He married in 1847 the countess Clam-Martinic, but there was no issue of the marriage.
Charles's ambition aimed at wider fields, and when Margaret, countess of Flanders, asked help of the French court against the German king William of Holland, by whom she had been defeated, he gladly accepted her offer of the county of; Hainaut in exchange for his assistance (1253); this arrangement was, however, rescinded by Louis of France, who returned from captivity in 1254, and Charles gave up Hainaut for an immense sum of money.
The countess tried to frown, but could not.
Dupin de Francueil, a farmer-general of the revenue, who married the widow of Count Horn, a natural son of Louis XV., she in her turn being the natural daughter of Maurice de Saxe, the most famous of the many illegitimate children of Augustus the Strong, by the lovely countess of Konigsmarck.
Albany had to blockade Margaret in Stirling Castle before she would surrender her sons, After being obliged to capitulate, Margaret returned to Edinburgh, and being no longer responsible for the custody of the king she fled to England in September, where a month later she bore to Angus a daughter, Margaret, who afterwards became countess of Lennox, mother of Lord Darnley and grandmother of James I.
The strong castle built by Robert de Romille in the time of the Conqueror was partly demolished in 1648, but was restored by the countess of Pembroke.
The church of the Holy Trinity, mainly Perpendicular, was also partly demolished during the Civil War, but was restored by the countess of Pembroke.
ALEXANDER (ALEXANDER OF BATTENBERG) (1857-1893), first prince of Bulgaria, was the second son of Prince Alexander of Hesse and the Rhine by his morganatic marriage with Julia, countess von Hauke.
The title of princess of Battenberg, derived from an old residence of the grand-dukes of Hesse, was conferred, with the prefix Durchlaucht or "Serene Highness," on the countess and her descendants in 1858.
In his singlehanded duel with the strength of Germany, Gregory received material assistance from the Countess Matilda of Tuscany.
The formation of a Latin empire in the East increased the popes prestige; while at home it was his policy to organize Countess Matildas heritage by the formation of Guelph leagues, over which he presided.
For English readers Countess F.
In 1688 his widow was created countess of Stafford for life, and his eldest son, Henry, had the earldom of Stafford, with special remainder to his brothers.
Lord Byron resided at Ravenna for eighteen months in 1820-21, attracted by the charms of the Countess Guiccioli.
Of Germany at once forced the pontiff to crown him emperor, and three or four years later took possession of the Norman kingdom of Sicily; he refused tribute and the oath of allegiance, and even appointed bishops subject to his own jurisdiction; moreover, he gave his brother in fief the estates which had belonged to the countess Matilda of Tuscany.
It formed part of the donation of the Countess Matilda to the papacy.
No charter has been found, but a judgment given under a writ of quo warranto in 1578 confirms to the burgesses freedom from toll, passage and pontage, the tolls and stallage of the quay and the right to hold two fairs - privileges which they claimed under charters of Baldwin de Redvers and Isabel de Fortibus, countess of Albemarle, in the 13th century, and Edward Courtenay, earl of Devon, in 1405.
Chretien states that he composed the poem (which he left to be completed by Godefroi de Leigni) at the request of the countess Marie of Champagne, who provided him with matiere et san.
He was the second son of Emmanuel Scrope Howe, 2nd Viscount Howe, who died governor of Barbadoes in March 1735, and of Mary Sophia Charlotte, a daughter of the baroness Kilmansegge, afterwards countess of Darlington, the mistress of George I.
Margaret, Countess Of Richmond And Derby >>
The second earl's daughter Anne (1651-1732), who succeeded him as a countess in her own right, married in 1663 the famous duke of Monmouth, who was then created 1st duke of Buccleuch; and her grandson Francis became 2nd duke.
Two days later Isabella, countess of Buchan, claimed the right of her family, the Macduffs, earls of Fife, to place the Scottish king on his throne, and the ceremony was repeated with an addition flattering to the Celtic race.
Yesterday the Countess of Meath came again to see me.
The countess Granville died on the 7th of October 1745, leaving one daughter Sophia, who married Lord Shelburne, 1st marquis of Lansdowne.
At the foot of the dunes are the old towns and villages of Sassenheim, close to which are slight remains of the ancient castle of Teilingen (12th century), in which the countess Jacoba of Bavaria died in 1433.
A college was founded, for the education of young men to the ministry of the Connexion, by Selina countess of Huntingdon in 1768 at Trevecca-isaf near Talgarth, Brecknockshire.
In 1736 he had been made a count of the Empire and had married the countess Franziska von KolowratKradowska, a favourite of the wife of Frederick Augustus.
She was entrusted to the care of the earl of Linlithgow, and after the departure of the royal family to England, to the countess of Kildare, subsequently residing with Lord and Lady Harington at Combe Abbey in Warwickshire.
His son, Humphrey VIII., who succeeded him in the same year, was allowed to marry one of the king's daughters, Eleanor, the widowed countess of Holland (1302).
GEORGE GRENVILLE (1712-1770), English statesman, second son of Richard Grenville and Hester Temple, afterwards Countess Temple, was born on the 14th of October 1712.
To surrender all the possessions and royalties of the Church; but this treaty was soon afterwards repudiated, and by the will of Matilda, countess of Tuscany, the papal see was enabled to lay claim to new territories of great value.
It was in Berlin, towards the end of 1845, that he met the lady with whom his life was to be associated in so remarkable a way, the Countess Hatzfeldt.
Lassalle attached himself to the cause of the countess, whom he believed to have been outrageously wronged, made special study of law, and, after bringing the case before thirty-six tribunals, reduced the powerful count to a compromise on terms most favourable to his client.
