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The rustle of a woman's dress was heard in the next room. Prince

Andrew shook himself as if waking up, and his face assumed the

look it had had in Anna Pavlovna's drawing room. Pierre removed

his feet from the sofa. The princess came in. She had changed her

gown for a house dress as fresh and elegant as the other. Prince

Andrew rose and politely placed a chair for her.

"How is it," she began, as usual in French, settling down briskly

and fussily in the easy chair, "how is it Annette never got

married? How stupid you men all are not to have married her!

Excuse me for saying so, but you have no sense about women. What

an argumentative fellow you are, Monsieur Pierre!"

"And I am still arguing with your husband. I can't understand why

he wants to go to the war," replied Pierre, addressing the

princess with none of the embarrassment so commonly shown by

young men in their intercourse with young women.

The princess started. Evidently Pierre's words touched her to the

quick.