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All became silent and turned to look at the pale tear-worn Anna

Mikhaylovna as she entered, and at the big stout figure of Pierre

who, hanging his head, meekly followed her.

Anna Mikhaylovna's face expressed a consciousness that the

decisive moment had arrived. With the air of a practical

Petersburg lady she now, keeping Pierre close beside her, entered

the room even more boldly than that afternoon. She felt that as

she brought with her the person the dying man wished to see, her

own admission was assured. Casting a rapid glance at all those in

the room and noticing the count's confessor there, she glided up

to him with a sort of amble, not exactly bowing yet seeming to

grow suddenly smaller, and respectfully received the blessing

first of one and then of another priest.

"God be thanked that you are in time," said she to one of the

priests; "all we relatives have been in such anxiety. This young

man is the count's son," she added more softly. "What a terrible

moment!"