Chapter 4

           

           Justthenanothervisitorenteredthedrawingroom:PrinceAndrewBolkónski,thelittleprincess’husband.Hewasaveryhandsomeyoungman,ofmediumheight,withfirm,clearcutfeatures.Everythingabouthim,fromhisweary,boredexpressiontohisquiet,measuredstep,offeredamoststrikingcontrasttohisquiet,littlewife.Itwasevidentthathenotonlykneweveryoneinthedrawingroom,buthadfoundthemtobesotiresomethatitweariedhimtolookatorlistentothem.Andamongallthesefacesthathefoundsotedious,noneseemedtoborehimsomuchasthatofhisprettywife.Heturnedawayfromherwithagrimacethatdistortedhishandsomeface,kissedAnnaPávlovna’shand,andscrewinguphiseyesscannedthewholecompany.

           “Youareofftothewar,Prince?”saidAnnaPávlovna.

           “GeneralKutúzov,”saidBolkónski,speakingFrenchandstressingthelastsyllableofthegeneral’snamelikeaFrenchman,“hasbeenpleasedtotakemeasanaide-de-camp....”

           “AndLise,yourwife?”

           “Shewillgotothecountry.”

           “Areyounotashamedtodepriveusofyourcharmingwife?”

           “André,”saidhiswife,addressingherhusbandinthesamecoquettishmannerinwhichshespoketoothermen,“thevicomtehasbeentellingussuchataleaboutMademoiselleGeorgeandBuonaparte!”

           PrinceAndrewscreweduphiseyesandturnedaway.Pierre,whofromthemomentPrinceAndrewenteredtheroomhadwatchedhimwithglad,affectionateeyes,nowcameupandtookhisarm.

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