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"Ah, my friend!" said he, taking Pierre by the elbow; and there

was in his voice a sincerity and weakness Pierre had never

observed in it before. "How often we sin, how much we deceive,

and all for what? I am near sixty, dear friend... I too... All

will end in death, all! Death is awful..." and he burst into

tears.

Anna Mikhaylovna came out last. She approached Pierre with slow,

quiet steps.

"Pierre!" she said.

Pierre gave her an inquiring look. She kissed the young man on

his forehead, wetting him with her tears. Then after a pause she

said:

"He is no more...."

Pierre looked at her over his spectacles.

"Come, I will go with you. Try to weep, nothing gives such relief

as tears."

She led him into the dark drawing room and Pierre was glad no one

could see his face. Anna Mikhaylovna left him, and when she

returned he was fast asleep with his head on his arm.

In the morning Anna Mikhaylovna said to Pierre: