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While the count was being turned over, one of his arms fell back

helplessly and he made a fruitless effort to pull it forward.

Whether he noticed the look of terror with which Pierre regarded

that lifeless arm, or whether some other thought flitted across

his dying brain, at any rate he glanced at the refractory arm, at

Pierre's terror-stricken face, and again at the arm, and on his

face a feeble, piteous smile appeared, quite out of keeping with

his features, that seemed to deride his own helplessness. At

sight of this smile Pierre felt an unexpected quivering in his

breast and a tickling in his nose, and tears dimmed his eyes. The

sick man was turned on to his side with his face to the wall. He

sighed.

"He is dozing," said Anna Mikhaylovna, observing that one of the

princesses was coming to take her turn at watching. "Let us go."

Pierre went out.

CHAPTER XXIV