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left the room when the old prince； looking about him nervously； threw down his dinner napkin and went himself。
“They never can do anything； always make a muddle。”
As he went out； Princess Marya； Dessalle； Mademoiselle Bourienne； and even little Nikolushka； looked at one another without speaking。 The old prince accompanied by Mihail Ivanitch came back with a hurried step； bringing the letter and a plan； which he laid beside him； and did not give to any one to read during dinner。
When they went into the drawing…room； he handed the letter to Princess Marya； and spreading out before him the plan of his new buildings； he fixed his eyes upon it； and told her to read the letter aloud。
After reading the letter； Princess Marya looked inquiringly at her father。 He was gazing at the plan； evidently engrossed in his own ideas。
“What do you think about it； prince？” Dessalle ventured to inquire。
“I？ eh？ …” said the old prince； seeming to rouse himself with a painful effort； and not taking his eyes from the plan of the building。
“It is very possible that the field of operations may be brought so close to us …”
“Ha…ha…ha！ The field of operations indeed！” said the old prince。 “I have always said； and I say still； that the field of operations is bound to be Poland； and the enemy will never advance beyond the Niemen。” Dessalle looked in amazement at the prince； who was talking of the Niemen； when the enemy was already at the Dnieper。 But Princess Marya； forgetting the geographical position of the Niemen； supposed that what her father said was true。
“When the snows thaw they’ll drown in the marshes of Poland。 It’s only that they can’t see it；” said the old prince； obviously thinking of the campaign of 1807； which seemed to him so recent。 “Bennigsen ought to have entered Prussia earlier； and things would have taken quite another turn。 …”
“But； prince！” said Dessalle timidly； “the letter speaks of Vitebsk。 …”
“Ah； the letter？ Yes； …” said the prince； with displeasure。 “Yes … yes …” His face suddenly assumed a gloomy expression。 He paused。 “Yes； he writes； the French have been beaten。 On what river was it？”
Dessalle dropped his eyes。 “The prince says nothing about that；” he said gently。
“What； doesn’t he？ Why； you don’t suppose I imagined it。”
Every one was for a long time silent。
“Yes … yes … Well； Mihail Ivanitch；” he said suddenly； raising his head and pointing to the plan of the building； “tell me how you propose to make that alteration。 …”
Mihail Ivanitch went up to the plan； and the old prince； talking to him about it； went off to his own room； casting a wrathful glance at Princess Marya and Dessalle。
Princess Marya saw Dessalle’s embarrassed and amazed expression as he looked at her father。 She noticed his silence and was struck by the fact that her father had left his son’s letter forgotten on the drawing…room table。 But she was afraid to speak of it； to ask Dessalle the reason of his embarrassed silence； afraid even to think about it。
In the evening Mihail Ivanitch was sent by the prince to Princess Marya to ask for the letter that had been forgotten on the table。 Princess Marya gave him the letter； and much as she disliked doing so； she ventured to ask what her father was doing
“Still very busy；” said Mihail Ivanitch； in a tone of deferential irony； that made her turn pale。 “Worrying very much over the new wing。 Been reading a little： but now” — Mihail Ivanitch dropped his voice — “he’s at his bureau looking after his will； I expect。” One of the old prince’s favourite occupations of late had been going over the papers which he meant to leave at his death； and called his “will。”
“And is Alpatitch being sent to Smolensk？” asked Princess Marya。
“To be sure； he’s been waiting a long while for his orders。”
Chapter 3
WHEN MIHAIL IVANITCH went back to the study with the letter； the old prince was sitting in his spectacles with a shade over his eyes and shades on the candles； at his open bureau； surrounded by papers； held a long distance off。 He was in a rather solemn attitude； reading the papers （the “remarks；” as he called them） which were to be given to the Tsar after his death。
When Mihail Ivanitch went in； there were tears in his eyes； called up by the memory of the time when he had written what he was now reading。 He took the letter out of Mihail Ivanitch’s hand； put it in his pocket； folded up his papers and called in Alpatitch； who had been waiting a long while to see him。
He had noted down on a sheet of paper what he wanted in Smolensk； and he began walking up and down the room； as he gave his instructions to Alpatitch； standing at the door。
“First； letter paper； do you hear； eight quires； like this pattern； you see； gilt edged … take the pattern； so as to be sure to match it； varnish； sealing…wax — according to Mihail Ivanitch’s list。”
He walked up and down the room and glanced at the memorandum。
“Then deliver the letter about the enrolment to the governor in person。”
Then bolts for the doors of the new building were wanted； and must be of a new pattern； which the old prince had himself designed。 Then an iron…bound box was to be ordered for keeping his will in。
Giving Alpatitch his instructions occupied over two hours。 The prince still would not let him go。 He sat down； sank into thought； and closing his eyes； dropped into a doze。 Alpatitch made a slight movement。
“Well； go along； go along；” said the old prince； “if anything is wanted I’ll send。”
Alpatitch went away。 The prince went back to the bureau； glancing into it； he passed his hand over his papers； closed it again； and sat down to the table to write to the governor。
It was late when he sealed the letter and got up。 He was sleepy； but he knew he would not sleep； and that he would be haunted by most miserable thoughts in bed。 He called Tihon； and went through the rooms with him； to tell him where to make up his bed for that night。 He walked about； measuring every corner。
There was no place that pleased him； but worst of all was the couch in the study that he had been used to。 That couch had become an object of dread to him； probably from the painful thoughts he had thought lying on it。 No place was quite right； but best of them all was the corner in the divan…room； behind the piano； he had never slept there yet。
Tihon brought the bedstead in with the footmen； and began putting it up。
“That’s not right； that’s not right！” cried the old prince。 With his own hands he moved the bed an inch further from the corner； and then closer to it again。
“Well； at last； I have done everything； now I shall rest；” thought the prince； and he left it to Tihon to undress him。
Frowning with vexation at the effort he had to make to take off his coat and trousers； the prince undressed； dropped heavily down on his bed； and seemed to sink into thought； staring contemptuously at his yellow； withered legs。 He was not really thinking； but simply pausing before the effort to lift his legs up and lay them in the bed。 “Ugh； how hard it is！ Ugh； if these toils could soon be over； and if you would let me go！” he mused。 Pinching his lips tightly； he made that effort for the twenty thousandt