forgetting all the humiliation she had endured to gain her end.
“Has Prince Vasíli aged much?” asked the countess.
“I have not seen him since we acted together at the Rumyántsovs’ theatricals. I expect he has forgotten me. He paid me attentions in those days,” said the countess, with a smile.
“He is just the same as ever,” replied Anna Mikháylovna, “overflowing with amiability. His position has not turned his head at all. He said to me, ‘I am sorry I can do so little for you, dear Princess. I am at your command.’ Yes, he is a fine fellow and a very kind relation.
But, Nathalie, you know my love for my son: I would do anything for his happiness! And my affairs are in such a bad way that my position is now a terrible one,” continued Anna Mikháylovna, sadly, dropping her voice. “My wretched lawsuit takes all I have and makes no progress. Would you believe it, I have literally not a penny and don’t know how to equip Borís.”
She took out her handkerchief and began to cry. “I need five hundred rubles, and have only one twenty-five-ruble note. I am in such a state. … My only hope now is in Count Kiríl Vladímirovich Bezúkhov. If he will not assist his godson—you know he is Bóris’s godfather—and allow him something for his maintenance, all my trouble will have been thrown away. … I shall not be able to equip him.”
The countess’ eyes filled with tears and she pondered in silence.
“I often think, though, perhaps it’s a sin,” said the princess, “that here lives Count Kiríl Vladímirovich Bezúkhov so rich, all alone …