Pagina 937 di 3800

Nicholas Rostov, with Denisov and his new acquaintance, Dolokhov,

sat almost at the middle of the table. Facing them sat Pierre,

beside Prince Nesvitski. Count Ilya Rostov with the other members

of the committee sat facing Bagration and, as the very

personification of Moscow hospitality, did the honors to the

prince.

His efforts had not been in vain. The dinner, both the Lenten and

the other fare, was splendid, yet he could not feel quite at ease

till the end of the meal. He winked at the butler, whispered

directions to the footmen, and awaited each expected dish with

some anxiety. Everything was excellent. With the second course, a

gigantic sterlet (at sight of which Ilya Rostov blushed with

self-conscious pleasure), the footmen began popping corks and

filling the champagne glasses. After the fish, which made a

certain sensation, the count exchanged glances with the other

committeemen. "There will be many toasts, it's time to begin," he

whispered, and taking up his glass, he rose. All were silent,

waiting for what he would say.