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The handsome Vra, who produced such an irritating and unpleasant effect on everyone, smiled and, evidently unmoved by what had been said to her, went to the looking glass and arranged her hair and scarf. Looking at her own handsome face she seemed to become still colder and calmer.
In the drawing room the conversation was still going on.
“Ah, my dear,” said the countess, “my life is not all roses either. Don’t I know that at the rate we are living our means won’t last long? It’s all the Club and his easygoing nature. Even in the country do we get any rest? Theatricals, hunting, and heaven knows what besides! But don’t let’s talk about me; tell me how you managed everything. I often wonder at you, Annette—how at your age you can rush off alone in a carriage to Moscow, to Petersburg, to those ministers and great people, and know how to deal with them all! It’s quite astonishing. How did you get things settled? I couldn’t possibly do it.”
“Ah, my love,” answered Anna Mikhylovna, “God grant you never know what it is to be left a widow without means and with a son you love to distraction! One learns many things then,” she added with a certain pride. “That lawsuit taught me much. When I want to see one of those big people I write a note: ‘Princess So-and-So desires an interview with So and-So,’ and then I take a cab and go myself two, three, or four times—till I get what I want. I don’t mind what they think of me.”
“Well, and to whom did you apply about Bry?” asked the countess. “You see yours is already an officer in the Guards, while my Nicholas is going as a cadet. There’s no one to interest himself for him. To whom did you apply?”
“To Prince Vasli. He was so kind. He at once agreed to everything, and put the matter before the Emperor,” said Princess Anna Mikhylovna enthusiastically, quite forgetting all the humiliation she had endured to gain her end.
“Has Prince Vasli aged much?” asked the countess. “I have not seen him since we acted together at the Rumyntsovs’ theatricals. I expect he has forgotten me. He paid me attentions in those days,” said the countess, with a smile.
“He is just the same as ever,” replied Anna Mikhylovna, “overflowing with amiability. His position has not turned his head at all. He said to me, ‘I am sorry I can do so little for you, dear Princess. I am at your command.’ Yes, he is a fine fellow and a very kind relation. But, Nataly, you know my love for my son: I would do anything for his happiness! And my affairs are in such a bad way that my position is now a terrible one,” continued Anna Mikhylovna, sadly, dropping her voice. “My wretched lawsuit takes all I have and makes no progress. Would you believe it, I have literally not a penny and don’t know how to equip Bors.” She took out her handkerchief and began to cry. “I need five hundred rubles, and have only one twenty-five-ruble note. I am in such a state.... My only hope now is in Count Cyril Vladmirovich Bezkhov. If he will not assist his godson—you know he is Bry’s godfather—and allow him something for his maintenance, all my trouble will have been thrown away.... I shall not be able to equip him.”
The countess’ eyes filled with tears and she pondered in silence.
“I often think, though, perhaps it’s a sin,” said the princess, “that here lives Count Cyril Vladmirovich Bezkhov so rich, all alone... that tremendous fortune... and what is his life worth? It’s a burden to him, and Bry’s life is only just beginning....”
“Surely he will leave something to Bors,” said the countess.
“Heaven only knows, my dear! These rich grandees are so selfish. Still, I will take Bors and go to see him at once, and I shall speak to him straight out. Let people think what they will of me, it’s really all the same to me when my son’s fate is at stake.” The princess rose. “It’s now two o’clock and you dine at four. There will just be time.”
And like a practical Petersburg lady who knows how to make the most of time, Anna Mikhylovna sent someone to call her son, and went into the anteroom with him.
“Good-by, my dear,” said she to the countess who saw her to the door, and added in a whisper so that her son should not hear, “Wish me good luck.”
“Are you going to Count Cyril Vladmirovich, my dear?” said the count coming out from the dining hall into the anteroom, and he added: “If he is better, ask Pierre to dine with us. He has been to the house, you know, and danced with the children. Be sure to invite him, my dear. We will see how Tars distinguishes himself today. He says Count Orlv never gave such a dinner as ours will be!”
“My dear Bors,” said Princess Anna Mikhylovna to her son as Countess Rostva’s carriage in which they were seated drove over the straw covered street and turned into the wide courtyard of Count Cyril Vladmirovich Bezkhov’s house. “My dear Bors,” said the mother, drawing her hand from beneath her old mantle and laying it timidly and tenderly on her son’s arm, “be affectionate and attentive to him. Count Cyril Vladmirovich is your godfather after all, and your future depends on him. Remember that, my dear, and be nice to him, as you so well know how to be.”
“If only I knew that anything besides humiliation would come of it...” answered her son coldly. “But I have promised and will do it for your sake.”
Although the hall porter saw someone’s carriage standing at the entrance, after scrutinizing the mother and son (who without asking to be announced had passed straight through the glass porch between the rows of statues in niches) and looking significantly at the lady’s old cloak, he asked whether they wanted the count or the princesses, and, hearing that they wished to see the count, said his excellency was worse today, and that his excellency was not receiving anyone.
“We may as well go back,” said the son in French.
“My dear!” exclaimed his mother imploringly, again laying her hand on his arm as if that touch might soothe or rouse him.
Bors said no more, but looked inquiringly at his mother without taking off his cloak.
“My friend,” said Anna Mikhylovna in gentle tones, addressing the hall porter, “I know Count Cyril Vladmirovich is very ill... that’s why I have come... I am a relation. I shall not disturb him, my friend... I only need see Prince Vasli Sergevich: he is staying here, is he not? Please announce me.”
