I will call again tomorrow," said Metivier; and putting his
fingers to his lips he hastened away.

Through the study door came the sound of slippered feet and the cry:
"Spies, traitors, traitors everywhere! Not a moment's peace in my own
house!"

After Metivier's departure the old prince called his daughter in, and
the whole weight of his wrath fell on her. She was to blame that a spy
had been admitted. Had he not told her, yes, told her to make a list,
and not to admit anyone who was not on that list? Then why was that
scoundrel admitted? She was the cause of it all. With her, he said, he
could not have a moment's peace and could not die quietly.

"No, ma'am! We must part, we must part! Understand that, understand
it! I cannot endure any more," he said, and left the room. Then, as if
afraid she might find some means of consolation, he returned and trying
to appear calm added: "And don't imagine I have said this in a moment of
anger. I am calm. I have thought it over, and it will be carried
out--we must part; so find some place for yourself...." But he could not
restrain himself and with the virulence of which only one who loves
is capable, evidently suffering himself, he shook his fists at her and
screamed:

"If only some fool would marry her!" Then he slammed the door, sent for
Mademoiselle Bourienne, and subsided into his study.

At two o'clock the six chosen guests assembled for dinner.

These guests--the famous Count Rostopchin, Prince Lopukhin with his
nephew, General Chatrov an old war comrade of the prince's, and of the
younger generation Pierre and Boris Drubetskoy--awaited the prince in
the drawing room.

Boris, who had come to Moscow on leave a few days before, had been
anxious to be presented to Prince Nicholas Bolkonski, and had contrived
to ingratiate himself so well that the old prince in his case made an
exception to the rule of not receiving bachelors in his house.

The prince's house did not belong to what is known as fashionable
society, but his little circle--though not much talked about in
town--was one it was more flattering to be received in than any other.
Boris had realized this the week before when the commander in chief
in his presence invited Rostopchin to dinner on St. Nicholas' Day, and
Rostopchin had replied that he could not come:

"On that day I always go to pay my devotions to the relics of Prince
Nicholas Bolkonski."

"Oh, yes, yes!" replied the commander in chief. "How is