The wandering pilgrim grew calm, and, drawn back into conversation, went on for a long time telling of Father Amfilokhiy, who was so holy a man that his hand smelled of incense, and of how the monks she knew, on her last pilgrimage to Kyiv, had given her the keys to the caves, and how she had taken some dried bread along and spent two days in the caves with the saints. "I would pray to one, then read a little, then go on to another. I would doze off, then rise again and go to venerate; and such peace, my dear, such grace, that one has no wish at all to go back out into God's world."

Pierre listened to her attentively and earnestly. Prince Andrei left the room. And after him, leaving God's wanderers to finish their tea, Princess Marya led Pierre to the drawing room.

"You are very kind," she said to him.

"Ah, I truly did not mean to offend her; I understand and value those feelings very highly."

Princess Marya looked at him in silence and smiled gently.

"I have known you for a long time now, and love you like a brother," she said. "How did you find Andrei?" she asked quickly, giving him no time to say anything in response to her kind words. "He worries me greatly. His health was better in winter, but last spring the wound reopened, and the doctor said he must go abroad for treatment. And I am very much afraid for his moral state as well. He is not the kind of character, as we women are, to suffer through grief and weep it out. He carries it within himself. Today he is cheerful and lively — but that is the effect of your arrival; he is rarely like this. If only you could persuade him to go abroad! He needs activity, and this monotonous, quiet life is wearing him down. Others do not notice it, but I see."

At close to ten o'clock the footmen rushed to the porch, hearing the bells of the old prince's approaching carriage. Prince Andrei and Pierre also came out to the porch.

"Who is this?" asked the old prince, climbing out of the carriage and catching sight of Pierre.

"Ah! Very glad! Come, give me a kiss," he said, when he learned who the unfamiliar young man was.

The old prince was in good spirits and was warm to Pierre.

Before supper, Prince Andrei, returning to his father's study, found the old prince in a heated argument with Pierre. Pierre was maintaining that a time would come when there would be no more war. The old prince, teasing but not angry, disputed him.

"Drain out the blood from men's veins and fill them with water — then there will be no more war. Women's nonsense, women's nonsense," he said, yet all the same gave Pierre an affectionate tap on the shoulder, and went over to the table at which Prince Andrei, evidently not wishing to join in the conversation, was sorting through papers the prince had brought from town. The old prince went up to him and began to speak of business.

"The marshal of the nobility, Count Rostov, delivered only half the men. He came to town and took it into his head to invite me to dinner — I gave him such a dinner as he won't forget... Now look this over... Well, brother," said Prince Nikolai Andreich, turning to his son and clapping Pierre on the shoulder, "your friend is a fine fellow — I've taken a liking to him! He fires me up. Another man speaks clever words and one has no wish to listen, but he talks nonsense yet fires up this old man. Come, go along," he said, "perhaps I'll come and sit with you at supper. We'll argue some more. Love my fool, Princess Marya," he cried to Pierre from the doorway.

Only now, on this visit to Bald Hills, did Pierre fully appreciate all the strength and charm of his friendship with Prince Andrei. That charm expressed itself not so much in his relations with Andrei himself as in his relations with all the family and household. Pierre with the old, stern prince and with the gentle and timid Princess Marya, despite having barely known them before, felt himself at once an old friend. They had all already come to love him. Not only Princess Marya, won over by his gentle manner with the wanderers, looked at him with her most radiant gaze; but little year-old Prince Nikolai, as his grandfather called him, smiled at Pierre and came to him to be held. Mikhail Ivanych and Mademoiselle Bourienne watched him with joyful smiles as he spoke with the old prince.

The old prince did come to supper — that much was plain to Pierre. He had been extraordinarily warm with him during both days of his stay at Bald Hills, and told him he must come again.

When Pierre had gone and all the members of the family had gathered together, they began to pass judgment on him, as always happens after a newcomer's departure, and — as so rarely happens — everyone spoke only well of him.