Boris was expecting. Prince Andrey liked to encourage and assist younger men, he was flattered at being applied to for his influence, and well disposed to Boris, who had succeeded in making a favourable impression on him the previous day; he was eager to do for the young man what he desired. Having been sent with papers from Kutuzov to the Tsarevitch, he called upon Boris, hoping to find him alone. When he came into the room and saw the hussar with his soldierly swagger describing his warlike exploits (Prince Andrey could not endure the kind of men who are fond of doing so), he smiled cordially to Boris, but frowned and dropped his eyelids as he turned to Rostov with a slight bow. Wearily and languidly he sat down on the sofa, regretting that he had dropped into such undesirable society. Rostov, perceiving it, grew hot, but he did not care; this man was nothing to him. Glancing at Boris, he saw, however, that he too seemed ashamed of the valiant hussar. In spite of Prince Andrey’s unpleasant, ironical manner, in spite of the ! disdain with which Rostov, from his point of view of a fighting man in 1 the regular army, regarded the whole race of staff-adjutants in general— the class to which the new-comer unmistakably belonged—he yet felt abashed, reddened, and subsided into silence. Boris inquired what news there was on the staff and whether he could not without indiscretion tell them something about our plans.
‘Most likely they will advance,’ answered Bolkonsky, obviously un- ' willing to say more before outsiders. Berg seized the opportunity to in- quire with peculiar deference whether the report was true, as he had I heard, that the allowance of forage to captains of companies was to be , doubled. To this Prince Andrey replied with a smile that he could not presume to offer an opinion on state questions of such gravity, and Berg laughed with delight.
‘As to your business,’ Prince Andrey turned again to Boris, ‘we will talk of it later,’ and he glanced at Rostov. ‘You come to me after the review, and we’ll do what we can.’ And looking round the room he addressed Rostov, whose childish, uncontrollable embarrassment, passing now into anger, he did not think fit to notice: ‘You were talking, I think, about the Schongraben action? Were you there?’
‘I was there,’ Rostov said in a tone of exasperation,, which he seemed to intend as an insult to the adjutant. Bolkonsky noticed the hussar’s state of mind, and it seemed to amuse him. He smiled rather disdainfully.
‘Ah! there are a great many stories now about that engagement.’
‘Yes, stories!’ said Rostov loudly, looking from Boris to Bolkonsky with eyes full of sudden fury, ‘a great many stories, I dare say, but our stories are the stories of men who have been under the enemy’s fire, our stories have some weight, they’re not the tales of little staff upstarts, who draw pay for doing nothing.’
‘The class to which you assume me to belong,’ said Prince Andrey, with a calm and particularly amiable smile.
A strange feeling of exasperation was mingled in Rostov’s heart with respect for the self-possession of this person.
‘I’m not talking about you,’ he said; ‘I don’t know you, and, I’ll own. I don’t want to. I’m speaking of staff-officers in general.’
‘Let me tell you this,’ Prince Andrey cut him short in a tone of quiet authority, ‘you are trying to insult me, and I’m ready to agree with you that it is very easy to do so, if you haven’t sufficient respect for yourself. But you will agree that the time and place is ill-chosen for this squabble. In a day or two we have to take part in a great and more serious duel, and besides, Drubetskoy, who tells me he is an old friend of yours, is in no way to blame because my physiognomy is so unfortunate as to displease you. However,’ he said, getting up, ‘you know my name, and know where to find me; but don’t forget,’ he added, ‘that I don’t consider either myself or you insulted, and my advice, as a man older than you, is to let the matter drop. So on Friday, after the review, I shall expect you, Drubetskoy; good-bye till then,’ cried Prince Andrey, and he went out, bowing to both.
Rostov only bethought him of what he ought to have answered when he had gone. And he was more furious still that he had not thought of saying it. He ordered his horse to be brought round at once, and taking leave of Boris coldly, he rode back. Whether to ride to-morrow to headquarters and challenge that conceited adjutant, or whether really to let the matter drop, was the question that worried him all the way. At one moment he thought vindictively how he would enjoy seeing the fright that feeble, little, conceited fellow would be in, facing his pistol, at the next he was feeling with surprise that, of all the men he knew, there was no one he would be more glad to have for his friend than that detested little adjutant.
VIII
