shoulder without looking at him. The aide-de-camp, an adept
in his art, grasping his partner firmly round her waist, with confident
deliberation started smoothly, gliding first round the edge of the
circle, then at the corner of the room he caught Helene's left hand
and turned her, the only sound audible, apart from the ever-quickening
music, being the rhythmic click of the spurs on his rapid, agile feet,
while at every third beat his partner's velvet dress spread out and
seemed to flash as she whirled round. Natasha gazed at them and was
ready to cry because it was not she who was dancing that first turn of
the waltz.

Prince Andrew, in the white uniform of a cavalry colonel, wearing
stockings and dancing shoes, stood looking animated and bright in the
front row of the circle not far from the Rostovs. Baron Firhoff was
talking to him about the first sitting of the Council of State to be
held next day. Prince Andrew, as one closely connected with Speranski
and participating in the work of the legislative commission, could give
reliable information about that sitting, concerning which various rumors
were current. But not listening to what Firhoff was saying, he was
gazing now at the sovereign and now at the men intending to dance who
had not yet gathered courage to enter the circle.

Prince Andrew was watching these men abashed by the Emperor's presence,
and the women who were breathlessly longing to be asked to dance.

Pierre came up to him and caught him by the arm.

"You always dance. I have a protegee, the young Rostova, here. Ask her,"
he said.

"Where is she?" asked Bolkonski. "Excuse me!" he added, turning to the
baron, "we will finish this conversation elsewhere--at a ball one
must dance." He stepped forward in the direction Pierre indicated. The
despairing, dejected expression of Natasha's face caught his eye.
He recognized her, guessed her feelings, saw that it was her debut,
remembered her conversation at the window, and with an expression of
pleasure on his face approached Countess Rostova.

"Allow me to introduce you to my daughter," said the countess, with
heightened color.

"I have the pleasure of being already acquainted, if the countess
remembers me," said Prince Andrew with a low and courteous bow quite
belying Peronskaya's remarks about his rudeness, and approaching Natasha
he held out his arm to grasp her waist before he had completed his
invitation. He asked her to waltz. That tremulous expre