Chapter 23

           

           Pierrewellknewthislargeroomdividedbycolumnsandanarch,itswallshungroundwithPersiancarpets.Thepartoftheroombehindthecolumns,withahighsilk-curtainedmahoganybedsteadononesideandontheotheranimmensecasecontainingicons,wasbrightlyilluminatedwithredlightlikeaRussianchurchduringeveningservice.Underthegleamingiconsstoodalonginvalidchair,andinthatchaironsnowy-whitesmoothpillows,evidentlyfreshlychanged,Pierresaw—coveredtothewaistbyabrightgreenquilt—thefamiliar,majesticfigureofhisfather,CountBezúkhov,withthatgraymaneofhairabovehisbroadforeheadwhichremindedoneofalion,andthedeepcharacteristicallynoblewrinklesofhishandsome,ruddyface.Helayjustundertheicons;hislargethickhandsoutsidethequilt.Intotherighthand,whichwaslyingpalmdownwards,awaxtaperhadbeenthrustbetweenforefingerandthumb,andanoldservant,bendingoverfrombehindthechair,helditinposition.Bythechairstoodthepriests,theirlonghairfallingovertheirmagnificentglitteringvestments,withlightedtapersintheirhands,slowlyandsolemnlyconductingtheservice.Alittlebehindthemstoodthetwoyoungerprincessesholdinghandkerchiefstotheireyes,andjustinfrontofthemtheireldestsister,Catiche,withaviciousanddeterminedlooksteadilyfixedontheicons,asthoughdeclaringtoallthatshecouldnotanswerforherselfshouldsheglanceround.AnnaMikháylovna,withameek,sorrowful,andall-forgivingexpressiononherface,stoodbythedoornearthestrangelady.

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