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This
was
the
count
's
favorite
dance
,
which
he
had
danced
in
his
youth
.
(
Strictly
speaking
,
Daniel
Cooper
was
one
figure
of
the
anglaise
.
)
"
Look
at
Papa
!
"
shouted
Natásha
to
the
whole
company
,
and
quite
forgetting
that
she
was
dancing
with
a
grown-up
partner
she
bent
her
curly
head
to
her
knees
and
made
the
whole
room
ring
with
her
laughter
.
And
indeed
everybody
in
the
room
looked
with
a
smile
of
pleasure
at
the
jovial
old
gentleman
,
who
standing
beside
his
tall
and
stout
partner
,
Márya
Dmítrievna
,
curved
his
arms
,
beat
time
,
straightened
his
shoulders
,
turned
out
his
toes
,
tapped
gently
with
his
foot
,
and
,
by
a
smile
that
broadened
his
round
face
more
and
more
,
prepared
the
onlookers
for
what
was
to
follow
.
As
soon
as
the
provocatively
gay
strains
of
Daniel
Cooper
(
somewhat
resembling
those
of
a
merry
peasant
dance
)
began
to
sound
,
all
the
doorways
of
the
ballroom
were
suddenly
filled
by
the
domestic
serfs
--
the
men
on
one
side
and
the
women
on
the
other
--
who
with
beaming
faces
had
come
to
see
their
master
making
merry
.
"
Just
look
at
the
master
!
A
regular
eagle
he
is
!
"
loudly
remarked
the
nurse
,
as
she
stood
in
one
of
the
doorways
.
The
count
danced
well
and
knew
it
.
But
his
partner
could
not
and
did
not
want
to
dance
well
.
Her
enormous
figure
stood
erect
,
her
powerful
arms
hanging
down
(
she
had
handed
her
reticule
to
the
countess
)
,
and
only
her
stern
but
handsome
face
really
joined
in
the
dance
.
What
was
expressed
by
the
whole
of
the
count
's
plump
figure
,
in
Márya
Dmítrievna
found
expression
only
in
her
more
and
more
beaming
face
and
quivering
nose
.
But
if
the
count
,
getting
more
and
more
into
the
swing
of
it
,
charmed
the
spectators
by
the
unexpectedness
of
his
adroit
maneuvers
and
the
agility
with
which
he
capered
about
on
his
light
feet
,
Márya
Dmítrievna
produced
no
less
impression
by
slight
exertions
--
the
least
effort
to
move
her
shoulders
or
bend
her
arms
when
turning
,
or
stamp
her
foot
--
which
everyone
appreciated
in
view
of
her
size
and
habitual
severity
.
The
dance
grew
livelier
and
livelier
.
The
other
couples
could
not
attract
a
moment
's
attention
to
their
own
evolutions
and
did
not
even
try
to
do
so
.
All
were
watching
the
count
and
Márya
Dmítrievna
.
Natásha
kept
pulling
everyone
by
sleeve
or
dress
,
urging
them
to
"
look
at
Papa
!
"
though
as
it
was
they
never
took
their
eyes
off
the
couple
In
the
intervals
of
the
dance
the
count
,
breathing
deeply
,
waved
and
shouted
to
the
musicians
to
play
faster
.
Faster
,
faster
,
and
faster
;
lightly
,
more
lightly
,
and
yet
more
lightly
whirled
the
count
,
flying
round
Márya
Dmítrievna
,
now
on
his
toes
,
now
on
his
heels
;
until
,
turning
his
partner
round
to
her
seat
,
he
executed
the
final
pas
,
raising
his
soft
foot
backwards
,
bowing
his
perspiring
head
,
smiling
and
making
a
wide
sweep
with
his
arm
,
amid
a
thunder
of
applause
and
laughter
led
by
Natásha
.
Both
partners
stood
still
,
breathing
heavily
and
wiping
their
faces
with
their
cambric
handkerchiefs
.
"
That
's
how
we
used
to
dance
in
our
time
,
ma
chère
,
"
said
the
count
.
"
That
was
a
Daniel
Cooper
!
"
exclaimed
Márya
Dmítrievna
,
tucking
up
her
sleeves
and
puffing
heavily
.
While
in
the
Rostóvs
'
ballroom
the
sixth
anglaise
was
being
danced
,
to
a
tune
in
which
the
weary
musicians
blundered
,
and
while
tired
footmen
and
cooks
were
getting
the
supper
,
Count
Bezúkhov
had
a
sixth
stroke
.
The
doctors
pronounced
recovery
impossible
.
After
a
mute
confession
,
communion
was
administered
to
the
dying
man
,
preparations
made
for
the
sacrament
of
unction
,
and
in
his
house
there
was
the
bustle
and
thrill
of
suspense
usual
at
such
moments
.
Outside
the
house
,
beyond
the
gates
,
a
group
of
undertakers
,
who
hid
whenever
a
carriage
drove
up
,
waited
in
expectation
of
an
important
order
for
an
expensive
funeral
.
The
Military
Governor
of
Moscow
,
who
had
been
assiduous
in
sending
aides-de-camp
to
inquire
after
the
count
's
health
,
came
himself
that
evening
to
bid
a
last
farewell
to
the
celebrated
grandee
of
Catherine
's
court
,
Count
Bezúkhov
.
