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 XVIII
Countess (a count's wife) Rostóva (a lady of the Rostóv family), with her daughters and a large number of guests, was already seated in the drawing room. The count took the gentlemen (a man of good birth and manners) into his study and showed them his choice collection of Turkish pipes (a smoking tube; a music tube). From time to time he went out to ask: “Hasn’t she come yet?” They were expecting Márya (a Russian woman's name — Princess Mary and others) Dmítrievna (a patronymic — daughter of Dmítri) Akhrosímova (Márya Dmítrievna Akhrosímova, the blunt Moscow dowager), known in society as le terrible dragon (the fabled fire serpent), a lady distinguished (to tell apart) not for wealth or rank (a line of soldiers; one's standing), but for common sense and frank plainness (plain, simple directness) of speech. Márya Dmítrievna was known to the Imperial family as well as to all Moscow and Petersburg, and both cities wondered at her, laughed privately (in private) at her rudenesses (rough bad manners), and told good stories about her, while none the less all without exception (a case left out) respected and feared her.
In the count’s room, which was full of tobacco (the smoking leaf) smoke, they talked of the war that had been announced in a manifesto (a ruler's public declaration), and about the recruiting (recruiting: restoring — the old sense here). None of them had yet seen the manifesto (a ruler's public declaration), but they all knew it had appeared. The count sat on the sofa (a long padded seat) between two guests who were smoking and talking. He neither smoked nor talked, but bending (to curve; to bow) his head first to one side and then to the other watched the smokers (one who smokes) with evident (plain to see) pleasure and listened to the conversation of his two neighbors (one who lives near), whom he egged (the bird's shelled seed) on against each other.
One of them was a sallow (yellowish and sickly of face), clean-shaven (with no beard) civilian (one not of the army) with a thin (of little thickness) and wrinkled (a crease line in the skin) face, already growing old, though he was dressed like a most fashionable (in the fashion) young man. He sat with his legs up on the sofa (a long padded seat) as if quite at home and, having stuck an amber (the golden fossil stone) mouthpiece (the part held to the mouth; a spokesman) far into his mouth, was inhaling (to breathe in) the smoke spasmodically (in sudden jerky fits) and screwing (the twisted fastening pin) up his eyes. This was an old bachelor (an unmarried man), Shinshín (the countess' sharp-tongued Moscow cousin), a cousin (an uncle's or aunt's child) of the countess (a count's wife)’, a man with “a sharp (keen-edged) tongue (the mouth's organ; a language)” as they said in Moscow society. He seemed to be condescending (to stoop graciously to lesser people) to his companion (one who keeps company). The latter, a fresh, rosy (pink as a rose) officer of the Guards, irreproachably (beyond blame) washed (to clean with water), brushed (a bristled tool; to sweep lightly), and buttoned, held his pipe (a smoking tube; a music tube) in the middle of his mouth and with red lips (the mouth's edge) gently (with mild softness) inhaled (to breathe in) the smoke, letting it escape from his handsome (fine-looking) mouth in rings. This was Lieutenant (the officer below captain) Berg (the careful, careerist officer who marries Véra Rostóva), an officer in the Semënov (of the Semënov Guards) regiment (a body of soldiers under a colonel) with whom Borís (Borís Drubetskóy, the ambitious young officer) was to travel to join the army, and about whom Natásha (Natásha Rostóva, the novel's radiant heroine) had teased (to mock playfully) her elder (the eldest) sister Véra (the eldest, coldly correct Rostóv daughter), speaking of Berg as her “intended.” The count sat between them and listened attentively (with close attention). His favorite occupation (one's work; military holding) when not playing boston, a card game he was very fond (loving) of, was that of listener (one who listens), especially when he succeeded (to follow; to prosper) in setting two loquacious (very talkative) talkers (one who talks) at one another.
“Well, then, old chap (a fellow), mon très honorable (worthy of honor) Alphonse (a man's name) Kárlovich (a patronymic — son of Karl),” said Shinshín, laughing ironically (in mocking opposite meaning) and mixing the most ordinary (usual; common) Russian expressions with the choicest French phrases (a group of words)—which was a peculiarity (a special odd feature) of his speech. “Vous comptez vous faire des rentes sur l’état; * you want to make something out of your company?”
* You expect to make an income out of the government.
“No, Peter Nikoláevich (a patronymic — son of Nicholas); I only want to show that in the cavalry (soldiers who fight on horseback) the advantages are far less than in the infantry (foot soldiers). Just consider my own position now, Peter Nikoláevich...”
