As always, the higher society, gathering together at court and at the great balls, was then too subdivided into several circles, each with its own tinge. Among them the most extensive was the French circle, that of the Napoleonic alliance — the circle of Count Rumyantsev and Caulaincourt. In this circle one of the most prominent places was taken by Hélène as soon as she settled with her husband in Petersburg. She was visited by the gentlemen of the French embassy and a great number of people known for their intelligence and amiability who belonged to this tendency.

Hélène had been at Erfurt during the famous meeting of the Emperors, and from there had brought these connections with all the Napoleonic notabilities of Europe. At Erfurt she had had a brilliant success. Napoleon himself, noticing her in the theater, had asked who she was and appraised her beauty. Her success as a beautiful and elegant woman did not surprise Pierre, because with the years she had grown even more beautiful than before. But what did surprise him was that in these two years his wife had managed to acquire the reputation "d'une femme charmante, aussi spirituelle, que belle". The renowned prince de Ligne wrote her letters of eight pages. Bilibin saved up his mots to deliver them for the first time in the presence of Countess Bezukhova. To be received in Countess Bezukhova's salon was considered a diploma of intelligence; young men read books before Hélène's evening so as to have something to talk about in her salon, and the embassy secretaries, and even the ambassadors, confided diplomatic secrets to her, so that Hélène was a power of a kind. Pierre, who knew that she was very stupid, with a strange feeling of bewilderment and dread sometimes attended her evenings and dinners, where there was talk of politics, poetry, and philosophy. At these evenings he experienced a feeling like that which a conjuror must feel, expecting every time that his trickery is about to be exposed. But whether because stupidity was just what was needed for the running of such a salon, or because those deceived found pleasure in the deception, the deception was not exposed, and the reputation d'une femme charmante et spirituelle was so unshakably established for Hélène Vasilievna Bezukhova that she could utter the greatest banalities and stupidities, and still everyone admired her every word and sought in it a deep meaning of which she herself had no suspicion.

Pierre was precisely the kind of husband needed for this brilliant society woman. He was that absent-minded crank, a husband grand seigneur, who got in no one's way and, far from spoiling the general impression of the drawing room's high tone, served, by his contrast with his wife's elegance and tact, as an advantageous foil to her. Pierre, during these two years, as a result of his constant, concentrated occupation with non-material interests and his sincere contempt for everything else, had acquired, in the society of his wife which did not interest him, that tone of indifference, negligence, and benevolence toward all which is not acquired artificially and which for that very reason inspires involuntary respect. He entered his wife's drawing room as one enters a theater, was acquainted with everyone, was equally glad to see everyone, and was equally indifferent to all. Sometimes he joined in a conversation that interested him, and then, without considering whether or not les messieurs de l'ambassade were present, would mumble his opinions, which were sometimes quite out of keeping with the tone of the moment. But the opinion of the crank husband de la femme la plus distinguée de Pétersbourg was already so established that no one took his sallies au sérieux.

Among the many young men who came daily to Hélène's house, Boris Drubetskoy, who had already advanced greatly in the service, was, after Hélène's return from Erfurt, the most intimate person in the Bezukhov household. Hélène called him mon page and treated him like a child. Her smile toward him was the same as toward everyone, but sometimes it was unpleasant for Pierre to see this smile. Boris treated Pierre with a peculiar, dignified, and melancholy deference. This shade of deference also troubled Pierre. Pierre had suffered so painfully three years before from the insult dealt him by his wife, that now he saved himself from the possibility of a similar insult, first, by the fact that he was not his wife's husband, and second, by the fact that he did not allow himself to suspect.

"No, now that she has become a bas bleu, she has forever renounced her former infatuations," he said to himself. "There has never been an instance of a bas bleu having affairs of the heart," he repeated to himself a rule he had drawn from no one knows where, in which he undoubtedly believed. But, strange to say, the presence of Boris in his wife's drawing room (and he was there almost constantly) physically affected Pierre: it constrained all his limbs, destroyed the unconsciousness and freedom of his movements.

"Such a strange antipathy," thought Pierre, "and yet formerly I even liked him very much."

In the eyes of the world Pierre was a great gentleman, the somewhat blind and ridiculous husband of a famous wife, a clever crank who did nothing but harmed no one, a fine and good fellow. But in Pierre's soul, during all this time, a complex and difficult labor of inner development had been going on, which revealed much to him and brought him to many spiritual doubts and joys.