The beauty moved away towards the old aunt； but Anna Pavlovna still detained Pierre at her side； with the air of having still some last and essential arrangement to make with him。
“She is exquisite； isn’t she？” she said to Pierre； indicating the majestic beauty swimming away from them。 “And how she carries herself！ For such a young girl； what tact； what a finished perfection of manner。 It comes from the heart。 Happy will be the man who wins her。 The most unworldly of men would take a brilliant place in society as her husband。 That’s true； isn’t it？ I only wanted to know your opinion；” and Anna Pavlovna let Pierre go。
Pierre was perfectly sincere in giving an affirmative answer to her question about Ellen’s perfection of manner。 If ever he thought of Ellen； it was either of her beauty that he thought； or of her extraordinary capacity for serene； dignified silence in society。
The old aunt received the two young people in her corner； but appeared anxious to conceal her adoration of Ellen； and rather to show her fear of Anna Pavlovna。 She glanced at her niece； as though to inquire what she was to do with them。 Anna Pavlovna again laid a finger on Pierre’s sleeve and said： “I hope you will never say in future that people are bored at my house；” and glanced at Ellen。 Ellen smiled with an air； which seemed to say that she did not admit the possibility of any one’s seeing her without being enchanted。 The old aunt coughed； swallowed the phlegm； and said in French that she was very glad to see Ellen； then she addressed Pierre with the same greeting and the same grimace。 In the middle of a halting and tedious conversation； Ellen looked round at Pierre and smiled at him with the bright； beautiful smile with which she smiled at every one。 Pierre was so used to this smile； it meant so little to him； that he did not even notice it。 The aunt was speaking at that moment of a collection of snuff…boxes belonging to Pierre’s father； Count Bezuhov； and she showed them her snuff…box。 Princess Ellen asked to look at the portrait of the aunt’s husband； which was on the snuff…box。
“It’s probably the work of Vines；” said Pierre； mentioning a celebrated miniature painter。 He bent over the table to take the snuff…box； listening all the while to the conversation going on in the larger group。 He got up to move towards it； but the aunt handed him the snuff…box； passing it across Ellen； behind her back。 Ellen bent forward to make room； and looked round smiling。 She was； as always in the evening； wearing a dress cut in the fashion of the day； very low in the neck both in front and behind。 Her bust； which had always to Pierre looked like marble； was so close to his short…sighted eyes that he could discern all the living charm of her neck and shoulders； and so near his lips that he need scarcely have stooped to kiss it。 He felt the warmth of her body； the fragrance of scent； and heard the creaking of her corset as she moved。 He saw not her marble beauty making up one whole with her gown； he saw and felt all the charm of her body； which was only veiled by her clothes。 And having once seen this； he could not see it otherwise； just as we cannot return to an illusion that has been explained。
“So you have never noticed till now that I am lovely？” Ellen seemed to be saying。 “You haven’t noticed that I am a woman？ Yes； I am a woman； who might belong to any one—to you； too；” her eyes said。 And at that moment Pierre felt that Ellen not only could； but would become his wife； that it must be so。
He knew it at that moment as surely as he would have known it； standing under the wedding crown beside her。 How would it be？ and when？ He knew not； knew not even if it would be a good thing （he had a feeling； indeed； that for some reason it would not）； but he knew it would be so。
Pierre dropped his eyes； raised them again； and tried once more to see her as a distant beauty； far removed from him； as he had seen her every day before。 But he could not do this。 He could not； just as a man who has been staring in a fog at a blade of tall steppe grass and taking it for a tree cannot see a tree in it again； after he has once recognised it as a blade of grass。 She was terribly close to him。 Already she had power over him。 And between him and her there existed no barriers of any kind； but the barrier of his own will。
“Very good； I will leave you in your little corner。 I see you are very comfortable there；” said Anna Pavlovna’s voice。 And Pierre； trying panic…stricken to think whether he had done anything reprehensible； looked about him； crimsoning。 It seemed to him as though every one knew； as well as he did； what was passing in him。 A little later； when he went up to the bigger group； Anna Pavlovna said to him：
