“Dear Countess, what an age⁠ ⁠… She has been laid up, poor child⁠ ⁠… at the Razoumowsky’s ball⁠ ⁠… and Countess Apráksina⁠ ⁠… I was so delighted⁠ ⁠…” came the sounds of animated feminine voices, interrupting one another and mingling with the rustling of dresses and the scraping of chairs. Then one of those conversations began which last out until, at the first pause, the guests rise with a rustle of dresses and say, “I am so delighted⁠ ⁠… Mamma’s health⁠ ⁠… and Countess Apráksina⁠ ⁠…” and then, again rustling, pass into the anteroom, put on cloaks or mantles, and drive away. The conversation was on the chief topic of the day: the illness of the wealthy and celebrated beau of Catherine’s day, Count Bezúkhov, and about his illegitimate son Pierre, the one who had behaved so improperly at Anna Pávlovna’s reception.

“I am so sorry for the poor count,” said the visitor. “He is in such bad health, and now this vexation about his son is enough to kill him!”

“What is that?” asked the countess as if she did not know what the visitor alluded to, though she had already heard about the cause of Count Bezúkhov’s distress some fifteen times.