The only young people remaining in the drawing room, not counting the young lady-visitor and the countess's eldest daughter, who is four years older than her sister, and behaved already like a grown-up person, were Nicholas and Sonia the niece.  By the grace of her movements, by the softness and flexibility of her small limbs, and by a certain coiness 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 for 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 Natasha and Boris, escape from the drawing-room. Ah yes, my dear, said the Count, addressing the visitor and pointing to Nicholas. His friend Boris 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.  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 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 all from friendship, declared Nicholas, flaring up and turning away as if from a shameful aspersion. It's 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. The Colonel of the Pavlograd 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 that Sonya and the young lady visitor. The little kitten, feasting her eyes on him, seemed ready at any moment to start her gambles again and display her kittenish nature. All right, all right, said the old Count. He always flares up. This Bonaparte has turned all our 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 Karnina turned to young Rostov.  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 at the heart of Sonya, who blushed and smiled unnaturally. In the midst of his talk he glanced round 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's animation vanished. He waited for the first pause in the conversation and then with a distressed face left the room to find Sonya. How plainly all these young people wear their hearts on their sleeves, said Anya Mikhailovna, pointing to Nicholas as he went out. Cousinage. Dangerous was a notch, she added. 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 to her but which was always in her mind, and how much suffering, how much anxiety one has 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 for both 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 daughter's first confidant, 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 a 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 solomini. I have engaged an Italian to give her lessons. Isn't she too young? I've heard that it harms the boys 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 Boris already. Just fancy, said the Countess with a gentle smile, looking at Boris, and went on, evidently concerned with the thought that had always occupied her.  She meant that they would be kissing. But, as it is, I know every word she utters. She would 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 a handsome elder daughter. Countess Vera with a smile. But the smile did not enhance Vera's beauty, as smiles generally do. On the contrary, it gave her an unnatural and, therefore, unpleasant expression. Vera was good-looking, not at all stupid, quick at learning, and 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 for them, said the visitor. What's the good of denying it, my dear? Our dear Countess was too clever with Vera, said the Count. Well, what of that? She's turned out splendidly all the same, he added, winking at Vera. The guests got up and took their leave, promising to return to dinner. What manners! I thought they'd never go, said the Countess, when she had seen her guests out. So ends Chapter 12. When Natasha 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 Boris to come out. She was already growing impatient, and stamped her foot ready to cry out at his not-coming-at-once, when she heard the young man's discreet steps approaching, neither quickly nor slowly. At this Natasha dashed swiftly among the flower-tubs, and hid there. Boris 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. Natasha, the young man's discreet steps approaching, neither quickly nor slowly. Natasha, there he 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. Natasha was about to call him, but changed her mind. Let him look for me, thought she. Hardly as Boris gone, then, Sonia, flushed in tears and muttering angrily, came in the other door. Natasha 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. Sonia, muttering to herself, kept looking round toward the drawing-room door. It opened, and Nicholas came in. Sonia, what is the matter with you? How can you? said he, running up to her. It's nothing, nothing. Leave me alone, sobbed Sonia. Ah, I know what it is. Well, if you do so much the better, and you can go back to her. Sonia, look here. How can you torture me and yourself like that for a mere fancy? said Nicholas, taking her hand. Sonia did not pull it away, and left off crying. Natasha, not stirring, and scarcely breathing, watched from her ambush with sparkling eyes. What will happen now? thought she. Sonia, what is anyone in the world to me? You will own her everything, said Nicholas, and I will prove it to you. I don't like it when you talk like that. Well, then, I won't. Only forgive me, Sonia. He drew her to him, and kissed her. Oh, how nice! thought Natasha. And when Sonia Nicholas had gone out of the conservatory, she followed, and called Boris to her. Boris, come here! she said 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. Boris followed her, smiling. What is the something? asked he. She grew confused, glanced round, and, seeing the dolls, she had thrown down on one of the tubs, picked it up. Kiss the doll, said she. Boris looked detetically and kindly at her eager face, but did not reply. Don't you want to? Well, then, come here! she said, 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. Boris blushed.  Suddenly she jumped up onto a tub to be higher than he, embraced him so that her slender bare arms clasped him above the neck, and tossing back her hair kissed him full on the lips. Then she slipped down among the flower-pots on the other side of the tubs and stood, hanging her head.  Natasha broke in. Yes, I am, but please don't let's do like that. In another four years, then I will ask for your hand. Natasha considered thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen. She counted on her slender little fingers, all right. Then it settled, a smile of joy and satisfaction lit up her eager face. Settled, replied Boris. 