“You, Bolkónski, don’t know,” said Bilíbin turning to Prince Andréy, “that all the atrocities of the French army (I nearly said of the Russian army) are nothing compared to what this man has been doing among the women!”
“ La femme est la compagne de l’homme ,” announced Prince Ippolit, and began looking through a lorgnette at his elevated legs.
Bilíbin and the rest of “ours” burst out laughing in Ippolit’s face, and Prince Andréy saw that Ippolit, of whom—he had to admit—he had almost been jealous on his wife’s account, was the butt of this set.
“Oh, I must give you a treat,” Bilíbin whispered to Bolkónski. “Kurágin is exquisite when he discusses politics—you should see his gravity!”
He sat down beside Ippolit and wrinkling his forehead began talking to him about politics. Prince Andréy and the others gathered round these two.
“The Berlin cabinet cannot express a feeling of alliance,” began Ippolit gazing round with importance at the others, “without expressing … as in its last note … you understand … Besides, unless His Majesty the Emperor derogates from the principle of our alliance …
“Wait, I have not finished …” he said to Prince Andréy, seizing him by the arm, “I believe that intervention will be stronger than nonintervention. And …” he paused. “Finally one cannot impute the nonreceipt of our dispatch of November 18. That is how it will end.” And he released Bolkónski’s arm to indicate that he had now quite finished.
“Demosthenes, I know thee by the pebble thou secretest in thy golden mouth!” said Bilíbin, and the mop of hair on his head moved with