When Princess Marya came into the drawing-room Prince Vasily and his son were already there, talking to the little princess and Mademoiselle Bourienne. She clomped in, heavily on her heels, and the gentlemen and Mademoiselle Bourienne rose, while the little princess gestured towards her for the gentlemen’s sake and said, ‘This is Marie!’ Princess Marya saw them all and saw them in detail. She saw Prince Vasily falter at the sight of her and take on a serious look for a moment, though it soon turned into a smile, and she took in the little princess’s face watching the guests to see what they would make of her, Marie. She saw Mademoiselle Bourienne, too, with her ribbon, turning her pretty face towards him with a keener look than she had ever shown before. But him she could not see, only something big, bright and handsome that had moved towards her as she entered the room. Prince Vasily was the first to approach her, and she kissed his bald pate as he bent to kiss her hand, replying to a question from him – yes, she remembered him very well. Then Anatole came up to her. She still couldn’t see him. All she felt was a strong, soft hand taking hers, and she allowed her lips to brush a white forehead beneath beautiful fair hair smelling of pomade. When she did glance at him, she was struck by his handsome looks. Anatole was standing with his right thumb crooked around a button on his uniform, chest out and spine back, swinging one foot with his weight on the other leg, his head gently tilted as he glanced at the princess in breezy silence, obviously not taking her in at all. Anatole was not a quick-witted or eloquent conversationalist, but he did have one attribute that is invaluable in society – composure stemming from total self-confidence. If a man lacking in confidence says nothing when introduced and lets people see that he knows his silence is wrong and he is struggling for something to say, the effect will be bad. But Anatole said nothing as he swung his leg and cheerfully observed the princess’s hairstyle. It was clear that he was capable of serenely saying nothing for a very long time. ‘Anybody who finds silence embarrassing can always start talking,’ he seemed to imply, ‘I’m not that way inclined.’ Besides that, in his dealings with the fair sex Anatole had mastered the special attitude that most effectively arouses a woman’s curiosity, awe and even love – an attitude of disdainful awareness of his own superiority. His manner seemed to say to them, ‘I know you, yes I do, but why should I make the effort? That’s just what you’d like me to do!’ He may not have actually thought this on meeting women (and probably didn’t because he was no great thinker at the best of times), but that was the impression created by his manner and attitude. Princess Marya sensed this and, as if to show that she didn’t expect to interest him, she turned away to his father. The conversation ranged widely and was very animated largely because of the little princess with her tiny voice and the little downy lip that kept popping up and down over her white teeth. She met Prince Vasily with the bantering tone so often adopted by outgoing, chatty people, seemingly based on a long-established fund of amusing stories, mutual jokes and shared memories, some of them private, existing between two conversationalists, whereas there aren’t really any shared memories at all, as in the case of Prince Vasily and the little princess. Prince Vasily was only too pleased to fall in with this tone, and the little princess managed to involve Anatole in the non-existent amusing stories from their past, though she scarcely knew him. Mademoiselle Bourienne soon caught on, and even Princess Marya was pleased to feel herself being drawn into the fun of reminiscing.
‘Now, we’re going to make the most of you, dear Prince,’ said the little princess (in French, of course) to Prince Vasily. ‘Not like those evenings at Annette’s when you were always running away. You do remember our dear Annette?’
‘Ah yes, but you won’t make me talk politics, like Annette!’
‘And our little tea table?’
‘Oh yes!’
‘Why were you never at Annette’s?’ the little princess asked Anatole. ‘Oh yes, I know,’ she said with a wink. ‘Your brother, Hippolyte, told me all about you. Oh!’ She wagged a tiny finger at him. ‘And I know what you got up to in Paris!’
‘But there’s one thing Hippolyte didn’t tell you,’ said Prince Vasily to his son, taking the little princess by the arm, as if she was trying to run away from him and he had just managed to catch her. ‘He didn’t tell you that he was eating his heart out for our sweet princess, and she showed him the door.’
‘She really is a pearl among women,’ he said, turning to Princess Marya.
At the mention of Paris Mademoiselle Bourienne was not going to miss the opportunity of joining them in their shared memories.
