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tie yourself up with a woman and, like a chained convict, you lose all freedom! And all you have of hope and strength merely weighs you down and torments you with regret. Drawing rooms, gossip, balls, vanity, and trivialityโ€”these are the enchanted circle I cannot escape from. I am now going to the war, the greatest war there ever was, and I know nothing and am fit for nothing. I am very amiable and have a caustic wit,โ€ continued Prince Andrew, โ€œand at Anna Pรกvlovnaโ€™s they listen to me. And that stupid set without whom my wife cannot exist, and those women.... If you only knew what those society women are, and women in general! My father is right. Selfish, vain, stupid, trivial in everythingโ€”thatโ€™s what women are when you see them in their true colors! When you meet them in society it seems as if there were something in them, but thereโ€™s nothing, nothing, nothing! No, donโ€™t marry, my dear fellow; donโ€™t marry!โ€ concluded Prince Andrew.

โ€œIt seems funny to me,โ€ said Pierre, โ€œthat you, you should consider yourself incapable and your life a spoiled life. You have everything before you, everything. And you....โ€

He did not finish his sentence, but his tone showed how highly he thought of his friend and how much he expected of him in the future.

โ€œHow can he talk like that?โ€ thought Pierre. He considered his friend a model of perfection because Prince Andrew possessed in the highest degree just the very qualities Pierre lacked, and which might be best described as strength of will. Pierre was always astonished at Prince Andrewโ€™s calm manner of treating everybody, his extraordinary memory, his extensive reading (he had read everything, knew everything, and had an opinion about everything), but above all at his capacity for work and study. And if Pierre was often struck by Andrewโ€™s lack of capacity for philosophical meditation (to which he himself was particularly addicted), he regarded even this not as a defect but as a sign of strength.

Even in the best, most friendly and simplest relations of life, praise and commendation are essential, just as grease is necessary to wheels that they may run smoothly.

โ€œMy part is played out,โ€ said Prince Andrew. โ€œWhatโ€™s the use of talking about me? Let us talk about you,โ€ he added after a silence, smiling at his reassuring thoughts.

That smile was immediately reflected on Pierreโ€™s face.

โ€œBut what is there to say about me?โ€ said Pierre, his face relaxing into a careless, merry smile. โ€œWhat am I? An illegitimate son!โ€ He suddenly blushed crimson, and it was plain that he had made a great effort to say this. โ€œWithout a name and without means... And it really...โ€ But he did not say what โ€œit reallyโ€ was. โ€œFor the present I am free and am all right. Only I havenโ€™t the least idea what I am to do; I wanted to consult you seriously.โ€

Prince Andrew looked kindly at him, yet his glanceโ€”friendly and affectionate as it wasโ€”expressed a sense of his own superiority.

โ€œI am fond of you, especially as you are the one live man among our whole set. Yes, youโ€™re all right! Choose what you will; itโ€™s all the same. Youโ€™ll be all right anywhere. But look here: give up visiting those Kurรกgins and leading that sort of life. It suits you so badlyโ€”all this debauchery, dissipation, and the rest of it!โ€

โ€œWhat would you have, my dear fellow?โ€ answered Pierre, shrugging his shoulders. โ€œWomen, my dear fellow; women!โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t understand it,โ€ replied Prince Andrew. โ€œWomen who are comme il faut, thatโ€™s a different matter; but the Kurรกginsโ€™ set of women, โ€˜women and wineโ€™ I donโ€™t understand!โ€

Pierre was staying at Prince Vasรญli Kurรกginโ€™s and sharing the dissipated life of his son Anatole, the son whom they were planning to reform by marrying him to Prince Andrewโ€™s sister.

โ€œDo you know?โ€ said Pierre, as if suddenly struck by a happy thought, โ€œseriously, I have long been thinking of it.... Leading such a life I canโ€™t decide or think properly about anything. Oneโ€™s head aches, and one spends all oneโ€™s money. He asked me for tonight, but I wonโ€™t go.โ€

โ€œYou give me your word of honor not to go?โ€

โ€œOn my honor!โ€

CHAPTER IX

It was past one oโ€™clock when Pierre left his friend. It was a cloudless, northern, summer night. Pierre took an open cab intending to drive straight home. But the nearer he drew to the house the more he felt the impossibility of going to sleep on such a night. It was light enough to see a long way in the deserted street and it seemed more like morning or evening than night. On the way Pierre remembered that Anatole Kurรกgin was expecting the usual set for cards that evening, after which there was generally a drinking bout, finishing with visits of a kind Pierre was very fond of.

โ€œI should like to go to Kurรกginโ€™s,โ€ thought he.

But he immediately recalled his promise to Prince Andrew not to go there. Then, as happens to people of weak character, he desired so passionately once more to enjoy that dissipation he was so accustomed to that he decided to go. The thought immediately occurred to him that his promise to Prince Andrew was of no account, because before he gave it he had already promised Prince Anatole to come to his gathering; โ€œbesides,โ€ thought he, โ€œall such โ€˜words of honorโ€™ are conventional things with no definite meaning, especially if one considers that by tomorrow one may be dead, or something so extraordinary may happen to one that honor and dishonor will be all the same!โ€ Pierre often indulged in reflections of this sort, nullifying all his decisions and intentions. He went to Kurรกginโ€™s.

Reaching the large house near the Horse Guardsโ€™ barracks, in which Anatole lived, Pierre entered the lighted porch, ascended the stairs, and went in at the open door. There was no one in the anteroom; empty bottles, cloaks, and overshoes were lying about; there was a smell of alcohol, and sounds of voices and shouting in the distance.

Cards and supper were over, but the visitors had not yet dispersed. Pierre threw off his cloak and entered the first room, in which were the remains of supper. A footman, thinking no one saw him, was drinking on the sly what was left in the glasses. From the third room came sounds of laughter, the shouting of familiar voices, the growling of a bear, and general commotion. Some eight or nine young men were crowding anxiously round an open window. Three others were romping with a young bear, one pulling him by the chain and trying to set him at the others.

โ€œI bet a hundred on Stevens!โ€ shouted one.

โ€œMind, no holding on!โ€ cried another.

โ€œI bet on Dรณlokhov!โ€ cried a third. โ€œKurรกgin, you part our hands.โ€

โ€œThere, leave Bruin alone; hereโ€™s a bet on.โ€

โ€œAt one draught, or he loses!โ€ shouted a fourth.

โ€œJacob, bring a bottle!โ€ shouted the host, a tall, handsome fellow who stood in the midst of the group, without a coat, and with his fine linen shirt unfastened in front. โ€œWait a bit, you fellows.... Here is Pรฉtya! Good man!โ€ cried he, addressing Pierre.

Another voice, from a man of medium height

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