +smile was unlike the half-smile of other people. When he smiled, +his grave, even rather gloomy, look was instantaneously replaced by +another—a childlike, kindly, even rather silly look, which seemed to +ask forgiveness. + +The vicomte who was meeting him for the first time saw clearly that +this young Jacobin was not so terrible as his words suggested. All were +silent. + +“How do you expect him to answer you all at once?” said Prince +Andrew. “Besides, in the actions of a statesman one has to distinguish +between his acts as a private person, as a general, and as an emperor. +So it seems to me.” + +“Yes, yes, of course!” Pierre chimed in, pleased at the arrival of +this reinforcement. + +“One must admit,” continued Prince Andrew, “that Napoleon as a man +was great on the bridge of Arcola, and in the hospital at Jaffa where he +gave his hand to the plague-stricken; but ... but there are other acts +which it is difficult to justify.” + +Prince Andrew, who had evidently wished to tone down the awkwardness of +Pierre’s remarks, rose and made a sign to his wife that it was time to +go. + +Suddenly Prince Hippolyte started up making signs to everyone to attend, +and asking them all to be seated began: + +“I was told a charming Moscow story today and must treat you to it. +Excuse me, Vicomte—I must tell it in Russian or the point will be +lost....” And Prince Hippolyte began to tell his story in such Russian +as a Frenchman would speak after spending about a year in Russia. +Everyone waited, so emphatically and eagerly did he demand their +attention to his story. + +“There is in Moscow a lady, une dame, and she is very stingy. She must +have two footmen behind her carriage, and very big ones. That was her +taste. And she had a lady’s maid, also big. She said....” + +Here Prince Hippolyte paused, evidently collecting his ideas with +difficulty. + +“She said.... Oh yes! She said, ‘Girl,’ to the maid, ‘put on a +livery, get up behind the carriage, and come with me while I make some +calls.’” + +Here Prince Hippolyte spluttered and burst out laughing long before his +audience, which produced an effect unfavorable to the narrator. Several +persons, among them the elderly lady and Anna Pávlovna, did however +smile. + +“She went. Suddenly there was a great wind. The girl lost her hat and +her long hair came down....” Here he could contain himself no +longer and went on, between gasps of laughter: “And the whole world +knew....” + +And so the anecdote ended. Though it was unintelligible why he had told +it, or why it had to be told in Russian, still Anna Pávlovna and the +others appreciated Prince Hippolyte’s social tact in so agreeably +ending Pierre’s unpleasant and unamiable outburst. After the anecdote +the conversation broke up into insignificant small talk about the last +and next balls, about theatricals, and who would meet whom, and when and +where. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +Having thanked Anna Pávlovna for her charming soiree, the guests began +to take their leave. + +Pierre was ungainly. Stout, about the average height, broad, with huge +red hands; he did not know, as the saying is, how to enter a drawing +room and still less how to leave one; that is, how to say something +particularly agreeable before going away. Besides this he was +absent-minded. When he rose to go, he took up instead of his own, the +general’s three-cornered hat, and held it, pulling at the plume, +till the general asked him to restore it. All his absent-mindedness and +inability to enter a room and converse in it was, however, redeemed by +his kindly, simple, and modest expression. Anna Pávlovna turned toward +him and, with a Christian mildness that expressed forgiveness of his +indiscretion, nodded and said: “I hope to see you again, but I also +hope you will change your opinions, my dear Monsieur Pierre.” + +When she said this, he did not reply and only bowed, but again everybody +saw his smile, which said nothing, unless perhaps, “Opinions are +opinions, but you see what a capital, good-natured fellow I am.” And +everyone, including Anna Pávlovna, felt this. + +Prince Andrew had gone out into the hall, and, turning his shoulders +to the footman who was helping him on with his cloak, listened +indifferently to his wife’s chatter with Prince Hippolyte who had also +come into the hall. Prince Hippolyte stood close to the pretty, pregnant +princess, and stared fixedly at her through his eyeglass. + +“Go in, Annette, or you will catch cold,” said the little princess, +taking leave of Anna Pávlovna. “It is settled,” she added in a low +voice. + +Anna Pávlovna had already managed to speak to Lise about the match she +contemplated between Anatole and the little princess’ sister-in-law. + +“I rely on you, my dear,” said Anna Pávlovna, also in a low tone. +“Write to her and let me know how her father looks at the matter. Au +revoir! ”—and she left the hall. + +Prince Hippolyte approached the little princess and, bending his face +close to her, began to whisper something. + +Two footmen, the princess’ and his own, stood holding a shawl and +a cloak, waiting for the conversation to finish. They listened to +the French sentences which to them were meaningless, with an air of +understanding but not wishing to appear to do so. The princess as usual +spoke smilingly and listened with a laugh. + +“I am very glad I did not go to the ambassador’s,” said Prince +Hippolyte “—so dull—. It has been a delightful evening, has it +not? Delightful!” + +“They say the ball will be very good,” replied the princess, drawing +up her downy little lip. “All the pretty women in society will be +there.” + +“Not all, for you will not be there; not all,” said Prince Hippolyte +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. + +The postilion started, the carriage wheels rattled. Prince Hippolyte +laughed spasmodically as he stood in the porch waiting for the vicomte +whom he had promised to take home. + +“Well, mon cher,” said the vicomte, having seated himself beside +Hippolyte in the carriage, “your little princess is very nice, very +nice indeed, quite French,” and he kissed the tips of his fingers. +Hippolyte burst out laughing. + +“Do you know, you are a terrible chap for all your innocent airs,” +continued the vicomte. “I pity the poor husband, that little officer +who gives himself the airs of a monarch.” + +Hippolyte spluttered again, and amid his laughter said, “And you were +saying that the Russian ladies are not equal to the French? One has to +know how to deal with them.” + +Pierre reaching the house first went into Prince Andrew’s study like +one quite at home, and from habit immediately lay down on the sofa, took +from the shelf the first book that came to his hand (it was Caesar’s +Commentaries), and resting on his elbow, began reading it in the middle. + +“What have you done to Mlle Schérer? She will be quite ill now,” +said Prince Andrew, as he entered the study, rubbing his small white +hands. + +Pierre turned his whole body, making the sofa creak. He lifted his eager +face to Prince Andrew, smiled, and waved his hand. + +“That abbé is very interesting but he does not see the thing in the +right light.... In my opinion perpetual peace is possible but—I do not +know how to express it ... not by a balance of political power....” + +It was evident that Prince Andrew was not interested in such abstract +conversation. + +“One can’t everywhere say all one thinks, mon cher. Well, have +you at last decided on anything? Are you going to be a guardsman or a +diplomatist?” asked Prince Andrew after a momentary silence. + +Pierre sat up on the sofa, with his legs tucked under him. + +“Really, I don’t yet know. I don’t like either the one or the +other.” + +“But you must decide on something! Your father expects it.” + +Pierre at the age of ten had been sent abroad with an abbé as tutor, +and had remained away till he was twenty. When he returned to Moscow +his father dismissed the abbé and said to the young man, “Now go +to Petersburg, look round, and choose your profession. I will agree to +anything. Here is a letter to Prince Vasíli, and here is money. Write +to me all about it, and I will help you in everything.” Pierre had +already been choosing a career for three months, and had not decided +on anything. It was about this choice that Prince Andrew was speaking. +Pierre rubbed his forehead. + +“But he must be a Freemason,” said he, referring to the abbé whom +he had met that evening. + +“That is all nonsense.” Prince Andrew again interrupted him, “let +us talk business. Have you been to the Horse Guards?” + +“No, I have not; but this is what I have been thinking and wanted +to tell you. There is a war now against Napoleon. If it were a war for +freedom I could understand it and should be the first to enter the army; +but to help England and Austria against the greatest man in the world is +not right.” + +Prince Andrew only shrugged his shoulders at Pierre’s childish words. +He put on the air of one who finds it impossible to reply to such +nonsense, but it would in fact have been difficult to give any other +answer than the one Prince Andrew gave to this naïve question. + +“If no one fought except on his own conviction, there would be no +wars,” he said. + +“And that would be splendid,” said Pierre. + +Prince Andrew smiled ironically. + +“Very likely it would be splendid, but it will never come about....” + +“Well, why are you going to the war?” asked Pierre. + +“What for? I don’t know. I must. Besides that I am going....” He +paused. “I am going because the life I am leading here does not suit +me!” + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +The rustle of a woman’s dress was heard in the next room. Prince +Andrew shook himself as if waking up, and his face assumed the look it +had had in Anna Pávlovna’s drawing room. Pierre removed his feet from +the sofa. The princess came in. She had changed her gown for a house +dress as fresh and elegant as the other. Prince Andrew rose and politely +placed a chair for her. + +“How is it,” she began, as usual in French, settling down briskly +and fussily in the easy chair, “how is it Annette never got married? +How stupid you men all are not to have married her! Excuse me for saying +so, but you have no sense about women. What an argumentative fellow you +are, Monsieur Pierre!” + +“And I am still arguing with your husband. I can’t understand why he +wants to go to the war,” replied Pierre, addressing the princess +with none of the embarrassment so commonly shown by young men in their +intercourse with young women. + +The princess started. Evidently Pierre’s words touched her to the +quick. + +“Ah, that is just what I tell him!” said she. “I don’t +understand it; I don’t in the least understand why men can’t live +without wars. How is it that we women don’t want anything of the kind, +don’t need it? Now you shall judge between us. I always tell him: Here +he is Uncle’s aide-de-camp, a most brilliant position. He is so +well known, so much appreciated by everyone. The other day at the +Apráksins’ I heard a lady asking, ‘Is that the famous Prince +Andrew?’ I did indeed.” She laughed. “He is so well received +everywhere. He might easily become aide-de-camp to the Emperor. You know +the Emperor spoke to him most graciously. Annette and I were speaking of +how to arrange it. What do you think?” + +Pierre looked at his friend and, noticing that he did not like the +conversation, gave no reply. + +“When are you starting?” he asked. + +“Oh, don’t speak of his going, don’t! I won’t hear it spoken +of,” said the princess in the same petulantly playful tone in which +she had spoken to Hippolyte in the drawing room and which was so plainly +ill-suited to the family circle of which Pierre was almost a member. +“Today when I remembered that all these delightful associations +must be broken off ... and then you know, André...” (she looked +significantly at her husband) “I’m afraid, I’m afraid!” she +whispered, and a shudder ran down her back. + +Her husband looked at her as if surprised to notice that someone besides +Pierre and himself was in the room, and addressed her in a tone of +frigid politeness. + +“What is it you are afraid of, Lise? I don’t understand,” said he. + +“There, what egotists men all are: all, all egotists! Just for a whim +of his own, goodness only knows why, he leaves me and locks me up alone +in the country.” + +“With my father and sister, remember,” said Prince Andrew gently. + +“Alone all the same, without my friends.... And he expects me not to +be afraid.” + +Her tone was now querulous and her lip drawn up, giving her not a +joyful, but an animal, squirrel-like expression. She paused as if she +felt it indecorous to speak of her pregnancy before Pierre, though the +gist of the matter lay in that. + +“I still can’t understand what you are afraid of,” said Prince +Andrew slowly, not taking his eyes off his wife. + +The princess blushed, and raised her arms with a gesture of despair. + +“No, Andrew, I must say you have changed. Oh, how you have....” + +“Your doctor tells you to go to bed earlier,” said Prince Andrew. +“You had better go.” + +The princess said nothing, but suddenly her short downy lip quivered. +Prince Andrew rose, shrugged his shoulders, and walked about the room. + +Pierre looked over his spectacles with naïve surprise, now at him and +now at her, moved as if about to rise too, but changed his mind. + +“Why should I mind Monsieur Pierre being here?” exclaimed the little +princess suddenly, her pretty face all at once distorted by a tearful +grimace. “I have long wanted to ask you, Andrew, why you have changed +so to me? What have I done to you? You are going to the war and have no +pity for me. Why is it?” + +“Lise!” was all Prince Andrew said. But that one word expressed +an entreaty, a threat, and above all conviction that she would herself +regret her words. But she went on hurriedly: + +“You treat me like an invalid or a child. I see it all! Did you behave +like that six months ago?” + +“Lise, I beg you to desist,” said Prince Andrew still more +emphatically. + +Pierre, who had been growing more and more agitated as he listened to +all this, rose and approached the princess. He seemed unable to bear the +sight of tears and was ready to cry himself. + +“Calm yourself, Princess! It seems so to you because.... I assure you +I myself have experienced ... and so ... because ... No, excuse me! +An outsider is out of place here.... No, don’t distress yourself.... +Good-by!” + +Prince Andrew caught him by the hand. + +“No, wait, Pierre! The princess is too kind to wish to deprive me of +the pleasure of spending the evening with you.” + +“No, he thinks only of himself,” muttered the princess without +restraining her angry tears. + +“Lise!” said Prince Andrew dryly, raising his voice to the pitch +which indicates that patience is exhausted. + +Suddenly the angry, squirrel-like expression of the princess’ pretty +face changed into a winning and piteous look of fear. Her beautiful eyes +glanced askance at her husband’s face, and her own assumed the timid, +deprecating expression of a dog when it rapidly but feebly wags its +drooping tail. + +“Mon Dieu, mon Dieu!” she muttered, and lifting her dress with one +hand she went up to her husband and kissed him on the forehead. + +“Good night, Lise,” said he, rising and courteously kissing her hand +as he would have done to a stranger. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +The friends were silent. Neither cared to begin talking. Pierre +continually glanced at Prince Andrew; Prince Andrew rubbed his forehead +with his small hand. + +“Let us go and have supper,” he said with a sigh, going to the door. + +They entered the elegant, newly decorated, and luxurious dining room. +Everything from the table napkins to the silver, china, and glass bore +that imprint of newness found in the households of the newly married. +Halfway through supper Prince Andrew leaned his elbows on the table and, +with a look of nervous agitation such as Pierre had never before seen on +his face, began to talk—as one who has long had something on his mind +and suddenly determines to speak out. + +“Never, never marry, my dear fellow! That’s my advice: never marry +till you can say to yourself that you have done all you are capable of, +and until you have ceased to love the woman of your choice and have seen +her plainly as she is, or else you will make a cruel and irrevocable +mistake. Marry when you are old and good for nothing—or all that is +good and noble in you will be lost. It will all be wasted on trifles. +Yes! Yes! Yes! Don’t look at me with such surprise. If you marry +expecting anything from yourself in the future, you will feel at every +step that for you all is ended, all is closed except the drawing +room, where you will be ranged side by side with a court lackey and an +idiot!... But what’s the good?...” and he waved his arm. + +Pierre took off his spectacles, which made his face seem different and +the good-natured expression still more apparent, and gazed at his friend +in amazement. + +“My wife,” continued Prince Andrew, “is an excellent woman, one +of those rare women with whom a man’s honor is safe; but, O God, what +would I not give now to be unmarried! You are the first and only one to +whom I mention this, because I like you.” + +As he said this Prince Andrew was less than ever like that Bolkónski +who had lolled in Anna Pávlovna’s easy chairs and with half-closed +eyes had uttered French phrases between his teeth. Every muscle of his +thin face was now quivering with nervous excitement; his eyes, in which +the fire of life had seemed extinguished, now flashed with brilliant +light. It was evident that the more lifeless he seemed at ordinary +times, the more impassioned he became in these moments of almost morbid +irritation. + +“You don’t understand why I say this,” he continued, “but it is +the whole story of life. You talk of Bonaparte and his career,” said +he (though Pierre had not mentioned Bonaparte), “but Bonaparte when +he worked went step by step toward his goal. He was free, he had nothing +but his aim to consider, and he reached it. But tie yourself up with +a woman and, like a chained convict, you lose all freedom! And all you +have of hope and strength merely weighs you down and torments you with +regret. Drawing rooms, gossip, balls, vanity, and triviality—these are +the enchanted circle I cannot escape from. I am now going to the war, +the greatest war there ever was, and I know nothing and am fit for +nothing. I am very amiable and have a caustic wit,” continued Prince +Andrew, “and at Anna Pávlovna’s they listen to me. And that stupid +set without whom my wife cannot exist, and those women.... If you only +knew what those society women are, and women in general! My father is +right. Selfish, vain, stupid, trivial in everything—that’s what +women are when you see them in their true colors! When you meet them +in society it seems as if there were something in them, but there’s +nothing, nothing, nothing! No, don’t marry, my dear fellow; don’t +marry!” concluded Prince Andrew. + +“It seems funny to me,” said Pierre, “that you, you should +consider yourself incapable and your life a spoiled life. You have +everything before you, everything. And you....” + +He did not finish his sentence, but his tone showed how highly he +thought of his friend and how much he expected of him in the future. + +“How can he talk like that?” thought Pierre. He considered his +friend a model of perfection because Prince Andrew possessed in the +highest degree just the very qualities Pierre lacked, and which might +be best described as strength of will. Pierre was always astonished at +Prince Andrew’s calm manner of treating everybody, his extraordinary +memory, his extensive reading (he had read everything, knew everything, +and had an opinion about everything), but above all at his capacity for +work and study. And if Pierre was often struck by Andrew’s lack +of capacity for philosophical meditation (to which he himself was +particularly addicted), he regarded even this not as a defect but as a +sign of strength. + +Even in the best, most friendly and simplest relations of life, praise +and commendation are essential, just as grease is necessary to wheels +that they may run smoothly. + +“My part is played out,” said Prince Andrew. “What’s the use of +talking about me? Let us talk about you,” he added after a silence, +smiling at his reassuring thoughts. + +That smile was immediately reflected on Pierre’s face. + +“But what is there to say about me?” said Pierre, his face relaxing +into a careless, merry smile. “What am I? An illegitimate son!” +He suddenly blushed crimson, and it was plain that he had made a great +effort to say this. “Without a name and without means... And it +really...” But he did not say what “it really” was. “For the +present I am free and am all right. Only I haven’t the least idea what +I am to do; I wanted to consult you seriously.” + +Prince Andrew looked kindly at him, yet his glance—friendly and +affectionate as it was—expressed a sense of his own superiority. + +“I am fond of you, especially as you are the one live man among our +whole set. Yes, you’re all right! Choose what you will; it’s all the +same. You’ll be all right anywhere. But look here: give up visiting +those Kurágins and leading that sort of life. It suits you so +badly—all this debauchery, dissipation, and the rest of it!” + +“What would you have, my dear fellow?” answered Pierre, shrugging +his shoulders. “Women, my dear fellow; women!” + +“I don’t understand it,” replied Prince Andrew. “Women who are +comme il faut, that’s a different matter; but the Kurágins’ set of +women, ‘women and wine’ I don’t understand!” + +Pierre was staying at Prince Vasíli Kurágin’s and sharing the +dissipated life of his son Anatole, the son whom they were planning to +reform by marrying him to Prince Andrew’s sister. + +“Do you know?” said Pierre, as if suddenly struck by a happy +thought, “seriously, I have long been thinking of it.... Leading such +a life I can’t decide or think properly about anything. One’s head +aches, and one spends all one’s money. He asked me for tonight, but I +won’t go.” + +“You give me your word of honor not to go?” + +“On my honor!” + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +It was past one o’clock when Pierre left his friend. It was a +cloudless, northern, summer night. Pierre took an open cab intending +to drive straight home. But the nearer he drew to the house the more he +felt the impossibility of going to sleep on such a night. It was light +enough to see a long way in the deserted street and it seemed more like +morning or evening than night. On the way Pierre remembered that Anatole +Kurágin was expecting the usual set for cards that evening, after which +there was generally a drinking bout, finishing with visits of a kind +Pierre was very fond of. + +“I should like to go to Kurágin’s,” thought he. + +But he immediately recalled his promise to Prince Andrew not to go +there. Then, as happens to people of weak character, he desired so +passionately once more to enjoy that dissipation he was so accustomed to +that he decided to go. The thought immediately occurred to him that his +promise to Prince Andrew was of no account, because before he gave it +he had already promised Prince Anatole to come to his gathering; +“besides,” thought he, “all such ‘words of honor’ are +conventional things with no definite meaning, especially if +one considers that by tomorrow one may be dead, or something so +extraordinary may happen to one that honor and dishonor will be all the +same!” Pierre often indulged in reflections of this sort, nullifying +all his decisions and intentions. He went to Kurágin’s. + +Reaching the large house near the Horse Guards’ barracks, in which +Anatole lived, Pierre entered the lighted porch, ascended the stairs, +and went in at the open door. There was no one in the anteroom; empty +bottles, cloaks, and overshoes were lying about; there was a smell of +alcohol, and sounds of voices and shouting in the distance. + +Cards and supper were over, but the visitors had not yet dispersed. +Pierre threw off his cloak and entered the first room, in which were the +remains of supper. A footman, thinking no one saw him, was drinking on +the sly what was left in the glasses. From the third room came sounds of +laughter, the shouting of familiar voices, the growling of a bear, and +general commotion. Some eight or nine young men were crowding anxiously +round an open window. Three others were romping with a young bear, one +pulling him by the chain and trying to set him at the others. + +“I bet a hundred on Stevens!” shouted one. + +“Mind, no holding on!” cried another. + +“I bet on Dólokhov!” cried a third. “Kurágin, you part our +hands.” + +“There, leave Bruin alone; here’s a bet on.” + +“At one draught, or he loses!” shouted a fourth. + +“Jacob, bring a bottle!” shouted the host, a tall, handsome fellow +who stood in the midst of the group, without a coat, and with his fine +linen shirt unfastened in front. “Wait a bit, you fellows.... Here is +Pétya! Good man!” cried he, addressing Pierre. + +Another voice, from a man of medium height with clear blue eyes, +particularly striking among all these drunken voices by its sober +ring, cried from the window: “Come here; part the bets!” This was +Dólokhov, an officer of the Semënov regiment, a notorious gambler and +duelist, who was living with Anatole. Pierre smiled, looking about him +merrily. + +“I don’t understand. What’s it all about?” + +“Wait a bit, he is not drunk yet! A bottle here,” said Anatole, and +taking a glass from the table he went up to Pierre. + +“First of all you must drink!” + +Pierre drank one glass after another, looking from under his brows at +the tipsy guests who were again crowding round the window, and listening +to their chatter. Anatole kept on refilling Pierre’s glass while +explaining that Dólokhov was betting with Stevens, an English naval +officer, that he would drink a bottle of rum sitting on the outer ledge +of the third floor window with his legs hanging out. + +“Go on, you must drink it all,” said Anatole, giving Pierre the last +glass, “or I won’t let you go!” + +“No, I won’t,” said Pierre, pushing Anatole aside, and he went up +to the window. + +Dólokhov was holding the Englishman’s hand and clearly and distinctly +repeating the terms of the bet, addressing himself particularly to +Anatole and Pierre. + +Dólokhov was of medium height, with curly hair and light-blue eyes. He +was about twenty-five. Like all infantry officers he wore no mustache, +so that his mouth, the most striking feature of his face, was clearly +seen. The lines of that mouth were remarkably finely curved. The middle +of the upper lip formed a sharp wedge and closed firmly on the firm +lower one, and something like two distinct smiles played continually +round the two corners of the mouth; this, together with the resolute, +insolent intelligence of his eyes, produced an effect which made it +impossible not to notice his face. Dólokhov was a man of small means +and no connections. Yet, though Anatole spent tens of thousands of +rubles, Dólokhov lived with him and had placed himself on such a +footing that all who knew them, including Anatole himself, respected him +more than they did Anatole. Dólokhov could play all games and nearly +always won. However much he drank, he never lost his clearheadedness. +Both Kurágin and Dólokhov were at that time notorious among the rakes +and scapegraces of Petersburg. + +The bottle of rum was brought. The window frame which prevented anyone +from sitting on the outer sill was being forced out by two footmen, who +were evidently flurried and intimidated by the directions and shouts of +the gentlemen around. + +Anatole with his swaggering air strode up to the window. He wanted to +smash something. Pushing away the footmen he tugged at the frame, but +could not move it. He smashed a pane. + +“You have a try, Hercules,” said he, turning to Pierre. + +Pierre seized the crossbeam, tugged, and wrenched the oak frame out with +a crash. + +“Take it right out, or they’ll think I’m holding on,” said +Dólokhov. + +“Is the Englishman bragging?... Eh? Is it all right?” said Anatole. + +“First-rate,” said Pierre, looking at Dólokhov, who with a bottle +of rum in his hand was approaching the window, from which the light of +the sky, the dawn merging with the afterglow of sunset, was visible. + +Dólokhov, the bottle of rum still in his hand, jumped onto the window +sill. “Listen!” cried he, standing there and addressing those in the +room. All were silent. + +“I bet fifty imperials”—he spoke French that the Englishman might +understand him, but he did not speak it very well—“I bet fifty +imperials ... or do you wish to make it a hundred?” added he, +addressing the Englishman. + +“No, fifty,” replied the latter. + +“All right. Fifty imperials ... that I will drink a whole bottle of +rum without taking it from my mouth, sitting outside the window on this +spot” (he stooped and pointed to the sloping ledge outside the window) +“and without holding on to anything. Is that right?” + +“Quite right,” said the Englishman. + +Anatole turned to the Englishman and taking him by one of the buttons +of his coat and looking down at him—the Englishman was short—began +repeating the terms of the wager to him in English. + +“Wait!” cried Dólokhov, hammering with the bottle on the window +sill to attract attention. “Wait a bit, Kurágin. Listen! If +anyone else does the same, I will pay him a hundred imperials. Do you +understand?” + +The Englishman nodded, but gave no indication whether he intended to +accept this challenge or not. Anatole did not release him, and though +he kept nodding to show that he understood, Anatole went on translating +Dólokhov’s words into English. A thin young lad, an hussar of the +Life Guards, who had been losing that evening, climbed on the window +sill, leaned over, and looked down. + +“Oh! Oh! Oh!” he muttered, looking down from the window at the +stones of the pavement. + +“Shut up!” cried Dólokhov, pushing him away from the window. The +lad jumped awkwardly back into the room, tripping over his spurs. + +Placing the bottle on the window sill where he could reach it easily, +Dólokhov climbed carefully and slowly through the window and lowered +his legs. Pressing against both sides of the window, he adjusted himself +on his seat, lowered his hands, moved a little to the right and then to +the left, and took up the bottle. Anatole brought two candles and +placed them on the window sill, though it was already quite light. +Dólokhov’s back in his white shirt, and his curly head, were lit +up from both sides. Everyone crowded to the window, the Englishman in +front. Pierre stood smiling but silent. One man, older than the others +present, suddenly pushed forward with a scared and angry look and wanted +to seize hold of Dólokhov’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?” + +Dólokhov 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 Dólokhov’s back. Anatole stood erect with staring +eyes. The Englishman looked on sideways, pursing up his lips. The man +who had wished to stop the affair ran to a corner of the room and threw +himself on a sofa with his face to the wall. Pierre hid his face, from +which a faint smile forgot to fade though his features now expressed +horror and fear. All were still. Pierre took his hands from his eyes. +Dólokhov still sat in the same position, only his head was thrown +further back till his curly hair touched his shirt collar, and the hand +holding the bottle was lifted higher and higher and trembled with the +effort. The bottle was emptying perceptibly and rising still higher +and his head tilting yet further back. “Why is it so long?” thought +Pierre. It seemed to him that more than half an hour had elapsed. +Suddenly Dólokhov made a backward movement with his spine, and his arm +trembled nervously; this was sufficient to cause his whole body to slip +as he sat on the sloping ledge. As he began slipping down, his head and +arm wavered still more with the strain. One hand moved as if to clutch +the window sill, but refrained from touching it. Pierre again covered +his eyes and thought he would never open them again. Suddenly he was +aware of a stir all around. He looked up: Dólokhov was standing on the +window sill, with a pale but radiant face. + +“It’s empty.” + +He threw the bottle to the Englishman, who caught it neatly. Dólokhov +jumped down. He smelt strongly of rum. + +“Well done!... Fine fellow!... There’s a bet for you!... Devil take +you!” came from different sides. + +The Englishman took out his purse and began counting out the money. +Dólokhov stood frowning and did not speak. Pierre jumped upon the +window sill. + +“Gentlemen, who wishes to bet with me? I’ll do the same thing!” +he suddenly cried. “Even without a bet, there! Tell them to bring me a +bottle. I’ll do it.... Bring a bottle!” + +“Let him do it, let him do it,” said Dólokhov, smiling. + +“What next? Have you gone mad?... No one would let you!... Why, you go +giddy even on a staircase,” exclaimed several voices. + +“I’ll drink it! Let’s have a bottle of rum!” shouted Pierre, +banging the table with a determined and drunken gesture and preparing to +climb out of the window. + +They seized him by his arms; but he was so strong that everyone who +touched him was sent flying. + +“No, you’ll never manage him that way,” said Anatole. “Wait a +bit and I’ll get round him.... Listen! I’ll take your bet tomorrow, +but now we are all going to ——’s.” + +“Come on then,” cried Pierre. “Come on!... And we’ll take Bruin +with us.” + +And he caught the bear, took it in his arms, lifted it from the ground, +and began dancing round the room with it. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + +Prince Vasíli kept the promise he had given to Princess Drubetskáya +who had spoken to him on behalf of her only son Borís on the evening of +Anna Pávlovna’s soiree. The matter was mentioned to the Emperor, an +exception made, and Borís transferred into the regiment of Semënov +Guards with the rank of cornet. He received, however, no appointment +to Kutúzov’s staff despite all Anna Mikháylovna’s endeavors and +entreaties. Soon after Anna Pávlovna’s reception Anna Mikháylovna +returned to Moscow and went straight to her rich relations, the +Rostóvs, with whom she stayed when in the town and where her darling +Bóry, who had only just entered a regiment of the line and was being +at once transferred to the Guards as a cornet, had been educated from +childhood and lived for years at a time. The Guards had already left +Petersburg on the tenth of August, and her son, who had remained in +Moscow for his equipment, was to join them on the march to Radzivílov. + +It was St. Natalia’s day and the name day of two of the Rostóvs—the +mother and the youngest daughter—both named Nataly. Ever since +the morning, carriages with six horses had been coming and going +continually, bringing visitors to the Countess Rostóva’s big house on +the Povarskáya, so well known to all Moscow. The countess herself and +her handsome eldest daughter were in the drawing room with the visitors +who came to congratulate, and who constantly succeeded one another in +relays. + +The countess was a woman of about forty-five, with a thin Oriental type +of face, evidently worn out with childbearing—she had had twelve. +A languor of motion and speech, resulting from weakness, gave her a +distinguished air which inspired respect. Princess Anna Mikháylovna +Drubetskáya, who as a member of the household was also seated in the +drawing room, helped to receive and entertain the visitors. The young +people were in one of the inner rooms, not considering it necessary to +take part in receiving the visitors. The count met the guests and saw +them off, inviting them all to dinner. + +“I am very, very grateful to you, mon cher,” or “ma chère”—he +called everyone without exception and without the slightest variation +in his tone, “my dear,” whether they were above or below him in +rank—“I thank you for myself and for our two dear ones whose name +day we are keeping. But mind you come to dinner or I shall be offended, +ma chère! On behalf of the whole family I beg you to come, mon cher!” +These words he repeated to everyone without exception or variation, and +with the same expression on his full, cheerful, clean-shaven face, the +same firm pressure of the hand and the same quick, repeated bows. As +soon as he had seen a visitor off he returned to one of those who were +still in the drawing room, drew a chair toward him or her, and jauntily +spreading out his legs and putting his hands on his knees with the air +of a man who enjoys life and knows how to live, he swayed to and +fro with dignity, offered surmises about the weather, or touched on +questions of health, sometimes in Russian and sometimes in very bad but +self-confident French; then again, like a man weary but unflinching in +the fulfillment of duty, he rose to see some visitors off and, stroking +his scanty gray hairs over his bald patch, also asked them to dinner. +Sometimes on his way back from the anteroom he would pass through the +conservatory and pantry into the large marble dining hall, where tables +were being set out for eighty people; and looking at the footmen, who +were bringing in silver and china, moving tables, and unfolding damask +table linen, he would call Dmítri Vasílevich, a man of good family and +the manager of all his affairs, and while looking with pleasure at the +enormous table would say: “Well, Dmítri, you’ll see that things are +all as they should be? That’s right! The great thing is the serving, +that’s it.” And with a complacent sigh he would return to the +drawing room. + +“Márya Lvóvna Karágina and her daughter!” announced the +countess’ gigantic footman in his bass voice, entering the drawing +room. The countess reflected a moment and took a pinch from a gold +snuffbox with her husband’s portrait on it. + +“I’m quite worn out by these callers. However, I’ll see her and +no more. She is so affected. Ask her in,” she said to the footman in a +sad voice, as if saying: “Very well, finish me off.” + +A tall, stout, and proud-looking woman, with a round-faced smiling +daughter, entered the drawing room, their dresses rustling. + +“Dear Countess, what an age... She has been laid up, poor child ... +at the Razumóvski’s ball ... and Countess Apráksina ... I was +so delighted...” came the sounds of animated feminine voices, +interrupting one another and mingling with the rustling of dresses and +the scraping of chairs. Then one of those conversations began which last +out until, at the first pause, the guests rise with a rustle of dresses +and say, “I am so delighted... Mamma’s health... and Countess +Apráksina...” and then, again rustling, pass into the anteroom, put +on cloaks or mantles, and drive away. The conversation was on the chief +topic of the day: the illness of the wealthy and celebrated beau of +Catherine’s day, Count Bezúkhov, and about his illegitimate son +Pierre, the one who had behaved so improperly at Anna Pávlovna’s +reception. + +“I am so sorry for the poor count,” said the visitor. “He is in +such bad health, and now this vexation about his son is enough to kill +him!” + +“What is that?” asked the countess as if she did not know what the +visitor alluded to, though she had already heard about the cause of +Count Bezúkhov’s distress some fifteen times. + +“That’s what comes of a modern education,” exclaimed the visitor. +“It seems that while he was abroad this young man was allowed to do +as he liked, now in Petersburg I hear he has been doing such terrible +things that he has been expelled by the police.” + +“You don’t say so!” replied the countess. + +“He chose his friends badly,” interposed Anna Mikháylovna. +“Prince Vasíli’s son, he, and a certain Dólokhov have, it is said, +been up to heaven only knows what! And they have had to suffer for it. +Dólokhov has been degraded to the ranks and Bezúkhov’s son sent +back to Moscow. Anatole Kurágin’s father managed somehow to get his +son’s affair hushed up, but even he was ordered out of Petersburg.” + +“But what have they been up to?” asked the countess. + +“They are regular brigands, especially Dólokhov,” replied the +visitor. “He is a son of Márya Ivánovna Dólokhova, such a worthy +woman, but there, just fancy! Those three got hold of a bear somewhere, +put it in a carriage, and set off with it to visit some actresses! The +police tried to interfere, and what did the young men do? They tied +a policeman and the bear back to back and put the bear into the Moyka +Canal. And there was the bear swimming about with the policeman on his +back!” + +“What a nice figure the policeman must have cut, my dear!” shouted +the count, dying with laughter. + +“Oh, how dreadful! How can you laugh at it, Count?” + +Yet the ladies themselves could not help laughing. + +“It was all they could do to rescue the poor man,” continued the +visitor. “And to think it is Cyril Vladímirovich Bezúkhov’s son +who amuses himself in this sensible manner! And he was said to be so +well educated and clever. This is all that his foreign education has +done for him! I hope that here in Moscow no one will receive him, in +spite of his money. They wanted to introduce him to me, but I quite +declined: I have my daughters to consider.” + +“Why do you say this young man is so rich?” asked the countess, +turning away from the girls, who at once assumed an air of inattention. +“His children are all illegitimate. I think Pierre also is +illegitimate.” + +The visitor made a gesture with her hand. + +“I should think he has a score of them.” + +Princess Anna Mikháylovna intervened in the conversation, evidently +wishing to show her connections and knowledge of what went on in +society. + +“The fact of the matter is,” said she significantly, and also in a +half whisper, “everyone knows Count Cyril’s reputation.... He has +lost count of his children, but this Pierre was his favorite.” + +“How handsome the old man still was only a year ago!” remarked the +countess. “I have never seen a handsomer man.” + +“He is very much altered now,” said Anna Mikháylovna. “Well, as +I was saying, Prince Vasíli is the next heir through his wife, but the +count is very fond of Pierre, looked after his education, and wrote to +the Emperor about him; so that in the case of his death—and he is +so ill that he may die at any moment, and Dr. Lorrain has come from +Petersburg—no one knows who will inherit his immense fortune, Pierre +or Prince Vasíli. Forty thousand serfs and millions of rubles! I know +it all very well for Prince Vasíli told me himself. Besides, Cyril +Vladímirovich is my mother’s second cousin. He’s also my Bóry’s +godfather,” she added, as if she attached no importance at all to the +fact. + +“Prince Vasíli arrived in Moscow yesterday. I hear he has come on +some inspection business,” remarked the visitor. + +“Yes, but between ourselves,” said the princess, “that is a +pretext. The fact is he has come to see Count Cyril Vladímirovich, +hearing how ill he is.” + +“But do you know, my dear, that was a capital joke,” said the count; +and seeing that the elder visitor was not listening, he turned to the +young ladies. “I can just imagine what a funny figure that policeman +cut!” + +And as he waved his arms to impersonate the policeman, his portly form +again shook with a deep ringing laugh, the laugh of one who always eats +well and, in particular, drinks well. “So do come and dine with us!” +he said. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +Silence ensued. The countess looked at her callers, smiling affably, +but not concealing the fact that she would not be distressed if they +now rose and took their leave. The visitor’s daughter was already +smoothing down her dress with an inquiring look at her mother, when +suddenly from the next room were heard the footsteps of boys and girls +running to the door and the noise of a chair falling over, and a girl +of thirteen, hiding something in the folds of her short muslin frock, +darted in and stopped short in the middle of the room. It was evident +that she had not intended her flight to bring her so far. Behind her in +the doorway appeared a student with a crimson coat collar, an officer +of the Guards, a girl of fifteen, and a plump rosy-faced boy in a short +jacket. + +The count jumped up and, swaying from side to side, spread his arms wide +and threw them round the little girl who had run in. + +“Ah, here she is!” he exclaimed laughing. “My pet, whose name day +it is. My dear pet!” + +“Ma chère, there is a time for everything,” said the countess with +feigned severity. “You spoil her, Ilyá,” she added, turning to her +husband. + +“How do you do, my dear? I wish you many happy returns of your name +day,” said the visitor. “What a charming child,” she added, +addressing the mother. + +This black-eyed, wide-mouthed girl, not pretty but full of life—with +childish bare shoulders which after her run heaved and shook her +bodice, with black curls tossed backward, thin bare arms, little legs +in lace-frilled drawers, and feet in low slippers—was just at that +charming age when a girl is no longer a child, though the child is not +yet a young woman. Escaping from her father she ran to hide her flushed +face in the lace of her mother’s mantilla—not paying the least +attention to her severe remark—and began to laugh. She laughed, and in +fragmentary sentences tried to explain about a doll which she produced +from the folds of her frock. + +“Do you see?... My doll... Mimi... You see...” was all Natásha +managed to utter (to her everything seemed funny). She leaned against +her mother and burst into such a loud, ringing fit of laughter that even +the prim visitor could not help joining in. + +“Now then, go away and take your monstrosity with you,” said the +mother, pushing away her daughter with pretended sternness, and turning +to the visitor she added: “She is my youngest girl.” + +Natásha, raising her face for a moment from her mother’s mantilla, +glanced up at her through tears of laughter, and again hid her face. + +The visitor, compelled to look on at this family scene, thought it +necessary to take some part in it. + +“Tell me, my dear,” said she to Natásha, “is Mimi a relation of +yours? A daughter, I suppose?” + +Natásha did not like the visitor’s tone of condescension to childish +things. She did not reply, but looked at her seriously. + +Meanwhile the younger generation: Borís, the officer, Anna +Mikháylovna’s son; Nicholas, the undergraduate, the count’s eldest +son; Sónya, the count’s fifteen-year-old niece, and little Pétya, +his youngest boy, had all settled down in the drawing room and were +obviously trying to restrain within the bounds of decorum the excitement +and mirth that shone in all their faces. Evidently in the back rooms, +from which they had dashed out so impetuously, the conversation had +been more amusing than the drawing room talk of society scandals, the +weather, and Countess Apráksina. Now and then they glanced at one +another, hardly able to suppress their laughter. + +The two young men, the student and the officer, friends from childhood, +were of the same age and both handsome fellows, though not alike. Borís +was tall and fair, and his calm and handsome face had regular, delicate +features. Nicholas was short with curly hair and an open expression. +Dark hairs were already showing on his upper lip, and his whole face +expressed impetuosity and enthusiasm. Nicholas blushed when he entered +the drawing room. He evidently tried to find something to say, but +failed. Borís on the contrary at once found his footing, and related +quietly and humorously how he had known that doll Mimi when she was +still quite a young lady, before her nose was broken; how she had aged +during the five years he had known her, and how her head had cracked +right across the skull. Having said this he glanced at Natásha. +She turned away from him and glanced at her younger brother, who was +screwing up his eyes and shaking with suppressed laughter, and unable +to control herself any longer, she jumped up and rushed from the room as +fast as her nimble little feet would carry her. Borís did not laugh. + +“You were meaning to go out, weren’t you, Mamma? Do you want the +carriage?” he asked his mother with a smile. + +“Yes, yes, go and tell them to get it ready,” she answered, +returning his smile. + +Borís quietly left the room and went in search of Natásha. The plump +boy ran after them angrily, as if vexed that their program had been +disturbed. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +The only young people remaining in the drawing room, not counting the +young lady visitor and the countess’ eldest daughter (who was four +years older than her sister and behaved already like a grown-up person), +were Nicholas and Sónya, the niece. Sónya was a slender little +brunette with a tender look in her eyes which were veiled by long +lashes, thick black plaits coiling twice round her head, and a tawny +tint in her complexion and especially in the color of her slender but +graceful and muscular arms and neck. By the grace of her movements, +by the softness and flexibility of her small limbs, and by a certain +coyness and reserve of manner, she reminded one of a pretty, half-grown +kitten which promises to become a beautiful little cat. She evidently +considered it proper to show an interest in the general conversation by +smiling, but in spite of herself her eyes under their thick long lashes +watched her cousin who was going to join the army, with such passionate +girlish adoration that her smile could not for a single instant impose +upon anyone, and it was clear that the kitten had settled down only to +spring up with more energy and again play with her cousin as soon as +they too could, like Natásha and Borís, escape from the drawing room. + +“Ah yes, my dear,” said the count, addressing the visitor and +pointing to Nicholas, “his friend Borís has become an officer, and +so for friendship’s sake he is leaving the university and me, his +old father, and entering the military service, my dear. And there was a +place and everything waiting for him in the Archives Department! Isn’t +that friendship?” remarked the count in an inquiring tone. + +“But they say that war has been declared,” replied the visitor. + +“They’ve been saying so a long while,” said the count, “and +they’ll say so again and again, and that will be the end of it. My +dear, there’s friendship for you,” he repeated. “He’s joining +the hussars.” + +The visitor, not knowing what to say, shook her head. + +“It’s not at all from friendship,” declared Nicholas, flaring +up and turning away as if from a shameful aspersion. “It is not from +friendship at all; I simply feel that the army is my vocation.” + +He glanced at his cousin and the young lady visitor; and they were both +regarding him with a smile of approbation. + +“Schubert, the colonel of the Pávlograd Hussars, is dining with us +today. He has been here on leave and is taking Nicholas back with him. +It can’t be helped!” said the count, shrugging his shoulders and +speaking playfully of a matter that evidently distressed him. + +“I have already told you, Papa,” said his son, “that if you +don’t wish to let me go, I’ll stay. But I know I am no use anywhere +except in the army; I am not a diplomat or a government clerk.—I +don’t know how to hide what I feel.” As he spoke he kept glancing +with the flirtatiousness of a handsome youth at Sónya and the young +lady visitor. + +The little kitten, feasting her eyes on him, seemed ready at any moment +to start her gambols again and display her kittenish nature. + +“All right, all right!” said the old count. “He always flares up! +This Buonaparte has turned all their heads; they all think of how he +rose from an ensign and became Emperor. Well, well, God grant it,” he +added, not noticing his visitor’s sarcastic smile. + +The elders began talking about Bonaparte. Julie Karágina turned to +young Rostóv. + +“What a pity you weren’t at the Arkhárovs’ on Thursday. It was so +dull without you,” said she, giving him a tender smile. + +The young man, flattered, sat down nearer to her with a coquettish +smile, and engaged the smiling Julie in a confidential conversation +without at all noticing that his involuntary smile had stabbed the heart +of Sónya, who blushed and smiled unnaturally. In the midst of his talk +he glanced round at her. She gave him a passionately angry glance, and +hardly able to restrain her tears and maintain the artificial smile +on her lips, she got up and left the room. All Nicholas’ animation +vanished. He waited for the first pause in the conversation, and then +with a distressed face left the room to find Sónya. + +“How plainly all these young people wear their hearts on their +sleeves!” said Anna Mikháylovna, pointing to Nicholas as he went out. +“Cousinage—dangereux voisinage,” * she added. + + * Cousinhood is a dangerous neighborhood. + +“Yes,” said the countess when the brightness these young people had +brought into the room had vanished; and as if answering a question no +one had put but which was always in her mind, “and how much suffering, +how much anxiety one has had to go through that we might rejoice in +them now! And yet really the anxiety is greater now than the joy. One is +always, always anxious! Especially just at this age, so dangerous both +for girls and boys.” + +“It all depends on the bringing up,” remarked the visitor. + +“Yes, you’re quite right,” continued the countess. “Till now I +have always, thank God, been my children’s friend and had their full +confidence,” said she, repeating the mistake of so many parents who +imagine that their children have no secrets from them. “I know I shall +always be my daughters’ first confidante, and that if Nicholas, with +his impulsive nature, does get into mischief (a boy can’t help it), he +will all the same never be like those Petersburg young men.” + +“Yes, they are splendid, splendid youngsters,” chimed in the count, +who always solved questions that seemed to him perplexing by deciding +that everything was splendid. “Just fancy: wants to be an hussar. +What’s one to do, my dear?” + +“What a charming creature your younger girl is,” said the visitor; +“a little volcano!” + +“Yes, a regular volcano,” said the count. “Takes after me! And +what a voice she has; though she’s my daughter, I tell the truth +when I say she’ll be a singer, a second Salomoni! We have engaged an +Italian to give her lessons.” + +“Isn’t she too young? I have heard that it harms the voice to train +it at that age.” + +“Oh no, not at all too young!” replied the count. “Why, our +mothers used to be married at twelve or thirteen.” + +“And she’s in love with Borís already. Just fancy!” said the +countess with a gentle smile, looking at Borís and went on, evidently +concerned with a thought that always occupied her: “Now you see if I +were to be severe with her and to forbid it ... goodness knows what they +might be up to on the sly” (she meant that they would be kissing), +“but as it is, I know every word she utters. She will come running to +me of her own accord in the evening and tell me everything. Perhaps I +spoil her, but really that seems the best plan. With her elder sister I +was stricter.” + +“Yes, I was brought up quite differently,” remarked the handsome +elder daughter, Countess Véra, with a smile. + +But the smile did not enhance Véra’s beauty as smiles generally do; +on the contrary it gave her an unnatural, and therefore unpleasant, +expression. Véra was good-looking, not at all stupid, quick at +learning, was well brought up, and had a pleasant voice; what she said +was true and appropriate, yet, strange to say, everyone—the visitors +and countess alike—turned to look at her as if wondering why she had +said it, and they all felt awkward. + +“People are always too clever with their eldest children and try to +make something exceptional of them,” said the visitor. + +“What’s the good of denying it, my dear? Our dear countess was too +clever with Véra,” said the count. “Well, what of that? She’s +turned out splendidly all the same,” he added, winking at Véra. + +The guests got up and took their leave, promising to return to dinner. + +“What manners! I thought they would never go,” said the countess, +when she had seen her guests out. