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His
servant
handed
him
a
half-cut
novel
,
in
the
form
of
letters
,
by
Madame
de
Souza
.
He
began
reading
about
the
sufferings
and
virtuous
struggles
of
a
certain
Emilie
de
Mansfeld
.
"
And
why
did
she
resist
her
seducer
when
she
loved
him
?
"
he
thought
.
"
God
could
not
have
put
into
her
heart
an
impulse
that
was
against
His
will
.
My
wife
--
as
she
once
was
--
did
not
struggle
,
and
perhaps
she
was
right
.
Nothing
has
been
found
out
,
nothing
discovered
,
"
Pierre
again
said
to
himself
.
"
All
we
can
know
is
that
we
know
nothing
.
And
that
's
the
height
of
human
wisdom
.
"
Everything
within
and
around
him
seemed
confused
,
senseless
,
and
repellent
.
Yet
in
this
very
repugnance
to
all
his
circumstances
Pierre
found
a
kind
of
tantalizing
satisfaction
.
"
I
make
bold
to
ask
your
excellency
to
move
a
little
for
this
gentleman
,
"
said
the
postmaster
,
entering
the
room
followed
by
another
traveler
,
also
detained
for
lack
of
horses
.
The
newcomer
was
a
short
,
large-boned
,
yellow-faced
,
wrinkled
old
man
,
with
gray
bushy
eyebrows
overhanging
bright
eyes
of
an
indefinite
grayish
color
.
Pierre
took
his
feet
off
the
table
,
stood
up
,
and
lay
down
on
a
bed
that
had
been
got
ready
for
him
,
glancing
now
and
then
at
the
newcomer
,
who
,
with
a
gloomy
and
tired
face
,
was
wearily
taking
off
his
wraps
with
the
aid
of
his
servant
,
and
not
looking
at
Pierre
.
With
a
pair
of
felt
boots
on
his
thin
bony
legs
,
and
keeping
on
a
worn
,
nankeen-covered
,
sheepskin
coat
,
the
traveler
sat
down
on
the
sofa
,
leaned
back
his
big
head
with
its
broad
temples
and
close-cropped
hair
,
and
looked
at
Bezúkhov
.
The
stern
,
shrewd
,
and
penetrating
expression
of
that
look
struck
Pierre
.
He
felt
a
wish
to
speak
to
the
stranger
,
but
by
the
time
he
had
made
up
his
mind
to
ask
him
a
question
about
the
roads
,
the
traveler
had
closed
his
eyes
.
His
shriveled
old
hands
were
folded
and
on
the
finger
of
one
of
them
Pierre
noticed
a
large
cast
iron
ring
with
a
seal
representing
a
death
's
head
.
The
stranger
sat
without
stirring
,
either
resting
or
,
as
it
seemed
to
Pierre
,
sunk
in
profound
and
calm
meditation
.
His
servant
was
also
a
yellow
,
wrinkled
old
man
,
without
beard
or
mustache
,
evidently
not
because
he
was
shaven
but
because
they
had
never
grown
.
This
active
old
servant
was
unpacking
the
traveler
's
canteen
and
preparing
tea
.
He
brought
in
a
boiling
samovar
.
When
everything
was
ready
,
the
stranger
opened
his
eyes
,
moved
to
the
table
,
filled
a
tumbler
with
tea
for
himself
and
one
for
the
beardless
old
man
to
whom
he
passed
it
Pierre
began
to
feel
a
sense
of
uneasiness
,
and
the
need
,
even
the
inevitability
,
of
entering
into
conversation
with
this
stranger
.
The
servant
brought
back
his
tumbler
turned
upside
down
,
*
with
an
unfinished
bit
of
nibbled
sugar
,
and
asked
if
anything
more
would
be
wanted
.
*
To
indicate
he
did
not
want
more
tea
.
"
No
.
Give
me
the
book
,
"
said
the
stranger
.
The
servant
handed
him
a
book
which
Pierre
took
to
be
a
devotional
work
,
and
the
traveler
became
absorbed
in
it
.
Pierre
looked
at
him
.
All
at
once
the
stranger
closed
the
book
,
putting
in
a
marker
,
and
again
,
leaning
with
his
arms
on
the
back
of
the
sofa
,
sat
in
his
former
position
with
his
eyes
shut
.
Pierre
looked
at
him
and
had
not
time
to
turn
away
when
the
old
man
,
opening
his
eyes
,
fixed
his
steady
and
severe
gaze
straight
on
Pierre
's
face
.
