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s to escape the forms often conventionally used by one’s elders； Nikolay wanted to do something striking on meeting his friend。 He wanted somehow to give him a pinch； to give Berg a shove； anything rather than to kiss； as people always did on such occasions。 Boris； on the contrary； embraced Rostov in a composed and friendly manner； and gave him three kisses。
It was almost six months since they had seen each other。 And being at the stage when young men take their first steps along the path of life； each found immense changes in the other； quite new reflections of the different society in which they had taken those first steps。 Both had changed greatly since they were last together； and both wanted to show as soon as possible what a change had taken place。
“Ah； you damned floor polishers！ Smart and clean； as if you’d been enjoying yourselves； not like us poor devils at the front；” said Rostov； with martial swagger； and with baritone notes in his voice that were new to Boris。 He pointed to his mud…stained riding…breeches。 The German woman of the house popped her head out of a door at Rostov’s loud voice。
“A pretty woman； eh？” said he； winking。
“Why do you shout so？ You are frightening them；” said Boris。 “I didn’t expect you to…day；” he added。 “I only sent the note off to you yesterday—through an adjutant of Kutuzov’s； who’s a friend of mine—Bolkonsky。 I didn’t expect he would send it to you so quickly。 Well； how are you？ Been under fire already？” asked Boris。
Without answering； Rostov； in soldierly fashion； shook the cross of St。 George that hung on the cording of his uniform； and pointing to his arm in a sling； he glanced at Berg。
“As you see；” he said。
“To be sure； yes； yes；” said Boris； smiling； “and we have had a capital march here too。 You know his Highness kept all the while with our regiment； so that we had every convenience and advantage。 In Poland； the receptions； the dinners； the balls！—I can’t tell you。 And the Tsarevitch was very gracious to all our officers。” And both the friends began describing； one； the gay revels of the hussars and life at the front； the other； the amenities and advantages of service under the command of royalty。
“Oh； you guards；” said Rostov。 “But； I say； send for some wine。”
Boris frowned。
“If you really want some；” he said。 And he went to the bedstead； took a purse from under the clean pillows； and ordered some wine。 “Oh； and I have a letter and money to give you；” he added。
Rostov took the letter； and flinging the money on the sofa； put both his elbows on the table and began reading it。 He read a few lines； and looked wrathfully at Berg。 Meeting his eyes； Rostov hid his face with the letter。
“They sent you a decent lot of money； though；” said Berg； looking at the heavy bag； that sank into the sofa。 “But we manage to scrape along on our pay； count； I can tell you in my own case。 …”
“I say； Berg； my dear fellow；” said Rostov； “when you get a letter from home and meet one of your own people； whom you want to talk everything over with； and I’m on the scene； I’ll clear out at once； so as not to be in your way。 Do you hear； be off； please； anywhere； anywhere … to the devil！” he cried； and immediately seizing him by the shoulder； and looking affectionately into his face； evidently to soften the rudeness of his words； he added： “you know； you’re not angry； my dear fellow； I speak straight from the heart to an old friend like you。”
“Why； of course； count； I quite understand；” said Berg； getting up and speaking in his deep voice。
“You might go and see the people of the house； they did invite you；” added Boris。
Berg put on a spotless clean coat； brushed his lovelocks upwards before the looking…glass； in the fashion worn by the Tsar Alexander Pavlovitch； and having assured himself from Rostov’s expression that his coat had been observed； he went out of the room with a bland smile。
“Ah； what a beast I am； though；” said Rostov； as he read the letter。
“Oh； why？”
“Ah； what a pig I’ve been； never once to have written and to have given them such a fright。 Ah； what a pig I am！” he repeated； flushing all at once。 “Well； did you send Gavrila for some wine？ That’s right； let’s have some！” said he。
With the letters from his family there had been inserted a letter of recommendation to Prince Bagration； by Anna Mihalovna’s advice； which Countess Rostov had obtained through acquaintances； and had sent to her son； begging him to take it to its address； and to make use of it。
“What nonsense！ Much use to me；” said Rostov； throwing the letter under the table。
“What did you throw that away for？” asked Boris。
“It’s a letter of recommendation of some sort； what the devil do I want with a letter like that！”
“What the devil do you want with it？” said Boris； picking it up and reading the address； “that letter would be of great use to you。”
“I’m not in want of anything； and I’m not going to be an adjutant to anybody。”
“Why not？” asked Boris。
“A lackey’s duty。”
“You are just as much of an idealist as ever； I see；” said Boris； shaking his head。
“And you’re just as much of a diplomat。 But that’s not the point。 … Come； how are you？” asked Rostov。
“Why； as you see。 So far everything’s gone well； but I’ll own I should be very glad to get a post as adjutant； and not to stay in the line。”
“What for？”
“Why； because if once one goes in for a military career； one ought to try to make it as successful a career as one can。”
“Oh； that’s it；” said Rostov； unmistakably thinking of something else。 He looked intently and inquiringly into his friend’s eyes； apparently seeking earnestly the solution of some question。
Old Gavrila brought in the wine。
“Shouldn’t we send for Alphonse Karlitch now？” said Boris。 “He’ll drink with you； but I can’t。”
“Send for him； send for him。 Well； how do you get on with the Teuton？” said Rostov； with a contemptuous smile。
“He’s a very； very nice； honest； and pleasant fellow；” said Boris。
Rostov looked intently into Boris’s face once more and he sighed。 Berg came back； and over the bottle the conversation between the three officers became livelier。 The guardsmen told Rostov about their march and how they had been fêted in Russia； in Poland； and abroad。 They talked of the sayings and doings of their commander； the Grand Duke； and told anecdotes of his kind…heartedness and his irascibility。 Berg was silent； as he always was； when the subject did not concern him personally； but à propos of the irascibility of the Grand Duke he related with gusto how he had had some words with the Grand Duke in Galicia； when his Highness had inspected the regiments and had flown into a rage over some irregularity in their movements。 With a bland smile on his face he described how the Grand Duke had ridden up to him in a violent rage； shouting “Arnauts！” （“Arnauts” was the Tsarevitch’s favourite term of abuse when he was in a passion）； and how he had asked for the captain。 “Would you believe me； count； I wasn’t in the least alarmed； because I knew I was right。 Without boasting； you know； count； I may say I know all the regimental drill…book by heart； and the standing orders； too； I