Till 1859 Lassalle resided mostly in the Rhine country, prosecuting the suit of the countess, finishing the work on Heraclitus, which was not published till 1858, taking little part in political agitation, but ever a helpful friend of the working men.
About 1153, Ivor Bach (or the Little), a neighbouring Welsh chieftain, seized the castle and for a time held William, earl of Gloucester, and the countess prisoners in the hills.
Marsilius of Padua also composed a treatise De translations imperii romani, which is merely a rearrangement of a work of Landolfo Colonna, De jurisdictione imperatoris in causa matrimoniali, intended to prove the exclusive jurisdiction of the emperor in matrimonial affairs, or rather, to justify the intervention of Louis of Bavaria, who, in the interests of his policy, had just annulled the marriage of the son of the king of Bohemia and the countess of Tirol.
After his abdication he married the countess and spent the rest of his life in quiet retirement upon his private estate in Silesia.
There is a Queen Eleanor cross commemorating the countess of Loudoun, by Sir Gilbert Scott.
1 In Anglo-French documents the word counte was at all times used as the equivalent of earl, but, unlike the feminine form "countess," it did not find its way into the English language until the 16th century, and then only in the sense defined above.
The well itself is covered by a fine Gothic building, said to have been erected by Margaret, countess of Richmond and mother of Henry VII., with some portions of earlier date.
He begged the countess to obtain a secret interview for him with the queen, and a meeting took place in August 1784 in a grove in the garden at Versailles between him and a lady whom the cardinal believed to be the queen herself.
In any case the countess profited by the cardinal's conviction to borrow from him sums of money destined ostensibly for the queen's works of charity.
Enriched by these, the countess was able to take an honourable place in society, and many persons believed her relations with Marie Antoinette, of which she boasted openly and unreservedly, to be genuine.
In any case the jewellers believed in the relations of the countess with the queen, and they resolved to use her to sell their necklace.
The police set to work to find all her accomplices, and arrested the girl Oliva and a certain Reteaux de Villette, a friend of the countess, who confessed that he had written the letters given to Rohan in the queen's name, and had imitated her signature on the conditions of the bargain.
People, however, persisted in the belief that the queen had used the countess as an instrument to satisfy her hatred of the cardinal de Rohan.
The Dominican church, built in 1749 after the model of St Peter's at Rome, contains a monument by Thorvaldsen to the Countess Dunin-Borkowska; the Greek St Nicholas church was built in 1292; and the Roman Catholic St *Mary church was built in 1363 by the first German settlers.
He was on friendly terms with the prince's mistress,Henrietta Howard, af terwards countess of Suffolk.
This countess of Dysart (afterwards duchess of Lauderdale) was a famous beauty of the period, and notorious both for her amours and for her political influence.
The commune of Cremona is first mentioned in a document of r098, recording its investiture by the countess Matilda with the territory known as Isola Fulcheria.
Map was, as we have seen, frequently in France; Chretien had for patroness Marie, countess of Champagne, step-daughter to Henry II., Map's patron; Map's position was distinctly superior to that of Chretien.
(London, 1896); Thomas Reynolds the younger, The Life of Thomas Reynolds (London, 1839); The Life and Letters of Lady Sarah Lennox, edited by the countess of Ilchester and Lord Stavordale (London, 1901); Ida A.
Charles's first wife was Blanche, daughter of Otto IV., count of Burgundy, and of Matilda (Mahaut), countess of Artois, to whom he was married in 1307.
He was designated by Gregory as one of four men most worthy to succeed him, and, after a vacancy of more than five months following the decease of Victor III., he was elected pope on the 12th of March 1088 by forty cardinals, bishops, and abbots assembled at Terracina, together with representatives of the Romans and of Countess Matilda.
The countess herself and her handsome eldest daughter were in the drawing-room with the visitors who came to congratulate, and who constantly succeeded one another in relays.
The countess was a woman of about forty-five, with a thin Oriental type of face, evidently worn out with childbearing--she had had twelve.
"Marya Lvovna Karagina and her daughter!" announced the countess' gigantic footman in his bass voice, entering the drawing room.
The countess reflected a moment and took a pinch from a gold snuffbox with her husband's portrait on it.
Dear Countess, what an age...
"What is that?" asked the countess as if she did not know what the visitor alluded to, though she had already heard about the cause of Count Bezukhov's distress some fifteen times.
"Why do you say this young man is so rich?" asked the countess, turning away from the girls, who at once assumed an air of inattention.
The countess looked at her callers, smiling affably, but not concealing the fact that she would not be distressed if they now rose and took their leave.
"Ma chere, there is a time for everything," said the countess with feigned severity.
The only young people remaining in the drawing room, not counting the young lady visitor and the countess' eldest daughter (who was four years older than her sister and behaved already like a grown-up person), were Nicholas and Sonya, the niece.
"Yes, I was brought up quite differently," remarked the handsome elder daughter, Countess Vera, with a smile.
Our dear countess was too clever with Vera, said the count.
I thought they would never go, said the countess, when she had seen her guests out.
After receiving her visitors, the countess was so tired that she gave orders to admit no more, but the porter was told to be sure to invite to dinner all who came "to congratulate."
The countess pressed her friend's hand.
"Ah, my dear," said the countess, "my life is not all roses either.
He paid me attentions in those days, said the countess, with a smile.
The countess' eyes filled with tears and she pondered in silence.
