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Yazar: Leo Tolstoy

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The rustle of a woman's dress was heard in the next room. Prince
Andrew shook himself as if waking up, and his face assumed the
look it had had in Anna Pavlovna's drawing room. Pierre removed
his feet from the sofa. The princess came in. She had changed her
gown for a house dress as fresh and elegant as the other. Prince
Andrew rose and politely placed a chair for her.
"How is it," she began, as usual in French, settling down briskly
and fussily in the easy chair, "how is it Annette never got
married? How stupid you men all are not to have married her!
Excuse me for saying so, but you have no sense about women. What
an argumentative fellow you are, Monsieur Pierre!"
"And I am still arguing with your husband. I can't understand why
he wants to go to the war," replied Pierre, addressing the
princess with none of the embarrassment so commonly shown by
young men in their intercourse with young women.
The princess started. Evidently Pierre's words touched her to the
quick.

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