Berg always spoke quietly (without noise), politely (with good manners), and with great precision (exactness). His conversation always related entirely to himself; he would remain calm and silent (making no sound) when the talk related to any topic (a subject of talk) that had no direct bearing (the way one carries oneself) on himself. He could remain silent (making no sound) for hours without being at all put out of countenance (the face; composure) himself or making others uncomfortable (without comfort), but as soon as the conversation concerned himself he would begin to talk circumstantially (in full detail) and with evident (plain to see) satisfaction (content; amends given).
“Consider my position, Peter Nikoláevich. Were I in the cavalry (soldiers who fight on horseback) I should get not more than two hundred rubles (the Russian unit of money) every four months, even with the rank (a line of soldiers; one's standing) of lieutenant (the officer below captain); but as it is I receive two hundred and thirty (thirty),” said he, looking at Shinshín and the count with a joyful (full of joy), pleasant (pleasing) smile, as if it were obvious to him that his success must always be the chief desire of everyone else.
“Besides that, Peter Nikoláevich, by exchanging into the Guards I shall be in a more prominent (standing out) position,” continued Berg, “and vacancies (an empty place) occur (to happen) much more frequently in the Foot Guards. Then just think what can be done with two hundred and thirty (thirty) rubles (the Russian unit of money)! I even manage to put a little aside and to send something to my father,” he went on, emitting (to give out) a smoke ring.
“La balance y est... * A German knows how to skin a flint (the fire-striking stone), as the proverb (a wise old saying) says,” remarked (to say; to notice) Shinshín, moving his pipe (a smoking tube; a music tube) to the other side of his mouth and winking (to close one eye quickly) at the count.
* So that squares matters.
The count burst (to break open suddenly) out laughing. The other guests seeing that Shinshín was talking came up to listen. Berg, oblivious (unaware) of irony (mockery by opposites) or indifference (absence of care or interest), continued to explain how by exchanging into the Guards he had already gained a step on his old comrades (a close fellow soldier) of the Cadet Corps; how in wartime (time of war) the company commander might get killed and he, as senior in the company, might easily succeed (to follow; to prosper) to the post; how popular he was with everyone in the regiment (a body of soldiers under a colonel), and how satisfied (content) his father was with him. Berg evidently (as plainly appears) enjoyed narrating (to tell as a story) all this, and did not seem to suspect that others, too, might have their own interests (interest: the spectacle that draws a crowd — the old sense here). But all he said was so prettily (in a pretty way) sedate (calm and composed), and the naïveté (innocent simplicity — French) of his youthful (young and fresh) egotism (self-centeredness) was so obvious, that he disarmed (to take weapons away) his hearers (one who listens).
“Well, my boy, you’ll get along wherever (in whatever place) you go—foot or horse—that I’ll warrant (a written authority),” said Shinshín, patting (a light tap of the hand) him on the shoulder and taking his feet off the sofa (a long padded seat).
Berg smiled joyously (joyfully). The count, followed by his guests, went into the drawing room.
It was just the moment before a big dinner when the assembled (to gather together) guests, expecting the summons (to call to come) to zakúska, * avoid engaging (to bind; to begin battle) in any long conversation but think it necessary to move about and talk, in order to show that they are not at all impatient (restlessly eager) for their food. The host and hostess (the lady of the house receiving guests) look toward the door, and now and then glance (a quick look) at one another, and the visitors (one who visits) try to guess from these glances (a quick look) who, or what, they are waiting for—some important relation (a connection; a relative) who has not yet arrived, or a dish (a plate; a prepared food) that is not yet ready.
* Hors (horse) d’oeuvres.
Pierre had come just at dinnertime (the dinner hour) and was sitting awkwardly (clumsily) in the middle of the drawing room on the first chair he had come across, blocking the way for everyone. The countess (a count's wife) tried to make him talk, but he went on naïvely (with innocent simplicity) looking around through his spectacles (a grand sight; glasses for the eyes) as if in search of somebody and answered all her questions in monosyllables (an answer of one short word). He was in the way and was the only one who did not notice the fact. Most of the guests, knowing of the affair (a matter of business; a love matter) with the bear, looked with curiosity (eagerness to know) at this big, stout (fat and solid; brave), quiet man, wondering how such a clumsy (awkward and heavy-handed), modest (humble; not boastful) fellow could have played such a prank (a playful trick) on a policeman (an officer of the law).
“You have only lately (not long ago) arrived?” the countess (a count's wife) asked him.
“Oui (yes — French), madame (my lady — French),” replied he, looking around him.
“You have not yet seen my husband?”
“Non, madame (my lady — French).” He smiled quite inappropriately (unsuitably).
“You have been in Paris recently, I believe? I suppose it’s very interesting.”
“Very interesting.”
