El never chose a career for himself in Petersburg. He was banished to Moscow because of the riot. The story that someone told at Rostov's house is true. Pierre was involved in a case involving the police chief and the bear. He came back a few days ago and stayed in his father's house as usual. Although he speculated that his history was well known in Moscow. The wives around his father had always been unkind to him, and they wanted to take this opportunity to make his father angry. But on the day he arrived, he went to his father's apartment. He went into the princess's usual parking room and greeted the ladies who had embroidered and read a Book (one of them was reading a Book aloud). There are three of them. The elder lady, with her clean nature, long waist and serious facial expression, was the girl who had visited Anna Mihailovna's house. She was reading a Book aloud. The cheeks of the two young ladies were pink and beautiful, and the difference between them was only that one of them had a little baby on her lips that made her look more beautiful. Nevus, they both embroidered with bandages. They met Pierre and regarded him as a dead person or a plague patient. The elder Princess interrupted her reading and glanced at him silently with fear; the younger princess, who had no moles on her face, showed the same expression; the youngest lady, with a little mole on her face, had a lively and funny nature, and bent down at the stretch and hid a smile. Perhaps she had foreseen a farce coming, which made her laugh. She pulled down the wool and bent down as if identifying the pattern. It was not easy for her to stop laughing.
"Bomjour, macousine," Pierre said, "Vousnemere Bconnaissezpas?" (1)
"I remember very clearly, very clearly."
"How is the count's health? Can I meet him? Pierre asked, as shyly as usual, but without embarrassment.
"The count suffers both physically and mentally, as if you were trying to make him suffer more mentally."
"Can I meet the count?" Pierre repeated what he had said.
"Hmm!" If you want to kill him, kill him, then you can meet him. Oliga, go and see if my cousin's soup is stewed. It's almost time." She added that she told Pierre that they were busy and were busy comforting his father, who was obviously just busy making his father heartache.
Oliga went out. Pierre stood for a moment, looked at the two cousins, bowed and said:
"Then I'll go to my room. Please tell me when we can meet.
He went out, and behind him came the loud, melodious but low laughter of his cousin, who had moles.
The next day, the Duke of Vassily came, and he rested at the count's house. He called Pierre to his side and said to him:
"Moncher, sivous vous conduisezici, commeta
P tersbeurg, vous finireztrsmal; c'esttoutcequejevousdis, the count's condition is very serious; you don't need to meet him at all."
French: Hello, cousin. You don't know me anymore?
French: My dear, if you behave improperly here as you did in Petersburg, the result will be very bad. That's the truth.
From then on, Pierre was no longer disturbed. He was alone in his room upstairs all day.
When Boris entered Pierre's room, he was pacing back and forth, sometimes in the corner, making threatening gestures against the wall, as if stabbing the invisible enemy with a sword. He looked out from above his glasses with a straight face, then began to pace again and again, sometimes murmuring in his mouth. He shrugged his shoulders and stretched out his hands as he spoke vaguely.
"L'Angleterreav cu," he said, frowning and pointing his finger at someone, "M. Pittcommetraitre lanationetaudroit desgensestcondamna..." At that moment, he imagined himself as Napoleon himself, and crossed the Calais Channel with the hero through danger and occupied London. But before he had finished his sentence of executing Peter, he suddenly saw a young officer with a well-proportioned figure and a handsome face coming towards him. He stopped. When Pierre left Boris, he was a fourteen-year-old boy, and Pierre could hardly remember him. Nevertheless, Pierre showed his unique agility and enthusiasm, holding Boris's hand in one hand with a friendly smile on his face.
French: Britain is over.
(2) French: Peter is a villain who betrays the nation and sells civil rights. He should be sentenced to...
"Do you remember me?" Boris smiled happily and said calmly, "My mother and I came to see the count, but he seems to be in poor health."
"Yes, he seems to be in poor health. He is always disturbed." Pierre answered, trying to remember who the young man was.
Boris felt that Pierre did not know him, but that he did not need to say his name, and that his eyes were fixed on him without any confusion.
"Count Rostov invites you to lunch at his house today." He said after a rather long silence which made Pierre feel uncomfortable.
"Ah! Count Rostov!" Pierre said happily, "Elijah, then you are his son Lo? As you can imagine, I didn't recognize you at first glance. Do you remember that we took a bus to Sparrow Hill with M-Me Jacquot?
... That was a long time ago."
French: Mrs. Jacques.
"You're wrong," Boris said with an unusually sarcastic smile. "I'm Boris, the son of the Duchess of Anna Mihailovna Drubitskaya, Rostov's father Ilia and his son Nicolas. I don't know Mrs. Jacques."
Pierre waved and shook his head as if a mosquito or bee had attacked him.