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. So ends Chapter 13. War and Peace. Book 1, Chapter 14. 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 those who came to congratulate. The Countess wished to have a tete-a-tete talk with the friend of her childhood, Princess Anna Mkernieva, whom she had not seen properly since she returned from Petersburg. Anna Mkernieva, 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 Mkernieva. There are not many left of us old friends, that's why I so value your friendship. Anna Mkernieva looked at Vera and paused. The Countess pressed her friend's hand. Vera, she said to her eldest daughter, who was evidently not a favorite. How is it that you have so little tact? Don't you see you are not wanted here? Go to the other girls, or the handsome Vera smiled contemptuously, but did not seem at all hurt. If you had told me sooner, Mama, I should have gone, she replied, as she rose up 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. Sonja was sitting close to Nicholas, who was copying out some verses for her. The first he had ever written. Boris and Natasha were at the other window, and ceased talking when Vera entered. Sonja and Natasha looked at Vera 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 Vera. How often have I asked you not to take my things, she said. You have a room of your own, and she took the ink-stand from Nicholas. In a minute, in a minute, he said, dipping his pen. You always managed to do things at the wrong time, continued Vera.  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 ink-stand in her hand. And at your age what secrets can there be between Natasha and Boris, or between you two? It's all nonsense. Now, Vera, what does it matter to you? said Natasha in defence, speaking very gently. She seemed that day to be more than ever kind and affectionate to everyone. Very silly, said Vera, I am ashamed of you, secrets indeed. All have secrets of their own, answered Natasha, getting warmer. We don't interfere with you and Berg. I should think not, said Vera, because there can never be anything wrong in my behaviour, but I'll just tell Mama how you are behaving with Boris. Battalionichnia behaves very well to me, remarked Boris. I have nothing to complain of.  She used the word diplomat, which was just then very much in vogue among the children, in the special sense they attached to it. Why does she bother me? And she added, turning to Vera, you'll never understand it because you've never loved anyone. You have no heart.  This nickname, bestowed on Vera by Nicholas, was considered very stinging, and your greatest pleasure is to be so unpleasant to people.  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 Vera, I said none to anyone. Madam to goodness! Madam to goodness! shouted laughing voices through the door. The handsome Vera, who produced such an irritating and unpleasant effect on everyone's smile, 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 its easing-going 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 your things so settled? I couldn't possibly do it. Ah, my love, answered Anya McKernova, God grant you never know what it is like 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 went 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, and 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 Borey? 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 Vasily he was so kind. He had once agreed to everything and put the matter before the Emperor, said Princess Anya McKernova enthusiastically, quite forgetting all the humiliation she had endured to gain her end. Has Prince Vasily aged much? asked the Countess. I have not seen him since we acted together at the Room Jansalp's theatricals. I expect he's forgotten me. He paid me attentions in those days, said the Countess with a smile. He is just about the same as ever, replied Anna McKernova. Overflowing with amiability, his position has not turned his head at all. He said to me, I am sorry I could do so little for you, my dear Princess, I am at your command. Yes, he is a fine fellow, and a very kind relation, but not truly. 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 Anya McKernova sadly, dropping her voice. My wretched lawsuit takes all I have and makes no progress. Believe it, I have literally not a penny and don't know how to equip Boris. She took out her handkerchief and began to cry. I need five hundred rubles and have only one twenty-five rubles no time in such a state. My only hope now is in Count Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukov. If he will not assist his godson, you know he is Boris 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's eyes filled with tears as she pondered in silence. I often think, though perhaps it's a sin, said the Princess, that here lives Count Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukov so rich and all alone that tremendous fortune, and what's his life worth? It's a burden to him, and Boris's life is only just beginning. Surely he will leave something to Boris, said the Countess. Heaven only knows, my dear, these rich grandays are so selfish. Still I will take Boris 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 be just time. And, like the practical Petersburg lady who knows how to make the most of time, Anya Mikhailova sent someone to call her son and went into the ante-room with him. Goodbye, 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 see Count Cyril Vladimirovich, my dear, said the Count, coming from the dining-hall into his ante-room? And he added, if he is better, ask Pierre to dine with us. He has been to the house, you know, and has danced with the children. Be sure to invite him, my dear. We will see how Terrace distinguishes himself today. He says Count Orlov never gave such a dinner as ours will be. So ends Chapter 14. My dear Boris, said the mother, drawing her hand from beneath her old mantel, and laying it timidly and tenderly on her son's arm. Be affectionate and attentive to him. Count Cyril Vladimirovich is your godfather after all. 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 a doubt, had a good heart, had a good heart, had a good heart, had a good heart, had a good heart, had a good heart, had a good heart, and, looking the mother and son, who, without asking to be announced, had passed straight through the glass-port between the rows of statues and 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 to-day, and that his Excellency was not receiving any-one. 