The countess (a count's wife) exchanged glances (a quick look) with Anna (a woman's name — Anna Pávlovna Schérer and others) Mikháylovna (a patronymic — daughter of Michael). The latter understood that she was being asked to entertain (to amuse; to host) this young man, and sitting down beside (at the side of) him she began to speak about his father; but he answered her, as he had the countess (a count's wife), only in monosyllables (an answer of one short word). The other guests were all conversing (to talk together) with one another. “The Razumóvskis (a great count's family)... It was charming (delightfully attractive)... You are very kind... Countess (a count's wife) Apráksina (a lady of the Apráksin family)...” was heard on all sides. The countess (a count's wife) rose and went into the ballroom (a great room for dancing).
“Márya Dmítrievna?” came her voice from there.
“Herself,” came the answer in a rough (not smooth; rude) voice, and Márya Dmítrievna entered the room.
All the unmarried (not married) ladies and even the married ones except the very oldest rose. Márya Dmítrievna paused (a brief stop) at the door. Tall and stout (fat and solid; brave), holding high her fifty-year-old (fifty years old) head with its gray (the color between black and white) curls (a coiled lock of hair), she stood surveying the guests, and leisurely (without hurry) arranged (to set in order) her wide sleeves (the arm of a garment) as if rolling them up. Márya Dmítrievna always spoke in Russian.
“Health and happiness (the state of joy) to her whose name day we are keeping and to her children,” she said, in her loud, full-toned (full and rich in sound) voice which drowned (to die in water; to cover over with sound) all others. “Well, you old sinner (one who sins),” she went on, turning to the count who was kissing her hand, “you’re feeling dull (not sharp; not bright) in Moscow, I daresay (I dare say; I suppose)? Nowhere (in no place) to hunt (to chase game) with your dogs? But what is to be done, old man? Just see how these nestlings (a young bird still in the nest — here: the growing girls) are growing up,” and she pointed to the girls. “You must look for husbands for them whether you like it or not....”
“Well,” said she, “how’s my Cossack (a horseman-warrior of the southern steppes)?” (Márya Dmítrievna always called Natásha a Cossack) and she stroked (a blow; a sudden attack of illness) the child’s arm as she came up fearless (without fear) and gay to kiss her hand. “I know she’s a scamp (a playful rascal) of a girl, but I like her.”
She took a pair of pear-shaped (shaped like pears) ruby (the red jewel) earrings (an ear ornament) from her huge reticule (a lady's small handbag) and, having given them to the rosy (pink as a rose) Natásha, who beamed (a great timber; a ray of light; to smile brightly) with the pleasure of her saint (a holy one of God)’s-day (saint's-day: the feast of one's name saint) fete (a festival), turned away at once and addressed herself to Pierre.
“Eh, eh, friend! Come here a bit,” said she, assuming a soft high tone (a sound's quality; a manner) of voice. “Come here, my friend...” and she ominously (with threat of evil) tucked (to fold warmly in) up her sleeves (the arm of a garment) still higher. Pierre approached, looking at her in a childlike (innocent as a child) way through his spectacles (a grand sight; glasses for the eyes).
“Come nearer (closer), come nearer (closer), friend! I used (use: habit; custom — the old sense here) to be the only one to tell your father the truth when he was in favor, and in your case it’s my evident (plain to see) duty.” She paused (a brief stop). All were silent (making no sound), expectant (waiting in hope) of what was to follow, for this was clearly only a prelude (an opening piece).
“A fine lad (a boy)! My word! A fine lad (a boy)!... His father lies on his deathbed (the bed of one's dying) and he amuses (entertained; smiling) himself setting a policeman (an officer of the law) astride (with a leg on each side) a bear! For shame, sir, for shame! It would be better if you went to the war.”
She turned away and gave her hand to the count, who could hardly keep from laughing.
“Well, I suppose it is time we were at table?” said Márya Dmítrievna.