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +When Natásha ran out of the drawing room she only went as far as the +conservatory. There she paused and stood listening to the conversation +in the drawing room, waiting for Borís to come out. She was already +growing impatient, and stamped her foot, ready to cry at his not coming +at once, when she heard the young man’s discreet steps approaching +neither quickly nor slowly. At this Natásha dashed swiftly among the +flower tubs and hid there. + +Borís paused in the middle of the room, looked round, brushed a little +dust from the sleeve of his uniform, and going up to a mirror examined +his handsome face. Natásha, very still, peered out from her ambush, +waiting to see what he would do. He stood a little while before the +glass, smiled, and walked toward the other door. Natásha was about to +call him but changed her mind. “Let him look for me,” thought she. +Hardly had Borís gone than Sónya, flushed, in tears, and muttering +angrily, came in at the other door. Natásha checked her first impulse +to run out to her, and remained in her hiding place, watching—as +under an invisible cap—to see what went on in the world. She was +experiencing a new and peculiar pleasure. Sónya, muttering to herself, +kept looking round toward the drawing room door. It opened and Nicholas +came in. + +“Sónya, what is the matter with you? How can you?” said he, running +up to her. + +“It’s nothing, nothing; leave me alone!” sobbed Sónya. + +“Ah, I know what it is.” + +“Well, if you do, so much the better, and you can go back to her!” + +“Só-o-onya! Look here! How can you torture me and yourself like that, +for a mere fancy?” said Nicholas taking her hand. + +Sónya did not pull it away, and left off crying. Natásha, not stirring +and scarcely breathing, watched from her ambush with sparkling eyes. +“What will happen now?” thought she. + +“Sónya! What is anyone in the world to me? You alone are +everything!” said Nicholas. “And I will prove it to you.” + +“I don’t like you to talk like that.” + +“Well, then, I won’t; only forgive me, Sónya!” He drew her to him +and kissed her. + +“Oh, how nice,” thought Natásha; and when Sónya and Nicholas had +gone out of the conservatory she followed and called Borís to her. + +“Borís, come here,” said she with a sly and significant look. “I +have something to tell you. Here, here!” and she led him into the +conservatory to the place among the tubs where she had been hiding. + +Borís followed her, smiling. + +“What is the something?” asked he. + +She grew confused, glanced round, and, seeing the doll she had thrown +down on one of the tubs, picked it up. + +“Kiss the doll,” said she. + +Borís looked attentively and kindly at her eager face, but did not +reply. + +“Don’t you want to? Well, then, come here,” said she, and +went further in among the plants and threw down the doll. “Closer, +closer!” she whispered. + +She caught the young officer by his cuffs, and a look of solemnity and +fear appeared on her flushed face. + +“And me? Would you like to kiss me?” she whispered almost inaudibly, +glancing up at him from under her brows, smiling, and almost crying from +excitement. + +Borís blushed. + +“How funny you are!” he said, bending down to her and blushing still +more, but he waited and did nothing. + +Suddenly she jumped up onto a tub to be higher than he, embraced him so +that both her slender bare arms clasped him above his neck, and, tossing +back her hair, kissed him full on the lips. + +Then she slipped down among the flowerpots on the other side of the tubs +and stood, hanging her head. + +“Natásha,” he said, “you know that I love you, but....” + +“You are in love with me?” Natásha broke in. + +“Yes, I am, but please don’t let us do like that.... In another four +years ... then I will ask for your hand.” + +Natásha considered. + +“Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen,” she counted on her slender +little fingers. “All right! Then it’s settled?” + +A smile of joy and satisfaction lit up her eager face. + +“Settled!” replied Borís. + +“Forever?” said the little girl. “Till death itself?” + +She took his arm and with a happy face went with him into the adjoining +sitting room. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +After receiving her visitors, the countess was so tired that she gave +orders to admit no more, but the porter was told to be sure to invite to +dinner all who came “to congratulate.” The countess wished to have +a tête-à-tête talk with the friend of her childhood, Princess Anna +Mikháylovna, whom she had not seen properly since she returned from +Petersburg. Anna Mikháylovna, with her tear-worn but pleasant face, +drew her chair nearer to that of the countess. + +“With you I will be quite frank,” said Anna Mikháylovna. “There +are not many left of us old friends! That’s why I so value your +friendship.” + +Anna Mikháylovna looked at Véra and paused. The countess pressed her +friend’s hand. + +“Véra,” she said to her eldest daughter who was evidently not a +favorite, “how is it you have so little tact? Don’t you see you are +not wanted here? Go to the other girls, or...” + +The handsome Véra smiled contemptuously but did not seem at all hurt. + +“If you had told me sooner, Mamma, I would have gone,” she replied +as she rose to go to her own room. + +But as she passed the sitting room she noticed two couples sitting, +one pair at each window. She stopped and smiled scornfully. Sónya was +sitting close to Nicholas who was copying out some verses for her, the +first he had ever written. Borís and Natásha were at the other window +and ceased talking when Véra entered. Sónya and Natásha looked at +Véra with guilty, happy faces. + +It was pleasant and touching to see these little girls in love; but +apparently the sight of them roused no pleasant feeling in Véra. + +“How often have I asked you not to take my things?” she said. “You +have a room of your own,” and she took the inkstand from Nicholas. + +“In a minute, in a minute,” he said, dipping his pen. + +“You always manage to do things at the wrong time,” continued Véra. +“You came rushing into the drawing room so that everyone felt ashamed +of you.” + +Though what she said was quite just, perhaps for that very reason no one +replied, and the four simply looked at one another. She lingered in the +room with the inkstand in her hand. + +“And at your age what secrets can there be between Natásha and +Borís, or between you two? It’s all nonsense!” + +“Now, Véra, what does it matter to you?” said Natásha in defense, +speaking very gently. + +She seemed that day to be more than ever kind and affectionate to +everyone. + +“Very silly,” said Véra. “I am ashamed of you. Secrets indeed!” + +“All have secrets of their own,” answered Natásha, getting warmer. +“We don’t interfere with you and Berg.” + +“I should think not,” said Véra, “because there can never be +anything wrong in my behavior. But I’ll just tell Mamma how you are +behaving with Borís.” + +“Natálya Ilyníchna behaves very well to me,” remarked Borís. “I +have nothing to complain of.” + +“Don’t, Borís! You are such a diplomat that it is really +tiresome,” said Natásha in a mortified voice that trembled slightly. +(She used the word “diplomat,” which was just then much in vogue +among the children, in the special sense they attached to it.) “Why +does she bother me?” And she added, turning to Véra, “You’ll +never understand it, because you’ve never loved anyone. You have no +heart! You are a Madame de Genlis and nothing more” (this nickname, +bestowed on Véra by Nicholas, was considered very stinging), “and +your greatest pleasure is to be unpleasant to people! Go and flirt with +Berg as much as you please,” she finished quickly. + +“I shall at any rate not run after a young man before visitors...” + +“Well, now you’ve done what you wanted,” put in Nicholas—“said +unpleasant things to everyone and upset them. Let’s go to the +nursery.” + +All four, like a flock of scared birds, got up and left the room. + +“The unpleasant things were said to me,” remarked Véra, “I said +none to anyone.” + +“Madame de Genlis! Madame de Genlis!” shouted laughing voices +through the door. + +The handsome Véra, who produced such an irritating and unpleasant +effect on everyone, smiled and, evidently unmoved by what had been +said to her, went to the looking glass and arranged her hair and scarf. +Looking at her own handsome face she seemed to become still colder and +calmer. + + +In the drawing room the conversation was still going on. + +“Ah, my dear,” said the countess, “my life is not all roses +either. Don’t I know that at the rate we are living our means won’t +last long? It’s all the Club and his easygoing nature. Even in the +country do we get any rest? Theatricals, hunting, and heaven knows what +besides! But don’t let’s talk about me; tell me how you managed +everything. I often wonder at you, Annette—how at your age you +can rush off alone in a carriage to Moscow, to Petersburg, to those +ministers and great people, and know how to deal with them all! It’s +quite astonishing. How did you get things settled? I couldn’t possibly +do it.” + +“Ah, my love,” answered Anna Mikháylovna, “God grant you never +know what it is to be left a widow without means and with a son you love +to distraction! One learns many things then,” she added with a certain +pride. “That lawsuit taught me much. When I want to see one of those +big people I write a note: ‘Princess So-and-So desires an interview +with So and-So,’ and then I take a cab and go myself two, three, or +four times—till I get what I want. I don’t mind what they think of +me.” + +“Well, and to whom did you apply about Bóry?” asked the countess. +“You see yours is already an officer in the Guards, while my Nicholas +is going as a cadet. There’s no one to interest himself for him. To +whom did you apply?” + +“To Prince Vasíli. He was so kind. He at once agreed to everything, +and put the matter before the Emperor,” said Princess Anna +Mikháylovna enthusiastically, quite forgetting all the humiliation she +had endured to gain her end. + +“Has Prince Vasíli aged much?” asked the countess. “I have not +seen him since we acted together at the Rumyántsovs’ theatricals. I +expect he has forgotten me. He paid me attentions in those days,” said +the countess, with a smile. + +“He is just the same as ever,” replied Anna Mikháylovna, +“overflowing with amiability. His position has not turned his head +at all. He said to me, ‘I am sorry I can do so little for you, dear +Princess. I am at your command.’ Yes, he is a fine fellow and a very +kind relation. But, Nataly, you know my love for my son: I would do +anything for his happiness! And my affairs are in such a bad way that my +position is now a terrible one,” continued Anna Mikháylovna, sadly, +dropping her voice. “My wretched lawsuit takes all I have and makes no +progress. Would you believe it, I have literally not a penny and don’t +know how to equip Borís.” She took out her handkerchief and began to +cry. “I need five hundred rubles, and have only one twenty-five-ruble +note. I am in such a state.... My only hope now is in Count Cyril +Vladímirovich Bezúkhov. If he will not assist his godson—you know +he is Bóry’s godfather—and allow him something for his maintenance, +all my trouble will have been thrown away.... I shall not be able to +equip him.” + +The countess’ eyes filled with tears and she pondered in silence. + +“I often think, though, perhaps it’s a sin,” said the princess, +“that here lives Count Cyril Vladímirovich Bezúkhov so rich, all +alone... that tremendous fortune... and what is his life worth? It’s a +burden to him, and Bóry’s life is only just beginning....” + +“Surely he will leave something to Borís,” said the countess. + +“Heaven only knows, my dear! These rich grandees are so selfish. +Still, I will take Borís and go to see him at once, and I shall speak +to him straight out. Let people think what they will of me, it’s +really all the same to me when my son’s fate is at stake.” The +princess rose. “It’s now two o’clock and you dine at four. There +will just be time.” + +And like a practical Petersburg lady who knows how to make the most of +time, Anna Mikháylovna sent someone to call her son, and went into the +anteroom with him. + +“Good-by, my dear,” said she to the countess who saw her to the +door, and added in a whisper so that her son should not hear, “Wish me +good luck.” + +“Are you going to Count Cyril Vladímirovich, my dear?” said the +count coming out from the dining hall into the anteroom, and he added: +“If he is better, ask Pierre to dine with us. He has been to the +house, you know, and danced with the children. Be sure to invite him, my +dear. We will see how Tarás distinguishes himself today. He says Count +Orlóv never gave such a dinner as ours will be!” + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +“My dear Borís,” said Princess Anna Mikháylovna to her son as +Countess Rostóva’s carriage in which they were seated drove over the +straw covered street and turned into the wide courtyard of Count Cyril +Vladímirovich Bezúkhov’s house. “My dear Borís,” said the +mother, drawing her hand from beneath her old mantle and laying +it timidly and tenderly on her son’s arm, “be affectionate and +attentive to him. Count Cyril Vladímirovich is your godfather after +all, and your future depends on him. Remember that, my dear, and be nice +to him, as you so well know how to be.” + +“If only I knew that anything besides humiliation would come of +it...” answered her son coldly. “But I have promised and will do it +for your sake.” + +Although the hall porter saw someone’s carriage standing at the +entrance, after scrutinizing the mother and son (who without asking to +be announced had passed straight through the glass porch between the +rows of statues in niches) and looking significantly at the lady’s old +cloak, he asked whether they wanted the count or the princesses, and, +hearing that they wished to see the count, said his excellency was worse +today, and that his excellency was not receiving anyone. + +“We may as well go back,” said the son in French. + +“My dear!” exclaimed his mother imploringly, again laying her hand +on his arm as if that touch might soothe or rouse him. + +Borís said no more, but looked inquiringly at his mother without taking +off his cloak. + +“My friend,” said Anna Mikháylovna in gentle tones, addressing +the hall porter, “I know Count Cyril Vladímirovich is very ill... +that’s why I have come... I am a relation. I shall not disturb him, +my friend... I only need see Prince Vasíli Sergéevich: he is staying +here, is he not? Please announce me.” + +The hall porter sullenly pulled a bell that rang upstairs, and turned +away. + +“Princess Drubetskáya to see Prince Vasíli Sergéevich,” he called +to a footman dressed in knee breeches, shoes, and a swallow-tail coat, +who ran downstairs and looked over from the halfway landing. + +The mother smoothed the folds of her dyed silk dress before a large +Venetian mirror in the wall, and in her trodden-down shoes briskly +ascended the carpeted stairs. + +“My dear,” she said to her son, once more stimulating him by a +touch, “you promised me!” + +The son, lowering his eyes, followed her quietly. + +They entered the large hall, from which one of the doors led to the +apartments assigned to Prince Vasíli. + +Just as the mother and son, having reached the middle of the hall, were +about to ask their way of an elderly footman who had sprung up as they +entered, the bronze handle of one of the doors turned and Prince Vasíli +came out—wearing a velvet coat with a single star on his breast, +as was his custom when at home—taking leave of a good-looking, +dark-haired man. This was the celebrated Petersburg doctor, Lorrain. + +“Then it is certain?” said the prince. + +“Prince, humanum est errare, * but...” replied the doctor, +swallowing his r’s, and pronouncing the Latin words with a French +accent. + + * To err is human. + +“Very well, very well...” + +Seeing Anna Mikháylovna and her son, Prince Vasíli dismissed the +doctor with a bow and approached them silently and with a look of +inquiry. The son noticed that an expression of profound sorrow suddenly +clouded his mother’s face, and he smiled slightly. + +“Ah, Prince! In what sad circumstances we meet again! And how is our +dear invalid?” said she, as though unaware of the cold offensive look +fixed on her. + +Prince Vasíli stared at her and at Borís questioningly and perplexed. +Borís bowed politely. Prince Vasíli without acknowledging the bow +turned to Anna Mikháylovna, answering her query by a movement of the +head and lips indicating very little hope for the patient. + +“Is it possible?” exclaimed Anna Mikháylovna. “Oh, how awful! +It is terrible to think.... This is my son,” she added, indicating +Borís. “He wanted to thank you himself.” + +Borís bowed again politely. + +“Believe me, Prince, a mother’s heart will never forget what you +have done for us.” + +“I am glad I was able to do you a service, my dear Anna +Mikháylovna,” said Prince Vasíli, arranging his lace frill, and in +tone and manner, here in Moscow to Anna Mikháylovna whom he had placed +under an obligation, assuming an air of much greater importance than he +had done in Petersburg at Anna Schérer’s reception. + +“Try to serve well and show yourself worthy,” added he, addressing +Borís with severity. “I am glad.... Are you here on leave?” he went +on in his usual tone of indifference. + +“I am awaiting orders to join my new regiment, your excellency,” +replied Borís, betraying neither annoyance at the prince’s brusque +manner nor a desire to enter into conversation, but speaking so quietly +and respectfully that the prince gave him a searching glance. + +“Are you living with your mother?” + +“I am living at Countess Rostóva’s,” replied Borís, again +adding, “your excellency.” + +“That is, with Ilyá Rostóv who married Nataly Shinshiná,” said +Anna Mikháylovna. + +“I know, I know,” answered Prince Vasíli in his monotonous voice. +“I never could understand how Nataly made up her mind to marry that +unlicked bear! A perfectly absurd and stupid fellow, and a gambler too, +I am told.” + +“But a very kind man, Prince,” said Anna Mikháylovna with a +pathetic smile, as though she too knew that Count Rostóv deserved this +censure, but asked him not to be too hard on the poor old man. “What +do the doctors say?” asked the princess after a pause, her worn face +again expressing deep sorrow. + +“They give little hope,” replied the prince. + +“And I should so like to thank Uncle once for all his kindness to me +and Borís. He is his godson,” she added, her tone suggesting that +this fact ought to give Prince Vasíli much satisfaction. + +Prince Vasíli became thoughtful and frowned. Anna Mikháylovna saw that +he was afraid of finding in her a rival for Count Bezúkhov’s fortune, +and hastened to reassure him. + +“If it were not for my sincere affection and devotion to Uncle,” +said she, uttering the word with peculiar assurance and unconcern, “I +know his character: noble, upright ... but you see he has no one with +him except the young princesses.... They are still young....” She bent +her head and continued in a whisper: “Has he performed his final duty, +Prince? How priceless are those last moments! It can make things no +worse, and it is absolutely necessary to prepare him if he is so ill. +We women, Prince,” and she smiled tenderly, “always know how to say +these things. I absolutely must see him, however painful it may be for +me. I am used to suffering.” + +Evidently the prince understood her, and also understood, as he had done +at Anna Pávlovna’s, that it would be difficult to get rid of Anna +Mikháylovna. + +“Would not such a meeting be too trying for him, dear Anna +Mikháylovna?” said he. “Let us wait until evening. The doctors are +expecting a crisis.” + +“But one cannot delay, Prince, at such a moment! Consider that the +welfare of his soul is at stake. Ah, it is awful: the duties of a +Christian...” + +A door of one of the inner rooms opened and one of the princesses, the +count’s niece, entered with a cold, stern face. The length of her +body was strikingly out of proportion to her short legs. Prince Vasíli +turned to her. + +“Well, how is he?” + +“Still the same; but what can you expect, this noise...” said the +princess, looking at Anna Mikháylovna as at a stranger. + +“Ah, my dear, I hardly knew you,” said Anna Mikháylovna with a +happy smile, ambling lightly up to the count’s niece. “I have come, +and am at your service to help you nurse my uncle. I imagine what you +have gone through,” and she sympathetically turned up her eyes. + +The princess gave no reply and did not even smile, but left the room as +Anna Mikháylovna took off her gloves and, occupying the position she +had conquered, settled down in an armchair, inviting Prince Vasíli to +take a seat beside her. + +“Borís,” she said to her son with a smile, “I shall go in to see +the count, my uncle; but you, my dear, had better go to Pierre meanwhile +and don’t forget to give him the Rostóvs’ invitation. They ask him +to dinner. I suppose he won’t go?” she continued, turning to the +prince. + +“On the contrary,” replied the prince, who had plainly become +depressed, “I shall be only too glad if you relieve me of that young +man.... Here he is, and the count has not once asked for him.” + +He shrugged his shoulders. A footman conducted Borís down one flight of +stairs and up another, to Pierre’s rooms. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +Pierre, after all, had not managed to choose a career for himself in +Petersburg, and had been expelled from there for riotous conduct and +sent to Moscow. The story told about him at Count Rostóv’s was true. +Pierre had taken part in tying a policeman to a bear. He had now been +for some days in Moscow and was staying as usual at his father’s +house. Though he expected that the story of his escapade would be +already known in Moscow and that the ladies about his father—who were +never favorably disposed toward him—would have used it to turn the +count against him, he nevertheless on the day of his arrival went to +his father’s part of the house. Entering the drawing room, where the +princesses spent most of their time, he greeted the ladies, two of whom +were sitting at embroidery frames while a third read aloud. It was the +eldest who was reading—the one who had met Anna Mikháylovna. The +two younger ones were embroidering: both were rosy and pretty and they +differed only in that one had a little mole on her lip which made her +much prettier. Pierre was received as if he were a corpse or a leper. +The eldest princess paused in her reading and silently stared at him +with frightened eyes; the second assumed precisely the same expression; +while the youngest, the one with the mole, who was of a cheerful and +lively disposition, bent over her frame to hide a smile probably evoked +by the amusing scene she foresaw. She drew her wool down through the +canvas and, scarcely able to refrain from laughing, stooped as if trying +to make out the pattern. + +“How do you do, cousin?” said Pierre. “You don’t recognize +me?” + +“I recognize you only too well, too well.” + +“How is the count? Can I see him?” asked Pierre, awkwardly as usual, +but unabashed. + +“The count is suffering physically and mentally, and apparently you +have done your best to increase his mental sufferings.” + +“Can I see the count?” Pierre again asked. + +“Hm.... If you wish to kill him, to kill him outright, you can see +him... Olga, go and see whether Uncle’s beef tea is ready—it is +almost time,” she added, giving Pierre to understand that they were +busy, and busy making his father comfortable, while evidently he, +Pierre, was only busy causing him annoyance. + +Olga went out. Pierre stood looking at the sisters; then he bowed and +said: “Then I will go to my rooms. You will let me know when I can see +him.” + +And he left the room, followed by the low but ringing laughter of the +sister with the mole. + +Next day Prince Vasíli had arrived and settled in the count’s house. +He sent for Pierre and said to him: “My dear fellow, if you are going +to behave here as you did in Petersburg, you will end very badly; that +is all I have to say to you. The count is very, very ill, and you must +not see him at all.” + +Since then Pierre had not been disturbed and had spent the whole time in +his rooms upstairs. + +When Borís appeared at his door Pierre was pacing up and down his room, +stopping occasionally at a corner to make menacing gestures at the wall, +as if running a sword through an invisible foe, and glaring savagely +over his spectacles, and then again resuming his walk, muttering +indistinct words, shrugging his shoulders and gesticulating. + +“England is done for,” said he, scowling and pointing his finger +at someone unseen. “Mr. Pitt, as a traitor to the nation and to the +rights of man, is sentenced to...” But before Pierre—who at that +moment imagined himself to be Napoleon in person and to have just +effected the dangerous crossing of the Straits of Dover and captured +London—could pronounce Pitt’s sentence, he saw a well-built and +handsome young officer entering his room. Pierre paused. He had left +Moscow when Borís was a boy of fourteen, and had quite forgotten him, +but in his usual impulsive and hearty way he took Borís by the hand +with a friendly smile. + +“Do you remember me?” asked Borís quietly with a pleasant smile. +“I have come with my mother to see the count, but it seems he is not +well.” + +“Yes, it seems he is ill. People are always disturbing him,” +answered Pierre, trying to remember who this young man was. + +Borís felt that Pierre did not