Chapter 2

           

           “IhavethepleasureofaddressingCountBezúkhov,ifIamnotmistaken,”saidthestrangerinadeliberateandloudvoice.

           Pierrelookedsilentlyandinquiringlyathimoverhisspectacles.

           “Ihaveheardofyou,mydearsir,”continuedthestranger,“andofyourmisfortune.”Heseemedtoemphasizethelastword,asiftosay—“Yes,misfortune!Callitwhatyouplease,IknowthatwhathappenedtoyouinMoscowwasamisfortune.”—“Iregretitverymuch,mydearsir.”

           Pierreflushedand,hurriedlyputtinghislegsdownfromthebed,bentforwardtowardtheoldmanwithaforcedandtimidsmile.

           “Ihavenotreferredtothisoutofcuriosity,mydearsir,butforgreaterreasons.”

           Hepaused,hisgazestillonPierre,andmovedasideonthesofabywayofinvitingtheothertotakeaseatbesidehim.Pierrefeltreluctanttoenterintoconversationwiththisoldman,but,submittingtohiminvoluntarily,cameupandsatdownbesidehim.

           “Youareunhappy,mydearsir,”thestrangercontinued.“YouareyoungandIamold.Ishouldliketohelpyouasfarasliesinmypower.”

           “Oh,yes!”saidPierre,withaforcedsmile.“Iamverygratefultoyou.Whereareyoutravelingfrom?”

           Thestranger’sfacewasnotgenial,itwasevencoldandsevere,butinspiteofthis,boththefaceandwordsofhisnewacquaintancewereirresistiblyattractivetoPierre.

           “Butifforanyreasonyoudon’tfeelinclinedtotalktome,”saidtheoldman,“sayso,mydearsir.”Andhesuddenlysmiled,inanunexpectedandtenderlypaternalway.

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