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"
Oh
,
you
Guards
!
"
said
Rostóv
.
"
I
say
,
send
for
some
wine
.
"
Borís
made
a
grimace
.
"
If
you
really
want
it
,
"
said
he
.
He
went
to
his
bed
,
drew
a
purse
from
under
the
clean
pillow
,
and
sent
for
wine
.
"
Yes
,
and
I
have
some
money
and
a
letter
to
give
you
,
"
he
added
.
Rostóv
took
the
letter
and
,
throwing
the
money
on
the
sofa
,
put
both
arms
on
the
table
and
began
to
read
.
After
reading
a
few
lines
,
he
glanced
angrily
at
Berg
,
then
,
meeting
his
eyes
,
hid
his
face
behind
the
letter
.
"
Well
,
they
've
sent
you
a
tidy
sum
,
"
said
Berg
,
eying
the
heavy
purse
that
sank
into
the
sofa
.
"
As
for
us
,
Count
,
we
get
along
on
our
pay
.
I
can
tell
you
for
myself
...
"
"
I
say
,
Berg
,
my
dear
fellow
,
"
said
Rostóv
,
"
when
you
get
a
letter
from
home
and
meet
one
of
your
own
people
whom
you
want
to
talk
everything
over
with
,
and
I
happen
to
be
there
,
I
'll
go
at
once
,
to
be
out
of
your
way
!
Do
go
somewhere
,
anywhere
...
to
the
devil
!
"
he
exclaimed
,
and
immediately
seizing
him
by
the
shoulder
and
looking
amiably
into
his
face
,
evidently
wishing
to
soften
the
rudeness
of
his
words
,
he
added
,
"
Do
n't
be
hurt
,
my
dear
fellow
;
you
know
I
speak
from
my
heart
as
to
an
old
acquaintance
.
"
"
Oh
,
do
n't
mention
it
,
Count
!
I
quite
understand
,
"
said
Berg
,
getting
up
and
speaking
in
a
muffled
and
guttural
voice
.
