“No, pardon me, I won’t go now till the child is better,” thought he, going to the door and looking into the nursery.

Princess Márya was still standing by the cot, gently rocking the baby.

“Ah yes, and what else did he say that’s unpleasant?” thought Prince Andréy, recalling his father’s letter. “Yes, we have gained a victory over Bonaparte, just when I’m not serving. Yes, yes, he’s always poking fun at me.⁠ ⁠… Ah, well! Let him!” And he began reading Bilíbin’s letter which was written in French. He read without understanding half of it, read only to forget, if but for a moment, what he had too long been thinking of so painfully to the exclusion of all else.