After Anna Mikhaylovna had driven off with her son to visit Count Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov, Countess Rostova sat for a long time all alone applying her handkerchief to her eyes.
"Oh, little countess!"... and the count began bustling to get out his pocketbook.
"Yes, Dmitri, clean ones, please," said the countess, sighing deeply.
Anna Mikhaylovna instantly guessed her intention and stooped to be ready to embrace the countess at the appropriate moment.
Countess Apraksina... was heard on all sides.
The countess rose and went into the ballroom.
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.
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.
Marya Dmitrievna and the countess burst out laughing, and all the guests joined in.
The band again struck up, the count and countess kissed, and the guests, leaving their seats, went up to "congratulate" the countess, and reached across the table to clink glasses with the count, with the children, and with one another.
The young people, at the countess' instigation, gathered round the clavichord and harp.
Just look at her! exclaimed the countess as she crossed the ballroom, pointing to Natasha.
Her enormous figure stood erect, her powerful arms hanging down (she had handed her reticule to the countess), and only her stern but handsome face really joined in the dance.
As for the past two years people have amused themselves by finding husbands for me (most of whom I don't even know), the matchmaking chronicles of Moscow now speak of me as the future Countess Bezukhova.
"Countess Apraksina, poor thing, has lost her husband and she has cried her eyes out," she said, growing more and more lively.
No, but imagine the old Countess Zubova, with false curls and her mouth full of false teeth, as if she were trying to cheat old age....
This very sentence about Countess Zubova and this same laugh Prince Andrew had already heard from his wife in the presence of others some five times.
Anna Mikhaylovna sat down beside him, with her own handkerchief wiped the tears from his eyes and from the letter, then having dried her own eyes she comforted the count, and decided that at dinner and till teatime she would prepare the countess, and after tea, with God's help, would inform her.
Each time that these hints began to make the countess anxious and she glanced uneasily at the count and at Anna Mikhaylovna, the latter very adroitly turned the conversation to insignificant matters.
Anna Mikhaylovna, with the letter, came on tiptoe to the countess' door and paused.
"It is done!" she said to the count, pointing triumphantly to the countess, who sat holding in one hand the snuffbox with its portrait and in the other the letter, and pressing them alternately to her lips.
The countess was crying.
This was quite true, but the count, the countess, and Natasha looked at her reproachfully.
Nicholas' letter was read over hundreds of times, and those who were considered worthy to hear it had to come to the countess, for she did not let it out of her hands.
The tutors came, and the nurses, and Dmitri, and several acquaintances, and the countess reread the letter each time with fresh pleasure and each time discovered in it fresh proofs of Nikolenka's virtues.
For more than a week preparations were being made, rough drafts of letters to Nicholas from all the household were written and copied out, while under the supervision of the countess and the solicitude of the count, money and all things necessary for the uniform and equipment of the newly commissioned officer were collected.
The well-known old door handle, which always angered the countess when it was not properly cleaned, turned as loosely as ever.
The old countess had not yet come.
The old countess, not letting go of his hand and kissing it every moment, sat beside him: the rest, crowding round him, watched every movement, word, or look of his, never taking their blissfully adoring eyes off him.
Vera's remark was correct, as her remarks always were, but, like most of her observations, it made everyone feel uncomfortable, not only Sonya, Nicholas, and Natasha, but even the old countess, who--dreading this love affair which might hinder Nicholas from making a brilliant match-- blushed like a girl.
"The countess told me to inquire whether your excellency was at home," said the valet.
He was pointedly attentive to Sonya and looked at her in such a way that not only could she not bear his glances without coloring, but even the old countess and Natasha blushed when they saw his looks.
Sonya, Dolokhov, and the old countess were especially disturbed, and to a lesser degree Natasha.
"Where would I not go at the countess' command!" said Denisov, who at the Rostovs' had jocularly assumed the role of Natasha's knight.
From the point of view of the old countess and of society it was out of the question for her to refuse him.
"Countess Natasha," answered Denisov.
"Oh no, let me off, Countess," Denisov replied.
The old countess, waiting for the return of her husband and son, sat playing patience with the old gentlewoman who lived in their house.
Come here, dear! called the old countess from the drawing room.
The countess glanced at her silent son.
The countess did not believe her ears.
The countess shrugged her shoulders.
Well, if you are in love, marry him! said the countess, with a laugh of annoyance.
Do you want me to go and tell him? said the countess smiling.
It's high time for you to be married, answered the countess sharply and sarcastically.
I shall speak to him myself, said the countess, indignant that they should have dared to treat this little Natasha as grown up.
At this instant, they heard the quick rustle of the countess' dress.
"Countess..." said Denisov, with downcast eyes and a guilty face.
"Countess, I have done w'ong," Denisov went on in an unsteady voice, "but believe me, I so adore your daughter and all your family that I would give my life twice over..."
He looked at the countess, and seeing her severe face said: "Well, good-by, Countess," and kissing her hand, he left the room with quick resolute strides, without looking at Natasha.
He looked at the countess, and seeing her severe face said: "Well, good-by, Countess," and kissing her hand, he left the room with quick resolute strides, without looking at Natasha.
There were other guests and the countess talked little to him, and only as he kissed her hand on taking leave said unexpectedly and in a whisper, with a strangely unsmiling face: Come to dinner tomorrow... in the evening.
During that stay in Petersburg, Boris became an intimate in the countess' house.
About 80,000 went in payments on all the estates to the Land Bank, about 30,000 went for the upkeep of the estate near Moscow, the town house, and the allowance to the three princesses; about 15,000 was given in pensions and the same amount for asylums; 150,000 alimony was sent to the countess; about 70,000 went for interest on debts.
