“I’m not such a fool.⁠ ⁠… Just you try it on.⁠ ⁠… Allez-vous promener ,” 45 she used to say. Often seeing the success she had with young and old men and women Pierre could not understand why he did not love her.

“Yes, I never loved her,” said he to himself; “I knew she was a depraved woman,” he repeated, “but dared not admit it to myself. And now there’s Dólokhov sitting in the snow with a forced smile and perhaps dying, while meeting my remorse with some forced bravado!”

Pierre was one of those people who, in spite of an appearance of what is called weak character, do not seek a confidant in their troubles. He digested his sufferings alone.