It seemed so natural to Pierre that he should be liked by one and all, and it would have seemed so unnatural if anyone had not liked him, that he couldn’t help believing in the sincerity of everyone around him. In any case, he had no time to wonder about their sincerity or insincerity. There was no time for anything; he wandered about in a permanent state of mild and agreeable intoxication. There he was, apparently the central figure in an important social system, a man from whom something was always expected, someone who, if he failed to do this or that, would let people down and disappoint them; whereas if he did do this and that, all would be well – so he did do what was demanded of him, though any happy outcomes belonged to the future.
In these early days it was Prince Vasily more than anyone who took charge of Pierre’s affairs, and of Pierre himself. Since the death of old Count Bezukhov he had kept a firm hold on Pierre. Prince Vasily went about with the air of a man weighed down by affairs, careworn and weary, but ultimately too sensitive to abandon this helpless youth, heir to such a huge fortune and the son of a friend to boot, by leaving him to an uncertain destiny and open to exploitation. During those few days spent in Moscow following the death of Count Bezukhov, he had summoned Pierre, or gone to see him, and had prescribed for him everything that had to be done in tones of such weariness and authority that he seemed to be saying by way of a refrain, ‘You’re aware that I’m a very busy man and my concern for you is based on charity alone, and in any case I’m sure you appreciate that what I am proposing is the only thing to do.’
‘Well, my dear boy, tomorrow we’re off at last,’ he said one day, closing his eyes and gently squeezing Pierre’s elbow, seeming to imply that what he was saying had been settled long before, and couldn’t have been settled in any other way.
‘Yes, we’re off tomorrow, and I can give you a place in my coach. I’m very glad. All our important business is settled here. And I really should have been back long ago. Look what I’ve just received from the chancellor. I applied on your behalf and you’ve been placed on the diplomatic list and made a gentleman of the bedchamber. Now a career in diplomacy lies open to you.’
His tone of weariness combined with authority was having its usual effect, but Pierre had spent so long worrying about his future career that he now made as if to protest. But Prince Vasily cut across him by cooing away in a deep bass that precluded any possibility of interruption, a device that he had recourse to whenever he needed to be at his most persuasive.
‘No, dear boy, I’ve done this for myself, for my own conscience. Please don’t thank me. No one has ever complained of being too much loved. In any case you’re quite free; you could give it all up tomorrow. You’ll see for yourself in Petersburg. And it’s high time you got away from all these painful memories.’ Prince Vasily sighed. ‘So that’s it, my dear boy. By the way, my valet can go in your coach. Oh – I almost forgot,’ he added. ‘I’m sure you know, dear boy, your father owed me a little something, so I’ll take it out of what has come in from the Ryazan estate. It’s nothing you need to bother about. We can sort the details out later.’
What had ‘come in from the Ryazan estate’ were several thousand roubles paid in lieu of service by Pierre’s peasants; these Prince Vasily now kept for himself.
Petersburg was just like Moscow; Pierre was enveloped by the same atmosphere of tenderness and affection. He couldn’t resign from his post, or rather the title (for he did nothing) that Prince Vasily had obtained for him, and as for his acquaintances, invitations and social obligations, these were so numerous that Pierre felt even more bewildered, rushed off his feet and expectant of some future benefit which was always on the way but never realized.
Not many of his former bachelor acquaintances were left in the city. The guards were away on active service, Dolokhov had been reduced to the ranks, Anatole was also doing army service somewhere in the provinces and Prince Andrey was abroad; so Pierre had no opportunity of nights out like the ones he had loved before, nor could he bare his soul in intimate conversation with a respected older friend. When he was not out at dinners and balls he spent most of his time at Prince Vasily’s in the company of his wife, the fat princess, and their beautiful daughter, Hélène.
Anna Pavlovna Scherer was no different from anyone else in showing Pierre how much society’s attitude towards him had changed.
