Pagina 135 de 3800

"My dear Boris," said Princess Anna Mikhaylovna to her son as

Countess Rostova's carriage in which they were seated drove over

the straw covered street and turned into the wide courtyard of

Count Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov's house. "My dear Boris," said

the mother, drawing her hand from beneath her old mantle and

laying it timidly and tenderly on her son's arm, "be affectionate

and attentive to him. Count Cyril Vladimirovich is your godfather

after all, and your future depends on him. Remember that, my

dear, and be nice to him, as you so well know how to be."

"If only I knew that anything besides humiliation would come of

it..." answered her son coldly. "But I have promised and will do

it for your sake."