The count went in first with Marya Dmitrievna,
the countess followed
on the arm of a colonel of hussars,
a man of importance to them
because Nicholas was to go with him to the regiment;
then came Anna Mikhaylovna with Shinshin.
Berg gave his arm to Vera.
The smiling Julie Karagina went in with Nicholas.
After them other couples followed,
filling the whole dining hall,
and last of all the children,
tutors, and governesses followed singly.
The footmen began moving about, chairs scraped,
the band struck up in the gallery,
and the guests settled down in their places.
Then the strains of the count's household band
were replaced by the clatter of knives and forks,
the voices of visitors,
and the soft steps of the footmen.
At one end of the table sat the countess
with Marya Dmitrievna on her right and Anna
Mikhaylovna on her left,
the other lady visitors were farther down.
At the other end sat the count,
with the hussar colonel on his left and
Shinshin and the other male visitors on his right.
Midway down the long table on one side sat the grownup
young people:
Vera beside Berg, and Pierre beside Boris;
and on the other side, the children,
tutors, and governesses.
From behind the crystal decanters and fruit
vases the count kept glancing
at his wife and her tall cap with its
light-blue ribbons,
and busily filled his neighbors' glasses,
not neglecting his own. The countess in turn,
without omitting her duties as hostess,
threw significant glances from behind the pineapples
at her husband whose face and bald head seemed by their
redness to contrast more than usual with his gray hair.
At the ladies'end an even chatter of voices
was heard all the time,
at the men's end the voices sounded louder and louder,
especially that of the colonel of hussars who,
growing more and more flushed,
ate and drank so much that the count held him up
as a pattern to the other guests.
Berg with tender smiles was saying to Vera
that love is not an earthly but a heavenly feeling.
Boris was telling his new friend Pierre who the
guests were and exchanging glances with Natasha,
who was sitting opposite.
Pierre spoke little but examined the new faces,
and ate a great deal.
Of the two soups he chose turtle with savory patties
and went on to the game without omitting a single dish
or one of the wines.
These latter the butler thrust mysteriously forward,
wrapped in a napkin,
from behind the next man's shoulders and whispered:
"Dry Madeira"... "Hungarian"... or "Rhine wine"
as the case might be.
Of the four crystal glasses engraved
with the count's monogram that stood before his plate,
Pierre held out one at random and drank with enjoyment,
gazing with ever-increasing amiability
at the other guests.
Natasha, who sat opposite,
was looking at Boris as girls of thirteen
look at the boy they are in love with
and have just kissed for the first time.
Sometimes that same look fell on Pierre,
and that funny lively little
girl's look made him inclined to laugh
without knowing why.