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When Pierre and his wife entered the drawing room the countess
was in one of her customary states in which she needed the mental
exertion of playing patience, and so- though by force of habit
she greeted him with the words she always used when Pierre or
her son returned after an absence: "High time, my dear, high
time! We were all weary of waiting for you. Well, thank God!"
and received her presents with another customary remark: "It's
not the gift that's precious, my dear, but that you give it to
me, an old woman..."- yet it was evident that she was not
pleased by Pierre's arrival at that moment when it diverted her
attention from the unfinished game.
She finished her game of patience and only then examined the
presents. They consisted of a box for cards, of splendid workmanship,
a bright-blue Sevres tea cup with shepherdesses depicted on it
and with a lid, and a gold snuffbox with the count's portrait
on the lid which Pierre had had done by a miniaturist in Petersburg.
The countess had long wished for such a box, but as she did not
want to cry just then she glanced indifferently at the portrait
and gave her attention chiefly to the box for cards.
"Thank you, my dear, you have cheered me up," said
she as she always did. "But best of all you have brought
yourself back- for I never saw anything like it, you ought to
give your wife a scolding! What are
we to do with her? She is like a mad woman when you are away.
Doesn't see anything, doesn't remember anything," she went
on, repeating her usual phrases. "Look, Anna Timofeevna,"
she added to her companion, "see what a box for cards my
son has brought us!"
Belova admired the presents and was delighted with her dress
material.
Though Pierre, Natasha, Nicholas, Countess Mary, and Denisov
had much to talk about that they could not discuss before the
old countess- not that anything was hidden from her, but because
she had dropped so far behindhand in many things that had they
begun to converse in her presence they would have had to answer
inopportune questions and to repeat what they had already told
her many times: that so-and-so was dead and so-and-so was married,
which she would again be unable to remember- yet they sat at tea
round the samovar in the drawing room from habit, and Pierre answered
the countess' questions as to whether Prince Vasili had aged and
whether Countess Mary Alexeevna had sent greetings and still thought
of them, and other matters that interested no one and to which
she herself was indifferent.
Conversation of this kind, interesting to no one yet unavoidable,
continued all through teatime. All the grown-up members of the
family were assembled near the round tea table at which Sonya
presided beside the samovar. The children with their tutors and
governesses had had tea and their voices were audible from the
next room. At tea all sat in their accustomed places: Nicholas
beside the stove at a small table where his tea was handed to
him; Milka, the old gray borzoi bitch (daughter of the first Milka),
with a quite gray face and large black eyes that seemed more prominent
than ever, lay on the armchair beside him; Denisov, whose curly
hair, mustache, and whiskers had turned half gray, sat beside
countess Mary with his general's tunic unbuttoned; Pierre sat
between his wife and the old countess. He spoke of what he knew
might interest the old lady and that she could understand. He
told her of external social events and of the people who had formed
the circle of her contemporaries and had once been a real, living,
and distinct group, but who were now for the most part scattered
about the world and like herself were garnering the last ears
of the harvests they had sown in earlier years. But to the old
countess those contemporaries of hers seemed to be the only serious
and real society. Natasha saw by Pierre's animation that his visit
had been interesting and that he had much to tell them but dare
not say it before the old countess. Denisov, not being a member
of the family, did not understand Pierre's caution and being,
as a malcontent, much interested in what was occurring in Petersburg,
kept urging Pierre to tell them about what had happened in the
Semenovsk regiment, then about Arakcheev, and then about the Bible
Society. Once or twice Pierre was carried away and began to speak
of these things, but Nicholas and Natasha always brought him back
to the health of Prince Ivan and Countess Mary Alexeevna.
"Well, and all this idiocy- Gossner and Tatawinova?"
Denisov asked. "Is that weally still going on?"
"Going on?" Pierre exclaimed. "Why more than
ever! The Bible Society is the whole government now!"
"What is that, mon cher ami?" asked the countess,
who had finished her tea and evidently needed a pretext for being
angry after her meal. "What are you saying about the government?
I don't understand."
"Well, you know, Maman," Nicholas interposed, knowing
how to translate things into his mother's language, "Prince
Alexander Golitsyn has founded a society and in consequence has
great influence, they say."
"Arakcheev and Golitsyn," incautiously remarked
Pierre, "are now the whole government! And what a government!
They see treason everywhere and are afraid of everything."
"Well, and how is Prince Alexander to blame? He is a
most estimable man. I used to meet him at Mary Antonovna's,"
said the countess in an offended tone; and still more offended
that they all remained silent, she went on: "Nowadays everyone
finds fault. A Gospel Society! Well, and what harm is there in
that?" and she rose (everybody else got up too) and with
a severe expression sailed back to her table in the sitting room.
The melancholy silence that followed was broken by the sounds
of the children's voices and laughter from the next room. Evidently
some jolly excitement was going on there.
"Finished, finished!" little Natasha's gleeful yell
rose above them all.
Pierre exchanged glances with Countess Mary and Nicholas (Natasha
he never lost sight of) and smiled happily.
"That's delightful music!" said he.
"It means that Anna Makarovna has finished her stocking,"
said Countess Mary.
"Oh, I'll go and see," said Pierre, jumping up.
"You know," he added, stopping at the door, "why
I'm especially fond of that music? It is always the first thing
that tells me all is well. When I was driving here today, the
nearer I got to the house the more anxious I grew. As I entered
the anteroom I heard Andrusha's peals of laughter and that meant
that all was well."
"I know! I know that feeling," said Nicholas. "But
I mustn't go there- those stockings are to be a surprise for me."
Pierre went to the children, and the shouting and laughter
grew still louder.
"Come, Anna Makarovna," Pierre's voice was heard
saying, "come here into the middle of the room and at the
word of command, 'One, two,' and when I say 'three'... You stand
here, and you in my arms- well now! One, two!..." said Pierre,
and a silence followed: "three!" and a rapturously breathless
cry of children's voices filled the room. "Two, two!"
they shouted.
This meant two stockings, which by a secret process known
only to herself Anna Makarovna used to knit at the same time on
the same needles, and which, when they were ready, she always
triumphantly drew, one out of the other, in the children's presence.
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