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. Boris said no more, but looked inquiringly at his mother without taking off his cloak. My friend! said Anna Mikhailovna in gentle tones, addressing the hall-porter, I know Count Cyril Vladimirovich is very ill. That's why I have come. I am a relation. I shall not disturb him, my friend. I only need to see Prince Vasily Sergeyevich. He is staying here, is he not? Please announce me. The hall-porter sullenly pulled a bell that rang up stairs and turned away. Princess Trubetskaya to see Prince Vasily Sergeyevich. He called to a footman dressed in knee-breaches, shoes, and a swallow-tailed coat who ran down stairs and looked over from the hallway landing. The mother smoothed the folds of her dyed silk dress before a large Venetian mirror in the wall, and in her troddened-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 Vasily. 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 Vasily came out, wearing a velvet coat with a single star on his breast, as was his custom one at home, taking leave of a good-looking, dark-haired man. This was the celebrated Petersburg doctor, Lorraine. Then it is certain, said the prince. Humanimist Arar! Begin translation note. To air is human. End translation note. But, replied the doctor, swallowing his oars and pronouncing the Latin words with a French accent. Very well, very well. Seeing Anna Mikhailovna and her son, Prince Vasily dismissed the doctor with a bow and approached them silently with a look of inquiry. The son noticed that an expression of profound sorrow suddenly clouded his mother's face and she 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 Vasily stared at her and at Boris questioningly and perplexed. Boris bowed politely. Prince Vasily, without acknowledging the bow, turned to Anna Mikhailovna, answering her query by a movement of the head and lips indicating very little hope for the patient. Is it possible? exclaimed Anna Mikhailovna. Oh! how awful! It is terrible to think... This is my son, she added, indicating Boris. He wanted to thank you himself. Boris 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 Mikhailovna. Said Prince Vasily, arranging his lace frill and in tone and manner, here in Moscow, to Anna Mikhailovna whom he had placed under an obligation, assuming an air of much greater importance than he had done in Petersburg at Anna Scherer's reception. Try to serve yourself well and show yourself worthy. Added he, addressing Boris 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 Boris, betraying neither annoyance of 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 Rostovas," replied Boris, again adding, your Excellency. That is, with Ilya Rostov who married Natalie Shinshina, said Anna Mikhailovna. I know, I know," answered Prince Vasily in his monotonous voice.  But a very kind man, Prince," said Anna Mikhailovna with a pathetic smile, as though she too knew that Count Rostov 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 Boris. He is his godson," she added, her tone suggesting that this fact ought to give Prince Vasily much satisfaction. Prince Vasily became thoughtful and frowned. Anna Mikhailovna saw that he was afraid of finding in her a rival for Count Bezukov'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 and 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," 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 Pavlovna's, that it would be difficult to get rid of Anna Pavlovna. Would not such a meeting be too trying for him, dear Anna Pavlovna? 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. It is awful, the duties of a Christian. A door of one of the inner rooms opened by 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 Facili turned to her. Well, how is he? Still the same, but what can you expect? This noise," said the princess looking at Anna Pavlovna as at a stranger. Ah, my dear! I hardly knew you," said Anna Pavlovna 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.  The princess gave no reply and did not even smile, but left the room as Anna Pavlovna took off her gloves and, occupying the position she had conquered, settled down in an arm-chair, inviting Prince Facili to take a seat beside her. Horace! 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 Rostov's invitation. They asked 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 only be 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 Boris down one flight of stairs and up another, to Pierre's rooms. End of Chapter 15 War and Peace. Book 1. Chapter 16. Read for LibriVox.org by Kristen Luoma. greenkri.com 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 Rostov'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 already be known in Moscow and that the ladies about his father, who would never favourably dispose towards 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 Mikhailovna. 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, 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 recognise me? I recognise 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. Hmm.  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 Vasili had arrived and settled in the Count's house. He sent for Pierre and said to him, My dear fellow, if you were 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 Boris 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 affected the dangerous crossing of the Straits of Dover and captured London, could pronounce sentence, he saw a well-built and handsome young officer entering his room. Pierre paused. He had left Moscow when Boris was a boy of fourteen and had quite forgotten him but in his usual impulsive and hardy way he took Boris by the hand with a friendly smile. Do you remember me? Asked Boris 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. Boris felt that Pierre did not recognize him but did not consider it necessary to introduce himself without experiencing the least embarrassment looked Pierre straight in the face. Count Rostov asks you to come to dinner today. Said he, after a considerable pause which made Pierre feel uncomfortable. Ah, Count Rostov! exclaimed Pierre joyfully. Then you are his son, Ilya. Only fancy, I didn't know you at first. Do you remember how we went to the Sparrow Hills with Madame Jacques? It's such an age.  