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"My dear Anna Mikhaylovna," said he with his usual familiarity

and weariness of tone, "it is almost impossible for me to do what

you ask; but to prove my devotion to you and how I respect your

father's memory, I will do the impossible-your son shall be

transferred to the Guards. Here is my hand on it. Are you

satisfied?"

"My dear benefactor! This is what I expected from you-I knew your

kindness!" He turned to go.

"Wait-just a word! When he has been transferred to the Guards..."

she faltered. "You are on good terms with Michael Ilarionovich

Kutuzov ... recommend Boris to him as adjutant! Then I shall be

at rest, and then..."

Prince Vasili smiled.

"No, I won't promise that. You don't know how Kutuzov is pestered

since his appointment as Commander in Chief. He told me himself

that all the Moscow ladies have conspired to give him all their

sons as adjutants."

"No, but do promise! I won't let you go! My dear benefactor..."