her life. She was at that height of bliss when one becomes
completely kind and good and does not believe in the possibility of
evil, unhappiness, or sorrow.

At that ball Pierre for the first time felt humiliated by the position
his wife occupied in court circles. He was gloomy and absent-minded. A
deep furrow ran across his forehead, and standing by a window he stared
over his spectacles seeing no one.

On her way to supper Natasha passed him.

Pierre's gloomy, unhappy look struck her. She stopped in front of him.
She wished to help him, to bestow on him the superabundance of her own
happiness.

"How delightful it is, Count!" said she. "Isn't it?"

Pierre smiled absent-mindedly, evidently not grasping what she said.

"Yes, I am very glad," he said.

"How can people be dissatisfied with anything?" thought Natasha.
"Especially such a capital fellow as Bezukhov!" In Natasha's eyes all
the people at the ball alike were good, kind, and splendid people,
loving one another; none of them capable of injuring another--and so
they ought all to be happy.

CHAPTER XVIII

Next day Prince Andrew thought of the ball, but his mind did not dwell
on it long. "Yes, it was a very brilliant ball," and then... "Yes, that
little Rostova is very charming. There's something fresh, original,
un-Petersburg-like about her that distinguishes her." That was all he
thought about yesterday's ball, and after his morning tea he set to
work.

But either from fatigue or want of sleep he was ill-disposed for work
and could get nothing done. He kept criticizing his own work, as he
often did, and was glad when he heard someone coming.

The visitor was Bitski, who served on various committees, frequented all
the societies in Petersburg, and a passionate devotee of the new ideas
and of Speranski, and a diligent Petersburg newsmonger--one of those men
who choose their opinions like their clothes according to the fashion,
but who for that very reason appear to be the warmest partisans. Hardly
had he got rid of his hat before he ran into Prince Andrew's room with a
preoccupied air and at once began talking. He had just heard particulars
of that morning's sitting of the Council of State opened by the Emperor,
and he spoke of it enthusiastically. The Emperor's speech had been
extraordinary. It had been a speech such as only constitutional monarchs
deliver. "The Sovereign plainly said that the Council and Senate are
estates of the realm, he