recognize him but did not consider +it necessary to introduce himself, and without experiencing the least +embarrassment looked Pierre straight in the face. + +“Count Rostóv asks you to come to dinner today,” said he, after a +considerable pause which made Pierre feel uncomfortable. + +“Ah, Count Rostóv!” exclaimed Pierre joyfully. “Then you are his +son, Ilyá? Only fancy, I didn’t know you at first. Do you remember +how we went to the Sparrow Hills with Madame Jacquot?... It’s such an +age...” + +“You are mistaken,” said Borís deliberately, with a bold and +slightly sarcastic smile. “I am Borís, son of Princess Anna +Mikháylovna Drubetskáya. Rostóv, the father, is Ilyá, and his son is +Nicholas. I never knew any Madame Jacquot.” + +Pierre shook his head and arms as if attacked by mosquitoes or bees. + +“Oh dear, what am I thinking about? I’ve mixed everything up. One +has so many relatives in Moscow! So you are Borís? Of course. Well, now +we know where we are. And what do you think of the Boulogne expedition? +The English will come off badly, you know, if Napoleon gets across the +Channel. I think the expedition is quite feasible. If only Villeneuve +doesn’t make a mess of things!” + +Borís knew nothing about the Boulogne expedition; he did not read the +papers and it was the first time he had heard Villeneuve’s name. + +“We here in Moscow are more occupied with dinner parties and scandal +than with politics,” said he in his quiet ironical tone. “I know +nothing about it and have not thought about it. Moscow is chiefly busy +with gossip,” he continued. “Just now they are talking about you and +your father.” + +Pierre smiled in his good-natured way as if afraid for his companion’s +sake that the latter might say something he would afterwards regret. +But Borís spoke distinctly, clearly, and dryly, looking straight into +Pierre’s eyes. + +“Moscow has nothing else to do but gossip,” Borís went on. +“Everybody is wondering to whom the count will leave his fortune, +though he may perhaps outlive us all, as I sincerely hope he will...” + +“Yes, it is all very horrid,” interrupted Pierre, “very horrid.” + +Pierre was still afraid that this officer might inadvertently say +something disconcerting to himself. + +“And it must seem to you,” said Borís flushing slightly, but not +changing his tone or attitude, “it must seem to you that everyone is +trying to get something out of the rich man?” + +“So it does,” thought Pierre. + +“But I just wish to say, to avoid misunderstandings, that you are +quite mistaken if you reckon me or my mother among such people. We are +very poor, but for my own part at any rate, for the very reason that +your father is rich, I don’t regard myself as a relation of his, and +neither I nor my mother would ever ask or take anything from him.” + +For a long time Pierre could not understand, but when he did, he jumped +up from the sofa, seized Borís under the elbow in his quick, clumsy +way, and, blushing far more than Borís, began to speak with a feeling +of mingled shame and vexation. + +“Well, this is strange! Do you suppose I... who could think?... I know +very well...” + +But Borís again interrupted him. + +“I am glad I have spoken out fully. Perhaps you did not like it? You +must excuse me,” said he, putting Pierre at ease instead of being put +at ease by him, “but I hope I have not offended you. I always make it +a rule to speak out... Well, what answer am I to take? Will you come to +dinner at the Rostóvs’?” + +And Borís, having apparently relieved himself of an onerous duty and +extricated himself from an awkward situation and placed another in it, +became quite pleasant again. + +“No, but I say,” said Pierre, calming down, “you are a wonderful +fellow! What you have just said is good, very good. Of course you +don’t know me. We have not met for such a long time... not since we +were children. You might think that I... I understand, quite understand. +I could not have done it myself, I should not have had the courage, but +it’s splendid. I am very glad to have made your acquaintance. It’s +queer,” he added after a pause, “that you should have suspected +me!” He began to laugh. “Well, what of it! I hope we’ll get better +acquainted,” and he pressed Borís’ hand. “Do you know, I have not +once been in to see the count. He has not sent for me.... I am sorry for +him as a man, but what can one do?” + +“And so you think Napoleon will manage to get an army across?” asked +Borís with a smile. + +Pierre saw that Borís wished to change the subject, and being of the +same mind he began explaining the advantages and disadvantages of the +Boulogne expedition. + +A footman came in to summon Borís—the princess was going. Pierre, in +order to make Borís’ better acquaintance, promised to come to dinner, +and warmly pressing his hand looked affectionately over his spectacles +into Borís’ eyes. After he had gone Pierre continued pacing up and +down the room for a long time, no longer piercing an imaginary foe with +his imaginary sword, but smiling at the remembrance of that pleasant, +intelligent, and resolute young man. + +As often happens in early youth, especially to one who leads a lonely +life, he felt an unaccountable tenderness for this young man and made up +his mind that they would be friends. + +Prince Vasíli saw the princess off. She held a handkerchief to her eyes +and her face was tearful. + +“It is dreadful, dreadful!” she was saying, “but cost me what it +may I shall do my duty. I will come and spend the night. He must not be +left like this. Every moment is precious. I can’t think why his nieces +put it off. Perhaps God will help me to find a way to prepare him!... +Adieu, Prince! May God support you...” + +“Adieu, ma bonne,” answered Prince Vasíli turning away from her. + +“Oh, he is in a dreadful state,” said the mother to her son when +they were in the carriage. “He hardly recognizes anybody.” + +“I don’t understand, Mamma—what is his attitude to Pierre?” +asked the son. + +“The will will show that, my dear; our fate also depends on it.” + +“But why do you expect that he will leave us anything?” + +“Ah, my dear! He is so rich, and we are so poor!” + +“Well, that is hardly a sufficient reason, Mamma...” + +“Oh, Heaven! How ill he is!” exclaimed the mother. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +After Anna Mikháylovna had driven off with her son to visit Count Cyril +Vladímirovich Bezúkhov, Countess Rostóva sat for a long time all +alone applying her handkerchief to her eyes. At last she rang. + +“What is the matter with you, my dear?” she said crossly to the maid +who kept her waiting some minutes. “Don’t you wish to serve me? Then +I’ll find you another place.” + +The countess was upset by her friend’s sorrow and humiliating poverty, +and was therefore out of sorts, a state of mind which with her always +found expression in calling her maid “my dear” and speaking to her +with exaggerated politeness. + +“I am very sorry, ma’am,” answered the maid. + +“Ask the count to come to me.” + +The count came waddling in to see his wife with a rather guilty look as +usual. + +“Well, little countess? What a sauté of game au madère we are to +have, my dear! I tasted it. The thousand rubles I paid for Tarás were +not ill-spent. He is worth it!” + +He sat down by his wife, his elbows on his knees and his hands ruffling +his gray hair. + +“What are your commands, little countess?” + +“You see, my dear... What’s that mess?” she said, pointing to his +waistcoat. “It’s the sauté, most likely,” she added with a smile. +“Well, you see, Count, I want some money.” + +Her face became sad. + +“Oh, little countess!” ... and the count began bustling to get out +his pocketbook. + +“I want a great deal, Count! I want five hundred rubles,” and taking +out her cambric handkerchief she began wiping her husband’s waistcoat. + +“Yes, immediately, immediately! Hey, who’s there?” he called out +in a tone only used by persons who are certain that those they call will +rush to obey the summons. “Send Dmítri to me!” + +Dmítri, a man of good family who had been brought up in the count’s +house and now managed all his affairs, stepped softly into the room. + +“This is what I want, my dear fellow,” said the count to the +deferential young man who had entered. “Bring me...” he reflected +a moment, “yes, bring me seven hundred rubles, yes! But mind, don’t +bring me such tattered and dirty notes as last time, but nice clean ones +for the countess.” + +“Yes, Dmítri, clean ones, please,” said the countess, sighing +deeply. + +“When would you like them, your excellency?” asked Dmítri. “Allow +me to inform you... But, don’t be uneasy,” he added, noticing that +the count was beginning to breathe heavily and quickly which was always +a sign of approaching anger. “I was forgetting... Do you wish it +brought at once?” + +“Yes, yes; just so! Bring it. Give it to the countess.” + +“What a treasure that Dmítri is,” added the count with a smile when +the young man had departed. “There is never any ‘impossible’ with +him. That’s a thing I hate! Everything is possible.” + +“Ah, money, Count, money! How much sorrow it causes in the world,” +said the countess. “But I am in great need of this sum.” + +“You, my little countess, are a notorious spendthrift,” said the +count, and having kissed his wife’s hand he went back to his study. + +When Anna Mikháylovna returned from Count Bezúkhov’s the money, all +in clean notes, was lying ready under a handkerchief on the countess’ +little table, and Anna Mikháylovna noticed that something was agitating +her. + +“Well, my dear?” asked the countess. + +“Oh, what a terrible state he is in! One would not know him, he is so +ill! I was only there a few moments and hardly said a word...” + +“Annette, for heaven’s sake don’t refuse me,” the countess +began, with a blush that looked very strange on her thin, dignified, +elderly face, and she took the money from under the handkerchief. + +Anna Mikháylovna instantly guessed her intention and stooped to be +ready to embrace the countess at the appropriate moment. + +“This is for Borís from me, for his outfit.” + +Anna Mikháylovna was already embracing her and weeping. The countess +wept too. They wept because they were friends, and because they were +kindhearted, and because they—friends from childhood—had to think +about such a base thing as money, and because their youth was over.... +But those tears were pleasant to them both. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +Countess Rostóva, with her daughters and a large number of guests, was +already seated in the drawing room. The count took the gentlemen into +his study and showed them his choice collection of Turkish pipes. From +time to time he went out to ask: “Hasn’t she come yet?” They +were expecting Márya Dmítrievna Akhrosímova, known in society as le +terrible dragon, a lady distinguished not for wealth or rank, but for +common sense and frank plainness of speech. Márya Dmítrievna was known +to the Imperial family as well as to all Moscow and Petersburg, and both +cities wondered at her, laughed privately at her rudenesses, and told +good stories about her, while none the less all without exception +respected and feared her. + +In the count’s room, which was full of tobacco smoke, they talked +of the war that had been announced in a manifesto, and about the +recruiting. None of them had yet seen the manifesto, but they all knew +it had appeared. The count sat on the sofa between two guests who were +smoking and talking. He neither smoked nor talked, but bending his head +first to one side and then to the other watched the smokers with evident +pleasure and listened to the conversation of his two neighbors, whom he +egged on against each other. + +One of them was a sallow, clean-shaven civilian with a thin and wrinkled +face, already growing old, though he was dressed like a most fashionable +young man. He sat with his legs up on the sofa as if quite at home and, +having stuck an amber mouthpiece far into his mouth, was inhaling the +smoke spasmodically and screwing up his eyes. This was an old bachelor, +Shinshín, a cousin of the countess’, a man with “a sharp tongue” +as they said in Moscow society. He seemed to be condescending to +his companion. The latter, a fresh, rosy officer of the Guards, +irreproachably washed, brushed, and buttoned, held his pipe in the +middle of his mouth and with red lips gently inhaled the smoke, letting +it escape from his handsome mouth in rings. This was Lieutenant Berg, an +officer in the Semënov regiment with whom Borís was to travel to join +the army, and about whom Natásha had teased her elder sister Véra, +speaking of Berg as her “intended.” The count sat between them and +listened attentively. His favorite occupation when not playing boston, a +card game he was very fond of, was that of listener, especially when he +succeeded in setting two loquacious talkers at one another. + +“Well, then, old chap, mon très honorable Alphonse Kárlovich,” +said Shinshín, laughing ironically and mixing the most ordinary Russian +expressions with the choicest French phrases—which was a peculiarity +of his speech. “Vous comptez vous faire des rentes sur l’état; * +you want to make something out of your company?” + + * You expect to make an income out of the government. + +“No, Peter Nikoláevich; I only want to show that in the cavalry +the advantages are far less than in the infantry. Just consider my own +position now, Peter Nikoláevich...” + +Berg always spoke quietly, politely, and with great precision. His +conversation always related entirely to himself; he would remain calm +and silent when the talk related to any topic that had no direct bearing +on himself. He could remain silent for hours without being at all put +out of countenance himself or making others uncomfortable, but as +soon as the conversation concerned himself he would begin to talk +circumstantially and with evident satisfaction. + +“Consider my position, Peter Nikoláevich. Were I in the cavalry I +should get not more than two hundred rubles every four months, even +with the rank of lieutenant; but as it is I receive two hundred and +thirty,” said he, looking at Shinshín and the count with a joyful, +pleasant smile, as if it were obvious to him that his success must +always be the chief desire of everyone else. + +“Besides that, Peter Nikoláevich, by exchanging into the Guards +I shall be in a more prominent position,” continued Berg, “and +vacancies occur much more frequently in the Foot Guards. Then just think +what can be done with two hundred and thirty rubles! I even manage to +put a little aside and to send something to my father,” he went on, +emitting a smoke ring. + +“La balance y est... * A German knows how to skin a flint, as the +proverb says,” remarked Shinshín, moving his pipe to the other side +of his mouth and winking at the count. + + * So that squares matters. + +The count burst out laughing. The other guests seeing that Shinshín +was talking came up to listen. Berg, oblivious of irony or indifference, +continued to explain how by exchanging into the Guards he had already +gained a step on his old comrades of the Cadet Corps; how in wartime +the company commander might get killed and he, as senior in the company, +might easily succeed to the post; how popular he was with everyone in +the regiment, and how satisfied his father was with him. Berg evidently +enjoyed narrating all this, and did not seem to suspect that others, +too, might have their own interests. But all he said was so prettily +sedate, and the naïveté of his youthful egotism was so obvious, that +he disarmed his hearers. + +“Well, my boy, you’ll get along wherever you go—foot or +horse—that I’ll warrant,” said Shinshín, patting him on the +shoulder and taking his feet off the sofa. + +Berg smiled joyously. The count, followed by his guests, went into the +drawing room. + +It was just the moment before a big dinner when the assembled guests, +expecting the summons to zakúska, * avoid engaging in any long +conversation but think it necessary to move about and talk, in order +to show that they are not at all impatient for their food. The host and +hostess look toward the door, and now and then glance at one another, +and the visitors try to guess from these glances who, or what, they are +waiting for—some important relation who has not yet arrived, or a dish +that is not yet ready. + + * Hors d’oeuvres. + +Pierre had come just at dinnertime and was sitting awkwardly in the +middle of the drawing room on the first chair he had come across, +blocking the way for everyone. The countess tried to make him talk, +but he went on naïvely looking around through his spectacles as if in +search of somebody and answered all her questions in monosyllables. He +was in the way and was the only one who did not notice the fact. Most of +the guests, knowing of the affair with the bear, looked with curiosity +at this big, stout, quiet man, wondering how such a clumsy, modest +fellow could have played such a prank on a policeman. + +“You have only lately arrived?” the countess asked him. + +“Oui, madame,” replied he, looking around him. + +“You have not yet seen my husband?” + +“Non, madame.” He smiled quite inappropriately. + +“You have been in Paris recently, I believe? I suppose it’s very +interesting.” + +“Very interesting.” + +The countess exchanged glances with Anna Mikháylovna. The latter +understood that she was being asked to entertain this young man, and +sitting down beside him she began to speak about his father; but he +answered her, as he had the countess, only in monosyllables. The other +guests were all conversing with one another. “The Razumóvskis... It +was charming... You are very kind... Countess Apráksina...” was heard +on all sides. The countess rose and went into the ballroom. + +“Márya Dmítrievna?” came her voice from there. + +“Herself,” came the answer in a rough voice, and Márya Dmítrievna +entered the room. + +All the unmarried ladies and even the married ones except the very +oldest rose. Márya Dmítrievna paused at the door. Tall and stout, +holding high her fifty-year-old head with its gray curls, she stood +surveying the guests, and leisurely arranged her wide sleeves as if +rolling them up. Márya Dmítrievna always spoke in Russian. + +“Health and happiness to her whose name day we are keeping and to her +children,” she said, in her loud, full-toned voice which drowned all +others. “Well, you old sinner,” she went on, turning to the count +who was kissing her hand, “you’re feeling dull in Moscow, I daresay? +Nowhere to hunt with your dogs? But what is to be done, old man? Just +see how these nestlings are growing up,” and she pointed to the girls. +“You must look for husbands for them whether you like it or not....” + +“Well,” said she, “how’s my Cossack?” (Márya Dmítrievna +always called Natásha a Cossack) and she stroked the child’s arm as +she came up fearless and gay to kiss her hand. “I know she’s a scamp +of a girl, but I like her.” + +She took a pair of pear-shaped ruby earrings from her huge reticule and, +having given them to the rosy Natásha, who beamed with the pleasure +of her saint’s-day fete, turned away at once and addressed herself to +Pierre. + +“Eh, eh, friend! Come here a bit,” said she, assuming a soft high +tone of voice. “Come here, my friend...” and she ominously tucked +up her sleeves still higher. Pierre approached, looking at her in a +childlike way through his spectacles. + +“Come nearer, come nearer, friend! I used to be the only one to tell +your father the truth when he was in favor, and in your case it’s my +evident duty.” She paused. All were silent, expectant of what was to +follow, for this was clearly only a prelude. + +“A fine lad! My word! A fine lad!... His father lies on his deathbed +and he amuses himself setting a policeman astride a bear! For shame, +sir, for shame! It would be better if you went to the war.” + +She turned away and gave her hand to the count, who could hardly keep +from laughing. + +“Well, I suppose it is time we were at table?” said Márya +Dmítrievna. + +The count went in first with Márya Dmítrievna, the countess followed +on the arm of a colonel of hussars, a man of importance to them because +Nicholas was to go with him to the regiment; then came Anna Mikháylovna +with Shinshín. Berg gave his arm to Véra. The smiling Julie Karágina +went in with Nicholas. After them other couples followed, filling the +whole dining hall, and last of all the children, tutors, and governesses +followed singly. The footmen began moving about, chairs scraped, the +band struck up in the gallery, and the guests settled down in their +places. Then the strains of the count’s household band were replaced +by the clatter of knives and forks, the voices of visitors, and the +soft steps of the footmen. At one end of the table sat the countess with +Márya Dmítrievna on her right and Anna Mikháylovna on her left, the +other lady visitors were farther down. At the other end sat the count, +with the hussar colonel on his left and Shinshín and the other male +visitors on his right. Midway down the long table on one side sat the +grown-up young people: Véra beside Berg, and Pierre beside Borís; and +on the other side, the children, tutors, and governesses. From behind +the crystal decanters and fruit vases, the count kept glancing at his +wife and her tall cap with its light-blue ribbons, and busily filled +his neighbors’ glasses, not neglecting his own. The countess in turn, +without omitting her duties as hostess, threw significant glances from +behind the pineapples at her husband whose face and bald head seemed +by their redness to contrast more than usual with his gray hair. At the +ladies’ end an even chatter of voices was heard all the time, at the +men’s end the voices sounded louder and louder, especially that of the +colonel of hussars who, growing more and more flushed, ate and drank so +much that the count held him up as a pattern to the other guests. Berg +with tender smiles was saying to Véra that love is not an earthly but +a heavenly feeling. Borís was telling his new friend Pierre who the +guests were and exchanging glances with Natásha, who was sitting +opposite. Pierre spoke little but examined the new faces, and ate a +great deal. Of the two soups he chose turtle with savory patties and +went on to the game without omitting a single dish or one of the wines. +These latter the butler thrust mysteriously forward, wrapped in a +napkin, from behind the next man’s shoulders and whispered: “Dry +Madeira”... “Hungarian”... or “Rhine wine” as the case might +be. Of the four crystal glasses engraved with the count’s monogram +that stood before his plate, Pierre held out one at random and drank +with enjoyment, gazing with ever-increasing amiability at the other +guests. Natásha, who sat opposite, was looking at Borís as girls of +thirteen look at the boy they are in love with and have just kissed for +the first time. Sometimes that same look fell on Pierre, and that funny +lively little girl’s look made him inclined to laugh without knowing +why. + +Nicholas sat at some distance from Sónya, beside Julie Karágina, to +whom he was again talking with the same involuntary smile. Sónya wore +a company smile but was evidently tormented by jealousy; now she turned +pale, now blushed and strained every nerve to overhear what Nicholas +and Julie were saying to one another. The governess kept looking round +uneasily as if preparing to resent any slight that might be put upon the +children. The German tutor was trying to remember all the dishes, wines, +and kinds of dessert, in order to send a full description of the dinner +to his people in Germany; and he felt greatly offended when the butler +with a bottle wrapped in a napkin passed him by. He frowned, trying to +appear as if he did not want any of that wine, but was mortified because +no one would understand that it was not to quench his thirst or from +greediness that he wanted it, but simply from a conscientious desire for +knowledge. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +At the men’s end of the table the talk grew more and more animated. +The colonel told them that the declaration of war had already appeared +in Petersburg and that a copy, which he had himself seen, had that day +been forwarded by courier to the commander in chief. + +“And why the deuce are we going to fight Bonaparte?” remarked +Shinshín. “He has stopped Austria’s cackle and I fear it will be +our turn next.” + +The colonel was a stout, tall, plethoric German, evidently devoted to +the service and patriotically Russian. He resented Shinshín’s remark. + +“It is for the reasson, my goot sir,” said he, speaking with a +German accent, “for the reasson zat ze Emperor knows zat. He +declares in ze manifessto zat he cannot fiew wiz indifference ze danger +vreatening Russia and zat ze safety and dignity of ze Empire as vell +as ze sanctity of its alliances...” he spoke this last word with +particular emphasis as if in it lay the gist of the matter. + +Then with the unerring official memory that characterized him he +repeated from the opening words of the manifesto: + +... and the wish, which constitutes the Emperor’s sole and absolute +aim—to establish peace in Europe on firm foundations—has now decided +him to despatch part of the army abroad and to create a new condition +for the attainment of that purpose. + +“Zat, my dear sir, is vy...” he concluded, drinking a tumbler of +wine with dignity and looking to the count for approval. + +“Connaissez-vous le Proverbe:* ‘Jerome, Jerome, do not roam, but +turn spindles at home!’?” said Shinshín, puckering his brows and +smiling. “Cela nous convient à merveille.