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Updated: June 16, 2025
Anna Mikhaylovna was already embracing her and weeping. The countess wept too. They wept because they were friends, and because they were kindhearted, and because they friends from childhood had to think about such a base thing as money, and because their youth was over.... But those tears were pleasant to them both.
"It's that protege of yours, that sweet Princess Drubetskaya, that Anna Mikhaylovna whom I would not take for a housemaid... the infamous, vile woman!" "Do not let us lose any time..." "Ah, don't talk to me!
"And I should so like to thank Uncle once for all his kindness to me and Boris. He is his godson," she added, her tone suggesting that this fact ought to give Prince Vasili much satisfaction. Prince Vasili became thoughtful and frowned. Anna Mikhaylovna saw that he was afraid of finding in her a rival for Count Bezukhov's fortune, and hastened to reassure him.
"But, my dear princess," answered Anna Mikhaylovna blandly but impressively, blocking the way to the bedroom and preventing the other from passing, "won't this be too much for poor Uncle at a moment when he needs repose? Worldly conversation at a moment when his soul is already prepared..."
Anna Mikhaylovna regarded the refined sadness that united her son to the wealthy Julie with emotion, and resignation to the Divine will. "You are always charming and melancholy, my dear Julie," she said to the daughter. "Boris says his soul finds repose at your house. He has suffered so many disappointments and is so sensitive," said she to the mother.
I hope, my dear friend, you will carry out your father's wish?" Pierre understood nothing of all this and coloring shyly looked in silence at Princess Anna Mikhaylovna. After her talk with Pierre, Anna Mikhaylovna returned to the Rostovs' and went to bed. On waking in the morning she told the Rostovs and all her acquaintances the details of Count Bezukhov's death.
But she believed what he said, and when she had quite grasped it she touched his hand, smiling pityingly, and said: 'Perhaps you exaggerate, Stiva? 'No, Pashenka. I am an adulterer, a murderer, a blasphemer, and a deceiver. 'My God! How is that? exclaimed Praskovya Mikhaylovna. 'But I must go on living.
"I know, my dear, kind princess," said Anna Mikhaylovna, seizing the portfolio so firmly that it was plain she would not let go easily. "Dear princess, I beg and implore you, have some pity on him! Je vous en conjure..." The princess did not reply.
I'm sure of it!" exclaimed Natasha, reading confirmation in Anna Mikhaylovna's face. "But for God's sake, be careful, you know how it may affect your mamma." "I will, I will, only tell me! You won't? Then I will go and tell at once." Anna Mikhaylovna, in a few words, told her the contents of the letter, on condition that she should tell no one.
"Then tomorrow you will speak to the Emperor?" "Certainly; but about Kutuzov, I don't promise." "Do promise, do promise, Vasili!" cried Anna Mikhaylovna as he went, with the smile of a coquettish girl, which at one time probably came naturally to her, but was now very ill-suited to her careworn face. Apparently she had forgotten her age and by force of habit employed all the old feminine arts.
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