Bilibin saved up his epigrams to produce them in Countess Bezukhova's presence.
To be received in the Countess Bezukhova's salon was regarded as a diploma of intellect.
Returned home for dinner and dined alone--the countess had many visitors I do not like.
Among the men who very soon became frequent visitors at the Rostovs' house in Petersburg were Boris, Pierre whom the count had met in the street and dragged home with him, and Berg who spent whole days at the Rostovs' and paid the eldest daughter, Countess Vera, the attentions a young man pays when he intends to propose.
"Nowadays old friends are not remembered," the countess would say when Boris was mentioned.
He had a brilliant position in society thanks to his intimacy with Countess Bezukhova, a brilliant position in the service thanks to the patronage of an important personage whose complete confidence he enjoyed, and he was beginning to make plans for marrying one of the richest heiresses in Petersburg, plans which might very easily be realized.
Natasha sat down and, without joining in Boris' conversation with the countess, silently and minutely studied her childhood's suitor.
The countess--her prayerful mood dispelled--looked round and frowned.
Seeing that her mother was still praying she ran on tiptoe to the bed and, rapidly slipping one little foot against the other, pushed off her slippers and jumped onto the bed the countess had feared might become her grave.
The countess finished her prayers and came to the bed with a stern face, but seeing, that Natasha's head was covered, she smiled in her kind, weak way.
As she said this the countess looked round at her daughter.
Natasha was lying looking steadily straight before her at one of the mahogany sphinxes carved on the corners of the bedstead, so that the countess only saw her daughter's face in profile.
"Just so, just so," repeated the countess, and shaking all over, she went off into a good humored, unexpected, elderly laugh.
"You flirt with him too," said the countess, laughing.
"Little countess!" the count's voice called from behind the door.
Next day the countess called Boris aside and had a talk with him, after which he ceased coming to the Rostovs'.
Marya Ignatevna Peronskaya, a thin and shallow maid of honor at the court of the Dowager Empress, who was a friend and relation of the countess and piloted the provincial Rostovs in Petersburg high society, was to accompany them to the ball.
The countess was to wear a claret-colored velvet dress, and the two girls white gauze over pink silk slips, with roses on their bodices and their hair dressed a la grecque.
Sonya was finishing dressing and so was the countess, but Natasha, who had bustled about helping them all, was behindhand.
It is nearly ten, came the countess' voice.
A third with pins in her mouth was running about between the countess and Sonya, and a fourth held the whole of the gossamer garment up high on one uplifted hand.
At that moment, with soft steps, the countess came in shyly, in her cap and velvet gown.
The countess took up a position in one of the front rows of that crowd.
Peronskaya was pointing out to the countess the most important people at the ball.
"Ah, here she is, the Queen of Petersburg, Countess Bezukhova," said Peronskaya, indicating Helene who had just entered.
Oh yes, that's the French ambassador himself! she replied to the countess' inquiry about Caulaincourt.
She and the countess and Sonya were standing by themselves as in the depths of a forest amid that crowd of strangers, with no one interested in them and not wanted by anyone.
An aide-de-camp, the Master of Ceremonies, went up to Countess Bezukhova and asked her to dance.
He recognized her, guessed her feelings, saw that it was her debut, remembered her conversation at the window, and with an expression of pleasure on his face approached Countess Rostova.
"Allow me to introduce you to my daughter," said the countess, with heightened color.
"I have the pleasure of being already acquainted, if the countess remembers me," said Prince Andrew with a low and courteous bow quite belying Peronskaya's remarks about his rudeness, and approaching Natasha he held out his arm to grasp her waist before he had completed his invitation.
I wished to ask the countess and you to do me the honor of coming to tea and to supper.
Only Countess Helene, considering the society of such people as the Bergs beneath her, could be cruel enough to refuse such an invitation.
The countess looked with sad and sternly serious eyes at Prince Andrew when he talked to Natasha and timidly started some artificial conversation about trifles as soon as he looked her way.
In the evening, when Prince Andrew had left, the countess went up to Natasha and whispered: "Well, what?"
That day Countess Helene had a reception at her house.
Toward midnight, after he had left the countess' apartments, he was sitting upstairs in a shabby dressing gown, copying out the original transaction of the Scottish lodge of Freemasons at a table in his low room cloudy with tobacco smoke, when someone came in.
The countess began to soothe Natasha, who after first listening to her mother's words, suddenly interrupted her:
Before the countess could answer, Prince Andrew entered the room with an agitated and serious face.
He kissed the countess' hand and Natasha's, and sat down beside the sofa.
"It is long since we had the pleasure..." began the countess, but Prince Andrew interrupted her by answering her intended question, obviously in haste to say what he had to.
I only got back last night," he said glancing at Natasha; "I want to have a talk with you, Countess," he added after a moment's pause.
The countess lowered her eyes, sighing deeply.
I will call you, said the countess in a whisper.
"I have come, Countess, to ask for your daughter's hand," said Prince Andrew.
The countess' face flushed hotly, but she said nothing.
"I will send her to you," said the countess, and left the room.
He is asking for your hand, said the countess, coldly it seemed to Natasha.
He could talk about rural economy with the count, fashions with the countess and Natasha, and about albums and fancywork with Sonya.
He was talking to the countess, and Natasha sat down beside a little chess table with Sonya, thereby inviting Prince Andrew to come too.
The countess, who heard at once from the maids what had happened at the lodge, was calmed by the thought that now their affairs would certainly improve, but on the other hand felt anxious as to the effect this excitement might have on her son.
