the recollection of his dispute with his brother-in-law was unpleasant and he wanted to know what Natásha thought of it.
“Nikólenka has the weakness of never agreeing with anything not generally accepted. But I understand that you value what opens up a fresh line,” said she, repeating words Pierre had once uttered.
“No, the chief point is that to Nikoláy ideas and discussions are an amusement—almost a pastime,” said Pierre.
“For instance, he is collecting a library and has made it a rule not to buy a new book till he has read what he had already bought—Sismondi and Rousseau and Montesquieu,” he added with a smile.
“You know how much I …” he began to soften down what he had said; but Natásha interrupted him to show that this was unnecessary.
“So you say ideas are an amusement to him. …”
“Yes, and for me nothing else is serious. All the time in Petersburg I saw everyone as in a dream. When I am taken up by a thought, all else is mere amusement.”
“Ah, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you met the children,” said Natásha. “Which was most delighted? Lisa, I’m sure.”
“Yes,” Pierre replied, and went on with what was in his mind. > “Nikoláy says we ought not to think. But I can’t help it. Besides, when I was in Petersburg I felt (I can say this to you) that the whole affair would go to pieces without me—everyone was pulling his own way. But I succeeded in uniting them all; and then my idea is so clear and simple. You see, I don’t say that we ought to oppose this and that. We may be mistaken. What I say is: ‘Join hands, you who