"Well, what's the matter? I confused everything. There are so many relatives in Moscow! Yes, you are Boris... Well, we have a clue. Hello, what do you think of the expedition of Bren? As long as Napoleon crossed the Strait, the English would suffer, would they? I think the expedition is a sure thing. I wish Vernaf would stop leaking!"
Boris knew nothing about Bren's expedition. He did not read the newspaper. It was the first time he heard of the character Vilnaf.
"In this place, in Moscow, we care more about lunch and slander than politics," he said in his calm sarcastic tone. "I know nothing about it, and I don't think about it. Moscow's main concern is slander, "he continued." Everyone's talking about you right now, about the count. "
Pierre smiled kindly, as if he feared what the other party would say to make him regret. But Boris kept looking into Pierre's eyes. When he spoke, he sounded convincing, but dull.
"Moscow has nothing to do but spread rumors," he continued. "Everyone is concerned about who the count will leave his property to, but he may live longer than all of us. That's my sincere wish..."
"That's right, that's really choking," Pierre said, "that's choking." Pierre was always afraid that the officer would be unexpectedly keen on a conversation that embarrassed him personally.
"You must think so." Boris blushed a little, but did not change his voice or posture. "You must think that all you care about is what you get from the rich man."
"That's true." Pierre thought for a moment.
"In order to avoid misunderstanding, I would like to say to you that it would be a great mistake if you included me and my mother in this category. Although we are poor, I must at least speak for myself; it is because your father is rich that I do not regard myself as his relatives, whether I or my mother, and we will never beg for anything from him or accept anything from him."
Pierre couldn't understand for a long time, but when he did, he jumped up from the sofa and held Boris's arm in his inherent agility and clumsiness; then he blushed much more than Boris, and spoke with shame and regret:
"How strange it is! Am I ？ But who's going to think about it?... I know very well...
But Boris interrupted him again:
"I said it all, and I felt very happy. You may not like it. Please forgive me." He said that instead of letting Pierre comfort him, he comforted Pierre, "But I hope I will not humiliate you. My rule is to speak frankly and cleanly... How should I convey it? Are you going to Rostov's for lunch?"
Boris evidently shirked his heavy responsibilities, got rid of his embarrassing situation, but put others in that situation, so he became very happy again.
"No, please listen to me," Pierre said calmly. "You are an extraordinary person. What you said just now is very good, very good. Needless to say, you don't know me anymore. We haven't seen each other for a long time... At that time, it was still a child. You can speculate about me... I know it in my heart. I know it very well. If I don't have the courage, I can't do it, but it's great. I'm very glad to know you. It's strange to say, "he added with a smile after a moment's silence." What do you think of me! " He laughed. "Well, that's nothing. So what? We'll get to know each other more thoroughly in the future. That's it." He shook Boris's hand. "Do you know that I have never been to the count once? He didn't invite me... I pity him... But what's the way?
"Do you think Napoleon will send troops across the Channel?" Boris asked with a smile on his face.
Pierre knew that Boris wanted to change the subject, so he promised him and began to talk about the pros and cons of the expedition.
The servant came and called Boris to the Duchess. The Duchess is leaving soon. Pierre promised to come to lunch. In order to get close to Boris, he held Boris's hand tightly and looked gently into his eyes through his glasses. After he left, Pierre paced the room for a long time. He no longer needed a sword to assassinate the invisible enemy. When he recalled the bright, lovely and strong young man, he smiled.
Just like the people of adolescence, especially those living alone, he held an unprovoked tenderness towards this young man, and he swore to be a friend with him.
The Duke of Vassily sent the Duchess away. The Duchess covered her eyes with a handkerchief and her face was full of tears.
"How terrible it is! How terrible! She said, "No matter how much I spend, I have to fulfill my obligations. I'm sure to stay overnight. You can't just leave him alone. Every moment is precious. I really don't understand why the princesses are dawdling. Maybe God will help me figure out a way to prepare for him... Adieu, monprince, quelebon Dieuvoussoutienne..." (1)
"Adieu, mabonne," answered Prince Vassily, turning away from her.
French: Goodbye, Duke, and God bless you
French: Good-bye, my dear.
"Well, he's very sick and terrible," the mother said to her son as she and her son got into the four-wheeled carriage. "He can hardly recognize anybody."
"Mom, I don't understand. What's his attitude toward Pierre?" Asked the son.
"The will will will tell you everything, my relatives, our destiny will be shifted by it..."
"But why do you think he'll leave us something?"
"Well, my friend! He is so rich, but we are so poor!"
"Hey, Mom, that's not a good reason."
"Oh, my God! Oh my god! How ill he is!" Mother said sadly.
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