“Have you done this?” he said, pointing to some broken sealing wax and pens. “I loved you, but I have orders from Arakchéev and will kill the first of you who moves forward.” Nikólenka turned to look at Pierre but Pierre was no longer there. In his place was his father⁠—Prince Andréy⁠—and his father had neither shape nor form, but he existed, and when Nikólenka perceived him he grew faint with love: he felt himself powerless, limp, and formless. His father caressed and pitied him. But Uncle Nikoláy came nearer and nearer to them. Terror seized Nikólenka and he awoke.