The count went in first with Márya Dmítrievna, the countess (a count's wife) followed on the arm of a colonel (the commander of a regiment) of hussars (a light-cavalry soldier), a man of importance to them because Nicholas (Nicholas Rostóv, the eldest Rostóv son) was to go with him to the regiment (a body of soldiers under a colonel); then came Anna Mikháylovna with Shinshín. Berg gave his arm to Véra. The smiling Julie (Julie Karágina, the wealthy heiress Borís marries) Karágina (Julie Karágina's family name) went in with Nicholas. After them other couples followed, filling the whole dining (eating dinner) hall, and last of all the children, tutors (a private teacher), and governesses (a woman teacher in a household) followed singly (one by one). The footmen (a liveried man servant) began moving about, chairs scraped (a small left piece), the band struck up in the gallery (a long room for pictures; a balcony), and the guests settled (to fix in place; to bring to rest) down in their places. Then the strains (to stretch hard; a family stock) of the count’s household (all who live in a house) band were replaced by the clatter (a rattling noise) of knives (the cutting blade) and forks (the pointed table tool; a branching), the voices of visitors (one who visits), and the soft steps of the footmen (a liveried man servant). At one end of the table sat the countess (a count's wife) with Márya Dmítrievna on her right and Anna Mikháylovna on her left, the other lady visitors (one who visits) were farther down. At the other end sat the count, with the hussar (a light-cavalry soldier) colonel (the commander of a regiment) on his left and Shinshín and the other male visitors (one who visits) on his right. Midway (halfway) down the long table on one side sat the grown-up (a grown person) young people: Véra beside (at the side of) Berg, and Pierre beside (at the side of) Borís; and on the other side, the children, tutors (a private teacher), and governesses (a woman teacher in a household). From behind the crystal (clear precious glass) decanters (a glass bottle for wine) and fruit vases, the count kept glancing (a quick look) at his wife and her tall cap with its light-blue (light blue) ribbons (a narrow band of silk), and busily (with busy energy) filled his neighbors (one who lives near)’ glasses, not neglecting (to leave uncared for) his own. The countess (a count's wife) in turn, without omitting (to leave out) her duties as hostess (the lady of the house receiving guests), threw significant glances (a quick look) from behind the pineapples (the sweet spiny fruit) at her husband whose face and bald (without hair) head seemed by their redness (red color) to contrast (a set difference) more than usual with his gray (the color between black and white) hair. At the ladies’ end an even chatter (quick idle talk) of voices was heard all the time, at the men’s end the voices sounded louder (more loud) and louder (more loud), especially that of the colonel (the commander of a regiment) of hussars (a light-cavalry soldier) who, growing more and more flushed (reddened), ate and drank so much that the count held him up as a pattern to the other guests. Berg with tender (soft with love) smiles was saying to Véra that love is not an earthly (of this world) but a heavenly (of heaven) feeling. Borís was telling his new friend Pierre who the guests were and exchanging glances (a quick look) with Natásha, who was sitting opposite. Pierre spoke little but examined (to inspect closely) the new faces, and ate a great deal. Of the two soups (boiled broth food) he chose turtle (the shelled water creature) with savory (full of good flavor) patties (a small filled pastry) and went on to the game without omitting (to leave out) a single dish (a plate; a prepared food) or one of the wines. These latter the butler (the chief manservant) thrust (to push hard) mysteriously (in a way not to be explained) forward, wrapped (to fold a covering around) in a napkin (a table cloth for the lap), from behind the next man’s shoulders and whispered (a soft hushed voice): “Dry Madeira (the strong island wine)”... “Hungarian”... or “Rhine (the great German river) wine” as the case might be. Of the four crystal (clear precious glass) glasses engraved (to cut into metal or stone) with the count’s monogram (initials woven into one design) that stood before his plate, Pierre held out one at random and drank with enjoyment (pleasure taken), gazing (a long steady look) with ever-increasing (always growing) amiability (friendly sweetness) at the other guests. Natásha, who sat opposite, was looking at Borís as girls of thirteen (thirteen) look at the boy they are in love with and have just kissed for the first time. Sometimes that same look fell on Pierre, and that funny lively (full of life) little girl’s look made him inclined (to lean toward) to laugh without knowing why.
Nicholas sat at some distance from Sónya (Sónya, the Rostóvs' gentle, devoted cousin), beside (at the side of) Julie Karágina, to whom he was again talking with the same involuntary (not willed) smile. Sónya wore a company smile but was evidently (as plainly appears) tormented (torturing pain) by jealousy (envious fear of a rival); now she turned pale (light in color; whitish), now blushed (to redden with shame) and strained (to stretch hard; a family stock) every nerve (the body's feeling thread; courage) to overhear (to hear what was not meant for one) what Nicholas and Julie were saying to one another. The governess (a woman teacher in a household) kept looking round uneasily (with unease) as if preparing to resent (to feel bitter at) any slight (small; to treat as of no account) that might be put upon the children. The German tutor (a private teacher) was trying to remember all the dishes (a plate; a prepared food), wines, and kinds of dessert (the sweet last course), in order to send a full description of the dinner to his people in Germany; and he felt greatly (to a great degree) offended (to hurt feelings; to sin against) when the butler (the chief manservant) with a bottle wrapped (to fold a covering around) in a napkin (a table cloth for the lap) passed him by. He frowned (to draw the brows in displeasure), trying to appear as if he did not want any of that wine, but was mortified (to wound someone's pride) because no one would understand that it was not to quench (to put out; satisfy thirst) his thirst (the need to drink) or from greediness (greedy appetite) that he wanted it, but simply from a conscientious (careful to do right) desire for knowledge.