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Updated: June 2, 2025
Willarski felt dull in Orel and was pleased to meet a man of his own circle and, as he supposed, of similar interests. But to his surprise Willarski soon noticed that Pierre had lagged much behind the times, and had sunk, as he expressed it to himself, into apathy and egotism. "You are letting yourself go, my dear fellow," he said.
He did not contradict Willarski and even seemed to agree with him an apparent agreement being the simplest way to avoid discussions that could lead to nothing and he smiled joyfully as he listened to him.
He was conducted from that room along passages that turned backwards and forwards and was at last brought to the doors of the Lodge. Willarski coughed, he was answered by the Masonic knock with mallets, the doors opened before them.
And Pierre, without trying to change the other's views and without condemning him, but with the quiet, joyful, and amused smile now habitual to him, was interested in this strange though very familiar phenomenon. There was a new feature in Pierre's relations with Willarski, with the princess, with the doctor, and with all the people he now met, which gained for him the general good will.
Willarski was married to a Russian heiress who had a large estate in Orel province, and he occupied a temporary post in the commissariat department in that town. Hearing that Bezukhov was in Orel, Willarski, though they had never been intimate, came to him with the professions of friendship and intimacy that people who meet in a desert generally express for one another.
But for all that Willarski found it pleasanter now than it had been formerly to be with Pierre, and came to see him every day. To Pierre as he looked at and listened to Willarski, it seemed strange to think that he had been like that himself but a short time before. Willarski was a married man with a family, busy with his family affairs, his wife's affairs, and his official duties.
To fresh questions as to the firmness of his resolution Pierre replied: "Yes, yes, I agree," and with a beaming, childlike smile, his fat chest uncovered, stepping unevenly and timidly in one slippered and one booted foot, he advanced, while Willarski held a sword to his bare chest.
Pierre had already long been feeling in himself that refreshing source of blessedness which now flooded his heart with glad emotion. Soon after this there came into the dark chamber to fetch Pierre, not the Rhetor but Pierre's sponsor, Willarski, whom he recognized by his voice.
Throughout his journey he felt like a schoolboy on holiday. Everyone the stagecoach driver, the post-house overseers, the peasants on the roads and in the villages had a new significance for him. The presence and remarks of Willarski who continually deplored the ignorance and poverty of Russia and its backwardness compared with Europe only heightened Pierre's pleasure.
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