I am Boris, son of Princess Anna Mikhailovna Drubetskaya. Rostov, the father, is Ilya and his son is Nicholas. I never knew any Madame Jacques. 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 Boris, of course. Well, now we know where we are. But what do you think of the Bologna expedition? The English will come off badly, you know, if Napoleon gets across the Channel. I think the expedition is quite feasible if only Vyanov doesn't make a mess of things. Boris knew nothing about the Bologna expedition. He did not read the papers and it was the first time he had heard Vyanov's name. We here in Moscow are more occupied with dinner parties and scandal than with politics. He said 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 Boris spoke distinctly, clearly and dryly, looking straight into Pierre's eyes. Moscow has nothing else to do but gossip, Boris went on. Everybody is wondering to whom the Count will leave his fortune, though he may perhaps outlive us all and 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 Boris, 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 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 Boris under the elbow in his quick clumsy way and, blushing far more than Boris, began to speak with a feeling of mingled shame and vexation. Well, this is strange. Do you suppose I, or who could think? I know very well. But Boris 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 a rule to speak out. Well, what answer am I to take? Will you come to dinner at the Rostovs? And Boris, having apparently relieved himself of an honourous 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. I 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 he'll get better acquainted. And he pressed Boris's 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 Boris with a smile. Pierre saw that Boris wished to change the subject, but being of the same mind he began explaining the advantages and disadvantages of the Bologna expedition. A footman came in to summon Boris. The princess was going. Pierre, in order to make Boris's better acquaintance, promised to come to dinner, and warmly pressing his hand looked affectionately over his spectacles into Boris's 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 should be friends. Prince Facili 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, my bun," answered Prince Facili, 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, mama. What is his attitude to Pierre? asked the son. The will will show that, my dear. Prince Fait also depends on it. But why do you expect that he will leave us anything? My dear, he is so rich, and we are so poor. Well, that is hardly a sufficient reason, mama. Oh, heaven, how ill he is, exclaimed the mother. End of Chapter 16. War and Peace. Book 1. Chapter 17. Red for LibriVox.org by Kristen Luoma. Greenkri.com. After Anna Mikhailovna had driven off with her son to visit Count Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukov, Countess Rostova sat for a long time all alone, applying her handkerchief to her eyes. And last she rang.  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 Count to come to me. The Count came waddling in to see his wife with a rather guilty look as usual.  I tasted it. The thousand rubles I'd paid for Taras were not ill-spent. He is worth it. He's down by his wife, his elbows on his knees and his hands ruffling his grey hair. What are your commands, little Countess? You see, my dear, what's that mess, she said, pointing to his waistcoat? It's the saute, most likely, she added with a smile. Well, you see, Count. I want some money. Her face became sad.  I want a great deal, Count. I want five hundred rubles. And taking out her cambrick 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 Dimitri to me. Dimitri, 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 differential 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 tired and dirty notes as last time, but nice and clean ones for the Countess. Yes, Dimitri, clean ones, please," said the Countess, sighing deeply. When would you like them, Your Excellency? asked Dimitri.  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.  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 impossible. Ah, money, Count, money! How much sorrow it causes in the world, said the Countess. But I am in great need of this sum.  When Anna Mikolovna returned from Count Bezukov's The Money, all in clean notes was lying ready under a handkerchief on the Countess's little table, and Anna Mikolovna noticed that something was agitating her. Well, my dear, ask the Countess. Ah, 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 Mikolovna instantly gassed her intention and stopped to be ready to embrace the Countess at the appropriate moment. This is for Boris from me for his outfit. Anna Mikolovna was already embracing her and weeping. The Countess wept too. They wept because they were friends and because they were kind-hearted 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. End of chapter. War and Peace, book one, chapter 18, read for LibriVox.org by Gemma Blythe. Countess Rosteva, with her daughters and a large number of guests, was already seated in the drawing room. The Count took the gentleman into his study and showed them his Joyce Collection of Turkish Pipes. From time to time he went out to ask, hasn't she come yet? They were expecting Maria, Demitrievna, Argorozamova, known in society as the Terrible Dragon, a lady distinguished not for wealth or rank, but for common sense and frank plainness of speech. Maria Demitrievna was known to the imperial family, as well as to our Moscow and Petersburg, and both cities wandered at her, laughed privately at her rudenesses and told good stories about her, while nonetheless, all without exception, respected and feared her. In the council room, which was full of tobacco smoke, they talked of 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.  