*(2) Suvórov now—he knew +what he was about; yet they beat him à plate couture,*(3) and where +are we to find Suvórovs now? Je vous demande un peu,” *(4) said he, +continually changing from French to Russian. + + *Do you know the proverb? + + *(2) That suits us down to the ground. + + *(3) Hollow. + + *(4) I just ask you that. + +“Ve must vight to the last tr-r-op of our plood!” said the colonel, +thumping the table; “and ve must tie for our Emperor, and zen all vill +pe vell. And ve must discuss it as little as po-o-ossible”... he dwelt +particularly on the word possible... “as po-o-ossible,” he ended, +again turning to the count. “Zat is how ve old hussars look at it, and +zere’s an end of it! And how do you, a young man and a young hussar, +how do you judge of it?” he added, addressing Nicholas, who when he +heard that the war was being discussed had turned from his partner with +eyes and ears intent on the colonel. + +“I am quite of your opinion,” replied Nicholas, flaming up, turning +his plate round and moving his wineglasses about with as much decision +and desperation as though he were at that moment facing some great +danger. “I am convinced that we Russians must die or conquer,” he +concluded, conscious—as were others—after the words were uttered +that his remarks were too enthusiastic and emphatic for the occasion and +were therefore awkward. + +“What you said just now was splendid!” said his partner Julie. + +Sónya trembled all over and blushed to her ears and behind them and +down to her neck and shoulders while Nicholas was speaking. + +Pierre listened to the colonel’s speech and nodded approvingly. + +“That’s fine,” said he. + +“The young man’s a real hussar!” shouted the colonel, again +thumping the table. + +“What are you making such a noise about over there?” Márya +Dmítrievna’s deep voice suddenly inquired from the other end of the +table. “What are you thumping the table for?” she demanded of the +hussar, “and why are you exciting yourself? Do you think the French +are here?” + +“I am speaking ze truce,” replied the hussar with a smile. + +“It’s all about the war,” the count shouted down the table. “You +know my son’s going, Márya Dmítrievna? My son is going.” + +“I have four sons in the army but still I don’t fret. It is all +in God’s hands. You may die in your bed or God may spare you in a +battle,” replied Márya Dmítrievna’s deep voice, which easily +carried the whole length of the table. + +“That’s true!” + +Once more the conversations concentrated, the ladies’ at the one end +and the men’s at the other. + +“You won’t ask,” Natásha’s little brother was saying; “I know +you won’t ask!” + +“I will,” replied Natásha. + +Her face suddenly flushed with reckless and joyous resolution. She half +rose, by a glance inviting Pierre, who sat opposite, to listen to what +was coming, and turning to her mother: + +“Mamma!” rang out the clear contralto notes of her childish voice, +audible the whole length of the table. + +“What is it?” asked the countess, startled; but seeing by her +daughter’s face that it was only mischief, she shook a finger at her +sternly with a threatening and forbidding movement of her head. + +The conversation was hushed. + +“Mamma! What sweets are we going to have?” and Natásha’s voice +sounded still more firm and resolute. + +The countess tried to frown, but could not. Márya Dmítrievna shook her +fat finger. + +“Cossack!” she said threateningly. + +Most of the guests, uncertain how to regard this sally, looked at the +elders. + +“You had better take care!” said the countess. + +“Mamma! What sweets are we going to have?” Natásha again cried +boldly, with saucy gaiety, confident that her prank would be taken in +good part. + +Sónya and fat little Pétya doubled up with laughter. + +“You see! I have asked,” whispered Natásha to her little brother +and to Pierre, glancing at him again. + +“Ice pudding, but you won’t get any,” said Márya Dmítrievna. + +Natásha saw there was nothing to be afraid of and so she braved even +Márya Dmítrievna. + +“Márya Dmítrievna! What kind of ice pudding? I don’t like ice +cream.” + +“Carrot ices.” + +“No! What kind, Márya Dmítrievna? What kind?” she almost screamed; +“I want to know!” + +Márya Dmítrievna and the countess burst out laughing, and all the +guests joined in. Everyone laughed, not at Márya Dmítrievna’s answer +but at the incredible boldness and smartness of this little girl who had +dared to treat Márya Dmítrievna in this fashion. + +Natásha only desisted when she had been told that there would be +pineapple ice. Before the ices, champagne was served round. The band +again struck up, the count and countess kissed, and the guests, leaving +their seats, went up to “congratulate” the countess, and reached +across the table to clink glasses with the count, with the children, and +with one another. Again the footmen rushed about, chairs scraped, and +in the same order in which they had entered but with redder faces, the +guests returned to the drawing room and to the count’s study. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +The card tables were drawn out, sets made up for boston, and the +count’s visitors settled themselves, some in the two drawing rooms, +some in the sitting room, some in the library. + +The count, holding his cards fanwise, kept himself with difficulty from +dropping into his usual after-dinner nap, and laughed at everything. +The young people, at the countess’ instigation, gathered round the +clavichord and harp. Julie by general request played first. After she +had played a little air with variations on the harp, she joined the +other young ladies in begging Natásha and Nicholas, who were noted for +their musical talent, to sing something. Natásha, who was treated as +though she were grown up, was evidently very proud of this but at the +same time felt shy. + +“What shall we sing?” she said. + +“‘The Brook,’” suggested Nicholas. + +“Well, then, let’s be quick. Borís, come here,” said Natásha. +“But where is Sónya?” + +She looked round and seeing that her friend was not in the room ran to +look for her. + +Running into Sónya’s room and not finding her there, Natásha ran to +the nursery, but Sónya was not there either. Natásha concluded that +she must be on the chest in the passage. The chest in the passage was +the place of mourning for the younger female generation in the Rostóv +household. And there in fact was Sónya lying face downward on Nurse’s +dirty feather bed on the top of the chest, crumpling her gauzy pink +dress under her, hiding her face with her slender fingers, and sobbing +so convulsively that her bare little shoulders shook. Natásha’s +face, which had been so radiantly happy all that saint’s day, suddenly +changed: her eyes became fixed, and then a shiver passed down her broad +neck and the corners of her mouth drooped. + +“Sónya! What is it? What is the matter?... Oo... Oo... Oo...!” And +Natásha’s large mouth widened, making her look quite ugly, and she +began to wail like a baby without knowing why, except that Sónya was +crying. Sónya tried to lift her head to answer but could not, and +hid her face still deeper in the bed. Natásha wept, sitting on the +blue-striped feather bed and hugging her friend. With an effort Sónya +sat up and began wiping her eyes and explaining. + +“Nicholas is going away in a week’s time, his... papers... have +come... he told me himself... but still I should not cry,” and she +showed a paper she held in her hand—with the verses Nicholas had +written, “still, I should not cry, but you can’t... no one can +understand... what a soul he has!” + +And she began to cry again because he had such a noble soul. + +“It’s all very well for you... I am not envious... I love you and +Borís also,” she went on, gaining a little strength; “he is nice... +there are no difficulties in your way.... But Nicholas is my cousin... +one would have to... the Metropolitan himself... and even then it +can’t be done. And besides, if she tells Mamma” (Sónya looked upon +the countess as her mother and called her so) “that I am spoiling +Nicholas’ career and am heartless and ungrateful, while truly... God +is my witness,” and she made the sign of the cross, “I love her so +much, and all of you, only Véra... And what for? What have I done +to her? I am so grateful to you that I would willingly sacrifice +everything, only I have nothing....” + +Sónya could not continue, and again hid her face in her hands and in +the feather bed. Natásha began consoling her, but her face showed that +she understood all the gravity of her friend’s trouble. + +“Sónya,” she suddenly exclaimed, as if she had guessed the true +reason of her friend’s sorrow, “I’m sure Véra has said something +to you since dinner? Hasn’t she?” + +“Yes, these verses Nicholas wrote himself and I copied some others, +and she found them on my table and said she’d show them to Mamma, and +that I was ungrateful, and that Mamma would never allow him to marry +me, but that he’ll marry Julie. You see how he’s been with her all +day... Natásha, what have I done to deserve it?...” + +And again she began to sob, more bitterly than before. Natásha lifted +her up, hugged her, and, smiling through her tears, began comforting +her. + +“Sónya, don’t believe her, darling! Don’t believe her! Do you +remember how we and Nicholas, all three of us, talked in the sitting +room after supper? Why, we settled how everything was to be. I don’t +quite remember how, but don’t you remember that it could all be +arranged and how nice it all was? There’s Uncle Shinshín’s brother +has married his first cousin. And we are only second cousins, you know. +And Borís says it is quite possible. You know I have told him all about +it. And he is so clever and so good!” said Natásha. “Don’t +you cry, Sónya, dear love, darling Sónya!” and she kissed her and +laughed. “Véra’s spiteful; never mind her! And all will come right +and she won’t say anything to Mamma. Nicholas will tell her himself, +and he doesn’t care at all for Julie.” + +Natásha kissed her on the hair. + +Sónya sat up. The little kitten brightened, its eyes shone, and it +seemed ready to lift its tail, jump down on its soft paws, and begin +playing with the ball of worsted as a kitten should. + +“Do you think so?... Really? Truly?” she said, quickly smoothing her +frock and hair. + +“Really, truly!” answered Natásha, pushing in a crisp lock that had +strayed from under her friend’s plaits. + +Both laughed. + +“Well, let’s go and sing ‘The Brook.’” + +“Come along!” + +“Do you know, that fat Pierre who sat opposite me is so funny!” said +Natásha, stopping suddenly. “I feel so happy!” + +And she set off at a run along the passage. + +Sónya, shaking off some down which clung to her and tucking away the +verses in the bosom of her dress close to her bony little chest, ran +after Natásha down the passage into the sitting room with flushed face +and light, joyous steps. At the visitors’ request the young people +sang the quartette, “The Brook,” with which everyone was delighted. +Then Nicholas sang a song he had just learned: + + At nighttime in the moon’s fair glow + How sweet, as fancies wander free, + To feel that in this world there’s one + Who still is thinking but of thee! + + That while her fingers touch the harp + Wafting sweet music o’er the lea, + It is for thee thus swells her heart, + Sighing its message out to thee... + + A day or two, then bliss unspoilt, + But oh! till then I cannot live!... + +He had not finished the last verse before the young people began to +get ready to dance in the large hall, and the sound of the feet and the +coughing of the musicians were heard from the gallery. + + +Pierre was sitting in the drawing room where Shinshín had engaged him, +as a man recently returned from abroad, in a political conversation in +which several others joined but which bored Pierre. When the music began +Natásha came in and walking straight up to Pierre said, laughing and +blushing: + +“Mamma told me to ask you to join the dancers.” + +“I am afraid of mixing the figures,” Pierre replied; “but if you +will be my teacher...” And lowering his big arm he offered it to the +slender little girl. + +While the couples were arranging themselves and the musicians tuning up, +Pierre sat down with his little partner. Natásha was perfectly happy; +she was dancing with a grown-up man, who had been abroad. She was +sitting in a conspicuous place and talking to him like a grown-up lady. +She had a fan in her hand that one of the ladies had given her to hold. +Assuming quite the pose of a society woman (heaven knows when and where +she had learned it) she talked with her partner, fanning herself and +smiling over the fan. + +“Dear, dear! Just look at her!” exclaimed the countess as she +crossed the ballroom, pointing to Natásha. + +Natásha blushed and laughed. + +“Well, really, Mamma! Why should you? What is there to be surprised +at?” + + +In the midst of the third écossaise there was a clatter of chairs being +pushed back in the sitting room where the count and Márya Dmítrievna +had been playing cards with the majority of the more distinguished and +older visitors. They now, stretching themselves after sitting so long, +and replacing their purses and pocketbooks, entered the ballroom. First +came Márya Dmítrievna and the count, both with merry countenances. The +count, with playful ceremony somewhat in ballet style, offered his +bent arm to Márya Dmítrievna. He drew himself up, a smile of debonair +gallantry lit up his face and as soon as the last figure of the +écossaise was ended, he clapped his hands to the musicians and shouted +up to their gallery, addressing the first violin: + +“Semën! Do you know the Daniel Cooper?” + +This was the count’s favorite dance, which he had danced in his youth. +(Strictly speaking, Daniel Cooper was one figure of the anglaise.) + +“Look at Papa!” shouted Natásha to the whole company, and quite +forgetting that she was dancing with a grown-up partner she bent her +curly head to her knees and made the whole room ring with her laughter. + +And indeed everybody in the room looked with a smile of pleasure at the +jovial old gentleman, who standing beside his tall and stout partner, +Márya Dmítrievna, curved his arms, beat time, straightened his +shoulders, turned out his toes, tapped gently with his foot, and, by +a smile that broadened his round face more and more, prepared the +onlookers for what was to follow. As soon as the provocatively gay +strains of Daniel Cooper (somewhat resembling those of a merry peasant +dance) began to sound, all the doorways of the ballroom were suddenly +filled by the domestic serfs—the men on one side and the women on +the other—who with beaming faces had come to see their master making +merry. + +“Just look at the master! A regular eagle he is!” loudly remarked +the nurse, as she stood in one of the doorways. + +The count danced well and knew it. But his partner could not and did not +want to dance well. Her enormous figure stood erect, her powerful arms +hanging down (she had handed her reticule to the countess), and only her +stern but handsome face really joined in the dance. What was expressed +by the whole of the count’s plump figure, in Márya Dmítrievna found +expression only in her more and more beaming face and quivering nose. +But if the count, getting more and more into the swing of it, charmed +the spectators by the unexpectedness of his adroit maneuvers and +the agility with which he capered about on his light feet, Márya +Dmítrievna produced no less impression by slight exertions—the least +effort to move her shoulders or bend her arms when turning, or stamp +her foot—which everyone appreciated in view of her size and habitual +severity. The dance grew livelier and livelier. The other couples could +not attract a moment’s attention to their own evolutions and did not +even try to do so. All were watching the count and Márya Dmítrievna. +Natásha kept pulling everyone by sleeve or dress, urging them to +“look at Papa!” though as it was they never took their eyes off the +couple. In the intervals of the dance the count, breathing deeply, waved +and shouted to the musicians to play faster. Faster, faster, and faster; +lightly, more lightly, and yet more lightly whirled the count, flying +round Márya Dmítrievna, now on his toes, now on his heels; until, +turning his partner round to her seat, he executed the final pas, +raising his soft foot backwards, bowing his perspiring head, smiling +and making a wide sweep with his arm, amid a thunder of applause and +laughter led by Natásha. Both partners stood still, breathing heavily +and wiping their faces with their cambric handkerchiefs. + +“That’s how we used to dance in our time, ma chère,” said the +count. + +“That was a Daniel Cooper!” exclaimed Márya Dmítrievna, tucking up +her sleeves and puffing heavily. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +While in the Rostóvs’ ballroom the sixth anglaise was being danced, +to a tune in which the weary musicians blundered, and while tired +footmen and cooks were getting the supper, Count Bezúkhov had a +sixth stroke. The doctors pronounced recovery impossible. After a mute +confession, communion was administered to the dying man, preparations +made for the sacrament of unction, and in his house there was the bustle +and thrill of suspense usual at such moments. Outside the house, beyond +the gates, a group of undertakers, who hid whenever a carriage drove up, +waited in expectation of an important order for an expensive funeral. +The Military Governor of Moscow, who had been assiduous in sending +aides-de-camp to inquire after the count’s health, came himself +that evening to bid a last farewell to the celebrated grandee of +Catherine’s court, Count Bezúkhov. + +The magnificent reception room was crowded. Everyone stood up +respectfully when the Military Governor, having stayed about half an +hour alone with the dying man, passed out, slightly acknowledging their +bows and trying to escape as quickly as possible from the glances fixed +on him by the doctors, clergy, and relatives of the family. Prince +Vasíli, who had grown thinner and paler during the last few days, +escorted him to the door, repeating something to him several times in +low tones. + +When the Military Governor had gone, Prince Vasíli sat down all alone +on a chair in the ballroom, crossing one leg high over the other, +leaning his elbow on his knee and covering his face with his hand. After +sitting so for a while he rose, and, looking about him with frightened +eyes, went with unusually hurried steps down the long corridor leading +to the back of the house, to the room of the eldest princess. + +Those who were in the dimly lit reception room spoke in nervous +whispers, and, whenever anyone went into or came from the dying man’s +room, grew silent and gazed with eyes full of curiosity or expectancy at +his door, which creaked slightly when opened. + +“The limits of human life ... are fixed and may not be +o’erpassed,” said an old priest to a lady who had taken a seat +beside him and was listening naïvely to his words. + +“I wonder, is it not too late to administer unction?” asked the +lady, adding the priest’s clerical title, as if she had no opinion of +her own on the subject. + +“Ah, madam, it is a great sacrament,” replied the priest, passing +his hand over the thin grizzled strands of hair combed back across his +bald head. + +“Who was that? The Military Governor himself?” was being asked at +the other side of the room. “How young-looking he is!” + +“Yes, and he is over sixty. I hear the count no longer recognizes +anyone. They wished to administer the sacrament of unction.” + +“I knew someone who received that sacrament seven times.” + +The second princess had just come from the sickroom with her eyes red +from weeping and sat down beside Dr. Lorrain, who was sitting in a +graceful pose under a portrait of Catherine, leaning his elbow on a +table. + +“Beautiful,” said the doctor in answer to a remark about the +weather. “The weather is beautiful, Princess; and besides, in Moscow +one feels as if one were in the country.” + +“Yes, indeed,” replied the princess with a sigh. “So he may have +something to drink?” + +Lorrain considered. + +“Has he taken his medicine?” + +“Yes.” + +The doctor glanced at his watch. + +“Take a glass of boiled water and put a pinch of cream of tartar,” +and he indicated with his delicate fingers what he meant by a pinch. + +“Dere has neffer been a gase,” a German doctor was saying to an +aide-de-camp, “dat one liffs after de sird stroke.” + +“And what a well-preserved man he was!” remarked the aide-de-camp. +“And who will inherit his wealth?” he added in a whisper. + +“It von’t go begging,” replied the German with a smile. + +Everyone again looked toward the door, which creaked as the second +princess went in with the drink she had prepared according to +Lorrain’s instructions. The German doctor went up to Lorrain. + +“Do you think he can last till morning?” asked the German, +addressing Lorrain in French which he pronounced badly. + +Lorrain, pursing up his lips, waved a severely negative finger before +his nose. + +“Tonight, not later,” said he in a low voice, and he moved away +with a decorous smile of self-satisfaction at being able clearly to +understand and state the patient’s condition. + +Meanwhile Prince Vasíli had opened the door into the princess’ room. + +In this room it was almost dark; only two tiny lamps were burning before +the icons and there was a pleasant scent of flowers and burnt pastilles. +The room was crowded with small pieces of furniture, whatnots, +cupboards, and little tables. The quilt of a high, white feather bed was +just visible behind a screen. A small dog began to bark. + +“Ah, is it you, cousin?” + +She rose and smoothed her hair, which was as usual so extremely smooth +that it seemed to be made of one piece with her head and covered with +varnish. + +“Has anything happened?” she asked. “I am so terrified.” + +“No, there is no change. I only came to have a talk about business, +Catiche,” * muttered the prince, seating himself wearily on the chair +she had just vacated. “You have made the place warm, I must say,” he +remarked. “Well, sit down: let’s have a talk.” + + *Catherine. + +“I thought perhaps something had happened,” she said with her +unchanging stonily severe expression; and, sitting down opposite the +prince, she prepared to listen. + +“I wished to get a nap, mon cousin, but I can’t.” + +“Well, my dear?” said Prince Vasíli, taking her hand and bending it +downwards as was his habit. + +It was plain that this “well?” referred to much that they both +understood without naming. + +The princess, who had a straight, rigid body, abnormally long for her +legs, looked directly at Prince Vasíli with no sign of emotion in her +prominent gray eyes. Then she shook her head and glanced up at the icons +with a sigh. This might have been taken as an expression of sorrow +and devotion, or of weariness and hope of resting before long. Prince +Vasíli understood it as an expression of weariness. + +“And I?” he said; “do you think it is easier for me? I am as worn +out as a post horse, but still I must have a talk with you, Catiche, a +very serious talk.” + +Prince Vasíli said no more and his cheeks began to twitch nervously, +now on one side, now on the other, giving his face an unpleasant +expression which was never to be seen on it in a drawing room. His eyes +too seemed strange; at one moment they looked impudently sly and at the +next glanced round in alarm. + +The princess, holding her little dog on her lap with her thin bony +hands, looked attentively into Prince Vasíli’s eyes evidently +resolved not to be the first to break silence, if she had to wait till +morning. + +“Well, you see, my dear princess and cousin, Catherine Semënovna,” +continued Prince Vasíli, returning to his theme, apparently not +without an inner struggle; “at such a moment as this one must think +of everything. One must think of the future, of all of you... I love you +all, like children of my own, as you know.” + +The princess continued to look at him without moving, and with the same +dull expression. + +“And then of course my family has also to be considered,” Prince +Vasíli went on, testily pushing away a little table without looking at +her. “You know, Catiche, that we—you three sisters, Mámontov, and +my wife—are the count’s only direct heirs. I know, I know how hard +it is for you to talk or think of such matters. It is no easier for +me; but, my dear, I am getting on for sixty and must be prepared for +anything. Do you know I have sent for Pierre? The count,” pointing to +his portrait, “definitely demanded that he should be called.” + +Prince Vasíli looked questioningly at the princess, but could not make +out whether she was considering what he had just said or whether she was +simply looking at him. + +“There is one thing I constantly pray God to grant, mon cousin,” she +replied, “and it is that He would be merciful to him and would allow +his noble soul peacefully to leave this...” + +“Yes, yes, of course,” interrupted Prince Vasíli impatiently, +rubbing his bald head and angrily pulling back toward him the little +table that he had pushed away. “But... in short, the fact is... you +know yourself that last winter the count made a will by which he left +all his property, not to us his direct heirs, but to Pierre.” + +“He has made wills enough!” quietly remarked the princess. “But he +cannot leave the estate to Pierre. Pierre is illegitimate.” + +“But, my dear,” said Prince Vasíli suddenly, clutching the little +table and becoming more animated and talking more rapidly: “what if +a letter has been written to the Emperor in which the count asks for +Pierre’s legitimation? Do you understand that in consideration of the +count’s services, his request would be granted?...” + +The princess smiled as people do who think they know more about the +subject under discussion than those they are talking with. + +“I can tell you more,” continued Prince Vasíli, seizing her hand, +“that letter was written, though it was not sent, and the Emperor knew +of it. The only question is, has it been destroyed or not? If not, then +as soon as all is over,” and Prince Vasíli sighed to intimate what he +meant by the words all is over, “and the count’s papers are opened, +the will and letter will be delivered to the Emperor, and the petition +will certainly be granted. Pierre will get everything as the legitimate +son.” + +“And our share?” asked the princess smiling ironically, as if +anything might happen, only not that. + +“But, my poor Catiche, it is as clear as daylight! He will then be the +legal heir to everything and you won’t get anything. You must know, +my dear, whether the will and letter were written, and whether they have +been destroyed or not. And if they have somehow been overlooked, you +ought to know where they are, and must find them, because...” + +“What next?” the princess interrupted, smiling sardonically and not +changing the expression of her eyes. “I am a woman, and you think we +are all stupid; but I know this: an illegitimate son cannot inherit... +un bâtard!”* she added, as if supposing that this translation of the +word would effectively prove to Prince Vasíli the invalidity of his +contention. + + * A bastard. + +“Well, really, Catiche! Can’t you understand! You are so +intelligent, how is it you don’t see that if the count has written a +letter to the Emperor begging him to recognize Pierre as legitimate, it +follows that Pierre will not be Pierre but will become Count Bezúkhov, +and will then inherit everything under the will? And if the will and +letter are not destroyed, then you will have nothing but the consolation +of having been dutiful et tout ce qui s’ensuit!