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Updated: May 10, 2025
Denisov, bareheaded and with a gloomy face, walked behind some Cossacks who were carrying the body of Petya Rostov to a hole that had been dug in the garden.
The affianced couple, no longer alluding to trees that shed gloom and melancholy upon them, planned the arrangements of a splendid house in Petersburg, paid calls, and prepared everything for a brilliant wedding. At the end of January old Count Rostov went to Moscow with Natasha and Sonya. The countess was still unwell and unable to travel but it was impossible to wait for her recovery.
One of the men came out of the crowd and went up to Rostov. "Who do you belong to?" he asked. "The French," replied Ilyin jestingly, "and here is Napoleon himself" and he pointed to Lavrushka. "Then you are Russians?" the peasant asked again. "And is there a large force of you here?" said another, a short man, coming up. "Very large," answered Rostov. "But why have you collected here?" he added.
The Rostov household resounds with them the Rostovs are of the easy, light-spirited, quick-tongued sort. Then there is the dreary old Bolkonsky mansion, with Andrew, generous and sceptical, and with poor plain Marya, ardent and repressed.
The Rostovs' monetary affairs had not improved during the two years they had spent in the country. Though Nicholas Rostov had kept firmly to his resolution and was still serving modestly in an obscure regiment, spending comparatively little, the way of life at Otradnoe Mitenka's management of affairs, in particular was such that the debts inevitably increased every year.
But Rostov pulled away his arm and, with as much anger as though Denisov were his worst enemy, firmly fixed his eyes directly on his face. "Do you understand what you're saying?" he said in a trembling voice. "There was no one else in the room except myself. So that if it is not so, then..." He could not finish, and ran out of the room.
Oh, how that chord vibrated, and how moved was something that was finest in Rostov's soul! And this something was apart from everything else in the world and above everything in the world. "What were losses, and Dolokhov, and words of honor?... All nonsense! One might kill and rob and yet be happy..." It was long since Rostov had felt such enjoyment from music as he did that day.
The women and girls flirted with him and, from the first day, the people concerned themselves to get this fine young daredevil of an hussar married and settled down. Among these was the governor's wife herself, who welcomed Rostov as a near relative and called him "Nicholas."
Though she had firmly resolved not to call on the Rostovs again and to forget the whole matter, she felt herself all the time in an awkward position. And when she asked herself what distressed her, she had to admit that it was her relation to Rostov. One day in midwinter when sitting in the schoolroom attending to her nephew's lessons, she was informed that Rostov had called.
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