in reply, but changed his mind,
evidently considering him too young.

"I have read our protests about the Oldenburg affair and was surprised
how badly the Note was worded," remarked Count Rostopchin in the casual
tone of a man dealing with a subject quite familiar to him.

Pierre looked at Rostopchin with naive astonishment, not understanding
why he should be disturbed by the bad composition of the Note.

"Does it matter, Count, how the Note is worded," he asked, "so long as
its substance is forcible?"

"My dear fellow, with our five hundred thousand troops it should be easy
to have a good style," returned Count Rostopchin.

Pierre now understood the count's dissatisfaction with the wording of
the Note.

"One would have thought quill drivers enough had sprung up," remarked
the old prince. "There in Petersburg they are always writing--not notes
only but even new laws. My Andrew there has written a whole volume
of laws for Russia. Nowadays they are always writing!" and he laughed
unnaturally.

There was a momentary pause in the conversation; the old general cleared
his throat to draw attention.

"Did you hear of the last event at the review in Petersburg? The figure
cut by the new French ambassador."

"Eh? Yes, I heard something: he said something awkward in His Majesty's
presence."

"His Majesty drew attention to the Grenadier division and to the march
past," continued the general, "and it seems the ambassador took no
notice and allowed himself to reply that: 'We in France pay no attention
to such trifles!' The Emperor did not condescend to reply. At the next
review, they say, the Emperor did not once deign to address him."

All were silent. On this fact relating to the Emperor personally, it was
impossible to pass any judgment.

"Impudent fellows!" said the prince. "You know Metivier? I turned him
out of my house this morning. He was here; they admitted him in spite of
my request that they should let no one in," he went on, glancing angrily
at his daughter.

And he narrated his whole conversation with the French doctor and the
reasons that convinced him that Metivier was a spy. Though these reasons
were very insufficient and obscure, no one made any rejoinder.

After the roast, champagne was served. The guests rose to congratulate
the old prince. Princess Mary, too, went round to him.

He gave her a cold, angry look and offered her his wrinkled,
clean-shaven cheek to kiss. The whole expression of his