* That’s certain.” + + * And all that follows therefrom. + +“I know the will was made, but I also know that it is invalid; +and you, mon cousin, seem to consider me a perfect fool,” said the +princess with the expression women assume when they suppose they are +saying something witty and stinging. + +“My dear Princess Catherine Semënovna,” began Prince Vasíli +impatiently, “I came here not to wrangle with you, but to talk about +your interests as with a kinswoman, a good, kind, true relation. And I +tell you for the tenth time that if the letter to the Emperor and the +will in Pierre’s favor are among the count’s papers, then, my dear +girl, you and your sisters are not heiresses! If you don’t believe me, +then believe an expert. I have just been talking to Dmítri Onúfrich” +(the family solicitor) “and he says the same.” + +At this a sudden change evidently took place in the princess’ ideas; +her thin lips grew white, though her eyes did not change, and her voice +when she began to speak passed through such transitions as she herself +evidently did not expect. + +“That would be a fine thing!” said she. “I never wanted anything +and I don’t now.” + +She pushed the little dog off her lap and smoothed her dress. + +“And this is gratitude—this is recognition for those who have +sacrificed everything for his sake!” she cried. “It’s splendid! +Fine! I don’t want anything, Prince.” + +“Yes, but you are not the only one. There are your sisters...” +replied Prince Vasíli. + +But the princess did not listen to him. + +“Yes, I knew it long ago but had forgotten. I knew that I could expect +nothing but meanness, deceit, envy, intrigue, and ingratitude—the +blackest ingratitude—in this house...” + +“Do you or do you not know where that will is?” insisted Prince +Vasíli, his cheeks twitching more than ever. + +“Yes, I was a fool! I still believed in people, loved them, and +sacrificed myself. But only the base, the vile succeed! I know who has +been intriguing!” + +The princess wished to rise, but the prince held her by the hand. She +had the air of one who has suddenly lost faith in the whole human race. +She gave her companion an angry glance. + +“There is still time, my dear. You must remember, Catiche, that it was +all done casually in a moment of anger, of illness, and was afterwards +forgotten. Our duty, my dear, is to rectify his mistake, to ease his +last moments by not letting him commit this injustice, and not to let +him die feeling that he is rendering unhappy those who...” + +“Who sacrificed everything for him,” chimed in the princess, who +would again have risen had not the prince still held her fast, “though +he never could appreciate it. No, mon cousin,” she added with a sigh, +“I shall always remember that in this world one must expect no reward, +that in this world there is neither honor nor justice. In this world one +has to be cunning and cruel.” + +“Now come, come! Be reasonable. I know your excellent heart.” + +“No, I have a wicked heart.” + +“I know your heart,” repeated the prince. “I value your friendship +and wish you to have as good an opinion of me. Don’t upset yourself, +and let us talk sensibly while there is still time, be it a day or be it +but an hour.... Tell me all you know about the will, and above all where +it is. You must know. We will take it at once and show it to the +count. He has, no doubt, forgotten it and will wish to destroy it. +You understand that my sole desire is conscientiously to carry out his +wishes; that is my only reason for being here. I came simply to help him +and you.” + +“Now I see it all! I know who has been intriguing—I know!” cried +the princess. + +“That’s not the point, my dear.” + +“It’s that protégé of yours, that sweet Princess Drubetskáya, +that Anna Mikháylovna whom I would not take for a housemaid... the +infamous, vile woman!” + +“Do not let us lose any time...” + +“Ah, don’t talk to me! Last winter she wheedled herself in here and +told the count such vile, disgraceful things about us, especially about +Sophie—I can’t repeat them—that it made the count quite ill and he +would not see us for a whole fortnight. I know it was then he wrote this +vile, infamous paper, but I thought the thing was invalid.” + +“We’ve got to it at last—why did you not tell me about it +sooner?” + +“It’s in the inlaid portfolio that he keeps under his pillow,” +said the princess, ignoring his question. “Now I know! Yes; if I have +a sin, a great sin, it is hatred of that vile woman!” almost shrieked +the princess, now quite changed. “And what does she come worming +herself in here for? But I will give her a piece of my mind. The time +will come!” + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +While these conversations were going on in the reception room and the +princess’ room, a carriage containing Pierre (who had been sent for) +and Anna Mikháylovna (who found it necessary to accompany him) was +driving into the court of Count Bezúkhov’s house. As the wheels +rolled softly over the straw beneath the windows, Anna Mikháylovna, +having turned with words of comfort to her companion, realized that +he was asleep in his corner and woke him up. Rousing himself, Pierre +followed Anna Mikháylovna out of the carriage, and only then began +to think of the interview with his dying father which awaited him. He +noticed that they had not come to the front entrance but to the back +door. While he was getting down from the carriage steps two men, who +looked like tradespeople, ran hurriedly from the entrance and hid in the +shadow of the wall. Pausing for a moment, Pierre noticed several other +men of the same kind hiding in the shadow of the house on both sides. +But neither Anna Mikháylovna nor the footman nor the coachman, who +could not help seeing these people, took any notice of them. “It seems +to be all right,” Pierre concluded, and followed Anna Mikháylovna. +She hurriedly ascended the narrow dimly lit stone staircase, calling to +Pierre, who was lagging behind, to follow. Though he did not see why it +was necessary for him to go to the count at all, still less why he had +to go by the back stairs, yet judging by Anna Mikháylovna’s air +of assurance and haste, Pierre concluded that it was all absolutely +necessary. Halfway up the stairs they were almost knocked over by +some men who, carrying pails, came running downstairs, their boots +clattering. These men pressed close to the wall to let Pierre and Anna +Mikháylovna pass and did not evince the least surprise at seeing them +there. + +“Is this the way to the princesses’ apartments?” asked Anna +Mikháylovna of one of them. + +“Yes,” replied a footman in a bold loud voice, as if anything were +now permissible; “the door to the left, ma’am.” + +“Perhaps the count did not ask for me,” said Pierre when he reached +the landing. “I’d better go to my own room.” + +Anna Mikháylovna paused and waited for him to come up. + +“Ah, my friend!” she said, touching his arm as she had done her +son’s when speaking to him that afternoon, “believe me I suffer no +less than you do, but be a man!” + +“But really, hadn’t I better go away?” he asked, looking kindly at +her over his spectacles. + +“Ah, my dear friend! Forget the wrongs that may have been done you. +Think that he is your father ... perhaps in the agony of death.” She +sighed. “I have loved you like a son from the first. Trust yourself to +me, Pierre. I shall not forget your interests.” + +Pierre did not understand a word, but the conviction that all this had +to be grew stronger, and he meekly followed Anna Mikháylovna who was +already opening a door. + +This door led into a back anteroom. An old man, a servant of the +princesses, sat in a corner knitting a stocking. Pierre had never been +in this part of the house and did not even know of the existence of +these rooms. Anna Mikháylovna, addressing a maid who was hurrying past +with a decanter on a tray as “my dear” and “my sweet,” asked +about the princess’ health and then led Pierre along a stone passage. +The first door on the left led into the princesses’ apartments. The +maid with the decanter in her haste had not closed the door (everything +in the house was done in haste at that time), and Pierre and Anna +Mikháylovna in passing instinctively glanced into the room, where +Prince Vasíli and the eldest princess were sitting close together +talking. Seeing them pass, Prince Vasíli drew back with obvious +impatience, while the princess jumped up and with a gesture of +desperation slammed the door with all her might. + +This action was so unlike her usual composure and the fear depicted on +Prince Vasíli’s face so out of keeping with his dignity that Pierre +stopped and glanced inquiringly over his spectacles at his guide. Anna +Mikháylovna evinced no surprise, she only smiled faintly and sighed, as +if to say that this was no more than she had expected. + +“Be a man, my friend. I will look after your interests,” said she in +reply to his look, and went still faster along the passage. + +Pierre could not make out what it was all about, and still less what +“watching over his interests” meant, but he decided that all these +things had to be. From the passage they went into a large, dimly +lit room adjoining the count’s reception room. It was one of those +sumptuous but cold apartments known to Pierre only from the front +approach, but even in this room there now stood an empty bath, and water +had been spilled on the carpet. They were met by a deacon with a censer +and by a servant who passed out on tiptoe without heeding them. They +went into the reception room familiar to Pierre, with two Italian +windows opening into the conservatory, with its large bust and full +length portrait of Catherine the Great. The same people were still +sitting here in almost the same positions as before, whispering to one +another. All became silent and turned to look at the pale tear-worn Anna +Mikháylovna as she entered, and at the big stout figure of Pierre who, +hanging his head, meekly followed her. + +Anna Mikháylovna’s face expressed a consciousness that the decisive +moment had arrived. With the air of a practical Petersburg lady she now, +keeping Pierre close beside her, entered the room even more boldly than +that afternoon. She felt that as she brought with her the person the +dying man wished to see, her own admission was assured. Casting a rapid +glance at all those in the room and noticing the count’s confessor +there, she glided up to him with a sort of amble, not exactly bowing yet +seeming to grow suddenly smaller, and respectfully received the blessing +first of one and then of another priest. + +“God be thanked that you are in time,” said she to one of the +priests; “all we relatives have been in such anxiety. This young +man is the count’s son,” she added more softly. “What a terrible +moment!” + +Having said this she went up to the doctor. + +“Dear doctor,” said she, “this young man is the count’s son. Is +there any hope?” + +The doctor cast a rapid glance upwards and silently shrugged his +shoulders. Anna Mikháylovna with just the same movement raised her +shoulders and eyes, almost closing the latter, sighed, and moved away +from the doctor to Pierre. To him, in a particularly respectful and +tenderly sad voice, she said: + +“Trust in His mercy!” and pointing out a small sofa for him to sit +and wait for her, she went silently toward the door that everyone was +watching and it creaked very slightly as she disappeared behind it. + +Pierre, having made up his mind to obey his monitress implicitly, moved +toward the sofa she had indicated. As soon as Anna Mikháylovna had +disappeared he noticed that the eyes of all in the room turned to him +with something more than curiosity and sympathy. He noticed that they +whispered to one another, casting significant looks at him with a kind +of awe and even servility. A deference such as he had never before +received was shown him. A strange lady, the one who had been talking to +the priests, rose and offered him her seat; an aide-de-camp picked up +and returned a glove Pierre had dropped; the doctors became respectfully +silent as he passed by, and moved to make way for him. At first Pierre +wished to take another seat so as not to trouble the lady, and also to +pick up the glove himself and to pass round the doctors who were not +even in his way; but all at once he felt that this would not do, and +that tonight he was a person obliged to perform some sort of awful +rite which everyone expected of him, and that he was therefore bound +to accept their services. He took the glove in silence from the +aide-de-camp, and sat down in the lady’s chair, placing his huge hands +symmetrically on his knees in the naïve attitude of an Egyptian statue, +and decided in his own mind that all was as it should be, and that in +order not to lose his head and do foolish things he must not act on his +own ideas tonight, but must yield himself up entirely to the will of +those who were guiding him. + +Not two minutes had passed before Prince Vasíli with head erect +majestically entered the room. He was wearing his long coat with three +stars on his breast. He seemed to have grown thinner since the morning; +his eyes seemed larger than usual when he glanced round and noticed +Pierre. He went up to him, took his hand (a thing he never used to do), +and drew it downwards as if wishing to ascertain whether it was firmly +fixed on. + +“Courage, courage, my friend! He has asked to see you. That is +well!” and he turned to go. + +But Pierre thought it necessary to ask: “How is...” and hesitated, +not knowing whether it would be proper to call the dying man “the +count,” yet ashamed to call him “father.” + +“He had another stroke about half an hour ago. Courage, my +friend...” + +Pierre’s mind was in such a confused state that the word “stroke” +suggested to him a blow from something. He looked at Prince Vasíli +in perplexity, and only later grasped that a stroke was an attack of +illness. Prince Vasíli said something to Lorrain in passing and went +through the door on tiptoe. He could not walk well on tiptoe and his +whole body jerked at each step. The eldest princess followed him, and +the priests and deacons and some servants also went in at the door. +Through that door was heard a noise of things being moved about, and +at last Anna Mikháylovna, still with the same expression, pale but +resolute in the discharge of duty, ran out and touching Pierre lightly +on the arm said: + +“The divine mercy is inexhaustible! Unction is about to be +administered. Come.” + +Pierre went in at the door, stepping on the soft carpet, and noticed +that the strange lady, the aide-de-camp, and some of the servants, all +followed him in, as if there were now no further need for permission to +enter that room. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +Pierre well knew this large room divided by columns and an arch, its +walls hung round with Persian carpets. The part of the room behind the +columns, with a high silk-curtained mahogany bedstead on one side and +on the other an immense case containing icons, was brightly illuminated +with red light like a Russian church during evening service. Under +the gleaming icons stood a long invalid chair, and in that chair +on snowy-white smooth pillows, evidently freshly changed, Pierre +saw—covered to the waist by a bright green quilt—the familiar, +majestic figure of his father, Count Bezúkhov, with that gray mane of +hair above his broad forehead which reminded one of a lion, and the deep +characteristically noble wrinkles of his handsome, ruddy face. He lay +just under the icons; his large thick hands outside the quilt. Into the +right hand, which was lying palm downwards, a wax taper had been thrust +between forefinger and thumb, and an old servant, bending over from +behind the chair, held it in position. By the chair stood the priests, +their long hair falling over their magnificent glittering vestments, +with lighted tapers in their hands, slowly and solemnly conducting the +service. A little behind them stood the two younger princesses holding +handkerchiefs to their eyes, and just in front of them their eldest +sister, Catiche, with a vicious and determined look steadily fixed on +the icons, as though declaring to all that she could not answer for +herself should she glance round. Anna Mikháylovna, with a meek, +sorrowful, and all-forgiving expression on her face, stood by the door +near the strange lady. Prince Vasíli in front of the door, near the +invalid chair, a wax taper in his left hand, was leaning his left arm on +the carved back of a velvet chair he had turned round for the purpose, +and was crossing himself with his right hand, turning his eyes upward +each time he touched his forehead. His face wore a calm look of piety +and resignation to the will of God. “If you do not understand these +sentiments,” he seemed to be saying, “so much the worse for you!” + +Behind him stood the aide-de-camp, the doctors, and the menservants; +the men and women had separated as in church. All were silently crossing +themselves, and the reading of the church service, the subdued chanting +of deep bass voices, and in the intervals sighs and the shuffling of +feet were the only sounds that could be heard. Anna Mikháylovna, with +an air of importance that showed that she felt she quite knew what she +was about, went across the room to where Pierre was standing and gave +him a taper. He lit it and, distracted by observing those around him, +began crossing himself with the hand that held the taper. + +Sophie, the rosy, laughter-loving, youngest princess with the mole, +watched him. She smiled, hid her face in her handkerchief, and remained +with it hidden for awhile; then looking up and seeing Pierre she +again began to laugh. She evidently felt unable to look at him +without laughing, but could not resist looking at him: so to be out of +temptation she slipped quietly behind one of the columns. In the midst +of the service the voices of the priests suddenly ceased, they whispered +to one another, and the old servant who was holding the count’s hand +got up and said something to the ladies. Anna Mikháylovna stepped +forward and, stooping over the dying man, beckoned to Lorrain from +behind her back. The French doctor held no taper; he was leaning +against one of the columns in a respectful attitude implying that he, +a foreigner, in spite of all differences of faith, understood the full +importance of the rite now being performed and even approved of it. He +now approached the sick man with the noiseless step of one in full vigor +of life, with his delicate white fingers raised from the green quilt the +hand that was free, and turning sideways felt the pulse and reflected +a moment. The sick man was given something to drink, there was a +stir around him, then the people resumed their places and the service +continued. During this interval Pierre noticed that Prince Vasíli +left the chair on which he had been leaning, and—with an air +which intimated that he knew what he was about and if others did not +understand him it was so much the worse for them—did not go up to the +dying man, but passed by him, joined the eldest princess, and moved +with her to the side of the room where stood the high bedstead with its +silken hangings. On leaving the bed both Prince Vasíli and the princess +passed out by a back door, but returned to their places one after the +other before the service was concluded. Pierre paid no more attention +to this occurrence than to the rest of what went on, having made up his +mind once for all that what he saw happening around him that evening was +in some way essential. + +The chanting of the service ceased, and the voice of the priest was +heard respectfully congratulating the dying man on having received the +sacrament. The dying man lay as lifeless and immovable as before. Around +him everyone began to stir: steps were audible and whispers, among which +Anna Mikháylovna’s was the most distinct. + +Pierre heard her say: + +“Certainly he must be moved onto the bed; here it will be +impossible...” + +The sick man was so surrounded by doctors, princesses, and servants +that Pierre could no longer see the reddish-yellow face with its gray +mane—which, though he saw other faces as well, he had not lost sight +of for a single moment during the whole service. He judged by the +cautious movements of those who crowded round the invalid chair that +they had lifted the dying man and were moving him. + +“Catch hold of my arm or you’ll drop him!” he heard one of the +servants say in a frightened whisper. “Catch hold from underneath. +Here!” exclaimed different voices; and the heavy breathing of the +bearers and the shuffling of their feet grew more hurried, as if the +weight they were carrying were too much for them. + +As the bearers, among whom was Anna Mikháylovna, passed the young man +he caught a momentary glimpse between their heads and backs of the dying +man’s high, stout, uncovered chest and powerful shoulders, raised by +those who were holding him under the armpits, and of his gray, curly, +leonine head. This head, with its remarkably broad brow and cheekbones, +its handsome, sensual mouth, and its cold, majestic expression, was +not disfigured by the approach of death. It was the same as Pierre +remembered it three months before, when the count had sent him to +Petersburg. But now this head was swaying helplessly with the uneven +movements of the bearers, and the cold listless gaze fixed itself upon +nothing. + +After a few minutes’ bustle beside the high bedstead, those who had +carried the sick man dispersed. Anna Mikháylovna touched Pierre’s +hand and said, “Come.” Pierre went with her to the bed on which the +sick man had been laid in a stately pose in keeping with the ceremony +just completed. He lay with his head propped high on the pillows. His +hands were symmetrically placed on the green silk quilt, the palms +downward. When Pierre came up the count was gazing straight at him, but +with a look the significance of which could not be understood by mortal +man. Either this look meant nothing but that as long as one has eyes +they must look somewhere, or it meant too much. Pierre hesitated, +not knowing what to do, and glanced inquiringly at his guide. Anna +Mikháylovna made a hurried sign with her eyes, glancing at the sick +man’s hand and moving her lips as if to send it a kiss. Pierre, +carefully stretching his neck so as not to touch the quilt, followed her +suggestion and pressed his lips to the large boned, fleshy hand. Neither +the hand nor a single muscle of the count’s face stirred. Once more +Pierre looked questioningly at Anna Mikháylovna to see what he was to +do next. Anna Mikháylovna with her eyes indicated a chair that stood +beside the bed. Pierre obediently sat down, his eyes asking if he were +doing right. Anna Mikháylovna nodded approvingly. Again Pierre fell +into the naïvely symmetrical pose of an Egyptian statue, evidently +distressed that his stout and clumsy body took up so much room and doing +his utmost to look as small as possible. He looked at the count, who +still gazed at the spot where Pierre’s face had been before he sat +down. Anna Mikháylovna indicated by her attitude her consciousness of +the pathetic importance of these last moments of meeting between the +father and son. This lasted about two minutes, which to Pierre seemed an +hour. Suddenly the broad muscles and lines of the count’s face began +to twitch. The twitching increased, the handsome mouth was drawn to one +side (only now did Pierre realize how near death his father was), and +from that distorted mouth issued an indistinct, hoarse sound. Anna +Mikháylovna looked attentively at the sick man’s eyes, trying to +guess what he wanted; she pointed first to Pierre, then to some drink, +then named Prince Vasíli in an inquiring whisper, then pointed to the +quilt. The eyes and face of the sick man showed impatience. He made an +effort to look at the servant who stood constantly at the head of the +bed. + +“Wants to turn on the other side,” whispered the servant, and got up +to turn the count’s heavy body toward the wall. + +Pierre rose to help him. + +While the count was being turned over, one of his arms fell back +helplessly and he made a fruitless effort to pull it forward. Whether he +noticed the look of terror with which Pierre regarded that lifeless arm, +or whether some other thought flitted across his dying brain, at any +rate he glanced at the refractory arm, at Pierre’s terror-stricken +face, and again at the arm, and on his face a feeble, piteous smile +appeared, quite out of keeping with his features, that seemed to deride +his own helplessness. At sight of this smile Pierre felt an unexpected +quivering in his breast and a tickling in his nose, and tears dimmed his +eyes. The sick man was turned on to his side with his face to the wall. +He sighed. + +“He is dozing,” said Anna Mikháylovna, observing that one of the +princesses was coming to take her turn at watching. “Let us go.” + +Pierre went out. