Another excuse was her snuff, which she fancied either too dry, o too moist, or badly pounded. After these outbursts of irritability, a biliou hue came into her face. And her maids knew by infallible tokens whei Madame Byelov would be deaf again, and when her snuff would agaii be damp, and her face would again be yellow. Just as she had to exercisi her spleen, she had sometimes to exercise her remaining faculties; am for thought the pretext was patience. When she wanted to cry, the subject of her tears was the late count. When she needed excitement, thi subject was Nikolay and anxiety about his health. When she wanted t( say something spiteful, the pretext was the Countess Marya. When sht required exercise for her organs of speech—this was usually about sever o’clock, after she had had her after-dinner rest in a darkened room- then the pretext was found in repetition of anecdotes, always the same, and always to the same listeners.
The old countess’s condition was understood by all the household, though no one ever spoke of it, and every possible effort was made by every one to satisfy her requirements. Only rarely a mournful half-smile passed between Nikolay, Pierre, Natasha, and Countess Marya that betrayed their comprehension of her condition.
But those glances said something else besides. They said that she had done her work in life already, that she was not all here in what was seen in her now, that they would all be the same, and that they were glad to give way to her, to restrain themselves for the sake of this poor creature, once so dear, once as full of life as they. Memento mori, said those glances.
Only quite heartless and stupid people and little children failed to understand this, and held themselves aloof from her.
XIII
When Pierre and his wife came into the drawing-room, the countess happened to be in her customary condition of needing the mental exer-
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ce of a game of patience, and therefore, although from habit she uttered t; words, she always repeated on the return of Pierre or her son after asence: ‘It was high time, high time, my dear boy; we have been expiring you a long while. Well, thank God, you are here.’ And on the pesents being given her, pronounced another stock phrase: ‘It’s not tjs gift that is precious, my dear. . . . Thank you for thinking of an cl woman like me. . . .’ It was evident that Pierre’s entrance at that nment was unwelcome, because it interrupted her in dealing her cards, fe finished her game of patience, and only then gave her attention to te presents. The presents for her consisted of a card-case of fine work- anship, a bright blue Sevres cup with a lid and a picture of shepherdesses i it, and a gold snuff-box with the count’s portrait on it, which Pierre Id had executed by a miniature-painter in Petersburg. The countess Id long wished to have this; but just now she had no inclination to ■jep, and so she looked unconcernedly at the portrait, and took more )tice of the card-case.
‘Thank you, my dear, you are a comfort to me,’ she said, as she always d. ‘But best of all, you have brought yourself back. It has been beyond rerything; you must really scold your wife. She is like one possessed ithout you. She sees nothing, thinks of nothing,’ she said as usual, mok, Anna Timofyevna,’ she added, ‘what a card-case my son has rought us.’
Madame Byelov admired the present, and was enchanted with the ress material.
Pierre, Natasha, Nikolay, Countess Marya, and Denisov had a great eal they wanted to talk about, which was not talked of before the old ountess; not because anything was concealed from her, but simply ecause she had dropped so out of things, that if they had begun to alk freely before her they would have had to answer so many questions ’Ut by her at random, and to repeat so many things that had been epeated to her so many times already; to tell her that this person was ead and that person was married, which she could never remember, /et they sat as usual at tea in the drawing-room, and Pierre answered he countess’s quite superfluous questions, which were of no interest ven to her, and told her that Prince Vassily was looking older, and that lountess Marya Alexeyevna sent her kind regards and remembrances, tc.
Such conversation, of no interest to any one, but inevitable, was kept ip all tea-time. All the grown-up members of the family were gathered ibout the round tea-table with the samovar, at which Sonya presided, fhe children with their tutors and governesses had already had tea, and heir voices could be heard in the next room. At tea every one sat in their >wn habitual places. Nikolay sat by the stove at a little table apart, vhere his tea was handed him. An old terrier bitch, with a perfectly grey ace, 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, vearing his general’s coat unbuttoned, sat beside Countess Marya.
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