BOOK ONE: 1805
23. CHAPTER XXIII
(continued)
Pierre heard her say:
"Certainly he must be moved onto the bed; here it will be
impossible..."
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 Mikhaylovna, 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.
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