“How strange it is,” said Véra, selecting a moment when all were silent, “that Sónya and Nikólenka now say you to one another and meet like strangers.”

Véra’s remark was correct, as her remarks always were, but, like most of her observations, it made everyone feel uncomfortable, not only Sónya, Nikoláy, and Natásha, but even the old countess, who⁠—dreading this love affair which might hinder Nikoláy from making a brilliant match⁠—blushed like a girl.

Denísov, to Rostóv’s surprise, appeared in the drawing room with pomaded hair, perfumed, and in a new uniform, looking just as smart as he made himself when going into battle, and he was more amiable to the ladies and gentlemen than Rostóv had ever expected to see him.

On his return to Moscow from the army, Nikoláy Rostóv was welcomed by his home circle as the best of sons, a hero, and their darling Nikolúshka; by his relations as a charming, attractive, and polite young man; by his acquaintances as a handsome lieutenant of hussars, a good dancer, and one of the best matches in the city.