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 VII

The rustle (a soft dry whispering sound) of a woman’s dress was heard in the next room. Prince Andrew shook (to move quickly to and fro) himself as if waking up, and his face assumed the look it had had in Anna Pávlovna (the Petersburg hostess)’s drawing room. Pierre removed his feet from the sofa (a long padded seat). The princess came in. She had changed her gown (a woman's long dress) for a house dress as fresh and elegant (gracefully fine) as the other. Prince Andrew rose and politely (with good manners) placed a chair for her.

“How is it,” she began, as usual in French, settling (to fix in place; to bring to rest) down briskly (with quick energy) and fussily (with fussy bustle) in the easy chair, “how is it Annette (a pet form of Anna) never got married? How stupid you men all are not to have married her! Excuse me for saying so, but you have no sense about women. What an argumentative (fond of arguing) fellow you are, Monsieur (sir; mister — French) Pierre!”

“And I am still arguing (to reason against) with your husband. I can’t understand why he wants to go to the war,” replied Pierre, addressing the princess with none of the embarrassment (awkward shame) so commonly (usually) shown by young men in their intercourse (dealings between people) with young women.

The princess started. Evidently (as plainly appears) Pierre’s words touched her to the quick.

“Ah, that is just what I tell him!” said she. “I don’t understand it; I don’t in the least understand why men can’t live without wars. How is it that we women don’t want anything of the kind, don’t need it? Now you shall judge between us. I always tell him: Here he is Uncle’s aide-de-camp (a general's personal officer — French), a most brilliant position. He is so well known, so much appreciated by everyone. The other day at the Apráksins (a great Moscow family)’ I heard a lady asking, ‘Is that the famous Prince Andrew?’ I did indeed.” She laughed. “He is so well received everywhere. He might easily become aide-de-camp (a general's personal officer — French) to the Emperor. You know the Emperor spoke to him most graciously (with kind courtesy). Annette and I were speaking of how to arrange (to set in order) it. What do you think?”

Pierre looked at his friend and, noticing that he did not like the conversation, gave no reply.

“When are you starting?” he asked.

“Oh, don’t speak of his going, don’t! I won’t hear it spoken of,” said the princess in the same petulantly (with childish crossness) playful (full of play) tone (a sound's quality; a manner) in which she had spoken to Hippolyte (Prince Vasíli's dull elder son) in the drawing room and which was so plainly (clearly; simply) ill-suited (badly suited) to the family circle of which Pierre was almost a member. “Today when I remembered that all these delightful (giving delight) associations must be broken off ... and then you know, André (Andrew — French form)...” (she looked significantly at her husband) “I’m afraid, I’m afraid!” she whispered (a soft hushed voice), and a shudder (a shiver of horror) ran down her back.

Her husband looked at her as if surprised to notice that someone besides Pierre and himself was in the room, and addressed her in a tone (a sound's quality; a manner) of frigid (icy cold) politeness (good manners).

“What is it you are afraid of, Lise (the little princess, Prince Andrew's wife)? I don’t understand,” said he.

“There, what egotists (a self-centered person) men all are: all, all egotists (a self-centered person)! Just for a whim (a passing fancy) of his own, goodness (being good) only knows why, he leaves me and locks me up alone in the country.”

“With my father and sister, remember,” said Prince Andrew gently (with mild softness).

“Alone all the same, without my friends.... And he expects me not to be afraid.”

Her tone (a sound's quality; a manner) was now querulous (complaining; whining) and her lip (the mouth's edge) drawn up, giving her not a joyful (full of joy), but an animal, squirrel-like (quick and watchful as a squirrel) expression. She paused (a brief stop) as if she felt it indecorous (improper; unseemly to good manners) to speak of her pregnancy (carrying a child) before Pierre, though the gist (the heart of the matter) of the matter lay in that.

“I still can’t understand what you are afraid of,” said Prince Andrew slowly, not taking his eyes off his wife.

The princess blushed (to redden with shame), and raised her arms with a gesture (a meaning movement) of despair (loss of all hope).

“No, Andrew, I must say you have changed. Oh, how you have....”

“Your doctor tells you to go to bed earlier,” said Prince Andrew. “You had better go.”

The princess said nothing, but suddenly her short downy (soft as young feathers) lip (the mouth's edge) quivered (to tremble finely). Prince Andrew rose, shrugged (to lift the shoulders) his shoulders, and walked about the room.

Pierre looked over his spectacles (a grand sight; glasses for the eyes) with naïve (innocently simple) surprise, now at him and now at her, moved as if about to rise too, but changed his mind.

“Why should I mind Monsieur Pierre being here?” exclaimed (to cry out) the little princess suddenly, her pretty face all at once distorted (to twist out of true shape) by a tearful (full of tears) grimace (a twisted face of pain or disgust). “I have long wanted to ask you, Andrew, why you have changed so to me? What have I done to you? You are going to the war and have no pity (sorrow for another's pain) for me. Why is it?”

“Lise!” was all Prince Andrew said. But that one word expressed an entreaty (an earnest plea), a threat, and above all conviction (settled belief; a finding of guilt) that she would herself regret (sorrow over what is done) her words. But she went on hurriedly (in a rush):

“You treat me like an invalid (a sick person; without force) or a child. I see it all! Did you behave (to conduct oneself) like that six months ago?”

“Lise, I beg (to ask humbly) you to desist (to stop),” said Prince Andrew still more emphatically (with insistent force).

Pierre, who had been growing more and more agitated (stirred up; troubled) as he listened to all this, rose and approached the princess. He seemed unable to bear the sight of tears (a drop of weeping; to rip) and was ready to cry himself.

“Calm yourself, Princess! It seems so to you because.... I assure (to promise; make sure) you I myself have experienced ... and so ... because ... No, excuse me! An outsider (one not of the circle) is out of place here.... No, don’t distress (suffering trouble) yourself.... Good-by (good-by)!”

Prince Andrew caught him by the hand.

“No, wait, Pierre! The princess is too kind to wish to deprive (to take away from) me of the pleasure of spending the evening with you.”

“No, he thinks only of himself,” muttered (to speak low in the throat) the princess without restraining (to hold back) her angry tears (a drop of weeping; to rip).

“Lise!” said Prince Andrew dryly (coldly and shortly), raising his voice to the pitch (to throw; the height of a note; tar) which indicates (to point out) that patience (quiet endurance) is exhausted (to use up; tire out).

Suddenly the angry, squirrel-like (quick and watchful as a squirrel) expression of the princess’ pretty face changed into a winning and piteous (calling for pity) look of fear. Her beautiful eyes glanced (a quick look) askance (sideways, with doubt or fear) at her husband’s face, and her own assumed the timid (shy and fearful), deprecating (to speak against; make little of) expression of a dog when it rapidly (fast) but feebly (weakly) wags (to swing from side to side) its drooping (to hang down limply) tail (the rear end).

“Mon Dieu (God — French), mon Dieu!” she muttered (to speak low in the throat), and lifting her dress with one hand she went up to her husband and kissed him on the forehead (the brow).

“Good night, Lise,” said he, rising and courteously (with polite grace) kissing her hand as he would have done to a stranger (one unknown).