WAR AND PEACE - Complete 15 Volume Edition. Leo Tolstoy

Oh, she is a pearl among women, Princess,” he added, turning to Princess Mary.

      When Paris was mentioned, Mademoiselle Bourienne for her part seized the opportunity of joining in the general current of recollections.

      She took the liberty of inquiring whether it was long since Anatole had left Paris and how he had liked that city. Anatole answered the Frenchwoman very readily and, looking at her with a smile, talked to her about her native land. When he saw the pretty little Bourienne, Anatole came to the conclusion that he would not find Bald Hills dull either. “Not at all bad!” he thought, examining her, “not at all bad, that little companion! I hope she will bring her along with her when we’re married, la petite est gentille.” *

      * The little one is charming.

       The old prince dressed leisurely in his study, frowning and considering what he was to do. The coming of these visitors annoyed him. “What are Prince Vasili and that son of his to me? Prince Vasili is a shallow braggart and his son, no doubt, is a fine specimen,” he grumbled to himself. What angered him was that the coming of these visitors revived in his mind an unsettled question he always tried to stifle, one about which he always deceived himself. The question was whether he could ever bring himself to part from his daughter and give her to a husband. The prince never directly asked himself that question, knowing beforehand that he would have to answer it justly, and justice clashed not only with his feelings but with the very possibility of life. Life without Princess Mary, little as he seemed to value her, was unthinkable to him. “And why should she marry?” he thought. “To be unhappy for certain. There’s Lise, married to Andrew—a better husband one would think could hardly be found nowadays—but is she contented with her lot? And who would marry Marie for love? Plain and awkward! They’ll take her for her connections and wealth. Are there no women living unmarried, and even the happier for it?” So thought Prince Bolkonski while dressing, and yet the question he was always putting off demanded an immediate answer. Prince Vasili had brought his son with the evident intention of proposing, and today or tomorrow he would probably ask for an answer. His birth and position in society were not bad. “Well, I’ve nothing against it,” the prince said to himself, “but he must be worthy of her. And that is what we shall see.”

      “That is what we shall see! That is what we shall see!” he added aloud.

      He entered the drawing room with his usual alert step, glancing rapidly round the company. He noticed the change in the little princess’ dress, Mademoiselle Bourienne’s ribbon, Princess Mary’s unbecoming coiffure, Mademoiselle Bourienne’s and Anatole’s smiles, and the loneliness of his daughter amid the general conversation. “Got herself up like a fool!” he thought, looking irritably at her. “She is shameless, and he ignores her!”

      He went straight up to Prince Vasili.

      “Well! How d’ye do? How d’ye do? Glad to see you!”

      “Friendship laughs at distance,” began Prince Vasili in his usual rapid, self-confident, familiar tone. “Here is my second son; please love and befriend him.”

      Prince Bolkonski surveyed Anatole.

      “Fine young fellow! Fine young fellow!” he said. “Well, come and kiss me,” and he offered his cheek.

      Anatole kissed the old man, and looked at him with curiosity and perfect composure, waiting for a display of the eccentricities his father had told him to expect.

      Prince Bolkonski sat down in his usual place in the corner of the sofa and, drawing up an armchair for Prince Vasili, pointed to it and began questioning him about political affairs and news. He seemed to listen attentively to what Prince Vasili said, but kept glancing at Princess Mary.

      “And so they are writing from Potsdam already?” he said, repeating Prince Vasili’s last words. Then rising, he suddenly went up to his daughter.

      “Is it for visitors you’ve got yourself up like that, eh?” said he. “Fine, very fine! You have done up your hair in this new way for the visitors, and before the visitors I tell you that in future you are never to dare to change your way of dress without my consent.”

      “It was my fault, mon pere,” interceded the little princess, with a blush.

      “You must do as you please,” said Prince Bolkonski, bowing to his daughter-in-law, “but she need not make a fool of herself, she’s plain enough as it is.”

      And he sat down again, paying no more attention to his daughter, who was reduced to tears.

      “On the contrary, that coiffure suits the princess very well,” said Prince Vasili.

      “Now you, young prince, what’s your name?” said Prince Bolkonski, turning to Anatole, “come here, let us talk and get acquainted.”

      “Now the fun begins,” thought Anatole, sitting down with a smile beside the old prince.

      “Well, my dear boy, I hear you’ve been educated abroad, not taught to read and write by the deacon, like your father and me. Now tell me, my dear boy, are you serving in the Horse Guards?” asked the old man, scrutinizing Anatole closely and intently.

      “No, I have been transferred to the line,” said Anatole, hardly able to restrain his laughter.

      “Ah! That’s a good thing. So, my dear boy, you wish to serve the Tsar and the country? It is wartime. Such a fine fellow must serve. Well, are you off to the front?”

      “No, Prince, our regiment has gone to the front, but I am attached… what is it I am attached to, Papa?” said Anatole, turning to his father with a laugh.

      “A splendid soldier, splendid! ‘What am I attached to!’ Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Prince Bolkonski, and Anatole laughed still louder. Suddenly Prince Bolkonski frowned.

      “You may go,” he said to Anatole.

      Anatole returned smiling to the ladies.

      “And so you’ve had him educated abroad, Prince Vasili, haven’t you?” said the old prince to Prince Vasili.

      “I have done my best for him, and I can assure you the education there is much better than ours.”

      “Yes, everything is different nowadays, everything is changed. The lad’s a fine fellow, a fine fellow! Well, come with me now.” He took Prince Vasili’s arm and led him to his study. As soon as they were alone together, Prince Vasili announced his hopes and wishes to the old prince.

      “Well, do you think I shall prevent her, that I can’t part from her?” said the old prince angrily. “What an idea! I’m ready for it tomorrow! Only let me tell you, I want to know my son-in-law better. You know my principles—everything aboveboard? I will ask her tomorrow in your presence; if she is willing, then he can stay on. He can stay and I’ll see.” The old prince snorted. “Let her marry, it’s all the same to me!” he screamed in the same piercing tone as when parting from his son.

      “I will tell you frankly,” said Prince Vasili in the tone of a crafty man convinced of the futility of being cunning with so keen-sighted companion. “You know, you see right through people. Anatole is no genius, but he is an honest, goodhearted lad; an excellent son or kinsman.”

      “All right, all right, we’ll see!”

      As always happens when women lead lonely lives for any length of time without male society, on Anatole’s appearance all the three women of Prince Bolkonski’s household felt that their life had not been real till then. Their powers of reasoning, feeling, and observing immediately increased tenfold, and their life, which seemed to have been passed in darkness, was suddenly lit up by a new brightness, full of significance.

      Princess Mary grew quite unconscious of her face and coiffure. The handsome open face of the man who might perhaps be her husband absorbed all her attention. He seemed to her kind, brave, determined, manly, and magnanimous. She felt convinced of that. Thousands of dreams of a future family life continually rose in her imagination. She drove them away and tried to conceal them.

      “But