This was an old bachelor, a shingin, a cousin of the Countess, a man with a sharp tongue as they said in Moscow's 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 and rings. This was Lieutenant Berg, an officer in the Semenov Regiment with whom Varus was to travel to join the army and about whom Natasha had teased her elder sister Vera, speaking of Berg, as her intended. The Count sat between them and listened attentively. His favorite occupation was not playing Boston, a card game. He was very fond of, was that of listener, especially when he succeeded in setting to the quacious talkers at one another. Well then, old chap, montre honorable Alfons Karlovich, said shingin, laughing ironically and mixing the most ordinary Russian expressions with the choicest French phrases, which was a peculiarity of his speech. You would like to make an income out of the government? You want to make something out of your company? No, Peter Nikolayevich. 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 Nikolayevich. Berg always spoke quietly, politely and with great precision his conversation and I was 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 the 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 Nikolayevich. For I in the cavalry I should get not more than 200 rubles every four months even with the rank of lieutenant. But as it is, I receive 230, said he, looking at Jinjin in 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 Nikolayevich, 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 230 rubles. I even managed to put a little side and to send something to my father. He went on, emitting a smoke ring. Le balance est, so that squares matters. A German knows how to skin a flint as the proverb says remark Jinjin, moving his pipe to the other side of his mouth and winking at the count. The count burst out laughing. The other guests seeing that Jinjin was talking came up to listen. Berg, oblivious of irony or indifference, continued to explain, and by exchanging into the guards he had already gained a step on his old comrades of the Kedetkor. 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 naivete 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 Jinjin, patting him on the shoulder and taking his feet off the sofa. Berg smiled joyously. The count, 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 Zacusco avoid engaging in any long conversation. But they get necessary to move about and talk in order to show that they are not at all impatient for their food. The host and the hostess looked at the door and now in their glance they did one another and the visitors tried to guess from these glances who or what they are waiting for. Some important relation was not yet arrived or a dish that is not yet ready. Yeah, it's just come at dinner time and was sitting awkwardly in the middle of the drawing room on the first chair he had come across locking the way for everyone. The countess tried to make him dark but he went on naively 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. We, madame, replied he looking around him. You have not yet seen my husband. No, madame, he smiled quite inappropriately. You have been embarrassed recently, I believe. I suppose it's very interesting. Very interesting. The countess exchanged glances with Anna Mikolovna and later 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 Razumovskis, it was charming. You are very kind. Countess Aproxena was heard on all sides. The countess rose and went into the wall room. Maria Dimutrivna came her voice from there. Her self came the answer in a rough voice and Maria Dimutrivna entered the room. All the unmarried ladies and even the married ones except the very oldest rose. Maria Dimutrivna paused at the door. Tall and stout, holding an eye of 50-year-old Ed with its gray curls, she stood surveying the guests and leisurely arranged her wide sleeves as if rolling them up. Maria Dimutrivna 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-tone voice which drowned all others. Well, you old sinner, she went to hunt turning to the count who was kissing her hand. You're feeling dull in Moscow? I dare say nowhere to hunt with your dogs. And what is to be done, old man? Just see how these nestlings are growing up and she pointed to the curls. You must look for husbands for them whether you like it or not. Well said she. How's my cossack? Maria Dimutrivna always called Natasha a cossack.  I know she's a scamp of a girl but I like her. She took a pair of pair-shaped ruby earrings from her huge reticule and having given them to the rosy Natasha who beamed with the pleasure of his insta-fit turned away at once and addressed herself to Pierre. A friend, Camilla Bitt, said she, assuming a soft-eyed donor voice, Camilla, my friend, and she ominously tucked up her sleeve still higher. Pierre approached, looking at her in a childlike way through his spectacles. Camilla, Camilla, 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 was 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 as dry to bear, for James, for James, 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 Maya Dimitrina. The count went in first with Maya Dimitrina. The countess followed on the arm of a colonel of us. A man of importance to them because Nicholas was to go with him to the regiment. Then came Anna Mikhailovna with Chin Chin. Burg gave his arm to Vera. The smiling Julie Keregina went in with Nicholas. After them other couples followed, filling the old dining hall and last of all the children, tutors and governesses followed singly. The footmen began moving about, chairs scraped, the bands 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 set the countess with Maya Dimitrina on her right and Anna Mikhailovna on her left. The other lady visitors were farther down. At the other end set the count with the hustle of the colonel on his left and Chin Chin and the other male visitors on his right. Midway down the long table on one side set the grown-up young people, Vera beside Berg and Pierre beside Boris and on the other side the children, tutors and governesses from behind the crystal decanters and root-fosses the Count kept glancing at his wife and her tall cap with its light blue ribbons and busily filled his neighbor's glasses not neglecting his own. The Countess, in turn, without omitting her duties as hostess through significant glances from behind the pineapples at her husband, whose face and bald head seemed by their redness to contrials more than usual with his gray hair. At the lady's 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 us who, growing more and more flushed, but the Count held him up as a pattern to the other guests. Berg with tender smiles was saying to Vera that love is not