“I am told you are making improvements in your Petersburg house。” （This was the fact： the architect had told him it was necessary； and Pierre； without knowing with what object； was having his immense house in Petersburg redecorated。） “That is all very well； but do not move from Prince Vassily’s。 It is a good thing to have such a friend as the prince；” she said； smiling to Prince Vassily。 “I know something about that。 Don’t I？ And you are so young。 You need advice。 You mustn’t be angry with me for making use of an old woman’s privileges。” She paused； as women always do pause； in anticipation of something； after speaking of their age。 “If you marry； it’s a different matter。” And she united them in one glance。 Pierre did not look at Ellen； nor she at him。 But she was still as terribly close to him。
He muttered something and blushed。
After Pierre had gone home； it was a long while before he could get to sleep； he kept pondering on what was happening to him。 What was happening？ Nothing。 Simply he had grasped the fact that a woman； whom he had known as a child； of whom he had said； without giving her a thought； “Yes； she’s nice…looking；” when he had been told she was a beauty； he had grasped the fact that that woman might belong to him。 “But she’s stupid； I used to say myself that she was stupid；” he thought。 “There is something nasty in the feeling she excites in me； something not legitimate。 I have been told that her brother； Anatole； was in love with her； and she in love with him； that there was a regular scandal； and that’s why Anatole was sent away。 Her brother is Ippolit。…Her father is Prince Vassily。…That’s bad；” he mused； and at the very moment that he was reflecting thus （the reflections were not followed out to the end） he caught himself smiling； and became conscious that another series of reflections had risen to the surface across the first； that he was at the same time meditating on her worthlessness； and dreaming of how she would be his wife； how she might love him； how she might become quite different； and how all he had thought and heard about her might be untrue。 And again he saw her； not as the daughter of Prince Vassily； but saw her whole body； only veiled by her grey gown。 “But； no； why didn’t that idea ever occur to me before？” And again he told himself that it was impossible； that there would be something nasty； unnatural； as it seemed to him； and dishonourable in this marriage。 He recalled her past words and looks； and the words and looks of people； who had seen them together。 He remembered the words and looks of Anna Pavlovna； when she had spoken about his house； he recollected thousands of such hints from Prince Vassily and other people； and he was overwhelmed with terror that he might have bound himself in some way to do a thing obviously wrong； and not what he ought to do。 But at the very time that he was expressing this to himself； in another part of his mind her image floated to the surface in all its womanly beauty。
Chapter 2
IN THE NOVEMBER of 1805 Prince Vassily was obliged to go on a tour of inspection through four provinces。 He had secured this appointment for himself； in order to be able at the same time to visit his estates； which were in a neglected state。 He intended to pick up his son； Anatole； on the way （where his regiment was stationed）； and to pay a visit to Prince Nikolay Andreivitch Bolkonsky； with a view to marrying his son to the rich old man’s daughter。 But before going away and entering on these new affairs； Prince Vassily wanted to settle matters with Pierre； who had； it was true； of late spent whole days at home； that is； at Prince Vassily’s； where he was staying； and was as absurd； as agitated； and as stupid in Ellen’s presence； as a young man in love should be； but still made no offer。
“This is all very fine； but the thing must come to a conclusion；” Prince Vassily said to himself one morning； with a melancholy sigh； recognising that Pierre； who was so greatly indebted to him （But there！ God bless the fellow！）； was not behaving quite nicely to him in the matter。 “Youth…frivolity…well； God be with him；” thought Prince Vassily； enjoying the sense of his own goodness of heart； “but the thing must come to a conclusion。 The day after to…morrow is Ellen’s nameday； I’ll invite some people； and if he doesn’t understand what he’s to do； then it will be my affair to see to it。 Yes； my affair。 I’m her father。”
Six weeks after Anna Pavlovna’s party； and the sleepless and agitated night after it； in which Pierre had made up his mind that a marriage with Ellen would be a calamity； and that he must avoid her and go away； six weeks after that decision Pierre had still not left Prince Vassily’s； and felt with horror that every day he was more and more connected with her in people’s minds； that he could not go back to his former view of her； that he could not tear himself away from her even； that it would be an awful thing； but that he would have to unite his life to hers。 Perhaps he might have mastered himself； but not a day passed without a party at Prince Vassily’s （where receptions had not been frequent）； and Pierre was bound to be present if he did not want to disturb the general satisfaction and disappoint every one。 At the rare moments when Prince Vassily was at home； he took Pierre’s hand if he passed him； carelessly offered him his shaven； wrinkled cheek for a kiss； and said； “till to…morrow；” or “be in to dinner； or I shan’t see you；” or “I shall stay at home o