Anatole, for whom Pierre was looking, dined that day with Dólokhov, consulting him as to how to remedy this unfortunate affair. It seemed to him essential to see Natásha. In the evening he drove to his sister’s to discuss with her how to arrange a meeting. When Pierre returned home after vainly hunting all over Moscow, his valet informed him that Prince Anatole was with the countess. The countess’ drawing room was full of guests.

Pierre without greeting his wife whom he had not seen since his return⁠—at that moment she was more repulsive to him than ever⁠—entered the drawing room and seeing Anatole went up to him.

“Ah, Pierre,” said the countess going up to her husband. “You don’t know what a plight our Anatole⁠ ⁠…”

She stopped, seeing in the forward thrust of her husband’s head, in his glowing eyes and his resolute gait, the terrible indications of that rage and strength which she knew and had herself experienced after his duel with Dólokhov.