while the youngest, the one with the mole, who was of a cheerful and lively disposition, bent over her frame to hide a smile probably evoked by the amusing scene she foresaw. She drew her wool down through the canvas and, scarcely able to refrain from laughing, stooped as if trying to make out the pattern.
“How do you do, cousin?” said Pierre. “You don’t recognize me?”
“I recognize you only too well, too well.”
“How is the count? Can I see him?” asked Pierre, awkwardly as usual, but unabashed.
“The count is suffering physically and mentally, and apparently you have done your best to increase his mental sufferings.”
“Can I see the count?” Pierre again asked.
“Hm. … If you wish to kill him, to kill him outright, you can see him … Olga, go and see whether Uncle’s