《War And Peace》　Epilogue1 　CHAPTER XIII
　　　　by Leo Tolstoy

WHEN PIERRE AND HIS WIFE came into the drawing-room, the countess happened to
be in her customary condition of needing the mental exercise of a game of
patience, and therefore, although from habit she uttered the words, she always
repeated on the return of Pierre or her son after absence: "It was high time,
high time, my dear boy; we have been expecting you a long while. Well, thank
God, you are here." And on the presents being given her, pronounced another
stock phrase: "It's not the gift that is precious, my dear.... Thank you for
thinking of an old woman like me. ..." It was evident that Pierre's entrance at
that moment was unwelcome, because it interrupted her in dealing her cards. She
finished her game of patience, and only then gave her attention to the presents.
The presents for her consisted of a card-case of fine workmanship, a bright blue
Sèvres cup with a lid and a picture of shepherdesses on it, and a gold snuff-box
with the count's portrait on it, which Pierre had had executed by a
miniature-painter in Petersburg. The countess had long wished to have this; but
just now she had no inclination to weep, and so she looked unconcernedly at the
portrait, and took more notice of the card-case.

"Thank you, my dear, you are a comfort to me," she said, as she always did.
"But best of all, you have brought yourself back. It has been beyond
everything; you must really scold your wife. She is like one possessed without
you. She sees nothing, thinks of nothing," she said as usual. "Look, Anna
Timofyevna," she added, "what a card-case my son has brought us."

Madame Byelov admired the present, and was enchanted with the dress
material.

Pierre, Natasha, Nikolay, Countess Marya, and Denisov had a great deal they
wanted to talk about, which was not talked of before the old countess; not
because anything was concealed from her, but simply because she had dropped so
out of things, that if they had begun to talk freely before her they would have
had to answer so many questions put by her at random, and to repeat so many
things that had been repeated to her so many times already; to tell her that
this person was dead and that person was married, which she could never
remember. Yet they sat as usual at tea in the drawing-room, and Pierre answered
the countess's quite superfluous questions, which were of no interest even to
her, and told her that Prince Vassily was looking older, and that Countess Marya
Alexeyevna sent her kind regards and remembrances, etc.

Such conversation, of no interest to any one, but inevitable, was kept up all
tea-time. All the grown-up members of the family were gathered about the round
tea-table with the samovar, at which Sonya presided. The children with their
tutors and governesses had already had tea, and their voices could be heard in
the next room. At tea every one sat in his own habitual place. Nikolay sat by
the stove at a little table apart, where his tea was handed him. An old terrier
bitch, with a perfectly grey face, Milka, the daughter of the first Milka, lay
on a chair beside him. Denisov, with streaks of grey in his curly hair,
moustaches, and whiskers, wearing his general's coat unbuttoned, sat beside
Countess Marya. Pierre was sitting between his wife and the old countess. He was
telling what he knew might interest the old lady and be intelligible to her. He
talked of external social events and of the persons who had once made up the
circle of the old countess's contemporaries, and had once been a real living
circle of people, but were now for the most part scattered about the world, and,
like her, living out their remnant of life, gleaning up the stray ears of what
they had sown in life. But they, these contemporaries, seemed to the old
countess to make up the only real world that was worth considering. By Pierre's
eagerness, Natasha saw that his visit had been an interesting one, that he was
longing to tell them about it, but dared not speak freely before the countess.
Denisov, not being a member of the family, did not understand Pierre's
circumspectness, and, moreover, being dissatisfied with the course of events,
took a very great interest in all that was going forward at Petersburg. He was
continuallytrying to get Pierre to tell him about the recent scandal about the
Semyonovsky regiment, or about Araktcheev, or about the Bible Society. Pierre
was sometimes led on into beginning to talk about those subjects, but Nikolay
and Natasha always brought him back to the health of Prince Ivan and Countess
Marya Antonovna.

"Well, what is all this idiocy, Gossner and Madame Tatarinov," Denisov
asked, "is that still going on?"

"Going on?" said Pierre. "Worse than ever. The Bible Society is now the
whole government."

"What is that, mon cher ami?" asked the old countess, who, having
drunk her tea, was obviously seeking a pretext for ill-humour after taking food.
"What are you saying about the government? I don't understand that."

"Why, you know, maman," put in Nikolay, who knew how to translate
things into his mother's language. "Prince Alexander Nikolaevitch Golitsin had
founded a society, so he has great influence they say."

"Araktcheev and Golitsin," said Pierre incautiously, "are practically the
government now. And what a government! They see conspiracy in everything, they
are afraid of everything."

"What, Prince Alexander Nikolaevitch found fault with! He is a most
estimable man. I used to meet him in old days at Marya Antonovna's," said the
countess in an aggrieved tone. And still more aggrieved by the general silence,
she went on, "Nowadays people find fault with every one. A Gospel Society, what
harm is there in that?" and she got up (every one rose too), and with a severe
face sailed out to her table in the adjoining divan-room.

In the midst of the mournful silence that followed, they heard the sound of
children's voices and laughter from the next room. There was evidently some
joyful excitement afoot among the children.

"Finished, finished!" the gleeful shriek of little Natasha was heard above
all the rest. Pierre exchanged glances with Countess Marya and Nikolay (Natasha
he was looking at all the time), and he smiled happily.

"Delightful music!" he said.

"Anna Makarovna has finished her stocking," said Countess Marya.

"Oh, I'm going to have a look at them," said Pierre, jumping up. "You
know," he said, stopping at the door, "why it is I so particularly love that
music-it is what first lets me know that all's well. As I came today, the nearer
I got to home, the greater my panic. As I came into the vestibule, I heard
Andryusha in peals of laughter, and then I knew all was well ..."

"I know, I know that feeling," Nikolay chimed in. "I mustn't come- the
stockings are a surprise in store for me."

Pierre went into the children, and the shrieks and laughter were louder than
ever. "Now, Anna Makarovna," cried Pierre's voice, "here in the middle of the
room and at the word of my command-one, two, and when I say three, you stand
here. You in my arms. Now, one, two ..." there was complete silence. "Three!"
and an enthusiastic roar of children's voices rose in the room. "Two, two!"
cried the children.

They meant the two stockings, which, by a secret only known to her, Anna
Makarovna used to knit on her needles at once. She always made a solemn ceremony
of pulling one stocking out of the other in the presence of the children when
the pair was finished.