War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [40]
“Adieu, ma bonne,”†108 Prince Vassily replied, turning away from her.
“Ah, he’s in a terrible state,” the mother said to the son, as they were getting back into the carriage. “He hardly recognizes anyone.”
“I don’t understand, mama, what is his attitude towards Pierre?” asked the son.
“It will all be spelled out in the will; our fate, too, depends on it…”
“But why do you think he’ll leave us anything?”
“Ah, my friend! He’s so rich, and we’re so poor!”
“Well, that’s still not enough of a reason, Mama.”
“Ah, my God! my God! he’s so ill!” the mother exclaimed.
XIV
When Anna Mikhailovna and her son left for Count Kirill Vladimirovich Bezukhov’s, Countess Rostov sat for a long time alone, putting her handkerchief to her eyes. Finally she rang.
“What’s wrong, dear,” she said crossly to the girl, who made her wait a few minutes. “You don’t want to serve me? Then I’ll find another place for you, miss.”
The countess was upset by her friend’s woes and humiliating poverty, and was therefore out of sorts, which always expressed itself in her calling the maid “dear” and “miss.”
“Beg pardon, ma’am,” said the maid.
“Ask the count to come to me.”
The count, waddling, approached his wife with a somewhat guilty look, as he always did.
“Well, my little countess! what a sauté au madère of hazel grouse we’ll have, ma chère! I sampled it. Not for nothing did I pay a thousand roubles for Taraska. He’s worth it!”
He sat down by his wife, resting his elbows dashingly on his knees and ruffling his gray hair.
“What are your orders, little countess!”
“The thing is, my friend—what’s this stain you’ve got there?” she said, pointing to his waistcoat. “Must be the sauté,” she added, smiling. “The thing is, Count, that I need money.”
Her face grew sad.
“Ah, little countess!…” And the count began fussing, pulling out his wallet.
“I need a lot, Count, I need five hundred rubles.” And, taking out a cambric handkerchief, she began rubbing her husband’s waistcoat.
“Just a moment. Hey, you there!” he cried in a voice such as people use who are sure that those they call will come rushing to them. “Send Mitenka to me!”
Mitenka, that nobleman’s son, brought up by the count, who now managed all his affairs, came into the room with quiet steps.
“The thing is, my dear…” the count said to the deferential young man as he came in. “Bring me…” He pondered. “Yes, yes, seven hundred roubles. And see that you don’t bring torn and dirty ones like the other time, but nice ones, for the countess.”
“Yes, Mitenka, please, be sure they’re clean,” said the countess, sighing sadly.
“When shall I bring it, Your Excellency?” asked Mitenka. “Allow me to tell you that…However, please don’t worry,” he added, noticing that the count was beginning to breathe heavily and quickly, which was always a sign of incipient wrath. “I almost forgot…Shall I deliver it this minute?”
“Yes, yes, right, bring it. Give it to the countess.”
“He’s pure gold, my Mitenka,” the count added, smiling, when the young man went out. “Nothing’s ever impossible. I can’t stand that. Everything’s possible.”
“Ah, money, Count, money—there’s so much grief in the world because of it!” said the countess. “But I need this money very badly.”
“You, my dear countess, are a notorious spendthrift,” said the count, and, kissing his wife’s hand, he went back to his study.
When Anna Mikhailovna came back from Bezukhov’s, the money was already lying before the countess, all in new notes, under a handkerchief on a little table, and Anna Mikhailovna noticed that something was troubling the countess.
“Well, my friend?” asked the countess.
“Ah, he’s in such a terrible state! You wouldn’t recognize him, he’s so poorly, so poorly; I stayed only a minute and didn’t say two words…”
“Annette, for God’s sake, don’t refuse me,” the countess said suddenly, blushing, which was quite strange with her thin, dignified, and no longer young face, and taking the money from