Each visitor performed the ceremony of greeting this old aunt whom not one of them knew, not one of them wanted to know, and not one of them cared about; Anna Pávlovna observed these greetings with mournful and solemn interest and silent approval. The aunt spoke to each of them in the same words, about their health and her own, and the health of her Majesty, ‘who, thank God, was better today.’ And each visitor, though politeness prevented his showing impatience, left the old woman with a sense of relief at having performed a vexatious duty and did not return to her the whole evening.

The little princess went round the table with quick short swaying steps, her workbag on her arm, and gaily spreading out her dress sat down on a sofa near the silver samovar, as if all she was doing was a pleasure to herself and to all around her. ‘I have brought my work,’ said she in French, displaying her bag and addressing all present. ‘Mind, Annette, I hope you have not played a wicked trick on me,’ she added, turning to her hostess. ‘You wrote that it was to be quite a small reception, and just see how badly I am dressed.’ And she spread out her arms to show her short-waisted, lace-trimmed, dainty grey dress, girdled with a broad ribbon just below the breast.

‘Soyez tranquille, Lise, you will always be prettier than any one else,’ replied Anna Pávlovna.

‘You know,’ said the princess in the same tone of voice and still in French, turning to a general, ‘my husband is deserting me? He is going to get himself killed. Tell me what this wretched war is for?’ she added, addressing Prince Vasíli, and without waiting for an answer she turned to speak to his daughter, the beautiful Hélène.

‘What a delightful woman this little princess is!’ said Prince Vasíli to Anna Pávlovna.


Read more at https://www.penguin.co.uk/articles/find-your-next-read/extracts/2016/feb/war-and-peace-by-leo-tolstoy/#7k3tgliLJGfoZTJi.99


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