Війна і мир

Chapter 2

           

           “TellBezúkhovtocome.I’llputhisnamedown.Ishiswifewithhim?”heasked.

           AnnaMikháylovnaturneduphereyes,andprofoundsadnesswasdepictedonherface.

           “Ah,mydearfriend,heisveryunfortunate,”shesaid.“Ifwhatwehearistrue,itisdreadful.Howlittlewedreamedofsuchathingwhenwewererejoicingathishappiness!AndsuchaloftyangelicsoulasyoungBezúkhov!Yes,Ipityhimfrommyheart,andshalltrytogivehimwhatconsolationIcan.”

           “Wh-whatisthematter?”askedboththeyoungandoldRostóv.

           AnnaMikháylovnasigheddeeply.

           “Dólokhov,MaryIvánovna’sson,”shesaidinamysteriouswhisper,“hascompromisedhercompletely,theysay.Pierretookhimup,invitedhimtohishouseinPetersburg,andnow...shehascomehereandthatdaredevilafterher!”saidAnnaMikháylovna,wishingtoshowhersympathyforPierre,butbyinvoluntaryintonationsandahalfsmilebetrayinghersympathyforthe“daredevil,”asshecalledDólokhov.“TheysayPierreisquitebrokenbyhismisfortune.”

           “Dear,dear!Butstilltellhimtocometotheclub—itwillallblowover.Itwillbeatremendousbanquet.”

           Nextday,thethirdofMarch,soonafteroneo’clock,twohundredandfiftymembersoftheEnglishClubandfiftyguestswereawaitingtheguestofhonorandherooftheAustriancampaign,PrinceBagratión,todinner.

           OnthefirstarrivalofthenewsofthebattleofAusterlitz,Moscowhadbeenbewildered.

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