“Yes, and so you are once more an eligible bachelor,” said Princess Márya.
Pierre suddenly flushed crimson and for a long time tried not to look at Natásha. When he ventured to glance her way again her face was cold, stern, and he fancied even contemptuous.
“And did you really see and speak to Napoleon, as we have been told?” said Princess Márya.
Pierre laughed.
“No, not once! Everybody seems to imagine that being taken prisoner means being Napoleon’s guest. Not only did I never see him but I heard nothing about him—I was in much lower company!”
Supper was over, and Pierre who at first declined to speak about his captivity was gradually led on to do so.
“But it’s true that you remained in Moscow to kill Napoleon?” Natásha asked with a slight smile. “I guessed it then when we met at the Súkharev tower, do you remember?”
Pierre admitted that it was true, and from that was gradually led by Princess Márya’s questions and especially by Natásha’s into giving a detailed account of his adventures.
At first he spoke with the amused and mild irony now customary with him toward everybody and especially toward himself, but when he came to describe the horrors and sufferings he had witnessed he was unconsciously carried away and began speaking with the suppressed emotion of a man re-experiencing in recollection strong impressions he has lived through.
Princess Márya with a gentle smile looked now at Pierre and now at Natásha. In the whole narrative she saw only Pierre and his goodness.