an earthly but a heavenly feeling. Boris was telling his new friend Pierre who the guests were and exchanging glances with Natasha who was sitting opposite. Pierre spoke little but examined the new faces and ate a great deal. Of the two soups he went on to the game without omitting a single dish or one of the wines. These latter, the buttlet 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 rank with enjoyment gazing with ever-increasing amiability at the other guests. Natasha, who sat opposite was looking at Boris as girls of thirteen look at the boy they're 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 Doom, he was again talking with the same involuntary smile so on your wall company smile but was evidently demented by jealousy. Now she turned pale, now blushed and strained every noir of doom every year what Nicholas and Julie were saying to one another. The governors kept looking round uneasily as if preparing to resent any slight that might be put upon the children. The German Deuter was trying to remember 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. End of chapter 18 War and Peace Book 1, Chapter 19 Read for LibriVox.org by alexfoster.me.uk 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 juicer were going to fight Bonaparte? remarked Shinchin. He has stopped Austria's crackle 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 Shinchin's remarks. It is for the reason, my good sir, said he speaking with a German accent, for the reason that the emperor knows that. He declares in his manifesto that he cannot view his indifference the danger frightening Russia and that's the safety and dignity of the empire as well as the 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 characterised him he repeated from the opening words of the manifesto. And the vish which constitutes the emperor's soul and absolute aim to establish peace in Europe on firm foundations has now decided him to dispatch the army aboard and to create a new condition for the attainment of that purpose. That, my dear sir, is why he concluded, drinking a tumbler of wine with dignity and looking to the count for approval. Connoissez-vous le proverbe? Jerome, Jerome, do not roam but turn spindles at home, said Shinchin, suckering his brows and smiling. Cela nous convient à merveille. Suvorov now, he knew what he was about yet they beat him a plat couture and where do we find Suvorov's now? Je vous demande un peu, said he continually changing from French to Russian. They must fight to the last drop of our blood said the colonel thumping the table and they must tie for our emperor and then all will be fell. They must discuss it as little as possible. He dwelt particularly on the word possible as possible he ended again turning to the count. That is how the old Hussars look at it and there's an end to it. And how do you, a young man and a young Hussar, how do you judge 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 wine-glass 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. Sonia trembled all over and blushed to her ears and behind them and down to her neck and shoulders 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? Maria Dimitrievna'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 the 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, Maria Dimitrievna, 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 Maria Dimitrievna's deep voice which easily carried the whole length of the table. That's true. Just more the conversations concentrated, the ladies at one end and the men's at the other. You won't ask, Natasha's little brother was saying, I know you won't ask. I will, replied Natasha. 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, Mama rang out the clear contralto notes of her childish voice, audible the whole length of the table. 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. Mama, what sweets are we going to have? And Natasha's voice sounded still more firm and resolute. The countess tried to frown but could not.  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. Mama, what sweets are we going to have? Natasha again cried boldly with saucy gaity, confident that her prank would be taken in good part.  You see, I have asked, whispered Natasha to her little brother glancing at him again. Ice pudding, but you won't get any, said Maria Dimitrievna. Natasha saw there was nothing to be afraid of and so she braved even Maria Dimitrievna. Maria Dimitrievna, what kind of ice pudding? I don't like ice cream. Carrot ices. No! What kind, Maria Dimitrievna? What kind? She almost screamed. I want to know! Maria Dimitrievna and the countess were laughing and all the guests joined in. Everyone laughed, not at Maria Dimitrievna's answer but at the incredible boldness and smartness of this little girl who had dared treat Maria Dimitrievna in this fashion. Natasha only dissisted 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 crossed 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. End of Chapter 19 Recorded in Nottingham, England by Alex Foster www.alexfoster.me.uk on the 18th of July 2006. War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy www.alexfoster.me.uk www.alexfoster.me.uk Chapter 20 Book 1 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 and some in the library. The count, holding his cards fan-wise, kept himself with difficulty from dropping into his usual after-dinner nap and laughed at everything. The young people at the countess's instigation gathered around the clavichord and harp. Julie, by general request, played first. After she had played a little air with variations on the harp she joined with the other young ladies in begging Natasha and Nicholas who were noted for their musical talent to sing something. Natasha, 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. Boris, come here, said Natasha. But where is Sonia? She looked around and seeing that her friend was not in the room ran to look for her. Running into Sonia's room and not finding her there, Natasha ran to the nursery but Sonia was not there either. Natasha concluded that she must be on the chest in the passage.  Natasha's face which had been so radiantly happy all that saint's day suddenly changed.  Sonia, what is it? What is the matter? Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!  