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Some flash as of an electric spark shot from Telyanin's eyes to Rostov's and back, and back again and again in an instant. "Come here," said Rostov, catching hold of Telyanin's arm and almost dragging him to the window. "That money is Denisov's; you took it..." he whispered just above Telyanin's ear. "What? What? How dare you? What?" said Telyanin.
Our stories have some weight, not like the stories of those fellows on the staff who get rewards without doing anything!" "Of whom you imagine me to be one?" said Prince Andrew, with a quiet and particularly amiable smile. A strange feeling of exasperation and yet of respect for this man's self-possession mingled at that moment in Rostov's soul.
When the officer had gone away, Denisov, who did not himself know what Rostov's relations with the Polish girl might be, began to upbraid him for his quickness of temper, and Rostov replied: "Say what you like.... She is like a sister to me, and I can't tell you how it offended me... because... well, for that reason...."
"And here, where at any moment the Emperor may see them.... But no, these must be only a handful of scoundrels. It will soon be over, it can't be that, it can't be! Only to get past them quicker, quicker!" The idea of defeat and flight could not enter Rostov's head.
"Yes, you might, but I am afraid of getting the accounts mixed. So I ask you to put the money on your cards," replied Dolokhov. "Don't stint yourself, we'll settle afterwards," he added, turning to Rostov. The game continued; a waiter kept handing round champagne. All Rostov's cards were beaten and he had eight hundred rubles scored up against him.
"I saw them this evening on that knoll; if they had retreated they would have withdrawn from that too.... Officer!" said Bagration to Rostov, "are the enemy's skirmishers still there?" "They were there this evening, but now I don't know, your excellency. Shall I go with some of my hussars to see?" replied Rostov. Bagration stopped and, before replying, tried to see Rostov's face in the mist.
Boris, with one leg crossed over the other and stroking his left hand with the slender fingers of his right, listened to Rostov as a general listens to the report of a subordinate, now looking aside and now gazing straight into Rostov's eyes with the same veiled look. Each time this happened Rostov felt uncomfortable and cast down his eyes.
Dolokhov was no longer listening to stories or telling them, but followed every movement of Rostov's hands and occasionally ran his eyes over the score against him. He had decided to play until that score reached forty-three thousand. He had fixed on that number because forty-three was the sum of his and Sonya's joint ages.
During Rostov's short stay in Moscow, before rejoining the army, he did not draw closer to Sonya, but rather drifted away from her.
Nearer and nearer to Rostov came that sun shedding beams of mild and majestic light around, and already he felt himself enveloped in those beams, he heard his voice, that kindly, calm, and majestic voice that was yet so simple! And as if in accord with Rostov's feeling, there was a deathly stillness amid which was heard the Emperor's voice. "The Pavlograd hussars?" he inquired.
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