“But he must be a freemason,” he said

“But he must be a freemason,” he said, meaning the abbé he had seen that evening.

“That’s all nonsense,” Prince Andrey pulled him up again; “we’d better talk of serious things. Have you been to the Horse Guards?”

“No, I haven’t; but this is what struck me and I wanted to talk to you about it. This war now is against Napoleon. If it were a war for freedom, I could have understood it, I would have been the first to go into the army; but to help England and Austria against the greatest man in the world—that’s not right.”

Prince Andrey simply shrugged his shoulders at Pierre’s childish words. He looked as though one really could not answer such absurdities. But in reality it was hard to find any answer to this na?ve question other than the answer Prince Andrey made. “If every one would only fight for his own convictions, there’d be no war,” he said.

“And a very good thing that would be too,” said Pierre.

Prince Andrey smiled ironically. “Very likely it would be a good thing, but it will never come to pass…”

“Well, what are you going to the war for?” asked Pierre.

“What for? I don’t know. Because I have to. Besides, I’m going…” he stopped. “I’m going because the life I lead here, this life is—not to my taste!”

Chapter 6

THERE was the rustle of a woman’s dress in the next room. Prince Andrey started up, as it were pulling himself together, and his face assumed the expression it had worn in Anna Pavlovna’s drawing-room. Pierre dropped his legs down off the sofa. The princess came in. She had changed her gown, and was wearing a house dress as fresh and elegant as the other had been. Prince Andrey got up and courteously set a chair for her.

“Why is it, I often wonder,” she began in French as always, while she hurriedly and fussily settled herself in the low chair, “why is it Annette never married? How stupid you gentlemen all are not to have married her. You must excuse me, but you really have no sense about women. What an argumentative person you are, Monsieur Pierre!”

“I’m still arguing with your husband; I can’t make out why he wants to go to the war,” said Pierre, addressing the princess without any of the affectation so common in the attitude of a young man to a young woman.

The princess shivered. Clearly Pierre’s words touched a tender spot.

“Ah, that’s what I say,” she said. “I can’t understand, I simply can’t understand why men can’t get on without war. Why is it we women want nothing of the sort? We don’t care for it. Come, you shall be the judge. I keep saying to him: here he is uncle’s adjutant, a most brilliant position. He’s so well known, so appreciated by every one. The other day at the Apraxins’ I heard a lady ask: ‘So that is the famous Prince André? Upon my word!’ ” She laughed. “He’s asked everywhere. He could very easily be a flügel-adjutant. You know the Emperor has spoken very graciously to him. Annette and I were saying it would be quite easy to arrange it. What do you think?”

Pierre looked at Prince Andrey, and, noticing that his friend did not like this subject, made no reply.