Prince Andréy had arrived in the evening and Pierre came to see him next morning. Pierre expected to find Prince Andréy in almost the same state as Natásha and was therefore surprised on entering the drawing room to hear him in the study talking in a loud animated voice about some intrigue going on in Petersburg. The old prince’s voice and another now and then interrupted him. Princess Márya came out to meet Pierre. She sighed, looking toward the door of the room where Prince Andréy was, evidently intending to express her sympathy with his sorrow, but Pierre saw by her face that she was glad both at what had happened and at the way her brother had taken the news of Natásha’s faithlessness.
“He says he expected it,” she remarked. “I know his pride will not let him express his feelings, but still he has taken it better, far better, than I expected. Evidently it had to be. …”
“But is it possible that all is really ended?” asked Pierre.
Princess Márya looked at him with astonishment. She did not understand how he could ask such a question. Pierre went into the study. Prince Andréy, greatly changed and plainly in better health, but with a fresh horizontal wrinkle between his brows, stood in civilian dress facing his father and Prince Meshchérski, warmly disputing and vigorously gesticulating. The conversation was about Speránski—the news of whose sudden exile and alleged treachery had just reached Moscow.
“Now he is censured and accused by all who were enthusiastic about him a month ago,” Prince Andréy was saying, “and by those who were unable to understand his aims. To judge a man who is in disfavor and to throw on him all the blame of other men’s mistakes is very easy, but I maintain that if anything good has been accomplished in this reign it was done by him, by him alone.”