But once the countess called her son and informed him that she had a promissory note from Anna Mikhaylovna for two thousand rubles, and asked him what he thought of doing with it.
Well then, this! and he tore up the note, and by so doing caused the old countess to weep tears of joy.
"A good thing too, little countess," said "Uncle," "only mind you don't fall off your horse," he added, "because--that's it, come on!--you've nothing to hold on to."
"Have you seen the young countess?" he asked.
You see it's damp weather, and you could rest, and the little countess could be driven home in a trap.
That's right, young countess, that's it, come on!
"Take this, little Lady-Countess!" she kept saying, as she offered Natasha first one thing and then another.
Where, how, and when had this young countess, educated by an emigree French governess, imbibed from the Russian air she breathed that spirit and obtained that manner which the pas de chale * would, one would have supposed, long ago have effaced?
"Well, little countess; that's it--come on!" cried "Uncle," with a joyous laugh, having finished the dance.
The count and countess did not know where they were and were very anxious, said one of the men.
They had not as many visitors as before, but the old habits of life without which the count and countess could not conceive of existence remained unchanged.
The countess had written direct to Julie's mother in Moscow suggesting a marriage between their children and had received a favorable answer from her.
Several times the countess, with tears in her eyes, told her son that now both her daughters were settled, her only wish was to see him married.
Nicholas did not go to Moscow, and the countess did not renew the conversation with him about marriage.
The countess was playing patience.
The countess lifted her head and looked attentively at her daughter.
"Mr. Dimmler, please play my favorite nocturne by Field," came the old countess' voice from the drawing room.
Sing me something, they heard the countess say.
Dimmler, who had seated himself beside the countess, listened with closed eyes.
"Ah, Countess," he said at last, "that's a European talent, she has nothing to learn--what softness, tenderness, and strength...."
The countess, when she had identified them and laughed at their costumes, went into the drawing room.
But the countess would not agree to his going; he had had a bad leg all these last days.
The father and mother did not speak of the matter to their son again, but a few days later the countess sent for Sonya and, with a cruelty neither of them expected, reproached her niece for trying to catch Nicholas and for ingratitude.
Sonya listened silently with downcast eyes to the countess' cruel words, without understanding what was required of her.
She could not help loving the countess and the whole Rostov family, but neither could she help loving Nicholas and knowing that his happiness depended on that love.
The countess, with a coldness her son had never seen in her before, replied that he was of age, that Prince Andrew was marrying without his father's consent, and he could do the same, but that she would never receive that intriguer as her daughter.
The countess, sobbing heavily, hid her face on her daughter's breast, while Nicholas rose, clutching his head, and left the room.
After Nicholas had gone things in the Rostov household were more depressing than ever, and the countess fell ill from mental agitation.
Sonya was unhappy at the separation from Nicholas and still more so on account of the hostile tone the countess could not help adopting toward her.
But the countess' health obliged them to delay their departure from day to day.
She wrote to him formal, monotonous, and dry letters, to which she attached no importance herself, and in the rough copies of which the countess corrected her mistakes in spelling.
There was still no improvement in the countess' health, but it was impossible to defer the journey to Moscow any longer.
So the countess remained in the country, and the count, taking Sonya and Natasha with him, went to Moscow at the end of January.
He ceased keeping a diary, avoided the company of the Brothers, began going to the club again, drank a great deal, and came once more in touch with the bachelor sets, leading such a life that the Countess Helene thought it necessary to speak severely to him about it.
The countess was still unwell and unable to travel but it was impossible to wait for her recovery.
She was the Countess Bezukhova, Pierre's wife, and the count, who knew everyone in society, leaned over and spoke to her.
While conversing with Pierre, Natasha heard a man's voice in Countess Bezukhova's box and something told her it was Kuragin.
When the second act was over Countess Bezukhova rose, turned to the Rostovs' box--her whole bosom completely exposed--beckoned the old count with a gloved finger, and paying no attention to those who had entered her box began talking to him with an amiable smile.
Countess Bezukhova quite deserved her reputation of being a fascinating woman.
"And do you know, Countess," he said, suddenly addressing her as an old, familiar acquaintance, "we are getting up a costume tournament; you ought to take part in it!
Do come, dear countess, and give me this flower as a pledge!
Only to the old countess at night in bed could Natasha have told all she was feeling.
Natasha had not time to take off the bodice before the door opened and Countess Bezukhova, dressed in a purple velvet gown with a high collar, came into the room beaming with good-humored amiable smiles.
On hearing of Countess Bezukhova's visit and the invitation for that evening, Marya Dmitrievna remarked:
Count Rostov took the girls to Countess Bezukhova's.
After giving several recitations, Mademoiselle George left, and Countess Bezukhova asked her visitors into the ballroom.
He was in very good spirits; the affair with the purchaser was going on satisfactorily, and there was nothing to keep him any longer in Moscow, away from the countess whom he missed.
The countess' drawing room was full of guests.
"Ah, Pierre," said the countess going up to her husband.
You promised Countess Rostova to marry her and were about to elope with her, is that so?
"Thirdly," Pierre continued without listening to him, "you must never breathe a word of what has passed between you and Countess Rostova.
I have received a refusal from Countess Rostova and have heard reports of your brother-in-law having sought her hand, or something of that kind.
Give this to the countess... if you see her.
"So Monsieur Kuragin has not honored Countess Rostova with his hand?" said Prince Andrew, and he snorted several times.
Tell Countess Rostova that she was and is perfectly free and that I wish her all that is good.
