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WAR AND PEACE

BOOK ONE: 1805

CHAPTER I

"Well, Prince, so Genoa and Lucca are now just family estates of the Buonapartes. But I warn you, if you don't tell me this news soon after you hear it, I shall think you have a design upon me!"

This was said by Anna Pavlovna Scherer, maid of honour and confidante to the Empress Marya Feodorovna, in a drawing-room in Petersburg, in July 1805.

Prince Vasili Kuragin was the first to arrive to pay his respects. He was a handsome man, of about fifty, with a certain official pleasantness of manner, which suggested an acquaintance with men in high positions; and this pleasantness was so much the more valuable as it was rare in society.

"Ah, you are late!" Anna Pavlovna said, going forward to meet him with a slight, affected smile.

The Prince made a slight bow and offered his cheek to be kissed.

"You must forgive me, dear Anna Pavlovna," he said, his voice having a certain drawl, which indicated that he was used to being listened to. "My son arrived unexpectedly from Moscow. You know how it is with young people."

"One can never count on the young people nowadays," Anna Pavlovna replied, with a look of vague disapproval. "But come, sit down and tell me the news. Is it true that the Archduke Charles is coming to Vienna?"

Prince Vasili settled himself in an armchair, his face expressing a calm self-satisfaction.

"My dear Anna Pavlovna," he began, "I will tell you that the whole of high society is agitated by the news from the East. The Tsar, our beloved sovereign, is greatly concerned about the situation in Europe."

"And what about the latest intrigues with the Turks?" Anna Pavlovna leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Intrigues, my dear, are merely the background music to the grand opera of European politics. The real concern is Bonaparte. He is becoming too ambitious. They say he has designs on Naples."

Anna Pavlovna sighed deeply. "Bonaparte! He is the scourge of God! And what is our Emperor doing? Will he really allow this arrogance to continue?"

Prince Vasili smiled mysteriously. "Our Emperor is a most pious and magnanimous soul, but he understands that the time for decisive action is near. I have just come from the Minister's office. There are whispers of a new coalition."

"A coalition! Thank heavens! You see, I always said that the only language Bonaparte understands is that of force. But tell me, Prince, what about your handsome son, Anatole? I hear he has caused quite a stir in Moscow."

Prince Vasili's expression shifted almost imperceptibly, a flicker of paternal pride mingling with slight annoyance.

"Anatole is a charming young man, but perhaps a little too fond of pleasure. He is not yet serious about his career. He needs a steadying influence. That is why I brought him here, to St. Petersburg, hoping to present him at court."

"And Pierre? I haven't seen young Pierre for an age. Is he still burying himself in his books?"

"Pierre," Prince Vasili pronounced the name with a kind of weary resignation, "is his own master, alas. He has inherited a vast fortune from his uncle, the old Count Bezukhov, and with fortune comes independence. He lacks direction, Anna Pavlovna. He needs a firm hand."

"Perhaps he needs a wife," Anna Pavlovna suggested with a knowing glance.

Prince Vasili laughed, a short, dry sound. "My dear, you always have the most practical solutions! But Pierre is too awkward, too intellectual for the refined circles. He is not like his sister, Princess Marya, who is quite the opposite—pious, reserved, and altogether too serious for her own good."

The conversation continued, shifting from the geopolitical state of Europe to the minor scandals of the Petersburg elite, all delivered with the polished ease of people who understood that true power lay not just in titles, but in knowing precisely whom to flatter and whom to subtly dismiss. Anna Pavlovna listened intently, eager to absorb every nuance that might later be repeated at the Empress's salon.

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