The countess was so tired from the visits that she ordered no more to be received, and the porter was told only to be sure to invite to dinner all who should come with congratulations. The countess wanted to have a tête-à-tête talk with the friend of her childhood, Princess Anna Mikháylovna, whom she had not seen properly since her arrival from Petersburg. Anna Mikháylovna, with her tear-stained and pleasant face, moved closer to the countess's armchair.

— I will be perfectly frank with you, — said Anna Mikháylovna. — There are few of us old friends left! That is why I value your friendship so much.

Anna Mikháylovna looked at Véra and paused. The countess pressed her friend's hand.

— Véra, — said the countess, turning to her eldest daughter, evidently the unloved one. — How is it you have no tact? Can't you see you are not wanted here? Go to your sisters, or...

The handsome Véra smiled contemptuously, evidently not feeling the slightest offense.

— If you had told me long ago, maman, I should have gone immediately, — she said, and went to her room.

But passing the sitting room, she noticed that two couples were sitting symmetrically at its two windows. She stopped and smiled contemptuously. Sónya was sitting close beside Nikoláy, who was copying out for her some verses he had composed for the first time. Borís and Natásha were sitting at the other window and fell silent when Véra entered. Sónya and Natásha looked at Véra with guilty and happy faces.

It was merry and touching to look at these little girls in love, but their appearance evidently did not arouse a pleasant feeling in Véra.

— How many times have I asked you, — she said, — not to take my things; you have your own room. She took the inkstand from Nikoláy.

— In a minute, in a minute, — he said, dipping his pen.

— You always manage to do things at the wrong time, — said Véra. — Like when you came running into the drawing room so that everyone felt ashamed of you.

Despite the fact, or precisely because of the fact, that what she said was perfectly true, no one answered her, and all four only looked at one another. She lingered in the room with the inkstand in her hand.

— And what secrets can there be at your age between Natásha and Borís and between you, — it's all just nonsense!

— Well, what business is it of yours, Véra? — said Natásha in a soft, defensive voice.

She evidently was even kinder and more affectionate to everyone that day than usual.

— Very stupid, — said Véra, — I am ashamed of you. What sort of secrets?..

— Everyone has their own secrets. We don't bother you and Berg, — said Natásha, growing heated.

— I should think you don't bother us, — said Véra, — because there can never be anything bad in my actions. But I will tell maman how you behave with Borís.

— Natálya Ilyínichna behaves very well with me, — said Borís. — I cannot complain, — he said.

— Leave off, Borís, you are such a diplomat (the word diplomat was much in use among the children in the special sense they attached to it); it is even tiresome, — said Natásha in an offended, trembling voice. — Why is she picking on me? You will never understand it, — she said, turning to Véra, — because you have never loved anyone; you have no heart, you are only madame de Genlis! (this nickname, considered very insulting, had been given to Véra by Nikoláy), and your chief pleasure is to make trouble for others. You flirt with Berg as much as you please, — she muttered rapidly.

— I certainly shall not run after a young man in front of visitors...

— Well, you've achieved your object, — intervened Nikoláy, — you have said unpleasant things to everyone, upset everyone. Let's go to the nursery.

All four, like a frightened flock of birds, got up and left the room.

— Unpleasant things have been said to me, and I have said nothing to anyone, — said Véra.

Madame de Genlis! Madame de Genlis! — laughing voices cried from behind the door.

The handsome Véra, who produced such an irritating, unpleasant effect on everyone, smiled and, evidently untouched by what had been said to her, went up to the mirror and adjusted her scarf and coiffure: looking at her handsome face, she seemed to become still colder and calmer. ————

The conversation continued in the drawing room.

Ah! chère, — the countess was saying, — in my life too tout n'est pas rose. Do I not see that du train, que nous allons, our fortune will not last us long! And it is all the club, and his good nature. In the country we live, but do we rest? Theaters, hunting, and God knows what. But why speak of myself! Well, how did you manage all this? I often marvel at you, Annette, how at your age you rush about alone in a carriage to Moscow, to Petersburg, to all the ministers, to all the nobility, and know how to deal with everyone, I am amazed! Well, how was it arranged? Now I don't know how to do any of that.

— Ah, my dear! — answered Princess Anna Mikháylovna. — God grant you never know how hard it is to be left a widow without support and with a son whom you love to adoration. One learns everything, — she continued with some pride. — My lawsuit taught me. If I need to see one of these bigwigs, I write a note: "princesse une telle wishes to see So-and-So," and I go myself in a hired cab even two, three, four times, until I get what I need. I don't care what they may think of me.

— Well, how did it go, who did you ask about Borénka? — asked the countess. — Yours is already an officer in the Guards, and Nikólushka is going as a cadet. There is no one to solicit for him. Who did you ask?

— Prince Vasíli. He was very sweet. He immediately agreed to everything, reported it to the Emperor, — said Princess Anna Mikháylovna with enthusiasm, completely forgetting all the humiliation she had gone through to achieve her aim.

— Has he aged, Prince Vasíli? — asked the countess. — I have not seen him since our theatricals at the Rumyántsevs'. And I suppose he has forgotten about me. Il me faisait la cour, — recalled the countess with a smile.

— Just the same, — answered Anna Mikháylovna, — amiable, effusive. Les grandeurs ne lui ont pas tourné la tête du tout. "I am sorry I can do so little for you, dear princess," he says to me, "command me." No, he is a splendid man and a fine relation. But you know, Nathalie, my love for my son. I don't know what I would not do for his happiness. But my circumstances are so bad, — continued Anna Mikháylovna sadly and lowering her voice, — so bad that I am now in a most terrible position. My unfortunate lawsuit eats up all I have, and makes no progress. You can imagine, I à la lettre haven't a ten-kopeck piece, and I don't know how I am to equip Borís. — She took out her handkerchief and began to cry. — I need five hundred rubles, and I have only one twenty-five-ruble note. I am in such a position... My only hope now is Count Kiríll Vladímirovich Bezúkhov. If he does not want to support his godson — after all, he stood godfather to Bórya — and assign him something for his maintenance, then all my trouble is lost: I shall have nothing to equip him with. The countess shed a tear and pondered something in silence.

— I often think, perhaps it is a sin, — said the princess, — but I often think: here is Count Kiríll Vladímirovich Bezúkhov living alone... that huge fortune... and what does he live for? Life is a burden to him, and Bórya is only just beginning to live.

— He will surely leave something to Borís, — said the countess.

— God knows, chère amie! These rich men and grandees are such egoists. But still I am going to him now with Borís and will tell him straight out what the matter is. Let them think what they will of me, I really don't care, when my son's fate depends on it. — The princess rose. — It is now two o'clock, and you dine at four. I shall have time to go there.

And with the manners of a Petersburg lady of business who knows how to make use of her time, Anna Mikháylovna sent for her son and went out with him into the anteroom.

— Goodbye, my dear, — she said to the countess, who accompanied her to the door, — wish me success, — she added in a whisper, turning from her son.

— You are going to Count Kiríll Vladímirovich, ma chère? — said the count from the dining room, also coming out into the anteroom. — If he is better, invite Pierre to dine with me. After all, he used to come here, he danced with the children. Be sure to invite him, ma chère. Well, let's see how Tarás distinguishes himself today. He says Count Orlóv never had such a dinner as we are going to have.