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The
sick
man
was
so
surrounded
by
doctors
,
princesses
,
and
servants
that
Pierre
could
no
longer
see
the
reddish-yellow
face
with
its
gray
mane
--
which
,
though
he
saw
other
faces
as
well
,
he
had
not
lost
sight
of
for
a
single
moment
during
the
whole
service
.
He
judged
by
the
cautious
movements
of
those
who
crowded
round
the
invalid
chair
that
they
had
lifted
the
dying
man
and
were
moving
him
.
"
Catch
hold
of
my
arm
or
you
'll
drop
him
!
"
he
heard
one
of
the
servants
say
in
a
frightened
whisper
.
"
Catch
hold
from
underneath
.
Here
!
"
exclaimed
different
voices
;
and
the
heavy
breathing
of
the
bearers
and
the
shuffling
of
their
feet
grew
more
hurried
,
as
if
the
weight
they
were
carrying
were
too
much
for
them
.
As
the
bearers
,
among
whom
was
Anna
Mikháylovna
,
passed
the
young
man
he
caught
a
momentary
glimpse
between
their
heads
and
backs
of
the
dying
man
's
high
,
stout
,
uncovered
chest
and
powerful
shoulders
,
raised
by
those
who
were
holding
him
under
the
armpits
,
and
of
his
gray
,
curly
,
leonine
head
.
This
head
,
with
its
remarkably
broad
brow
and
cheekbones
,
its
handsome
,
sensual
mouth
,
and
its
cold
,
majestic
expression
,
was
not
disfigured
by
the
approach
of
death
.
It
was
the
same
as
Pierre
remembered
it
three
months
before
,
when
the
count
had
sent
him
to
Petersburg
.
But
now
this
head
was
swaying
helplessly
with
the
uneven
movements
of
the
bearers
,
and
the
cold
listless
gaze
fixed
itself
upon
nothing
.
After
a
few
minutes
'
bustle
beside
the
high
bedstead
,
those
who
had
carried
the
sick
man
dispersed
.
Anna
Mikháylovna
touched
Pierre
's
hand
and
said
,
"
Come
.
"
Pierre
went
with
her
to
the
bed
on
which
the
sick
man
had
been
laid
in
a
stately
pose
in
keeping
with
the
ceremony
just
completed
.
He
lay
with
his
head
propped
high
on
the
pillows
.
His
hands
were
symmetrically
placed
on
the
green
silk
quilt
,
the
palms
downward
.
When
Pierre
came
up
the
count
was
gazing
straight
at
him
,
but
with
a
look
the
significance
of
which
could
not
be
understood
by
mortal
man
.
Either
this
look
meant
nothing
but
that
as
long
as
one
has
eyes
they
must
look
somewhere
,
or
it
meant
too
much
.
Pierre
hesitated
,
not
knowing
what
to
do
,
and
glanced
inquiringly
at
his
guide
.
Anna
Mikháylovna
made
a
hurried
sign
with
her
eyes
,
glancing
at
the
sick
man
's
hand
and
moving
her
lips
as
if
to
send
it
a
kiss
.
Pierre
,
carefully
stretching
his
neck
so
as
not
to
touch
the
quilt
,
followed
her
suggestion
and
pressed
his
lips
to
the
large
boned
,
fleshy
hand
.
Neither
the
hand
nor
a
single
muscle
of
the
count
's
face
stirred
.
Once
more
Pierre
looked
questioningly
at
Anna
Mikháylovna
to
see
what
he
was
to
do
next
.
Anna
Mikháylovna
with
her
eyes
indicated
a
chair
that
stood
beside
the
bed
.
Pierre
obediently
sat
down
,
his
eyes
asking
if
he
were
doing
right
.
Anna
Mikháylovna
nodded
approvingly
.
Again
Pierre
fell
into
the
naïvely
symmetrical
pose
of
an
Egyptian
statue
,
evidently
distressed
that
his
stout
and
clumsy
body
took
up
so
much
room
and
doing
his
utmost
to
look
as
small
as
possible
.
He
looked
at
the
count
,
who
still
gazed
at
the
spot
where
Pierre
's
face
had
been
before
he
sat
down
.
Anna
Mikháylovna
indicated
by
her
attitude
her
consciousness
of
the
pathetic
importance
of
these
last
moments
of
meeting
between
the
father
and
son
.
This
lasted
about
two
minutes
,
which
to
Pierre
seemed
an
hour
.
Suddenly
the
broad
muscles
and
lines
of
the
count
's
face
began
to
twitch
.
The
twitching
increased
,
the
handsome
mouth
was
drawn
to
one
side
(
only
now
did
Pierre
realize
how
near
death
his
father
was
)
,
and
from
that
distorted
mouth
issued
an
indistinct
,
hoarse
sound
.
Anna
Mikháylovna
looked
attentively
at
the
sick
man
's
eyes
,
trying
to
guess
what
he
wanted
;
she
pointed
first
to
Pierre
,
then
to
some
drink
,
then
named
Prince
Vasíli
in
an
inquiring
whisper
,
then
pointed
to
the
quilt
.
The
eyes
and
face
of
the
sick
man
showed
impatience
.
He
made
an
effort
to
look
at
the
servant
who
stood
constantly
at
the
head
of
the
bed
.
"
Wants
to
turn
on
the
other
side
,
"
whispered
the
servant
,
and
got
up
to
turn
the
count
's
heavy
body
toward
the
wall
.
Pierre
rose
to
help
him
.
While
the
count
was
being
turned
over
,
one
of
his
arms
fell
back
helplessly
and
he
made
a
fruitless
effort
to
pull
it
forward
Whether
he
noticed
the
look
of
terror
with
which
Pierre
regarded
that
lifeless
arm
,
or
whether
some
other
thought
flitted
across
his
dying
brain
,
at
any
rate
he
glanced
at
the
refractory
arm
,
at
Pierre
's
terror-stricken
face
,
and
again
at
the
arm
,
and
on
his
face
a
feeble
,
piteous
smile
appeared
,
quite
out
of
keeping
with
his
features
,
that
seemed
to
deride
his
own
helplessness
.
At
sight
of
this
smile
Pierre
felt
an
unexpected
quivering
in
his
breast
and
a
tickling
in
his
nose
,
and
tears
dimmed
his
eyes
.
The
sick
man
was
turned
on
to
his
side
with
his
face
to
the
wall
.
He
sighed
.