Countess Bezukhova was present among other Russian ladies who had followed the sovereign from Petersburg to Vilna and eclipsed the refined Polish ladies by her massive, so-called Russian type of beauty.
In the figure in which he had to choose two ladies, he whispered to Helene that he meant to choose Countess Potocka who, he thought, had gone out onto the veranda, and glided over the parquet to the door opening into the garden, where, seeing Balashev and the Emperor returning to the veranda, he stood still.
But when he had gone into another room, to which the countess hurriedly followed him, he assumed a grave air and thoughtfully shaking his head said that though there was danger, he had hopes of the effect of this last medicine and one must wait and see, that the malady was chiefly mental, but...
The countess, with a cheerful expression on her face, looked down at her nails and spat a little for luck as she returned to the drawing room.
The countess looked round several times at her daughter's softened face and shining eyes and prayed God to help her.
I've told the countess she should not speak French so much.
The countess shook her head disapprovingly and angrily at every solemn expression in the manifesto.
The countess, in dismay, looked up to heaven, clasped her hands, and turned angrily to her husband.
What would have seemed difficult or even impossible to another woman did not cause the least embarrassment to Countess Bezukhova, who evidently deserved her reputation of being a very clever woman.
One day he took the countess to a Roman Catholic church, where she knelt down before the altar to which she was led.
Oh, by the by!" he shouted through the doorway after Pierre, "is it true that the countess has fallen into the clutches of the holy fathers of the Society of Jesus?"
After Petya had joined Obolenski's regiment of Cossacks and left for Belaya Tserkov where that regiment was forming, the countess was seized with terror.
The countess did not sleep at night, or when she did fall asleep dreamed that she saw her sons lying dead.
Though Petya would remain in the service, this transfer would give the countess the consolation of seeing at least one of her sons under her wing, and she hoped to arrange matters for her Petya so as not to let him go again, but always get him appointed to places where he could not possibly take part in a battle.
The countess watched the things being packed, was dissatisfied with everything, was constantly in pursuit of Petya who was always running away from her, and was jealous of Natasha with whom he spent all his time.
Nicholas' letter in which he mentioned Princess Mary had elicited, in her presence, joyous comments from the countess, who saw an intervention of Providence in this meeting of the princess and Nicholas.
"I was never pleased at Bolkonski's engagement to Natasha," said the countess, "but I always wanted Nicholas to marry the princess, and had a presentiment that it would happen.
The count and countess turned to her when they had any orders to give.
"Oh, what sleep-?" said the countess, waking up just as she was dropping into a doze.
Natasha laughed, and the countess too smiled slightly.
The countess looked with timid horror at her son's eager, excited face as he said this.
The countess had fallen asleep and the count, having put off their departure till next morning, went to bed.
On waking up that morning Count Ilya Rostov left his bedroom softly, so as not to wake the countess who had fallen asleep only toward morning, and came out to the porch in his lilac silk dressing gown.
As soon as the countess wakes we'll be off, God willing!
The countess sent for her husband.
Countess dear... an officer came to me to ask for a few carts for the wounded.
The countess was accustomed to this tone as a precursor of news of something detrimental to the children's interests, such as the building of a new gallery or conservatory, the inauguration of a private theater or an orchestra.
Just then the countess came in from the sitting room with a weary and dissatisfied expression.
"I can't think what the servants are about," said the countess, turning to her husband.
Ask the countess, I don't give orders.
The countess began to cry.
Berg was sitting beside the countess consoling her with the respectful attention of a relative.
Berg and the countess looked at her, perplexed and frightened.
The countess glanced at her daughter, saw her face full of shame for her mother, saw her agitation, and understood why her husband did not turn to look at her now, and she glanced round quite disconcerted.
But the countess pushed her daughter away and went up to her husband.
She was putting away the things that had to be left behind and making a list of them as the countess wished, and she tried to get as much taken away with them as possible.
With the help of a maid she was arranging a seat for the countess in the huge high coach that stood at the entrance.
The countess opened her eyes in dismay and, seizing Sonya's arm, glanced around.
The countess put her arms around Sonya and began to cry.
And the countess bent over her reticule to hide her agitated face.
Efim, the old coachman, who was the only one the countess trusted to drive her, sat perched up high on the box and did not so much as glance round at what was going on behind him.
Rarely had Natasha experienced so joyful a feeling as now, sitting in the carriage beside the countess and gazing at the slowly receding walls of forsaken, agitated Moscow.
"What is the matter, Count?" asked the countess in a surprised and commiserating tone.
Pierre glanced absently at Natasha and was about to say something, but the countess interrupted him.
When he was informed that among others awaiting him in his reception room there was a Frenchman who had brought a letter from his wife, the Countess Helene, he felt suddenly overcome by that sense of confusion and hopelessness to which he was apt to succumb.
His major-domo came in a second time to say that the Frenchman who had brought the letter from the countess was very anxious to see him if only for a minute, and that someone from Bazdeev's widow had called to ask Pierre to take charge of her husband's books, as she herself was leaving for the country.
She moved simply to be farther away from the wounded man.
Only Natasha and the countess remained in the room.
The countess, on hearing that Moscow was on fire, began to cry.
Both the countess and Sonya understood that, naturally, neither Moscow nor the burning of Moscow nor anything else could seem of importance to Natasha.
The countess went up to her daughter and touched her head with the back of her hand as she was wont to do when Natasha was ill, then touched her forehead with her lips as if to feel whether she was feverish, and finally kissed her.
The countess knew this, but what it might be she did not know, and this alarmed and tormented her.
