s with the countess. The countess' drawing room was full of
guests.

Pierre without greeting his wife whom he had not seen since his
return--at that moment she was more repulsive to him than ever--entered
the drawing room and seeing Anatole went up to him.

"Ah, Pierre," said the countess going up to her husband. "You don't know
what a plight our Anatole..."

She stopped, seeing in the forward thrust of her husband's head, in his
glowing eyes and his resolute gait, the terrible indications of that
rage and strength which she knew and had herself experienced after his
duel with Dolokhov.

"Where you are, there is vice and evil!" said Pierre to his wife.
"Anatole, come with me! I must speak to you," he added in French.

Anatole glanced round at his sister and rose submissively, ready to
follow Pierre. Pierre, taking him by the arm, pulled him toward himself
and was leading him from the room.

"If you allow yourself in my drawing room..." whispered Helene, but
Pierre did not reply and went out of the room.

Anatole followed him with his usual jaunty step but his face betrayed
anxiety.

Having entered his study Pierre closed the door and addressed Anatole
without looking at him.

"You promised Countess Rostova to marry her and were about to elope with
her, is that so?"

"Mon cher," answered Anatole (their whole conversation was in French),
"I don't consider myself bound to answer questions put to me in that
tone."

Pierre's face, already pale, became distorted by fury. He seized Anatole
by the collar of his uniform with his big hand and shook him from side
to side till Anatole's face showed a sufficient degree of terror.

"When I tell you that I must talk to you!..." repeated Pierre.

"Come now, this is stupid. What?" said Anatole, fingering a button of
his collar that had been wrenched loose with a bit of the cloth.

"You're a scoundrel and a blackguard, and I don't know what deprives
me from the pleasure of smashing your head with this!" said Pierre,
expressing himself so artificially because he was talking French.

He took a heavy paperweight and lifted it threateningly, but at once put
it back in its place.

"Did you promise to marry her?"

"I... I didn't think of it. I never promised, because..."

Pierre interrupted him.

"Have you any letters of hers? Any letters?" he said, moving toward
Anatole.

Anatole glanced at him and immediately thrust his hand into his pocket
and drew out his pocketb