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"Ah, money, Count, money! How much sorrow it causes in the

world," said the countess. "But I am in great need of this sum."

"You, my little countess, are a notorious spendthrift," said the

count, and having kissed his wife's hand he went back to his

study.

When Anna Mikhaylovna returned from Count Bezukhov's the money,

all in clean notes, was lying ready under a handkerchief on the

countess' little table, and Anna Mikhaylovna noticed that

something was agitating her.

"Well, my dear?" asked the countess.

"Oh, what a terrible state he is in! One would not know him, he

is so ill! I was only there a few moments and hardly said a

word..."

"Annette, for heaven's sake don't refuse me," the countess began,

with a blush that looked very strange on her thin, dignified,

elderly face, and she took the money from under the handkerchief.

Anna Mikhaylovna instantly guessed her intention and stooped to

be ready to embrace the countess at the appropriate moment.

"This is for Boris from me, for his outfit."