A bed had been made on a bedstead for the countess only.
The countess exchanged a look with Sonya.
"Lie down, darling; lie down, my pet," said the countess, softly touching Natasha's shoulders.
The countess, Madame Schoss, and Sonya undressed hastily and lay down.
Then the countess called to Natasha.
After a short silence the countess spoke again but this time no one replied.
At that moment a maid sent by the countess, who had noticed her daughter's absence, knocked at the door.
The news of the day in Petersburg was the illness of Countess Bezukhova.
They all knew very well that the enchanting countess' illness arose from an inconvenience resulting from marrying two husbands at the same time, and that the Italian's cure consisted in removing such inconvenience; but in Anna Pavlovna's presence no one dared to think of this or even appear to know it.
They say the poor countess is very ill.
"You are speaking of the poor countess?" said Anna Pavlovna, coming up just then.
The other, from the countess, described their last days in Moscow, their departure, the fire, and the destruction of all their property.
In this letter the countess also mentioned that Prince Andrew was among the wounded traveling with them; his state was very critical, but the doctor said there was now more hope.
Sonya's letter written from Troitsa, which had come as an answer to Nicholas' prayer, was prompted by this: the thought of getting Nicholas married to an heiress occupied the old countess' mind more and more.
The countess let no occasion slip of making humiliating or cruel allusions to Sonya.
In the next room sat the count and countess respectfully conversing with the prior, who was calling on them as old acquaintances and benefactors of the monastery.
They had an opportunity that day to send letters to the army, and the countess was writing to her son.
"Sonya!" said the countess, raising her eyes from her letter as her niece passed, "Sonya, won't you write to Nicholas?"
She spoke in a soft, tremulous voice, and in the weary eyes that looked over her spectacles Sonya read all that the countess meant to convey with these words.
Sonya went up to the countess and, kneeling down, kissed her hand.
Despite her excitement, Princess Mary realized that this was the countess and that it was necessary to say something to her.
"The doctor says that he is not in danger," said the countess, but as she spoke she raised her eyes with a sigh, and her gesture conveyed a contradiction of her words.
Is this his son? said the countess, turning to little Nicholas who was coming in with Dessalles.
The countess took Princess Mary into the drawing room, where Sonya was talking to Mademoiselle Bourienne.
The countess caressed the boy, and the old count came in and welcomed the princess.
She turned away and was about to ask the countess again how to go to him, when light, impetuous, and seemingly buoyant steps were heard at the door.
After that he avoided Dessalles and the countess who caressed him and either sat alone or came timidly to Princess Mary, or to Natasha of whom he seemed even fonder than of his aunt, and clung to them quietly and shyly.
The countess and Sonya cried from pity for Natasha and because he was no more.
Princess Mary asked the countess to let Natasha go with her to Moscow, and both parents gladly accepted this offer, for they saw their daughter losing strength every day and thought that a change of scene and the advice of Moscow doctors would be good for her.
The countess pressed her daughter's hand, closed her eyes, and became quiet for a moment.
Her persevering and patient love seemed completely to surround the countess every moment, not explaining or consoling, but recalling her to life.
During the third night the countess kept very quiet for a few minutes, and Natasha rested her head on the arm of her chair and closed her eyes, but opened them again on hearing the bedstead creak.
The countess was sitting up in bed and speaking softly.
"You have improved in looks and grown more manly," continued the countess, taking her daughter's hand.
And embracing her daughter, the countess began to weep for the first time.
But the same blow that almost killed the countess, this second blow, restored Natasha to life.
The count and countess will be here in a few days.
The countess is in a dreadful state; but it was necessary for Natasha herself to see a doctor.
"Tell me, you did not know of the countess' death when you decided to remain in Moscow?" asked Princess Mary and immediately blushed, noticing that her question, following his mention of freedom, ascribed to his words a meaning he had perhaps not intended.
The events of the previous year: the burning of Moscow and the flight from it, the death of Prince Andrew, Natasha's despair, Petya's death, and the old countess' grief fell blow after blow on the old count's head.
The countess passed a fortnight in an armchair by his pillow without undressing.
Nicholas was the first to meet her, as the countess' room could only be reached through his.
When the princess came out of the countess' room Nicholas met her again, and with marked solemnity and stiffness accompanied her to the anteroom.
But after her visit the old countess spoke of her several times a day.
Countess Mary was jealous of this passion of her husband's and regretted that she could not share it; but she could not understand the joys and vexations he derived from that world, to her so remote and alien.
Countess Mary turned red and then pale, but continued to sit with head bowed and lips compressed and gave her husband no reply.
Countess Mary raised her head and tried to speak, but hastily looked down again and her lips puckered.
The looks of the plain Countess Mary always improved when she was in tears.
The tears flowed faster still from the countess' eyes.
"What?" asked Countess Mary, surprised.
She waited on the old countess, petted and spoiled the children, was always ready to render the small services for which she had a gift, and all this was unconsciously accepted from her with insufficient gratitude.
Countess Mary sat at the other end of the table.
"Then I'm not mistaken," thought Countess Mary.
When they left the table and went as usual to thank the old countess, Countess Mary held out her hand and kissed her husband, and asked him why he was angry with her.
When they left the table and went as usual to thank the old countess, Countess Mary held out her hand and kissed her husband, and asked him why he was angry with her.
Nicholas and his wife lived together so happily that even Sonya and the old countess, who felt jealous and would have liked them to disagree, could find nothing to reproach them with; but even they had their moments of antagonism.
"That's always the way," thought Countess Mary.
