Maximum-assistance view: every word above everyday vocabulary is explained at every appearance; each name is introduced at its first appearance in the chapter.
CHAPTER XIV
After receiving her visitors (one who visits), the countess (a count's wife) was so tired that she gave orders to admit no more, but the porter (a carrier; a doorkeeper) was told to be sure to invite (to bid to come) to dinner all who came “to congratulate (to wish joy on a success).” The countess (a count's wife) wished to have a tête-à-tête (a private talk for two — French) talk with the friend of her childhood, Princess Anna (a woman's name — Anna Pávlovna Schérer and others) Mikháylovna (a patronymic — daughter of Michael), whom she had not seen properly since she returned from Petersburg. Anna Mikháylovna, with her tear-worn (worn with weeping) but pleasant (pleasing) face, drew her chair nearer (closer) to that of the countess (a count's wife).
“With you I will be quite frank,” said Anna Mikháylovna. “There are not many left of us old friends! That’s why I so value your friendship (the bond of friends).”
Anna Mikháylovna looked at Véra (the eldest, coldly correct Rostóv daughter) and paused (a brief stop). The countess (a count's wife) pressed her friend’s hand.
“Véra,” she said to her eldest (the eldest) daughter who was evidently (as plainly appears) not a favorite, “how is it you have so little tact (fine sense of what fits the moment)? Don’t you see you are not wanted here? Go to the other girls, or...”
The handsome (fine-looking) Véra smiled contemptuously (with scorn) but did not seem at all hurt.
“If you had told me sooner, Mamma, I would have gone,” she replied as she rose to go to her own room.
But as she passed the sitting room she noticed two couples sitting, one pair at each window. She stopped and smiled scornfully (with scorn). Sónya (Sónya, the Rostóvs' gentle, devoted cousin) was sitting close to Nicholas (Nicholas Rostóv, the eldest Rostóv son) who was copying out some verses (a line of poetry) for her, the first he had ever written. Borís (Borís Drubetskóy, the ambitious young officer) and Natásha (Natásha Rostóva, the novel's radiant heroine) were at the other window and ceased (to stop) talking when Véra entered. Sónya and Natásha looked at Véra with guilty, happy faces.
It was pleasant (pleasing) and touching (touching: concerning — the old sense here) to see these little girls in love; but apparently the sight of them roused (stirred up; awakened) no pleasant (pleasing) feeling in Véra.
“How often have I asked you not to take my things?” she said. “You have a room of your own,” and she took the inkstand (a desk stand for ink) from Nicholas.
“In a minute, in a minute,” he said, dipping (to lower briefly into) his pen (the writing tool).
“You always manage to do things at the wrong time,” continued Véra. “You came rushing (to move with violent haste) into the drawing room so that everyone felt ashamed (feeling shame) of you.”
Though what she said was quite just, perhaps for that very reason no one replied, and the four simply looked at one another. She lingered (to stay on slowly) in the room with the inkstand (a desk stand for ink) in her hand.
“And at your age what secrets can there be between Natásha and Borís, or between you two? It’s all nonsense (senseless talk)!”
“Now, Véra, what does it matter to you?” said Natásha in defense, speaking very gently (with mild softness).
She seemed that day to be more than ever kind and affectionate (full of warm love) to everyone.
“Very silly (foolish),” said Véra. “I am ashamed (feeling shame) of you. Secrets indeed!”
“All have secrets of their own,” answered Natásha, getting warmer. “We don’t interfere (to meddle) with you and Berg (the careful, careerist officer who marries Véra Rostóva).”
“I should think not,” said Véra, “because there can never be anything wrong in my behavior. But I’ll just tell Mamma how you are behaving (to conduct oneself) with Borís.”
“Natálya (Natásha's formal name) Ilyníchna (a patronymic — daughter of Ilyá) behaves (to conduct oneself) very well to me,” remarked (to say; to notice) Borís. “I have nothing to complain (to voice discontent) of.”
“Don’t, Borís! You are such a diplomat (an agent between states) that it is really tiresome (wearying),” said Natásha in a mortified (stung with hurt pride) voice that trembled (to shake finely) slightly. (She used (use: habit; custom — the old sense here) the word “diplomat (an agent between states),” which was just then much in vogue (the fashion of the moment) among the children, in the special sense they attached to it.) “Why does she bother (to trouble) me?” And she added, turning to Véra, “You’ll never understand it, because you’ve never loved anyone. You have no heart! You are a Madame (my lady — French) de Genlis (Madame de Genlis, a prim French author) and nothing more” (this nickname (a familiar name given), bestowed (given as a gift) on Véra by Nicholas, was considered very stinging (pricking sharply)), “and your greatest pleasure is to be unpleasant (not pleasing) to people! Go and flirt (to play at love) with Berg as much as you please,” she finished quickly.
“I shall at any rate not run after a young man before visitors (one who visits)...”
“Well, now you’ve done what you wanted,” put in Nicholas—“said unpleasant (not pleasing) things to everyone and upset them. Let’s go to the nursery (the children's room).”
All four, like a flock (a company of birds or sheep; to crowd) of scared birds, got up and left the room.
“The unpleasant (not pleasing) things were said to me,” remarked (to say; to notice) Véra, “I said none to anyone.”
“Madame de Genlis! Madame de Genlis!” shouted (a loud cry) laughing voices through the door.
The handsome (fine-looking) Véra, who produced such an irritating (annoying) and unpleasant (not pleasing) effect on everyone, smiled and, evidently (as plainly appears) unmoved (not moved) by what had been said to her, went to the looking glass and arranged (to set in order) her hair and scarf (a neck cloth). Looking at her own handsome (fine-looking) face she seemed to become still colder and calmer (more calm).