Sonia tried to lift her head to answer but could not and hid her face still deeper in the bed. Natasha wept sitting on the blue-striped feather bed and hugging her friend.  It's all very well for you I I'm not envious I love you and Boris 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 Mama Sonia looked upon the cantes as her mother and called her so that I am spoiling Nicholas's career and I'm heartless and ungrateful well truly God is my witness and she made the sign of the cross I love her so much and all of you only Vera and what for what have I done to her I'm so grateful to you that I would willingly sacrifice everything only I have nothing Sonia could not continue and again hit her face in her hands and in the feather bed Natasha began consoling her but her face showed that she understood all the gravity of her friend's trouble Sonia she suddenly exclaimed as if she had guessed the true reason of her friend's sorrow I'm sure Vera 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 Mama and that I was ungrateful and that Mama will never allow him to marry me so it's been with her all day Natasha what have I done to deserve it and again she began to sob more bitterly than before Natasha lifted her up hugged her and smiling through her tears began comforting her Sonia 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 Shinchin's brother has married his first cousin and we are only second cousins you know and Boris says it's quite possible you know I have told him all about it and he is so clever and so good said Natasha don't you cry Sonia dear love darling Sonia and she kissed her and laughed Vera's spiteful never mind her looking to mama Nicholas will tell her himself and he doesn't care at all for Julie Natasha kissed her on the hair Sonia sat up the little kitten brightened its eyes shone and it seemed ready to lift its tail jump down upon its soft paws and begin playing with the ball of worsted as a kitten should do you do you think so really truly she said quickly smoothing her frock and hair really truly answered Natasha 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 Natasha stopping suddenly I feel so happy and she set off her to run along the passage Sonia 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 Natasha down the passage into the sitting-room with flushed face and light joyous steps at the visitor's request the young people send the quartet, the brook with which everyone was delighted and then Nicholas sang a song he had just learned at night time in the moon's fair glow her 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 the lee it is for thee thus swells her heart sighing its message out to thee a day or two then bliss unspoiled but oh 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 Shinchin 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 Natasha came in and walking straight up to Pierre said laughing and blushing Mama told me to ask you to join the dancers I'm 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 Natasha 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 Natasha Natasha blushed and laughed well, really, Mama why should you? what is there to be surprised at? in the midst of the third écoce there was a clutter of chairs being pushed back in the sitting-room with the count and Maria Dimitrievna 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 Maria Dimitrievna and the count both with merry countenances the count with playful ceremony somewhat in ballet style offered his bent arm to Maria Dimitrievna he drew himself up as a smile of debonair gantry lit up his face and as soon as the last figure of the écocese was ended he clapped his hands to the musicians and shouted up to the gallery addressing the first violin Simon, do you know the Daniel Cooper? this was the count's favourite dance which he had danced in his youth strictly speaking Daniel Cooper was one figure of the anglaise look at papa shouted Natasha to the whole company and quite forgetting she was dancing with a grown-up partner she bent her curly head to the knees and made the whole room ring with her laughter and indeed everyone in the room looked with a smile of pleasure at the jovial old gentleman who standing behind his tall stout partner Dimitrievna 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, her regular eagly 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 Maria Dimitrievna 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 Maria Dimitrievna 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 Maria Dimitrievna Natasha 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 and faster lightly, more lightly and yet more lightly well to the Count flying around Maria Dimitrievna now on his toes, now on his heels until turning his partner round to her seat he executed the final part 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 Natasha both partners stood still breathing heavily and wiping their faces with their cambric handkerchiefs that's how we used to dance in our time, Mashaher said the Count that was a Daniel Cooper exclaimed Maria Dimitrievna tucking up her sleeves and puffing heavily end of chapter 20 recorded in Nottingham, England on the 18th of July 2006 by Alex Foster www.alexfoster.me.uk war and peace on chapter 21 read for LibriVox.org by Miet of Miet's Bedtime Story podcast while in the Rostov's ballroom the sixth on glaze was being danced to a tune in which the weary musicians blundered and while tired footmen and cooks were getting the supper Count Bezhukov hard 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 waiting in expectation of an important order for an expensive funeral the military governor of Moscow who had been assiduous in sending AIDS to comp to inquire after the Count's health came himself that evening to bid a last farewell to the family of Catherine's court Count Bezhukov 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 from the glances fixed on him by the doctors clergy and relatives of the family Prince Varsely, 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 Varsely 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 fright and eyes went with unusually hurried steps down the long corridor leading to the buck of the house to the room of the eldest princess those who were in a dimly lit reception room spoke in nervous whispers and whenever anyone went in to or came from the dying man's room grew silent engaged 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 