Sonya was always the first excuse Countess Mary found for feeling irritated.
"Mary, dear, I think he is asleep--he was so tired," said Sonya, meeting her in the large sitting room (it seemed to Countess Mary that she crossed her path everywhere).
Countess Mary looked round, saw little Andrew following her, felt that Sonya was right, and for that very reason flushed and with evident difficulty refrained from saying something harsh.
Countess Mary turned pale with fright and made signs to the boy.
He grew silent, and quiet ensued for a moment, terrible to Countess Mary.
Countess Mary moved away from the door and took the boy back to the nursery.
"Natasha, Natasha!" came Countess Mary's frightened whisper from the door.
Countess Mary listened till he had finished, made some remark, and in her turn began thinking aloud.
I will go and see, said Countess Mary and left the room.
"It is he, it is he, Nicholas!" said Countess Mary, re-entering the room a few minutes later.
Countess Mary remained in the sitting room.
That happened only when, as was the case that day, her husband returned home, or a sick child was convalescent, or when she and Countess Mary spoke of Prince Andrew (she never mentioned him to her husband, who she imagined was jealous of Prince Andrew's memory), or on the rare occasions when something happened to induce her to sing, a practice she had quite abandoned since her marriage.
"Only she lets her love of her husband and children overflow all bounds," said the countess, "so that it even becomes absurd."
Natasha did not care for society in general, but prized the more the society of her relatives--Countess Mary, and her brother, her mother, and Sonya.
Natasha was sad and irritable all that time, especially when her mother, her brother, Sonya, or Countess Mary in their efforts to console her tried to excuse Pierre and suggested reasons for his delay in returning.
At that moment Nicholas and Countess Mary came in.
"How sweet!" said Countess Mary, looking at and playing with the baby.
And collecting the presents they went first to the nursery and then to the old countess' rooms.
The countess was sitting with her companion Belova, playing grand- patience as usual, when Pierre and Natasha came into the drawing room with parcels under their arms.
The countess was now over sixty, was quite gray, and wore a cap with a frill that surrounded her face.
When she wanted to be agitated, Nicholas and his health would be the pretext, and when she felt a need to speak spitefully, the pretext would be Countess Mary.
When Pierre and his wife entered the drawing room the countess was in one of her customary states in which she needed the mental exertion of playing patience, and so--though by force of habit she greeted him with the words she always used when Pierre or her son returned after an absence: High time, my dear, high time!
The countess had long wished for such a box, but as she did not want to cry just then she glanced indifferently at the portrait and gave her attention chiefly to the box for cards.
At tea all sat in their accustomed places: Nicholas beside the stove at a small table where his tea was handed to him; Milka, the old gray borzoi bitch (daughter of the first Milka), with a quite gray face and large black eyes that seemed more prominent than ever, lay on the armchair beside him; Denisov, whose curly hair, mustache, and whiskers had turned half gray, sat beside countess Mary with his general's tunic unbuttoned; Pierre sat between his wife and the old countess.
But to the old countess those contemporaries of hers seemed to be the only serious and real society.
Once or twice Pierre was carried away and began to speak of these things, but Nicholas and Natasha always brought him back to the health of Prince Ivan and Countess Mary Alexeevna.
"What is that, mon cher ami?" asked the countess, who had finished her tea and evidently needed a pretext for being angry after her meal.
I used to meet him at Mary Antonovna's," said the countess in an offended tone; and still more offended that they all remained silent, she went on: "Nowadays everyone finds fault.
Pierre exchanged glances with Countess Mary and Nicholas (Natasha he never lost sight of) and smiled happily.
"It means that Anna Makarovna has finished her stocking," said Countess Mary.
Countess Mary glanced at him and turned to Pierre.
Countess Mary sat down doing woolwork; Natasha did not take her eyes off her husband.
Countess Mary followed her.
"Yes, I know," said Countess Mary.
"Yes, I have noticed that," said Countess Mary.
Of course he is right there," said Countess Mary, "but he forgets that we have other duties nearer to us, duties indicated to us by God Himself, and that though we might expose ourselves to risks we must not risk our children."
"Still, I am not the same as his own mother," said Countess Mary.
Countess Mary wanted to tell him that man does not live by bread alone and that he attached too much importance to these matters.
Countess Mary listened to her husband and understood all that he told her.
Countess Mary's soul always strove toward the infinite, the eternal, and the absolute, and could therefore never be at peace.
Lothair was crowned emperor at the Lateran in June 1133, and as a further reward Innocent gave him the territories of the Countess Mathilda as a fief, but refused to surrender the right of investiture.
In the autumn of this year he received a visit 'at Vailima from the countess of Jersey, in company with whom and some others he wrote the burlesque extravagance in prose and verse, called An Object of Pity, privately printed in 1893 at Sydney.
The countess wished to have a tÃªte-Ã -tÃªte talk with the friend of her childhood, Princess Anna Mikhaylovna, whom she had not seen properly since she returned from Petersburg.
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.
"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.
The countess wept too.
This was an old bachelor, Shinshin, a cousin of the countess', a man with "a sharp tongue" as they said in Moscow society.
"You have only lately arrived?" the countess asked him.
The countess exchanged glances with Anna Mikhaylovna.
The latter understood that she was being asked to entertain this young man, and sitting down beside him she began to speak about his father; but he answered her, as he had the countess, only in monosyllables.
His father, Mathieu de Lesseps (1774-1832), was in the consular service; hi$ mother, Catherine de Grivegnee, was Spanish, and aunt of the countess of Montijo, mother of the empress Eugenie.