FIRST EPILOGUE: 1813 - 20
9. CHAPTER IX
It was the eve of St. Nicholas, the fifth of December, 1820. Natasha
had been staying at her brother's with her husband and children
since early autumn. Pierre had gone to Petersburg on business of his
own for three weeks as he said, but had remained there nearly seven
weeks and was expected back every minute.
Besides the Bezukhov family, Nicholas' old friend the retired
General Vasili Dmitrich Denisov was staying with the Rostovs this
fifth of December.
On the sixth, which was his name day when the house would be full of
visitors, Nicholas knew he would have to exchange his Tartar tunic for
a tail coat, and put on narrow boots with pointed toes, and drive to
the new church he had built, and then receive visitors who would
come to congratulate him, offer them refreshments, and talk about
the elections of the nobility; but he considered himself entitled to
spend the eve of that day in his usual way. He examined the
bailiff's accounts of the village in Ryazan which belonged to his
wife's nephew, wrote two business letters, and walked over to the
granaries, cattle yards and stables before dinner. Having taken
precautions against the general drunkenness to be expected on the
morrow because it was a great saint's day, he returned to dinner,
and without having time for a private talk with his wife sat down at
the long table laid for twenty persons, at which the whole household
had assembled. At that table were his mother, his mother's old lady
companion Belova, his wife, their three children with their
governess and tutor, his wife's nephew with his tutor, Sonya, Denisov,
Natasha, her three children, their governess, and old Michael
Ivanovich, the late prince's architect, who was living on in
retirement at Bald Hills.
Countess Mary sat at the other end of the table. When her husband
took his place she concluded, from the rapid manner in which after
taking up his table napkin he pushed back the tumbler and wineglass
standing before him, that he was out of humor, as was sometimes the
case when he came in to dinner straight from the farm- especially
before the soup. Countess Mary well knew that mood of his, and when
she herself was in a good frame of mind quietly waited till he had had
his soup and then began to talk to him and make him admit that there
was no cause for his ill-humor. But today she quite forgot that and
was hurt that he should be angry with her without any reason, and
she felt unhappy. She asked him where he had been. He replied. She
again inquired whether everything was going well on the farm. Her
unnatural tone made him wince unpleasantly and he replied hastily.
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