overpassed said an old priest to a lady who had taken a seat beside him and was listening to his words 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 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 recognises anyone they wished to administer a sacrament of unction I knew someone who received that sacrament seven times the second princess had just come from the sick room with her eyes red from weeping and sat down beside Dr. Lorraine 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 were one were in the country replied the princess with a sigh so he may have something to drink Lorraine 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 there has never been a case a German doctor was saying to an eddy camp that one lifts after dessert struck and what a well-preserved man he was remarked the eddy camp and who will inherit his wealth he uttered in a whisper eat, don'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 Lorraine's instructions the German doctor went up to Lorraine do you think he can lost till morning asked the German addressing Lorraine in French which he pronounced badly Lorraine piercing up his lips nearly 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 stare to the patient's condition meanwhile Prince Varsely had opened the door into the princess's 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 pastiles the room was crowded with small pieces of furniture what knots, cupboards and little tables the quilt of a high white feather bed was just visible behind the 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 cartiche what did the prince suiting himself wearily on the chair just vacated you've made the place warm I must say he remarked well sit down let's have a talk 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 my Cousin but I can't well my dear said Prince Vasily 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 Vasily 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 Vasily 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 a very serious talk Prince Vasily 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 up the next glance round the princess holding her little dog on her lap with her thin bony hands looked atectively into Prince Vasily'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 Seminovna continued Prince Vasily returning to his theme of 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 you know the princess continued to look at him without moving and with the same dull expression and of course my family has also to be considered Prince Vasily went on testily pushing away a little table without looking at her you know Katesh that we you three sisters Mamantov 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 nothing do you know I have sent for Pierre the couch pointing to his portrait definitely demanded that he should be called Prince Vasily 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 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 Vasily 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 of course his directirs but to Pierre he has made wills enough quietly remarked the princess but he cannot leave the estate to Pierre Pierre is legitimate but my dear said Prince Vasily 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 legitimitation 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 Vasily 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 Vasily sighed to intimate what he met 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 legitimate sun and our share os the princess smiling ironically as if anything might happen only not that but my poor catish 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 sardonyically 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 oh bastard she added as if supposing that the translation of the word would effectively prove to Prince Fusley the invalidity of his contention well really Cartiche 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 Bezucov 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 etuski sans suite that's certain 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 are supposing they are saying something witty and stinging my dear princess Catherine Semenovna began Prince Fusley impatiently I came here not to wrangle with you but to talk about your interests as with a kinswoman a good, true relation and I tell you for the next time that if the letter to the emperor under the will and Pierre's favor are among the Count's papers then my dear girl you and your sisters are not arises if you don't believe me then believe an expert I have just been talking to Dmitry Onufrich the family solicitor and he says the same are this a sudden change evidently took place in the princess's 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 suspect that would be a fine thing said she I never wanted anything and I don't know 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 Fassily 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 in gratitude the blackest in gratitude in this house do you or do you not know where that will is insisted Prince Fassily his cheeks twitching more than ever yes I was a fool I still believed in people I 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 it was all done casually in a moment of anger of illness and 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 let him die feeling 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 honour nor justice in this world one has to be cunning and cruel now come come be reasonable I know your excellent heart now 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 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 wished to destroy it you understand that my soul desire is conscientiously to carry out his wishes that 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 who cried the princess that's not the point my dear that's that protégé of yours that sweet princess Droubert Skyer that Anna Mikhailovna with whom I would not take for the housemaid the infamous vile woman do not let us lose any time don't talk to me last winter she weedled 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 that he wrote this vile infamous paper but I thought the thing was invalid we've got to do 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 scene a great scene 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 end of talk