judge not by their conversation or expressions of feeling but by their
acts and way of life--were glad of Pierre's return because they knew
that when he was there Count Nicholas would cease going every day to
attend to the estate, and would be in better spirits and temper, and
also because they would all receive handsome presents for the holidays.

The children and their governesses were glad of Pierre's return because
no one else drew them into the social life of the household as he did.
He alone could play on the clavichord that ecossaise (his only piece)
to which, as he said, all possible dances could be danced, and they felt
sure he had brought presents for them all.

Young Nicholas, now a slim lad of fifteen, delicate and intelligent,
with curly light-brown hair and beautiful eyes, was delighted because
Uncle Pierre as he called him was the object of his rapturous and
passionate affection. No one had instilled into him this love for Pierre
whom he saw only occasionally. Countess Mary who had brought him up
had done her utmost to make him love her husband as she loved him, and
little Nicholas did love his uncle, but loved him with just a shade of
contempt. Pierre, however, he adored. He did not want to be an hussar or
a Knight of St. George like his uncle Nicholas; he wanted to be learned,
wise, and kind like Pierre. In Pierre's presence his face always shone
with pleasure and he flushed and was breathless when Pierre spoke to
him. He did not miss a single word he uttered, and would afterwards,
with Dessalles or by himself, recall and reconsider the meaning of
everything Pierre had said. Pierre's past life and his unhappiness prior
to 1812 (of which young Nicholas had formed a vague poetic picture from
some words he had overheard), his adventures in Moscow, his captivity,
Platon Karataev (of whom he had heard from Pierre), his love for Natasha
(of whom the lad was also particularly fond), and especially Pierre's
friendship with the father whom Nicholas could not remember--all this
made Pierre in his eyes a hero and a saint.

From broken remarks about Natasha and his father, from the emotion with
which Pierre spoke of that dead father, and from the careful, reverent
tenderness with which Natasha spoke of him, the boy, who was only just
beginning to guess what love is, derived the notion that his father had
loved Natasha and when dying had left her to his friend. But the father
whom the boy did not remember appeared