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Only when Prince Andrew was gone did Rostov think of what he

ought to have said. And he was still more angry at having omitted

to say it. He ordered his horse at once and, coldly taking leave

of Boris, rode home. Should he go to headquarters next day and

challenge that affected adjutant, or really let the matter drop,

was the question that worried him all the way. He thought angrily

of the pleasure he would have at seeing the fright of that small

and frail but proud man when covered by his pistol, and then he

felt with surprise that of all the men he knew there was none he

would so much like to have for a friend as that very adjutant

whom he so hated.

CHAPTER VIII