BOOK TWO: 1805
4. CHAPTER IV
(continued)
He stretched out his hand to take hold of the purse. Rostov let go
of it. Telyanin took the purse and began carelessly slipping it into
the pocket of his riding breeches, with his eyebrows lifted and his
mouth slightly open, as if to say, "Yes, yes, I am putting my purse in
my pocket and that's quite simple and is no else's business."
"Well, young man?" he said with a sigh, and from under his lifted
brows he glanced into Rostov's eyes.
Some flash as of an electric spark shot from Telyanin's eyes to
Rostov's and back, and back again and again in an instant.
"Come here," said Rostov, catching hold of Telyanin's arm and almost
dragging him to the window. "That money is Denisov's; you took
it..." he whispered just above Telyanin's ear.
"What? What? How dare you? What?" said Telyanin.
But these words came like a piteous, despairing cry and an
entreaty for pardon. As soon as Rostov heard them, an enormous load of
doubt fell from him. He was glad, and at the same instant began to
pity the miserable man who stood before him, but the task he had begun
had to be completed.
"Heaven only knows what the people here may imagine," muttered
Telyanin, taking up his cap and moving toward a small empty room.
"We must have an explanation..."
"I know it and shall prove it," said Rostov.
"I..."
Every muscle of Telyanin's pale, terrified face began to quiver, his
eyes still shifted from side to side but with a downward look not
rising to Rostov's face, and his sobs were audible.
"Count!... Don't ruin a young fellow... here is this wretched money,
take it..." He threw it on the table. "I have an old father and
mother!..."
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