‘You know her husband, don’t you?’ said Anna Pavlovna, closing her eyes and nodding lugubriously in the direction of Hélène. ‘Oh dear, such an unhappy woman and so exquisite! Don’t mention him. Please don’t mention his name. It’s too much for her!’
CHAPTER 7
When Boris and Anna Pavlovna rejoined the main company, Prince Hippolyte was dominating the conversation. He was leaning forward in his armchair and had just said, ‘The King of Prussia!’ with a guffaw. Everyone turned towards him. ‘The King of Prussia?’ he asked with another laugh before settling back, relaxed and serious-looking, into the depths of his armchair. Anna Pavlovna waited for him to go on, but since Hippolyte seemed determined not to add anything, she began to talk about the heathen Bonaparte, who had stolen Frederick the Great’s sword at Potsdam.
‘Yes, it’s Frederick the Great’s sword that I . . .’ she began, but Hippolyte interrupted her by saying, ‘The King of Prussia . . .’ But again, as soon as everyone turned to listen to him he apologized and said no more. Anna Pavlovna frowned. Mortemart, Hippolyte’s friend, gave him a stern look and said, ‘Come on, what’s all this about the King of Prussia?’
Hippolyte laughed, and seemed embarrassed to do so.
‘No, it’s nothing. All I meant was . . .’ (He had been trying all evening to get in a joke he had heard in Vienna).8 ‘All I meant was that we are wrong if we go to war
Boris gave a cautious smile that could be taken either way, as a sneer or approval of the joke depending on how it was received. Everyone laughed.
‘Your joke is a very bad one! Very clever but unfair,’ said Anna Pavlovna, wagging a tiny wrinkled finger at him. ‘We are going to war for sound principles, not for the King of Prussia. Oh, this Prince Hippolyte, he’s such a naughty boy!’ she said.
The conversation, mainly about politics and the latest news, went on all evening without flagging. Later on it took an even livelier turn when a new subject came up: rewards bestowed by the Tsar.
‘Listen, only last year what’s-his-name was given a snuff-box with a portrait on it,’ said the serious intellectual. ‘Why shouldn’t so-and-so get the same?’
‘Excuse me, a snuff-box with the Emperor’s portrait on it is a reward, not a distinction,’ said a diplomat. ‘More like a present.’
‘There are precedents for this. I would cite Schwarzenberg.’
‘It’s impossible,’ someone else retorted.
‘Do you want to bet? Now, the Grand Ribbon – that’s something different . . .’
When everyone stood up to go, Hélène, who had had little to say all evening, turned to Boris and with a tender, knowing look exhorted him again to come and see her on Tuesday.
‘It means a lot to me,’ she said with a smile, looking round at Anna Pavlovna, and Anna Pavlovna, smiling her own lugubrious smile, the one she reserved for references to her royal patroness, spoke in support of Hélène’s wishes. Something that Boris had said that evening about the Prussian army seemed to have inspired Hélène with a need to see him again. There was an implied promise that when he came on Tuesday she would explain what the need was. When Tuesday evening came and Boris entered Hélène’s magnificent salon, however, he was not given any clear explanation of the necessity for his visit. There were other people present and the countess did not have a lot to say to him. It was only as he was saying goodbye and kissing her hand that she looked at him with a strangely unsmiling face and surprised him by whispering, ‘Come to dinner tomorrow . . . tomorrow evening . . . please . . . you must.’
During that stay in Petersburg Boris became an intimate in the house of Countess Bezukhov.
CHAPTER 8
The conflict was flaring up and the theatre of war was moving closer to the boundaries of Russia. On all sides people could be heard cursing that enemy of the human race, Bonaparte. Militiamen and recruits were being called up from the villages and all sorts of news emerged from the theatre of war, all of it false as usual and therefore variously interpreted.
The lives of old Prince Bolkonsky, Prince Andrey and Princess Marya had changed a good deal since 1805.