In the drawing room the conversation was still going on.
“Ah, my dear,” said the countess (a count's wife), “my life is not all roses either. Don’t I know that at the rate we are living our means won’t last long? It’s all the Club and his easygoing (taking things easily) nature. Even in the country do we get any rest? Theatricals (of the theater; stagey), hunting (chasing game), and heaven knows what besides! But don’t let’s talk about me; tell me how you managed everything. I often wonder at you, Annette (a pet form of Anna)—how at your age you can rush (to move with violent haste) off alone in a carriage (a wheeled passenger vehicle; bearing) to Moscow, to Petersburg, to those ministers and great people, and know how to deal with them all! It’s quite astonishing (greatly surprising). How did you get things settled (to fix in place; to bring to rest)? I couldn (could — couldn't: could not)’t possibly do it.”
“Ah, my love,” answered Anna Mikháylovna, “God grant you never know what it is to be left a widow (a wife whose husband has died) without means and with a son you love to distraction (a pulling away of the mind)! One learns many things then,” she added with a certain pride (high self-regard). “That lawsuit (a case at law) taught me much. When I want to see one of those big people I write a note: ‘Princess So-and-So desires an interview with So and-So,’ and then I take a cab (a carriage for hire) and go myself two, three, or four times—till I get what I want. I don’t mind what they think of me.”
“Well, and to whom did you apply about Bóry (a wood by Smolénsk)?” asked the countess (a count's wife). “You see yours is already an officer in the Guards, while my Nicholas is going as a cadet (a young officer in training). There’s no one to interest (interest: the spectacle that draws a crowd — the old sense here) himself for him. To whom did you apply?”
“To Prince Vasíli (Prince Vasíli Kurágin, the smooth court intriguer). He was so kind. He at once agreed to everything, and put the matter before the Emperor,” said Princess Anna Mikháylovna enthusiastically (with burning eagerness), quite forgetting all the humiliation (crushing shame) she had endured (to bear; to last) to gain her end.
“Has Prince Vasíli aged much?” asked the countess (a count's wife). “I have not seen him since we acted together at the Rumyántsovs (a great count's family)’ theatricals (of the theater; stagey). I expect he has forgotten me. He paid me attentions in those days,” said the countess (a count's wife), with a smile.
“He is just the same as ever,” replied Anna Mikháylovna, “overflowing (to flood over the edge) with amiability (friendly sweetness). His position has not turned his head at all. He said to me, ‘I am sorry I can do so little for you, dear Princess. I am at your command.’ Yes, he is a fine fellow and a very kind relation (a connection; a relative). But, Nataly (Natásha — French form), you know my love for my son: I would do anything for his happiness (the state of joy)! And my affairs are in such a bad way that my position is now a terrible one,” continued Anna Mikháylovna, sadly (with sadness), dropping her voice. “My wretched (miserable) lawsuit (a case at law) takes all I have and makes no progress. Would you believe it, I have literally not a penny (a small coin) and don’t know how to equip (to fit out) Borís.” She took out her handkerchief (a cloth for the nose or eyes) and began to cry. “I need five hundred rubles (the Russian unit of money), and have only one twenty-five-ruble (worth twenty-five rubles) note. I am in such a state (state: ceremony; pomp — the old sense here).... My only hope now is in Count Cyril Vladímirovich (a patronymic — son of Vladímir) Bezúkhov (the family name of Pierre, the novel's hero). If he will not assist (to help) his godson (a boy one sponsors at baptism)—you know he is Bóry’s godfather (a child's sponsor at baptism)—and allow him something for his maintenance, all my trouble will have been thrown away.... I shall not be able to equip (to fit out) him.”
The countess (a count's wife)’ eyes filled with tears (a drop of weeping; to rip) and she pondered (to weigh in the mind) in silence (absence of sound).
“I often think, though, perhaps it’s a sin (a wrong against God),” said the princess, “that here lives Count Cyril Vladímirovich Bezúkhov so rich, all alone... that tremendous (awesomely great) fortune (wealth; luck)... and what is his life worth? It’s a burden (a load) to him, and Bóry’s life is only just beginning....”
“Surely he will leave something to Borís,” said the countess (a count's wife).
“Heaven only knows, my dear! These rich grandees (a great and powerful noble) are so selfish (caring only for oneself). Still, I will take Borís and go to see him at once, and I shall speak to him straight out. Let people think what they will of me, it’s really all the same to me when my son’s fate (the appointed lot) is at stake (a pointed post; money risked).” The princess rose. “It’s now two o’clock (the time-keeping machine) and you dine (to eat dinner) at four. There will just be time.”
And like a practical (fit for use) Petersburg lady who knows how to make the most of time, Anna Mikháylovna sent someone to call her son, and went into the anteroom (a waiting room) with him.
“Good-by (good-by), my dear,” said she to the countess (a count's wife) who saw her to the door, and added in a whisper (a soft hushed voice) so that her son should not hear, “Wish me good luck.”
“Are you going to Count Cyril Vladímirovich, my dear?” said the count coming out from the dining (eating dinner) hall into the anteroom (a waiting room), and he added: “If he is better, ask Pierre to dine (to eat dinner) with us. He has been to the house, you know, and danced with the children. Be sure to invite (to bid to come) him, my dear. We will see how Tarás (the count's prized serf cook) distinguishes (to tell apart) himself today. He says Count Orlóv (a count-general of the partisans) never gave such a dinner as ours (belonging to us) will be!”