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +There was now no one in the reception room except Prince Vasíli and the +eldest princess, who were sitting under the portrait of Catherine the +Great and talking eagerly. As soon as they saw Pierre and his companion +they became silent, and Pierre thought he saw the princess hide +something as she whispered: + +“I can’t bear the sight of that woman.” + +“Catiche has had tea served in the small drawing room,” said Prince +Vasíli to Anna Mikháylovna. “Go and take something, my poor Anna +Mikháylovna, or you will not hold out.” + +To Pierre he said nothing, merely giving his arm a sympathetic squeeze +below the shoulder. Pierre went with Anna Mikháylovna into the small +drawing room. + +“There is nothing so refreshing after a sleepless night as a cup +of this delicious Russian tea,” Lorrain was saying with an air of +restrained animation as he stood sipping tea from a delicate Chinese +handleless cup before a table on which tea and a cold supper were laid +in the small circular room. Around the table all who were at Count +Bezúkhov’s house that night had gathered to fortify themselves. +Pierre well remembered this small circular drawing room with its mirrors +and little tables. During balls given at the house Pierre, who did not +know how to dance, had liked sitting in this room to watch the ladies +who, as they passed through in their ball dresses with diamonds and +pearls on their bare shoulders, looked at themselves in the brilliantly +lighted mirrors which repeated their reflections several times. Now +this same room was dimly lighted by two candles. On one small table tea +things and supper dishes stood in disorder, and in the middle of the +night a motley throng of people sat there, not merrymaking, but somberly +whispering, and betraying by every word and movement that they none +of them forgot what was happening and what was about to happen in the +bedroom. Pierre did not eat anything though he would very much have +liked to. He looked inquiringly at his monitress and saw that she was +again going on tiptoe to the reception room where they had left Prince +Vasíli and the eldest princess. Pierre concluded that this also was +essential, and after a short interval followed her. Anna Mikháylovna +was standing beside the princess, and they were both speaking in excited +whispers. + +“Permit me, Princess, to know what is necessary and what is not +necessary,” said the younger of the two speakers, evidently in the +same state of excitement as when she had slammed the door of her room. + +“But, my dear princess,” answered Anna Mikháylovna blandly but +impressively, blocking the way to the bedroom and preventing the other +from passing, “won’t this be too much for poor Uncle at a moment +when he needs repose? Worldly conversation at a moment when his soul is +already prepared...” + +Prince Vasíli was seated in an easy chair in his familiar attitude, +with one leg crossed high above the other. His cheeks, which were so +flabby that they looked heavier below, were twitching violently; but +he wore the air of a man little concerned in what the two ladies were +saying. + +“Come, my dear Anna Mikháylovna, let Catiche do as she pleases. You +know how fond the count is of her.” + +“I don’t even know what is in this paper,” said the younger of +the two ladies, addressing Prince Vasíli and pointing to an inlaid +portfolio she held in her hand. “All I know is that his real will is +in his writing table, and this is a paper he has forgotten....” + +She tried to pass Anna Mikháylovna, but the latter sprang so as to bar +her path. + +“I know, my dear, kind princess,” said Anna Mikháylovna, seizing +the portfolio so firmly that it was plain she would not let go easily. +“Dear princess, I beg and implore you, have some pity on him! Je vous +en conjure...” + +The princess did not reply. Their efforts in the struggle for the +portfolio were the only sounds audible, but it was evident that if +the princess did speak, her words would not be flattering to Anna +Mikháylovna. Though the latter held on tenaciously, her voice lost none +of its honeyed firmness and softness. + +“Pierre, my dear, come here. I think he will not be out of place in a +family consultation; is it not so, Prince?” + +“Why don’t you speak, cousin?” suddenly shrieked the princess so +loud that those in the drawing room heard her and were startled. “Why +do you remain silent when heaven knows who permits herself to +interfere, making a scene on the very threshold of a dying man’s room? +Intriguer!” she hissed viciously, and tugged with all her might at the +portfolio. + +But Anna Mikháylovna went forward a step or two to keep her hold on the +portfolio, and changed her grip. + +Prince Vasíli rose. “Oh!” said he with reproach and surprise, +“this is absurd! Come, let go I tell you.” + +The princess let go. + +“And you too!” + +But Anna Mikháylovna did not obey him. + +“Let go, I tell you! I will take the responsibility. I myself will go +and ask him, I!... does that satisfy you?” + +“But, Prince,” said Anna Mikháylovna, “after such a solemn +sacrament, allow him a moment’s peace! Here, Pierre, tell them your +opinion,” said she, turning to the young man who, having come quite +close, was gazing with astonishment at the angry face of the princess +which had lost all dignity, and at the twitching cheeks of Prince +Vasíli. + +“Remember that you will answer for the consequences,” said Prince +Vasíli severely. “You don’t know what you are doing.” + +“Vile woman!” shouted the princess, darting unexpectedly at Anna +Mikháylovna and snatching the portfolio from her. + +Prince Vasíli bent his head and spread out his hands. + +At this moment that terrible door, which Pierre had watched so long +and which had always opened so quietly, burst noisily open and banged +against the wall, and the second of the three sisters rushed out +wringing her hands. + +“What are you doing!” she cried vehemently. “He is dying and you +leave me alone with him!” + +Her sister dropped the portfolio. Anna Mikháylovna, stooping, quickly +caught up the object of contention and ran into the bedroom. The eldest +princess and Prince Vasíli, recovering themselves, followed her. A few +minutes later the eldest sister came out with a pale hard face, again +biting her underlip. At sight of Pierre her expression showed an +irrepressible hatred. + +“Yes, now you may be glad!” said she; “this is what you have +been waiting for.” And bursting into tears she hid her face in her +handkerchief and rushed from the room. + +Prince Vasíli came next. He staggered to the sofa on which Pierre was +sitting and dropped onto it, covering his face with his hand. Pierre +noticed that he was pale and that his jaw quivered and shook as if in an +ague. + +“Ah, my friend!” said he, taking Pierre by the elbow; and there was +in his voice a sincerity and weakness Pierre had never observed in it +before. “How often we sin, how much we deceive, and all for what? I am +near sixty, dear friend... I too... All will end in death, all! Death is +awful...” and he burst into tears. + +Anna Mikháylovna came out last. She approached Pierre with slow, quiet +steps. + +“Pierre!” she said. + +Pierre gave her an inquiring look. She kissed the young man on his +forehead, wetting him with her tears. Then after a pause she said: + +“He is no more....” + +Pierre looked at her over his spectacles. + +“Come, I will go with you. Try to weep, nothing gives such relief as +tears.” + +She led him into the dark drawing room and Pierre was glad no one could +see his face. Anna Mikháylovna left him, and when she returned he was +fast asleep with his head on his arm. + +In the morning Anna Mikháylovna said to Pierre: + +“Yes, my dear, this is a great loss for us all, not to speak of you. +But God will support you: you are young, and are now, I hope, in command +of an immense fortune. The will has not yet been opened. I know you +well enough to be sure that this will not turn your head, but it imposes +duties on you, and you must be a man.” + +Pierre was silent. + +“Perhaps later on I may tell you, my dear boy, that if I had not been +there, God only knows what would have happened! You know, Uncle promised +me only the day before yesterday not to forget Borís. But he had +no time. I hope, my dear friend, you will carry out your father’s +wish?” + +Pierre understood nothing of all this and coloring shyly looked in +silence at Princess Anna Mikháylovna. After her talk with Pierre, Anna +Mikháylovna returned to the Rostóvs’ and went to bed. On waking in +the morning she told the Rostóvs and all her acquaintances the details +of Count Bezúkhov’s death. She said the count had died as she would +herself wish to die, that his end was not only touching but edifying. As +to the last meeting between father and son, it was so touching that she +could not think of it without tears, and did not know which had behaved +better during those awful moments—the father who so remembered +everything and everybody at last and had spoken such pathetic words to +the son, or Pierre, whom it had been pitiful to see, so stricken was he +with grief, though he tried hard to hide it in order not to sadden his +dying father. “It is painful, but it does one good. It uplifts the +soul to see such men as the old count and his worthy son,” said she. +Of the behavior of the eldest princess and Prince Vasíli she spoke +disapprovingly, but in whispers and as a great secret. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +At Bald Hills, Prince Nicholas Andréevich Bolkónski’s estate, the +arrival of young Prince Andrew and his wife was daily expected, but +this expectation did not upset the regular routine of life in the old +prince’s household. General in Chief Prince Nicholas Andréevich +(nicknamed in society, “the King of Prussia”) ever since the Emperor +Paul had exiled him to his country estate had lived there continuously +with his daughter, Princess Mary, and her companion, Mademoiselle +Bourienne. Though in the new reign he was free to return to the +capitals, he still continued to live in the country, remarking that +anyone who wanted to see him could come the hundred miles from Moscow to +Bald Hills, while he himself needed no one and nothing. He used to +say that there are only two sources of human vice—idleness and +superstition, and only two virtues—activity and intelligence. He +himself undertook his daughter’s education, and to develop these two +cardinal virtues in her gave her lessons in algebra and geometry +till she was twenty, and arranged her life so that her whole time was +occupied. He was himself always occupied: writing his memoirs, solving +problems in higher mathematics, turning snuffboxes on a lathe, working +in the garden, or superintending the building that was always going on +at his estate. As regularity is a prime condition facilitating activity, +regularity in his household was carried to the highest point of +exactitude. He always came to table under precisely the same conditions, +and not only at the same hour but at the same minute. With those about +him, from his daughter to his serfs, the prince was sharp and invariably +exacting, so that without being a hardhearted man he inspired such fear +and respect as few hardhearted men would have aroused. Although he was +in retirement and had now no influence in political affairs, every high +official appointed to the province in which the prince’s estate lay +considered it his duty to visit him and waited in the lofty antechamber +just as the architect, gardener, or Princess Mary did, till the prince +appeared punctually to the appointed hour. Everyone sitting in this +antechamber experienced the same feeling of respect and even fear when +the enormously high study door opened and showed the figure of a rather +small old man, with powdered wig, small withered hands, and bushy gray +eyebrows which, when he frowned, sometimes hid the gleam of his shrewd, +youthfully glittering eyes. + +On the morning of the day that the young couple were to arrive, Princess +Mary entered the antechamber as usual at the time appointed for the +morning greeting, crossing herself with trepidation and repeating a +silent prayer. Every morning she came in like that, and every morning +prayed that the daily interview might pass off well. + +An old powdered manservant who was sitting in the antechamber rose +quietly and said in a whisper: “Please walk in.” + +Through the door came the regular hum of a lathe. The princess timidly +opened the door which moved noiselessly and easily. She paused at the +entrance. The prince was working at the lathe and after glancing round +continued his work. + +The enormous study was full of things evidently in constant use. +The large table covered with books and plans, the tall glass-fronted +bookcases with keys in the locks, the high desk for writing while +standing up, on which lay an open exercise book, and the lathe with +tools laid ready to hand and shavings scattered around—all indicated +continuous, varied, and orderly activity. The motion of the small foot +shod in a Tartar boot embroidered with silver, and the firm pressure +of the lean sinewy hand, showed that the prince still possessed the +tenacious endurance and vigor of hardy old age. After a few more turns +of the lathe he removed his foot from the pedal, wiped his chisel, +dropped it into a leather pouch attached to the lathe, and, approaching +the table, summoned his daughter. He never gave his children a blessing, +so he simply held out his bristly cheek (as yet unshaven) and, regarding +her tenderly and attentively, said severely: + +“Quite well? All right then, sit down.” He took the exercise book +containing lessons in geometry written by himself and drew up a chair +with his foot. + +“For tomorrow!” said he, quickly finding the page and making a +scratch from one paragraph to another with his hard nail. + +The princess bent over the exercise book on the table. + +“Wait a bit, here’s a letter for you,” said the old man suddenly, +taking a letter addressed in a woman’s hand from a bag hanging above +the table, onto which he threw it. + +At the sight of the letter red patches showed themselves on the +princess’ face. She took it quickly and bent her head over it. + +“From Héloïse?” asked the prince with a cold smile that showed his +still sound, yellowish teeth. + +“Yes, it’s from Julie,” replied the princess with a timid glance +and a timid smile. + +“I’ll let two more letters pass, but the third I’ll read,” said +the prince sternly; “I’m afraid you write much nonsense. I’ll read +the third!” + +“Read this if you like, Father,” said the princess, blushing still +more and holding out the letter. + +“The third, I said the third!” cried the prince abruptly, pushing +the letter away, and leaning his elbows on the table he drew toward him +the exercise book containing geometrical figures. + +“Well, madam,” he began, stooping over the book close to his +daughter and placing an arm on the back of the chair on which she sat, +so that she felt herself surrounded on all sides by the acrid scent of +old age and tobacco, which she had known so long. “Now, madam, these +triangles are equal; please note that the angle ABC...” + +The princess looked in a scared way at her father’s eyes glittering +close to her; the red patches on her face came and went, and it was +plain that she understood nothing and was so frightened that her +fear would prevent her understanding any of her father’s further +explanations, however clear they might be. Whether it was the +teacher’s fault or the pupil’s, this same thing happened every day: +the princess’ eyes grew dim, she could not see and could not hear +anything, but was only conscious of her stern father’s withered face +close to her, of his breath and the smell of him, and could think only +of how to get away quickly to her own room to make out the problem in +peace. The old man was beside himself: moved the chair on which he was +sitting noisily backward and forward, made efforts to control himself +and not become vehement, but almost always did become vehement, scolded, +and sometimes flung the exercise book away. + +The princess gave a wrong answer. + +“Well now, isn’t she a fool!” shouted the prince, pushing the book +aside and turning sharply away; but rising immediately, he paced up and +down, lightly touched his daughter’s hair and sat down again. + +He drew up his chair, and continued to explain. + +“This won’t do, Princess; it won’t do,” said he, when Princess +Mary, having taken and closed the exercise book with the next day’s +lesson, was about to leave: “Mathematics are most important, madam! +I don’t want to have you like our silly ladies. Get used to it and +you’ll like it,” and he patted her cheek. “It will drive all the +nonsense out of your head.” + +She turned to go, but he stopped her with a gesture and took an uncut +book from the high desk. + +“Here is some sort of Key to the Mysteries that your Héloïse has +sent you. Religious! I don’t interfere with anyone’s belief... I +have looked at it. Take it. Well, now go. Go.” + +He patted her on the shoulder and himself closed the door after her. + +Princess Mary went back to her room with the sad, scared expression that +rarely left her and which made her plain, sickly face yet plainer. She +sat down at her writing table, on which stood miniature portraits and +which was littered with books and papers. The princess was as untidy as +her father was tidy. She put down the geometry book and eagerly broke +the seal of her letter. It was from her most intimate friend from +childhood; that same Julie Karágina who had been at the Rostóvs’ +name-day party. + +Julie wrote in French: + +Dear and precious Friend, How terrible and frightful a thing is +separation! Though I tell myself that half my life and half my happiness +are wrapped up in you, and that in spite of the distance separating us +our hearts are united by indissoluble bonds, my heart rebels against +fate and in spite of the pleasures and distractions around me I cannot +overcome a certain secret sorrow that has been in my heart ever since +we parted. Why are we not together as we were last summer, in your big +study, on the blue sofa, the confidential sofa? Why cannot I now, as +three months ago, draw fresh moral strength from your look, so gentle, +calm, and penetrating, a look I loved so well and seem to see before me +as I write? + +Having read thus far, Princess Mary sighed and glanced into the mirror +which stood on her right. It reflected a weak, ungraceful figure and +thin face. Her eyes, always sad, now looked with particular hopelessness +at her reflection in the glass. “She flatters me,” thought the +princess, turning away and continuing to read. But Julie did not flatter +her friend, the princess’ eyes—large, deep and luminous (it seemed +as if at times there radiated from them shafts of warm light)—were +so beautiful that very often in spite of the plainness of her face +they gave her an attraction more powerful than that of beauty. But the +princess never saw the beautiful expression of her own eyes—the look +they had when she was not thinking of herself. As with everyone, her +face assumed a forced unnatural expression as soon as she looked in a +glass. She went on reading: + +All Moscow talks of nothing but war. One of my two brothers is already +abroad, the other is with the Guards, who are starting on their march +to the frontier. Our dear Emperor has left Petersburg and it is thought +intends to expose his precious person to the chances of war. God grant +that the Corsican monster who is destroying the peace of Europe may +be overthrown by the angel whom it has pleased the Almighty, in His +goodness, to give us as sovereign! To say nothing of my brothers, this +war has deprived me of one of the associations nearest my heart. I mean +young Nicholas Rostóv, who with his enthusiasm could not bear to remain +inactive and has left the university to join the army. I will confess to +you, dear Mary, that in spite of his extreme youth his departure for +the army was a great grief to me. This young man, of whom I spoke to you +last summer, is so noble-minded and full of that real youthfulness which +one seldom finds nowadays among our old men of twenty and, particularly, +he is so frank and has so much heart. He is so pure and poetic that +my relations with him, transient as they were, have been one of the +sweetest comforts to my poor heart, which has already suffered so much. +Someday I will tell you about our parting and all that was said then. +That is still too fresh. Ah, dear friend, you are happy not to know +these poignant joys and sorrows. You are fortunate, for the latter are +generally the stronger! I know very well that Count Nicholas is too +young ever to be more to me than a friend, but this sweet friendship, +this poetic and pure intimacy, were what my heart needed. But enough of +this! The chief news, about which all Moscow gossips, is the death of +old Count Bezúkhov, and his inheritance. Fancy! The three princesses +have received very little, Prince Vasíli nothing, and it is Monsieur +Pierre who has inherited all the property and has besides been +recognized as legitimate; so that he is now Count Bezúkhov and +possessor of the finest fortune in Russia. It is rumored that Prince +Vasíli played a very despicable part in this affair and that he +returned to Petersburg quite crestfallen. + +I confess I understand very little about all these matters of wills and +inheritance; but I do know that since this young man, whom we all used +to know as plain Monsieur Pierre, has become Count Bezúkhov and the +owner of one of the largest fortunes in Russia, I am much amused to +watch the change in the tone and manners of the mammas burdened by +marriageable daughters, and of the young ladies themselves, toward +him, though, between you and me, he always seemed to me a poor sort +of fellow. As for the past two years people have amused themselves +by finding husbands for me (most of whom I don’t even know), the +matchmaking chronicles of Moscow now speak of me as the future Countess +Bezúkhova. But you will understand that I have no desire for the post. +À propos of marriages: do you know that a while ago that universal +auntie Anna Mikháylovna told me, under the seal of strict secrecy, of +a plan of marriage for you. It is neither more nor less than with Prince +Vasíli’s son Anatole, whom they wish to reform by marrying him to +someone rich and distinguée, and it is on you that his relations’ +choice has fallen. I don’t know what you will think of it, but +I consider it my duty to let you know of it. He is said to be very +handsome and a terrible scapegrace. That is all I have been able to find +out about him. + +But enough of gossip. I am at the end of my second sheet of paper, and +Mamma has sent for me to go and dine at the Apráksins’. Read the +mystical book I am sending you; it has an enormous success here. Though +there are things in it difficult for the feeble human mind to grasp, it +is an admirable book which calms and elevates the soul. Adieu! Give +my respects to monsieur your father and my compliments to Mademoiselle +Bourienne. I embrace you as I love you. + +JULIE + +P.S. Let me have news of your brother and his charming little wife. + +The princess pondered awhile with a thoughtful smile and her luminous +eyes lit up so that her face was entirely transformed. Then she suddenly +rose and with her heavy tread went up to the table. She took a sheet of +paper and her hand moved rapidly over it. This is the reply she wrote, +also in French: + +Dear and precious Friend, Your letter of the 13th has given me great +delight. So you still love me, my romantic Julie? Separation, of which +you say so much that is bad, does not seem to have had its usual effect +on you. You complain of our separation. What then should I say, if I +dared complain, I who am deprived of all who are dear to me? Ah, if +we had not religion to console us life would be very sad. Why do you +suppose that I should look severely on your affection for that young +man? On such matters I am only severe with myself. I understand such +feelings in others, and if never having felt them I cannot approve of +them, neither do I condemn them. Only it seems to me that Christian +love, love of one’s neighbor, love of one’s enemy, is worthier, +sweeter, and better than the feelings which the beautiful eyes of a +young man can inspire in a romantic and loving young girl like yourself. + +The news of Count Bezúkhov’s death reached us before your letter +and my father was much affected by it. He says the count was the last +representative but one of the great century, and that it is his own +turn now, but that he will do all he can to let his turn come as late as +possible. God preserve us from that terrible misfortune! + +I cannot agree with you about Pierre, whom I knew as a child. He always +seemed to me to have an excellent heart, and that is the quality I value +most in people. As to his inheritance and the part played by Prince +Vasíli, it is very sad for both. Ah, my dear friend, our divine +Saviour’s words, that it is easier for a camel to go through the +eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God, are +terribly true. I pity Prince Vasíli but am still more sorry for Pierre. +So young, and burdened with such riches—to what temptations he will be +exposed! If I were asked what I desire most on earth, it would be to be +poorer than the poorest beggar. A thousand thanks, dear friend, for the +volume you have sent me and which has such success in Moscow. Yet since +you tell me that among some good things it contains others which our +weak human understanding cannot grasp, it seems to me rather useless to +spend time in reading what is unintelligible and can therefore bear +no fruit. I never could understand the fondness some people have for +confusing their minds by dwelling on mystical books that merely awaken +their doubts and excite their imagination, giving them a bent for +exaggeration quite contrary to Christian simplicity. Let us rather read +the Epistles and Gospels. Let us not seek to penetrate what mysteries +they contain; for how can we, miserable sinners that we are, know the +terrible and holy secrets of Providence while we remain in this flesh +which forms an impenetrable veil between us and the Eternal? Let us +rather confine ourselves to studying those sublime rules which our +divine Saviour has left for our guidance here below. Let us try to +conform to them and follow them, and let us be persuaded that the less +we let our feeble human minds roam, the better we shall please God, who +rejects all knowledge that does not come from Him; and the less we seek +to fathom what He has been pleased to conceal from us, the sooner will +He vouchsafe its revelation to us through His divine Spirit. + +My father has not spoken to me of a suitor, but has only told me that he +has received a letter and is expecting a visit from Prince Vasíli. In +regard to this project of marriage for me, I will tell you, dear sweet +friend, that I look on marriage as a divine institution to which we must +conform. However painful it may be to me, should the Almighty lay +the duties of wife and mother upon me I shall try to perform them as +faithfully as I can, without disquieting myself by examining my feelings +toward him whom He may give me for husband. + +I have had a letter from my brother, who announces his speedy arrival +at Bald Hills with his wife. This pleasure will be but a brief one, +however, for he will leave us again to take part in this unhappy war +into which we have been drawn, God knows how or why. Not only where you +are—at the heart of affairs and of the world—is the talk all of +war, even here amid fieldwork and the calm of nature—which townsfolk +consider characteristic of the country—rumors of war are heard +and painfully felt. My father talks of nothing but marches and +countermarches, things of which I understand nothing; and the day +before yesterday during my daily walk through the village I witnessed a +heartrending scene.... It was a convoy of conscripts enrolled from our +people and starting to join the army. You should have seen the state of +the mothers, wives, and children of the men who were going and should +have heard the sobs. It seems as though mankind has forgotten the +laws of its divine Saviour, Who preached love and forgiveness of +injuries—and that men attribute the greatest merit to skill in killing +one another. + +Adieu, dear and kind friend; may our divine Saviour and His most Holy +Mother keep you in their holy and all-powerful care! + +MARY + +“Ah, you are sending off a letter, Princess? I have already dispatched +mine. I have written to my poor mother,” said the smiling Mademoiselle +Bourienne rapidly, in her pleasant mellow tones and with guttural r’s. +She brought into Princess Mary’s strenuous, mournful, and gloomy +world a quite different atmosphere, careless, lighthearted, and +self-satisfied. + +“Princess, I must warn you,” she added, lowering her voice and +evidently listening to herself with pleasure, and speaking with +exaggerated grasseyement, “the prince has been scolding Michael +Ivánovich. He is in a very bad humor, very morose. Be prepared.” + +“Ah, dear friend,” replied Princess Mary, “I have asked you never +to warn me of the humor my father is in. I do not allow myself to judge +him and would not have others do so.” + +The princess glanced at her watch and, seeing that she was five minutes +late in starting her practice on the clavichord, went into the sitting +room with a look of alarm. Between twelve and two o’clock, as the +day was mapped out, the prince rested and the princess played the +clavichord. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +The gray-haired valet was sitting drowsily listening to the snoring of +the prince, who was in his large study. From the far side of the house +through the closed doors came the sound of difficult passages—twenty +times repeated—of a sonata by Dussek. + +Just then a closed carriage and another with a hood drove up to the +porch. Prince Andrew got out of the carriage, helped his little wife to +alight, and let her pass into the house before him. Old Tíkhon, wearing +a wig, put his head out of the door of the antechamber, reported in +a whisper that the prince was sleeping, and hastily closed the door. +Tíkhon knew that neither the son’s arrival nor any other unusual +event must be allowed to disturb the appointed order of the day. Prince +Andrew apparently knew this as well as Tíkhon; he looked at his watch +as if to ascertain whether his father’s habits had changed since he +was at home last, and, having assured himself that they had not, he +turned to his wife. + +“He will get up in twenty minutes. Let us go across to Mary’s +room,” he said. + +The little princess had grown stouter during this time, but her eyes +and her short, downy, smiling lip lifted when she began to speak just as +merrily and prettily as ever. + +“Why, this is a palace!” she said to her husband, looking around +with the expression with which people compliment their host at a ball. +“Let’s come, quick, quick!” And with a glance round, she smiled at +Tíkhon, at her husband, and at the footman who accompanied them. + +“Is that Mary practicing? Let’s go quietly and take her by +surprise.” + +Prince Andrew followed her with a courteous but sad expression. + +“You’ve grown older, Tíkhon,” he said in passing to the old man, +who kissed his hand. + +Before they reached the room from which the sounds of the clavichord +came, the pretty, fair-haired Frenchwoman, Mademoiselle Bourienne, +rushed out apparently beside herself with delight. + +“Ah! what joy for the princess!” exclaimed she: “At last! I must +let her know.” + +“No, no, please not... You are Mademoiselle Bourienne,” said +the little princess, kissing her. “I know you already through my +sister-in-law’s friendship for you. She was not expecting us?” + +They went up to the door of the sitting room from which came the sound +of the oft-repeated passage of the sonata. Prince Andrew stopped and +made a grimace, as if expecting something unpleasant. + +The little princess entered the room. The passage broke off in the +middle, a cry was heard, then Princess Mary’s heavy tread and the +sound of kissing. When Prince Andrew went in the two princesses, who +had only met once before for a short time at his wedding, were in +each other’s arms warmly pressing their lips to whatever place they +happened to touch. Mademoiselle Bourienne stood near them pressing her +hand to her heart, with a beatific smile and obviously equally ready to +cry or to laugh. Prince Andrew shrugged his shoulders and frowned, as +lovers of music do when they hear a false note. The two women let go +of one another, and then, as if afraid of being too late, seized each +other’s hands, kissing them and pulling them away, and again began +kissing each other on the face, and then to Prince Andrew’s surprise +both began to cry and kissed again. Mademoiselle Bourienne also began to +cry. Prince Andrew evidently felt ill at ease, but to the two women +it seemed quite natural that they should cry, and apparently it never +entered their heads that it could have been otherwise at this meeting. + +“Ah! my dear!... Ah! Mary!...” they suddenly exclaimed, and then +laughed. “I dreamed last night...”—“You were not expecting +us?...” “Ah! Mary, you have got thinner?...” “And you have grown +stouter!...” + +“I knew the princess at once,” put in Mademoiselle Bourienne. + +“And I had no idea!...” exclaimed Princess Mary. “Ah, Andrew, I +did not see you.” + +Prince Andrew and his sister, hand in hand, kissed one another, and +he told her she was still the same crybaby as ever. Princess Mary had +turned toward her brother, and through her tears the loving, warm, +gentle look of her large luminous eyes, very beautiful at that moment, +rested on Prince Andrew’s face. + +The little princess talked incessantly, her short, downy upper lip +continually and rapidly touching her rosy nether lip when necessary +and drawing up again next moment when her face broke into a smile of +glittering teeth and sparkling eyes. She told of an accident they had +had on the Spásski Hill which might have been serious for her in her +condition, and immediately after that informed them that she had left +all her clothes in Petersburg and that heaven knew what she would have +to dress in here; and that Andrew had quite changed, and that Kitty +Odýntsova had married an old man, and that there was a suitor for Mary, +a real one, but that they would talk of that later. Princess Mary was +still looking silently at her brother and her beautiful eyes were full +of love and sadness. It was plain that she was following a train of +thought independent of her sister-in-law’s words. In the midst of a +description of the last Petersburg fete she addressed her brother: + +“So you are really going to the war, Andrew?” she said sighing. + +Lise sighed too. + +“Yes, and even tomorrow,” replied her brother. + +“He is leaving me here, God knows why, when he might have had +promotion...” + +Princess Mary did not listen to the end, but continuing her train of +thought turned to her sister-in-law with a tender glance at her figure. + +“Is it certain?” she said. + +The face of the little princess changed. She sighed and said: “Yes, +quite certain. Ah! it is very dreadful...” + +Her lip descended. She brought her face close to her sister-in-law’s +and unexpectedly again began to cry. + +“She needs rest,” said Prince Andrew with a frown. “Don’t you, +Lise? Take her to your room and I’ll go to Father. How is he? Just the +same?” + +“Yes, just the same. Though I don’t know what your opinion will +be,” answered the princess joyfully. + +“And are the hours the same? And the walks in the avenues? And the +lathe?” asked Prince Andrew with a scarcely perceptible smile which +showed that, in spite of all his love and respect for his father, he was +aware of his weaknesses. + +“The hours are the same, and the lathe, and also the mathematics and +my geometry lessons,” said Princess Mary gleefully, as if her lessons +in geometry were among the greatest delights of her life. + +When the twenty minutes had elapsed and the time had come for the old +prince to get up, Tíkhon came to call the young prince to his father. +The old man made a departure from his usual routine in honor of his +son’s arrival: he gave orders to admit him to his apartments while +he dressed for dinner. The old prince always dressed in old-fashioned +style, wearing an antique coat and powdered hair; and when Prince Andrew +entered his father’s dressing room (not with the contemptuous look and +manner he wore in drawing rooms, but with the animated face with which +he talked to Pierre), the old man was sitting on a large leather-covered +chair, wrapped in a powdering mantle, entrusting his head to Tíkhon. + +“Ah! here’s the warrior! Wants to vanquish Buonaparte?” said the +old man, shaking his powdered head as much as the tail, which Tíkhon +was holding fast to plait, would allow. + +“You at least must tackle him properly, or else if he goes on like +this he’ll soon have us, too, for his subjects! How are you?” And he +held out his cheek. + +The old man was in a good temper after his nap before dinner. (He +used to say that a nap “after dinner was silver—before dinner, +golden.”) He cast happy, sidelong glances at his son from under his +thick, bushy eyebrows. Prince Andrew went up and kissed his father on +the spot indicated to him. He made no reply on his father’s favorite +topic—making fun of the military men of the day, and more particularly +of Bonaparte. + +“Yes, Father, I have come to you and brought my wife who is +pregnant,” said Prince Andrew, following every movement of his +father’s face with an eager and respectful look. “How is your +health?” + +“Only fools and rakes fall ill, my boy. You know me: I am busy from +morning till night and abstemious, so of course I am well.” + +“Thank God,” said his son smiling. + +“God has nothing to do with it! Well, go on,” he continued, +returning to his hobby; “tell me how the Germans have taught you to +fight Bonaparte by this new science you call ‘strategy.’” + +Prince Andrew smiled. + +“Give me time to collect my wits, Father,” said he, with a smile +that showed that his father’s foibles did not prevent his son from +loving and honoring him. “Why, I have not yet had time to settle +down!” + +“Nonsense, nonsense!” cried the old man, shaking his pigtail to +see whether it was firmly plaited, and grasping his by the hand. “The +house for your wife is ready. Princess Mary will take her there and +show her over, and they’ll talk nineteen to the dozen. That’s +their woman’s way! I am glad to have her. Sit down and talk. About +Mikhelson’s army I understand—Tolstóy’s too... a simultaneous +expedition.... But what’s the southern army to do? Prussia is +neutral... I know that. What about Austria?” said he, rising from his +chair and pacing up and down the room followed by Tíkhon, who ran after +him, handing him different articles of clothing. “What of Sweden? How +will they cross Pomerania?” + +Prince Andrew, seeing that his father insisted, began—at first +reluctantly, but gradually with more and more animation, and from habit +changing unconsciously from Russian to French as he went on—to explain +the plan of operation for the coming campaign. He explained how an army, +ninety thousand strong, was to threaten Prussia so as to bring her out +of her neutrality and draw her into the war; how part of that army was +to join some Swedish forces at Stralsund; how two hundred and twenty +thousand Austrians, with a hundred thousand Russians, were to operate in +Italy and on the Rhine; how fifty thousand Russians and as many English +were to land at Naples, and how a total force of five hundred thousand +men was to attack the French from different sides. The old prince did +not evince the least interest during this explanation, but as if he were +not listening to it continued to dress while walking about, and three +times unexpectedly interrupted. Once he stopped it by shouting: “The +white one, the white one!” + +This meant that Tíkhon was not handing him the waistcoat he wanted. +Another time he interrupted, saying: + +“And will she soon be confined?” and shaking his head reproachfully +said: “That’s bad! Go on, go on.” + +The third interruption came when Prince Andrew was finishing his +description. The old man began to sing, in the cracked voice of old age: +“Malbrook s’en va-t-en guerre. Dieu sait quand reviendra.” * + + * “Marlborough is going to the wars; God knows when he’ll + return.” + + +His son only smiled. + +“I don’t say it’s a plan I approve of,” said the son; “I am +only telling you what it is. Napoleon has also formed his plan by now, +not worse than this one.” + +“Well, you’ve told me nothing new,” and the old man repeated, +meditatively and rapidly: + +“Dieu sait quand reviendra. Go to the dining room.” + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +At the appointed hour the prince, powdered and shaven, entered the +dining room where his daughter-in-law, Princess Mary, and Mademoiselle +Bourienne were already awaiting him together with his architect, who by +a strange caprice of his employer’s was admitted to table though the +position of that insignificant individual was such as could certainly +not have caused him to expect that honor. The prince, who generally kept +very strictly to social distinctions and rarely admitted even important +government officials to his table, had unexpectedly selected Michael +Ivánovich (who always went into a corner to blow his nose on his +checked handkerchief) to illustrate the theory that all men are equals, +and had more than once impressed on his daughter that Michael Ivánovich +was “not a whit worse than you or I.” At dinner the prince usually +spoke to the taciturn Michael Ivánovich more often than to anyone else. + +In the dining room, which like all the rooms in the house was +exceedingly lofty, the members of the household and the footmen—one +behind each chair—stood waiting for the prince to enter. The head +butler, napkin on arm, was scanning the setting of the table, making +signs to the footmen, and anxiously glancing from the clock to the door +by which the prince was to enter. Prince Andrew was looking at a large +gilt frame, new to him, containing the genealogical tree of the Princes +Bolkónski, opposite which hung another such frame with a badly painted +portrait (evidently by the hand of the artist belonging to the estate) +of a ruling prince, in a crown—an alleged descendant of Rúrik and +ancestor of the Bolkónskis. Prince Andrew, looking again at that +genealogical tree, shook his head, laughing as a man laughs who looks at +a portrait so characteristic of the original as to be amusing. + +“How thoroughly like him that is!” he said to Princess Mary, who had +come up to him. + +Princess Mary looked at her brother in surprise. She did not understand +what he was laughing at. Everything her father did inspired her with +reverence and was beyond question. + +“Everyone has his Achilles’ heel,” continued Prince Andrew. +“Fancy, with his powerful mind, indulging in such nonsense!” + +Princess Mary could not understand the boldness of her brother’s +criticism and was about to reply, when the expected footsteps were heard +coming from the study. The prince walked in quickly and jauntily as was +his wont, as if intentionally contrasting the briskness of his manners +with the strict formality of his house. At that moment the great clock +struck two and another with a shrill tone joined in from the drawing +room. The prince stood still; his lively glittering eyes from under +their thick, bushy eyebrows sternly scanned all present and rested on +the little princess. She felt, as courtiers do when the Tsar enters, the +sensation of fear and respect which the old man inspired in all around +him. He stroked her hair and then patted her awkwardly on the back of +her neck. + +“I’m glad, glad, to see you,” he said, looking attentively into +her eyes, and then quickly went to his place and sat down. “Sit down, +sit down! Sit down, Michael Ivánovich!” + +He indicated a place beside him to his daughter-in-law. A footman moved +the chair for her. + +“Ho, ho!” said the old man, casting his eyes on her rounded figure. +“You’ve been in a hurry. That’s bad!” + +He laughed in his usual dry, cold, unpleasant way, with his lips only +and not with his eyes. + +“You must walk, walk as much as possible, as much as possible,” he +said. + +The little princess did not, or did not wish to, hear his words. She was +silent and seemed confused. The prince asked her about her father, and +she began to smile and talk. He asked about mutual acquaintances, and +she became still more animated and chattered away giving him greetings +from various people and retelling the town gossip. + +“Countess Apráksina, poor thing, has lost her husband and she has +cried her eyes out,” she said, growing more and more lively. + +As she became animated the prince looked at her more and more sternly, +and suddenly, as if he had studied her sufficiently and had formed a +definite idea of her, he turned away and addressed Michael Ivánovich. + +“Well, Michael Ivánovich, our Bonaparte will be having a bad time +of it. Prince Andrew” (he always spoke thus of his son) “has been +telling me what forces are being collected against him! While you and I +never thought much of him.” + +Michael Ivánovich did not at all know when “you and I” had said +such things about Bonaparte, but understanding that he was wanted as +a peg on which to hang the prince’s favorite topic, he looked +inquiringly at the young prince, wondering what would follow. + +“He is a great tactician!” said the prince to his son, pointing to +the architect. + +And the conversation again turned on the war, on Bonaparte, and the +generals and statesmen of the day. The old prince seemed convinced not +only that all the men of the day were mere babies who did not know the +A B C of war or of politics, and that Bonaparte was an insignificant +little Frenchy, successful only because there were no longer any +Potëmkins or Suvórovs left to oppose him; but he was also convinced +that there were no political difficulties in Europe and no real war, +but only a sort of puppet show at which the men of the day were playing, +pretending to do something real. Prince Andrew gaily bore with his +father’s ridicule of the new men, and drew him on and listened to him +with evident pleasure. + +“The past always seems good,” said he, “but did not Suvórov +himself fall into a trap Moreau set him, and from which he did not know +how to escape?” + +“Who told you that? Who?” cried the prince. “Suvórov!” And he +jerked away his plate, which Tíkhon briskly caught. “Suvórov!... +Consider, Prince Andrew. Two... Frederick and Suvórov; Moreau!... +Moreau would have been a prisoner if Suvórov had had a free hand; but +he had the Hofs-kriegs-wurst-schnapps-Rath on his hands. It would have +puzzled the devil himself! When you get there you’ll find out what +those Hofs-kriegs-wurst-Raths are! Suvórov couldn’t manage them so +what chance has Michael Kutúzov? No, my dear boy,” he continued, +“you and your generals won’t get on against Buonaparte; you’ll +have to call in the French, so that birds of a feather may fight +together. The German, Pahlen, has been sent to New York in America, to +fetch the Frenchman, Moreau,” he said, alluding to the invitation made +that year to Moreau to enter the Russian service.... “Wonderful!... +Were the Potëmkins, Suvórovs, and Orlóvs Germans? No, lad, either you +fellows have all lost your wits, or I have outlived mine. May God help +you, but we’ll see what will happen. Buonaparte has become a great +commander among them! Hm!...” + +“I don’t at all say that all the plans are good,” said Prince +Andrew, “I am only surprised at your opinion of Bonaparte. You +may laugh as much as you like, but all the same Bonaparte is a great +general!” + +“Michael Ivánovich!” cried the old prince to the architect who, +busy with his roast meat, hoped he had been forgotten: “Didn’t +I tell you Buonaparte was a great tactician? Here, he says the same +thing.” + +“To be sure, your excellency,” replied the architect. + +The prince again laughed his frigid laugh. + +“Buonaparte was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He has got +splendid soldiers. Besides he began by attacking Germans. And only +idlers have failed to beat the Germans. Since the world began everybody +has beaten the Germans. They beat no one—except one another. He made +his reputation fighting them.” + +And the prince began explaining all the blunders which, according to +him, Bonaparte had made in his campaigns and even in politics. His +son made no rejoinder, but it was evident that whatever arguments were +presented he was as little able as his father to change his opinion. He +listened, refraining from a reply, and involuntarily wondered how this +old man, living alone in the country for so many years, could know and +discuss so minutely and acutely all the recent European military and +political events. + +“You think I’m an old man and don’t understand the present state +of affairs?” concluded his father. “But it troubles me. I don’t +sleep at night. Come now, where has this great commander of yours shown +his skill?” he concluded. + +“That would take too long to tell,” answered the son. + +“Well, then go off to your Buonaparte! Mademoiselle Bourienne, +here’s another admirer of that powder-monkey emperor of yours,” he +exclaimed in excellent French. + +“You know, Prince, I am not a Bonapartist!” + +“Dieu sait quand reviendra.” hummed the prince out of tune and, with +a laugh still more so, he quitted the table. + +The little princess during the whole discussion and the rest of +the dinner sat silent, glancing with a frightened look now at her +father-in-law and now at Princess Mary. When they left the table she +took her sister-in-law’s arm and drew her into another room. + +“What a clever man your father is,” said she; “perhaps that is why +I am afraid of him.” + +“Oh, he is so kind!” answered Princess Mary. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/LLama.Benchmark/Assets/extreme-ironing-taxi-610x427.jpg b/LLama.Benchmark/Assets/extreme-ironing-taxi-610x427.jpg new file mode 100644 index 000000000..078fde7c4 Binary files /dev/null and b/LLama.Benchmark/Assets/extreme-ironing-taxi-610x427.jpg differ diff --git a/LLama.Benchmark/Assets/models.txt b/LLama.Benchmark/Assets/models.txt new file mode 100644 index 000000000..3a9d6b51b --- /dev/null +++ b/LLama.Benchmark/Assets/models.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +TheBloke/Llama-2-7b-Chat-GGUF,llama-2-7b-chat.Q3_K_S.gguf \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/LLama.Benchmark/Common.cs b/LLama.Benchmark/Common.cs new file mode 100644 index 000000000..3f3ff3125 --- /dev/null +++ b/LLama.Benchmark/Common.cs @@ -0,0 +1,10 @@ + +namespace LLama.Benchmark +{ + public enum ExecutorType + { + Interactive, + Instruct, + Stateless + } +} diff --git a/LLama.Benchmark/Constants.cs b/LLama.Benchmark/Constants.cs new file mode 100644 index 000000000..ff39ba4eb --- /dev/null +++ b/LLama.Benchmark/Constants.cs @@ -0,0 +1,23 @@ + +namespace LLama.Benchmark +{ + internal static class Constants + { + public static string ModelDir + { + get + { + return Environment.GetEnvironmentVariable("BENCHMARK_MODEL_DIR") ?? ""; + } + } + + public static string Generative7BModelPath => Path.Combine(ModelDir, "llama-2-7b-chat.Q3_K_S.gguf"); + public static string EmbeddingModelPath => Path.Combine(ModelDir, "all-MiniLM-L12-v2.Q8_0.gguf"); + + public static string LLavaModelPath => Path.Combine("llava-v1.6-mistral-7b.Q3_K_XS.gguf"); + public static string LLavaMmpPath => Path.Combine("mmproj-model-f16.gguf"); + public static string LLavaImage => "Assets/extreme-ironing-taxi-610x427.jpg"; + + public static string TextCompletionPromptsFilePath => "Assets/TextCompletionPrompts.txt"; + } +} diff --git a/LLama.Benchmark/LLama.Benchmark.csproj b/LLama.Benchmark/LLama.Benchmark.csproj new file mode 100644 index 000000000..178284156 --- /dev/null +++ b/LLama.Benchmark/LLama.Benchmark.csproj @@ -0,0 +1,30 @@ + + + + + Exe + net8.0 + enable + enable + Release + + + + + + + + + + + + + + PreserveNewest + + + PreserveNewest + + + + diff --git a/LLama.Benchmark/LLamaExecutorBenchmark/Prefill.cs b/LLama.Benchmark/LLamaExecutorBenchmark/Prefill.cs new file mode 100644 index 000000000..7c540d081 --- /dev/null +++ b/LLama.Benchmark/LLamaExecutorBenchmark/Prefill.cs @@ -0,0 +1,126 @@ +#pragma warning disable CS8618 + +using System.Text; +using BenchmarkDotNet.Attributes; +using BenchmarkDotNet.Engines; +using BenchmarkDotNet.Jobs; +using LLama.Abstractions; +using LLama.Common; + +namespace LLama.Benchmark.LLamaExecutorBenchmark +{ +#if WINDOWS + [BenchmarkDotNet.Diagnostics.Windows.Configs.NativeMemoryProfiler] +#endif + [BenchmarkCategory("Executor", "LLama")] + [SimpleJob(RunStrategy.Monitoring, runtimeMoniker: RuntimeMoniker.Net80)] + [MemoryDiagnoser] + [MinIterationCount(1)] + [MaxIterationCount(16)] + [RPlotExporter] + public class PrefillBenchmark + { + /// + /// (prompt length, context length) + /// + public IEnumerable<(int, uint)> PromptAndContextLengths => new (int, uint)[] + { + (512, 2048), + (2024, 2048) + }; + + /// + /// (model path, gpu layer count) + /// + public IEnumerable<(string, int)> ModelAndGpuLayerCounts => new (string, int)[] + // TODO: specify the native library to load here to test cpu case better. + { + (Path.Combine(Constants.ModelDir, Constants.Generative7BModelPath), 0), + (Path.Combine(Constants.ModelDir, Constants.Generative7BModelPath), 10), + (Path.Combine(Constants.ModelDir, Constants.Generative7BModelPath), 20) + }; + + public IEnumerable ExecutorTypes => new ExecutorType[] + { + ExecutorType.Interactive, + ExecutorType.Stateless + }; + + [ParamsSource(nameof(PromptAndContextLengths))] + public (int, uint) PromptAndContextLength { get; set; } + + [ParamsSource(nameof(ModelAndGpuLayerCounts))] + public (string, int) ModelAndGpuLayerCount { get; set; } + + [ParamsSource(nameof(ExecutorTypes))] + public ExecutorType ExecutorType { get; set; } + + /// + /// Params used to create a model. + /// + public ModelParams ModelParams { get; set; } + + /// + /// Params used in inference. + /// + public InferenceParams InferenceParams { get; set; } + + /// + /// Prompt used to run text generation. + /// + public string Prompt { get; set; } + + public ILLamaExecutor Executor { get; set; } + + private void InitializeParamsAndModel() + { + ModelParams = new ModelParams(ModelAndGpuLayerCount.Item1) + { + ContextSize = PromptAndContextLength.Item2, + GpuLayerCount = ModelAndGpuLayerCount.Item2 + }; + Prompt = File.ReadAllText(Constants.TextCompletionPromptsFilePath).Substring(0, PromptAndContextLength.Item1); + InferenceParams = new InferenceParams() + { + Temperature = 0.6f, + MaxTokens = 1 // Only prefill, no generation here. + }; + + LLamaWeights weights = LLamaWeights.LoadFromFile(ModelParams); + LLamaContext context = weights.CreateContext(ModelParams); + Executor = ExecutorType switch + { + ExecutorType.Interactive => new InteractiveExecutor(context), + ExecutorType.Instruct => new InstructExecutor(context), + ExecutorType.Stateless => new StatelessExecutor(weights, ModelParams), + _ => throw new NotSupportedException() + }; + } + + [GlobalSetup(Targets = [nameof(Basic)])] + public void GlobalSetup() + { + InitializeParamsAndModel(); + } + + [IterationCleanup(Targets = [nameof(Basic)])] + public void GlobalCleanup() + { + if(ExecutorType != ExecutorType.Stateless) // stateless executor always dispose its `Context` property + { + Executor.Context.NativeHandle.KvCacheClear(); + } + } + + [Benchmark] + public async Task Basic() + { + StringBuilder sb = new(); + await foreach(var text in Executor.InferAsync(Prompt, InferenceParams)) + { + sb.Append(text); + } + return sb.ToString(); + } + } +} diff --git a/LLama.Benchmark/Program.cs b/LLama.Benchmark/Program.cs new file mode 100644 index 000000000..7c9a4bc43 --- /dev/null +++ b/LLama.Benchmark/Program.cs @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +using BenchmarkDotNet.Running; + +namespace LLama.Benchmark +{ + public class Program + { + public static void Main(string[] args) + { + var summary = BenchmarkSwitcher.FromAssembly(typeof(Program).Assembly).Run(args); + Console.WriteLine(summary); + } + } +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/LLamaSharp.sln b/LLamaSharp.sln index 76334657c..8039982e5 100644 --- a/LLamaSharp.sln +++ b/LLamaSharp.sln @@ -17,6 +17,8 @@ Project("{9A19103F-16F7-4668-BE54-9A1E7A4F7556}") = "LLamaSharp.SemanticKernel", EndProject Project("{9A19103F-16F7-4668-BE54-9A1E7A4F7556}") = "LLamaSharp.KernelMemory", "LLama.KernelMemory\LLamaSharp.KernelMemory.csproj", "{E5589AE7-B86F-4343-A1CC-8E5D34596E52}" EndProject +Project("{FAE04EC0-301F-11D3-BF4B-00C04F79EFBC}") = "LLama.Benchmark", "LLama.Benchmark\LLama.Benchmark.csproj", "{90D38FEE-68EA-459E-A4EE-268B9DFA1CD5}" +EndProject Global GlobalSection(SolutionConfigurationPlatforms) = preSolution Debug|Any CPU = Debug|Any CPU @@ -111,6 +113,18 @@ Global {E5589AE7-B86F-4343-A1CC-8E5D34596E52}.Release|Any CPU.Build.0 = Release|Any CPU {E5589AE7-B86F-4343-A1CC-8E5D34596E52}.Release|x64.ActiveCfg = Release|Any CPU {E5589AE7-B86F-4343-A1CC-8E5D34596E52}.Release|x64.Build.0 = Release|Any CPU + {90D38FEE-68EA-459E-A4EE-268B9DFA1CD5}.Debug|Any CPU.ActiveCfg = Debug|Any CPU + {90D38FEE-68EA-459E-A4EE-268B9DFA1CD5}.Debug|Any CPU.Build.0 = Debug|Any CPU + {90D38FEE-68EA-459E-A4EE-268B9DFA1CD5}.Debug|x64.ActiveCfg = Debug|Any CPU + {90D38FEE-68EA-459E-A4EE-268B9DFA1CD5}.Debug|x64.Build.0 = Debug|Any CPU + {90D38FEE-68EA-459E-A4EE-268B9DFA1CD5}.GPU|Any CPU.ActiveCfg = Debug|Any CPU + {90D38FEE-68EA-459E-A4EE-268B9DFA1CD5}.GPU|Any CPU.Build.0 = Debug|Any CPU + {90D38FEE-68EA-459E-A4EE-268B9DFA1CD5}.GPU|x64.ActiveCfg = Debug|Any CPU + {90D38FEE-68EA-459E-A4EE-268B9DFA1CD5}.GPU|x64.Build.0 = Debug|Any CPU + {90D38FEE-68EA-459E-A4EE-268B9DFA1CD5}.Release|Any CPU.ActiveCfg = Release|Any CPU + {90D38FEE-68EA-459E-A4EE-268B9DFA1CD5}.Release|Any CPU.Build.0 = Release|Any CPU + {90D38FEE-68EA-459E-A4EE-268B9DFA1CD5}.Release|x64.ActiveCfg = Release|Any CPU + {90D38FEE-68EA-459E-A4EE-268B9DFA1CD5}.Release|x64.Build.0 = Release|Any CPU EndGlobalSection GlobalSection(SolutionProperties) = preSolution HideSolutionNode = FALSE