After supper Pierre with his partner followed the others into the drawing room. The guests began to disperse, some without taking leave of Elèn. Some, as if unwilling to distract her from an important occupation, came up to her for a moment and made haste to go away, refusing to let her see them off. The diplomatist preserved a mournful silence as he left the drawing room. He pictured the vanity of his diplomatic career in comparison with Pierre’s happiness. The old general grumbled at his wife when she asked how his leg was. “Oh, the old fool,” he thought. “That Elèna Vasílievna will be beautiful still when she’s fifty.”

“I think I may congratulate you,” whispered Anna Pávlovna to the old princess, kissing her soundly. “If I hadn’t this headache I’d have stayed longer.”

The old princess did not reply, she was tormented by jealousy of her daughter’s happiness.