osal."

"I see I'm intruding," Rostov repeated.

The look of annoyance had already disappeared from Boris' face: having
evidently reflected and decided how to act, he very quietly took
both Rostov's hands and led him into the next room. His eyes, looking
serenely and steadily at Rostov, seemed to be veiled by something, as if
screened by blue spectacles of conventionality. So it seemed to Rostov.

"Oh, come now! As if you could come at a wrong time!" said Boris, and he
led him into the room where the supper table was laid and introduced
him to his guests, explaining that he was not a civilian, but an hussar
officer, and an old friend of his.

"Count Zhilinski--le Comte N. N.--le Capitaine S. S.," said he,
naming his guests. Rostov looked frowningly at the Frenchmen, bowed
reluctantly, and remained silent.

Zhilinski evidently did not receive this new Russian person very
willingly into his circle and did not speak to Rostov. Boris did not
appear to notice the constraint the newcomer produced and, with the same
pleasant composure and the same veiled look in his eyes with which he
had met Rostov, tried to enliven the conversation. One of the Frenchmen,
with the politeness characteristic of his countrymen, addressed the
obstinately taciturn Rostov, saying that the latter had probably come to
Tilsit to see the Emperor.

"No, I came on business," replied Rostov, briefly.

Rostov had been out of humor from the moment he noticed the look of
dissatisfaction on Boris' face, and as always happens to those in a bad
humor, it seemed to him that everyone regarded him with aversion and
that he was in everybody's way. He really was in their way, for he alone
took no part in the conversation which again became general. The looks
the visitors cast on him seemed to say: "And what is he sitting here
for?" He rose and went up to Boris.

"Anyhow, I'm in your way," he said in a low tone. "Come and talk over my
business and I'll go away."

"Oh, no, not at all," said Boris. "But if you are tired, come and lie
down in my room and have a rest."

"Yes, really..."

They went into the little room where Boris slept. Rostov, without
sitting down, began at once, irritably (as if Boris were to blame
in some way) telling him about Denisov's affair, asking him whether,
through his general, he could and would intercede with the Emperor on
Denisov's behalf and get Denisov's petition handed in. When he and Boris
were alone, Rostov felt for th