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At that time, as always happens, the highest society that
met at court and at the grand balls was divided into several circles,
each with its own particular tone. The largest of these was the
French circle of the Napoleonic alliance, the circle of Count
Rumyantsev and Caulaincourt. In this group Helene, as soon as
she had settled in Petersburg with her husband, took a very prominent
place. She was visited by the members of the French embassy and
by many belonging to that circle and noted for their intellect
and polished manners.
Helene had been at Erfurt during the famous meeting of the
Emperors and had brought from there these connections with the
Napoleonic notabilities. At Erfurt her success had been brilliant.
Napoleon himself had noticed her in the theater and said of her:
"C'est un superbe animal."* Her success as a beautiful
and elegant woman did not surprise Pierre, for she had become
even handsomer than before. What did surprise him was that during
these last two years his wife had succeeded in gaining the reputation
"d' une femme charmante, aussi spirituelle que belle."*[2]
The distinguished Prince de Ligne wrote her eight-page letters.
Bilibin saved up his epigrams to produce them in Countess Bezukhova's
presence. To be received in the Countess Bezukhova's salon was
regarded as a diploma of intellect. Young men read books before
attending Helene's evenings, to have something to say in her salon,
and secretaries of the embassy, and even ambassadors, confided
diplomatic secrets to her, so that in a way Helene was a power.
Pierre, who knew she was very stupid, sometimes attended, with
a strange feeling of perplexity and fear, her evenings and dinner
parties, where politics, poetry, and philosophy were discussed.
At these parties his feelings were like those of a conjuror who
always expects his trick to be found out at any moment. But whether
because stupidity was just what was needed to run such a salon,
or because those who were deceived found pleasure in the deception,
at any rate it remained unexposed and Helene Bezukhova's reputation
as a lovely and clever woman became so firmly established that
she could say the emptiest and stupidest things and everybody
would go into raptures over every word of hers and look for a
profound meaning in it of which she herself had no conception.
*"That's a superb animal."
*[2] "Of a charming woman, as witty as she is lovely."
Pierre was just the husband needed for a brilliant society
woman. He was that absent-minded crank, a grand seigneur husband
who was in no one's way, and far from spoiling the high tone and
general impression of the drawing room, he served, by the contrast
he presented to her, as an advantageous background to his elegant
and tactful wife. Pierre during the last two years, as a result
of his continual absorption in abstract interests and his sincere
contempt for all else, had acquired in his wife's circle, which
did not interest him, that air of unconcern, indifference, and
benevolence toward all, which cannot be acquired artificially
and therefore inspires involuntary respect. He entered his wife's
drawing room as one enters a theater, was acquainted with everybody,
equally pleased to see everyone, and equally indifferent to them
all. Sometimes he joined in a conversation which interested him
and, regardless of whether any "gentlemen of the embassy"
were present or not, lispingly expressed his views, which were
sometimes not at all in accord with the accepted tone of the moment.
But the general opinion concerning the queer husband of "the
most distinguished woman in Petersburg" was so well established
that no one took his freaks seriously.
Among the many young men who frequented her house every day,
Boris Drubetskoy, who had already achieved great success in the
service, was the most intimate friend of the Bezukhov household
since Helene's return from Erfurt. Helene spoke of him as "mon
page" and treated him like a child. Her smile for him was
the same as for everybody, but sometimes that smile made Pierre
uncomfortable. Toward him Boris behaved with a particularly dignified
and sad deference. This shade of deference also disturbed Pierre.
He had suffered so painfully three years before from the mortification
to which his wife had subjected him that he now protected himself
from the danger of its repetition, first by not being a husband
to his wife, and secondly by not allowing himself to suspect.
"No, now that she has become a bluestocking she has finally
renounced her former infatuations," he told himself. "There
has never been an instance of a bluestocking being carried away
by affairs of the heart"- a statement which, though gathered
from an unknown source, he believed implicitly. Yet strange to
say Boris' presence in his wife's drawing room (and he was almost
always there) had a physical effect upon Pierre; it constricted
his limbs and destroyed the unconsciousness and freedom of his
movements.
"What a strange antipathy," thought Pierre, "yet
I used to like him very much."
In the eyes of the world Pierre was a great gentleman, the
rather blind and absurd husband of a distinguished wife, a clever
crank who did nothing but harmed nobody and was a first-rate,
good-natured fellow. But a complex and difficult process of internal
development was taking place all this time in Pierre's soul, revealing
much to him and causing him many spiritual doubts and joys.
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