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The two younger ones were embroidering: both were rosy and pretty

and they differed only in that one had a little mole on her lip

which made her much prettier. Pierre was received as if he were a

corpse or a leper. The eldest princess paused in her reading and

silently stared at him with frightened eyes; the second assumed

precisely the same expression; while the youngest, the one with

the mole, who was of a cheerful and lively disposition, bent over

her frame to hide a smile probably evoked by the amusing scene

she foresaw. She drew her wool down through the canvas and,

scarcely able to refrain from laughing, stooped as if trying to

make out the pattern.

"How do you do, cousin?" said Pierre. "You don't recognize me?"

"I recognize you only too well, too well."

"How is the count? Can I see him?" asked Pierre, awkwardly as

usual, but unabashed.

"The count is suffering physically and mentally, and apparently

you have done your best to increase his mental sufferings."