“Drain the blood from men’s veins and put in water instead, then there will be no more war! Old women’s nonsense⁠—old women’s nonsense!” he repeated, but still he patted Pierre affectionately on the shoulder, and then went up to the table where Prince Andréy, evidently not wishing to join in the conversation, was looking over the papers his father had brought from town. The old prince went up to him and began to talk business.

“The marshal, a Count Rostóv, hasn’t sent half his contingent. He came to town and wanted to invite me to dinner⁠—I gave him a pretty dinner!⁠ ⁠… And there, look at this.⁠ ⁠… Well, my boy,” the old prince went on, addressing his son and patting Pierre on the shoulder. “A fine fellow⁠—your friend⁠—I like him! He stirs me up. Another says clever things and one doesn’t care to listen, but this one talks rubbish yet stirs an old fellow up. Well, go! Get along! Perhaps I’ll come and sit with you at supper. We’ll have another dispute. Make friends with my little fool, Princess Márya,” he shouted after Pierre, through the door.