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One of the next arrivals was a stout, heavily built young man with close-cropped hair, spectacles, the light-colored breeches fashionable at that time, a very high ruffle, and a brown dress coat. This stout young man was an illegitimate son of Count Bezรบkhov, a well-known grandee of Catherineโ€™s time who now lay dying in Moscow. The young man had not yet entered either the military or civil service, as he had only just returned from abroad where he had been educated, and this was his first appearance in society. Anna Pรกvlovna greeted him with the nod she accorded to the lowest hierarchy in her drawing room. But in spite of this lowest-grade greeting, a look of anxiety and fear, as at the sight of something too large and unsuited to the place, came over her face when she saw Pierre enter. Though he was certainly rather bigger than the other men in the room, her anxiety could only have reference to the clever though shy, but observant and natural, expression which distinguished him from everyone else in that drawing room.

โ€œIt is very good of you, Monsieur Pierre, to come and visit a poor invalid,โ€ said Anna Pรกvlovna, exchanging an alarmed glance with her aunt as she conducted him to her.

Pierre murmured something unintelligible, and continued to look round as if in search of something. On his way to the aunt he bowed to the little princess with a pleased smile, as to an intimate acquaintance.

Anna Pรกvlovnaโ€™s alarm was justified, for Pierre turned away from the aunt without waiting to hear her speech about Her Majestyโ€™s health. Anna Pรกvlovna in dismay detained him with the words: โ€œDo you know the Abbรฉ Morio? He is a most interesting man.โ€

โ€œYes, I have heard of his scheme for perpetual peace, and it is very interesting but hardly feasible.โ€

โ€œYou think so?โ€ rejoined Anna Pรกvlovna in order to say something and get away to attend to her duties as hostess. But Pierre now committed a reverse act of impoliteness. First he had left a lady before she had finished speaking to him, and now he continued to speak to another who wished to get away. With his head bent, and his big feet spread apart, he began explaining his reasons for thinking the abbรฉโ€™s plan chimerical.

โ€œWe will talk of it later,โ€ said Anna Pรกvlovna with a smile.

And having got rid of this young man who did not know how to behave, she resumed her duties as hostess and continued to listen and watch, ready to help at any point where the conversation might happen to flag. As the foreman of a spinning mill, when he has set the hands to work, goes round and notices here a spindle that has stopped or there one that creaks or makes more noise than it should, and hastens to check the machine or set it in proper motion, so Anna Pรกvlovna moved about her drawing room, approaching now a silent, now a too-noisy group, and by a word or slight rearrangement kept the conversational machine in steady, proper, and regular motion. But amid these cares her anxiety about Pierre was evident. She kept an anxious watch on him when he approached the group round Mortemart to listen to what was being said there, and again when he passed to another group whose center was the abbรฉ.

Pierre had been educated abroad, and this reception at Anna Pรกvlovnaโ€™s was the first he had attended in Russia. He knew that all the intellectual lights of Petersburg were gathered there and, like a child in a toyshop, did not know which way to look, afraid of missing any clever conversation that was to be heard. Seeing the self-confident and refined expression on the faces of those present he was always expecting to hear something very profound. At last he came up to Morio. Here the conversation seemed interesting and he stood waiting for an opportunity to express his own views, as young people are fond of doing.

CHAPTER III

Anna Pรกvlovnaโ€™s reception was in full swing. The spindles hummed steadily and ceaselessly on all sides. With the exception of the aunt, beside whom sat only one elderly lady, who with her thin careworn face was rather out of place in this brilliant society, the whole company had settled into three groups. One, chiefly masculine, had formed round the abbรฉ. Another, of young people, was grouped round the beautiful Princess Hรฉlรจne, Prince Vasรญliโ€™s daughter, and the little Princess Bolkรณnskaya, very pretty and rosy, though rather too plump for her age. The third group was gathered round Mortemart and Anna Pรกvlovna.

The vicomte was a nice-looking young man with soft features and polished manners, who evidently considered himself a celebrity but out of politeness modestly placed himself at the disposal of the circle in which he found himself. Anna Pรกvlovna was obviously serving him up as a treat to her guests. As a clever maรฎtre dโ€™hรดtel serves up as a specially choice delicacy a piece of meat that no one who had seen it in the kitchen would have cared to eat, so Anna Pรกvlovna served up to her guests, first the vicomte and then the abbรฉ, as peculiarly choice morsels. The group about Mortemart immediately began discussing the murder of the Duc dโ€™Enghien. The vicomte said that the Duc dโ€™Enghien had perished by his own magnanimity, and that there were particular reasons for Buonaparteโ€™s hatred of him.

โ€œAh, yes! Do tell us all about it, Vicomte,โ€ said Anna Pรกvlovna, with a pleasant feeling that there was something ร  la Louis XV in the sound of that sentence: โ€œContez nous รงela, Vicomte.โ€

The vicomte bowed and smiled courteously in token of his willingness to comply. Anna Pรกvlovna arranged a group round him, inviting everyone to listen to his tale.

โ€œThe vicomte knew the duc personally,โ€ whispered Anna Pรกvlovna to one of the guests. โ€œThe vicomte is a wonderful raconteur,โ€ said she to another. โ€œHow evidently he belongs to the best society,โ€ said she to a third; and the vicomte was served up to the company in the choicest and most advantageous style, like a well-garnished joint of roast beef on a hot dish.

The vicomte wished to begin his story and gave a subtle smile.

โ€œCome over here, Hรฉlรจne, dear,โ€ said Anna Pรกvlovna to the beautiful young princess who was sitting some way off, the center of another group.

The princess smiled. She rose with the same unchanging smile with which she had first entered the roomโ€”the smile of a perfectly beautiful woman. With a slight rustle of her white dress trimmed with moss and ivy, with a gleam of white shoulders, glossy hair, and sparkling diamonds, she passed between the men who made way for her, not looking at any of them but smiling on all, as if graciously allowing each the privilege of admiring her beautiful figure and shapely shoulders, back, and bosomโ€”which in the fashion of those days were very much exposedโ€”and she seemed to bring the glamour of a ballroom with her as she moved toward Anna Pรกvlovna. Hรฉlรจne was so lovely that not only did she not show any trace of coquetry, but on the contrary she even appeared shy of her unquestionable and all too victorious beauty. She seemed to wish, but to be unable, to diminish its effect.

โ€œHow lovely!โ€ said everyone who saw her; and the vicomte lifted his shoulders and dropped his eyes as if startled by something extraordinary when she took her seat opposite and beamed upon him also with her unchanging smile.

โ€œMadame, I doubt my ability before such an audience,โ€ said he, smilingly inclining his head.

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