Chapter 17

           

           AfterAnnaMikháylovnahaddrivenoffwithhersontovisitCountCyrilVladímirovichBezúkhov,CountessRostóvasatforalongtimeallaloneapplyingherhandkerchieftohereyes.Atlastsherang.

           “Whatisthematterwithyou,mydear?”shesaidcrosslytothemaidwhokeptherwaitingsomeminutes.“Don’tyouwishtoserveme?ThenI’llfindyouanotherplace.”

           Thecountesswasupsetbyherfriend’ssorrowandhumiliatingpoverty,andwasthereforeoutofsorts,astateofmindwhichwithheralwaysfoundexpressionincallinghermaid“mydear”andspeakingtoherwithexaggeratedpoliteness.

           “Iamverysorry,ma’am,”answeredthemaid.

           “Askthecounttocometome.”

           Thecountcamewaddlingintoseehiswifewitharatherguiltylookasusual.

           “Well,littlecountess?Whatasautéofgameaumadèrewearetohave,mydear!Itastedit.ThethousandrublesIpaidforTaráswerenotill-spent.Heisworthit!”

           Hesatdownbyhiswife,hiselbowsonhiskneesandhishandsrufflinghisgrayhair.

           “Whatareyourcommands,littlecountess?”

           “Yousee,mydear...What’sthatmess?”shesaid,pointingtohiswaistcoat.“It’sthesauté,mostlikely,”sheaddedwithasmile.“Well,yousee,Count,Iwantsomemoney.”

           Herfacebecamesad.

           “Oh,littlecountess!”...andthecountbeganbustlingtogetouthispocketbook.

           “Iwantagreatdeal,Count!Iwantfivehundredrubles,”andtakingouthercambrichandkerchiefshebeganwipingherhusband’swaistcoat.

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