NEXT DAY when Prince Andrey thought of the ball it did not occupy his mind for long. “Yes, it was a very successful ball. And besides…yes, the younger Rostov is very charming. There's something fresh in her, original, unlike Petersburg.” That was all he thought about the previous day's ball, and after his morning tea he set to work.

But from fatigue and want of sleep he was not very well disposed for work, and could get nothing done. He was continually criticising his own work—a habit common with him—and was glad when he heard a visitor arrive.

The visitor was Bitsky, a man who was a member of various committees and of all the societies in Petersburg. He was a passionate adherent of the new ideas and of Speransky, and the busiest purveyor of news in Petersburg, one of those men who choose their opinions like their clothes—according to the fashion—but for that very reason seem the most vehement partisans. Scarcely waiting to remove his hat, he ran fussily up to Prince Andrey, and at once began talking. He had just learned particulars of the sitting of the State Council of that morning, opened by the Tsar, and began enthusiastically upon the subject. The Tsar's speech had been, he said, an extraordinary one. It had been a speech such as are only delivered by constitutional monarchs. “The Emperor directly asserted that the Council and the Senate are the estates of the realm; he said that government should be founded not on arbitrary authority, but on a secure basis. The Emperor said that the fiscal system must be reconstituted and the accounts must be public,” Bitsky announced, laying stress on certain words, and opening his eyes significantly. “Yes, to-day's sitting marks an epoch, the greatest epoch in our history,” he concluded.

Prince Andrey heard his account of the opening of the State Council, to which he had been looking forward with such eagerness, and to which he had attached so much consequence, and was amazed that now, when it had come to pass, this event, far from affecting him, struck him as less than insignificant. With quiet irony he listened to Bitsky's enthusiastic description. The idea in his mind was of the simplest. “What is it to me and Bitsky,” he thought, “what is it to us, whatever the Emperor is pleased to say in the Council? Can all that make me any happier or better?”

And this simple reflection suddenly destroyed all Prince Andrey's former interest in the reforms that were being made. That day Prince Andrey was to dine with Speransky, “with only a few friends,” as the host had said in inviting him. That dinner, in the intimate home circle of the man who had so fascinated him, had seemed very attractive to Prince Andrey, especially as he had not hitherto seen Speransky in his home surroundings. But now he had no wish to go to it.

At the hour fixed, however, Prince Andrey was entering the small house in Tavritchesky Garden. The little house, which was Speransky's property, was distinguished by an extraordinary cleanliness, suggestive of the cleanliness of a convent. In the parqueted dining-room, Prince Andrey, who was a little late, found all that circle of Speransky's intimate friends already gathered together at five o'clock. There were no ladies present, except Speransky's little daughter (with a long face like her father's) and her governess. The guests were Gervais, Magnitsky and Stolypin. From the vestibule Prince Andrey had caught the sound of loud voices and a ringing, staccato laugh—a laugh such as one hears on the stage. Some one—it sounded like Speransky—was giving vent to a staccato “ha…ha…ha…” Prince Andrey had never before heard Speransky laugh, and this shrill, ringing laugh from the great statesman made a strange impression on him.

Prince Andrey went into the dining-room. The whole party were standing between the two windows at a little table laid with hors d'?uvres. Speransky was standing at the table with a mirthful countenance, wearing a grey frock coat with a star, and the white waistcoat and high white stock, in which he had been at the famous sitting of the State Council. His guests formed a ring round him. Turning towards him Magnitsky was relating an anecdote. Speransky listened, laughing beforehand at what Magnitsky was going to say. Just as Prince Andrey walked into the room, Magnitsky's words were again drowned in laughter. Stolypin gave vent to a bass guffaw as he munched a piece of bread and cheese. Gervais softly hissed a chuckle, and Speransky laughed his shrill, staccato laugh.

Speransky, still laughing, gave Prince Andrey his soft, white hand. “Very glad to see you, prince,” he said. “One minute…” he turned to Magnitsky, whose tale he was interrupting. “We have made a compact to-day; this is a holiday dinner, and not one word about business.” And he turned again to the story-teller, and again he laughed.

With a sense of wondering and melancholy disillusion, Prince Andrey heard his laughter and looked at Speransky laughing. It was not Speransky, but some other man, it seemed to Prince Andrey. All that had seemed mysterious and attractive in Speransky suddenly seemed to Prince Andrey obvious and unattractive.

At dinner the conversation never paused for a moment, and consisted of something like the contents of a jest-book. Magnitsky had hardly finished his anecdote when another gentleman expressed his readiness to relate something even more amusing. The anecdotes for the most part related, if not to the service itself, to persons prominent in the service. It was as though in this circle the utter insignificance of these prominent persons was so completely accepted that the only attitude possible towards them was one of good-humoured hilarity. Speransky told them how at the council that morning a deaf statesman, on being asked his opinion, replied that he was of the same opinion. Gervais described a whole episode of the revision, only remarkable for the imbecility of all concerned in it. Stolypin, stammering, took up the conversation and began talking of the abuses of the old order of things, with a warmth that threatened to give the conversation a serious turn. Magnitsky began to make fun of Stolypin's earnestness. Gervais put in his joke, and the conversation resumed its former lively tone. It was obvious that after his labours Speransky liked to rest and be amused in the circle of his friends; and all his friends understood his tastes, and were trying to amuse him and themselves. But this kind of gaiety seemed to Prince Andrey tiresome and anything but gay. Speransky's high voice struck him unpleasantly, and his continual laugh in its high-pitched, falsetto note was for some reason an offence to Prince Andrey's feelings. Prince Andrey did not laugh, and was afraid he would be felt uncongenial by this party. But no one noticed his lack of sympathy with the general merriment. All of them appeared to be greatly enjoying themselves.

Several times he tried to enter into the conversation, but every time the word was snatched out of his mouth, like a cork out of water, and he could not bandy jokes with them. There was nothing wrong or unseemly in what they said; it was all witty, and might have been amusing, but something—that very something that makes the zest of gaiety—was wanting, and they did not even know of its existence.

After dinner Speransky's daughter and her governess rose from the table. Speransky patted his daughter with his white hand, and kissed her. And that gesture, too, seemed to Prince Andrey unnatural.

The men sat on over their port, after the English fashion. A conversation sprang up about Napoleon's doings in Spain, of which all were united in approving, while Prince Andrey attacked them. But in the middle of this discussion Speransky, obviously wishing to change the subject, began with a smile telling an anecdote, which had no connection with it. For several instants every one was silent.

As they sat at table, Speransky, corking up a bottle of wine and saying, “Nowadays good wine doesn't go a-begging!” gave it to the servant and got up. All rose, and talking just as noisily, went into the drawing-room. Speransky was handed two envelopes brought by a special courier. He took them and went into his study. As soon as he had gone, there was a lull in the general gaiety, and the guests began conversing sensibly in low tones together.

“Well, now for the recitation!” said Speransky, coming out of his study. “A marvellous talent!” he said to Prince Andrey. Magnitsky at once threw himself into an attitude, and began to recite comic French verses, a skit he had composed on various well-known persons. Several times he was interrupted by applause. At the conclusion of the recitation Prince Andrey went up to Speransky to say good-bye.

“Why so early?” said Speransky.

“I promised to be at a soirée.…”

They said no more. Prince Andrey looked at those mirror-like, impenetrable eyes, so close to his, and he felt it ludicrous that he should have expected anything from Speransky, and from all his own work connected with him, and marvelled how he could have ascribed any value to what Speransky was doing. That punctual, mirthless laugh was ringing in Prince Andrey's ears long after he had left Speransky's.

On reaching home Prince Andrey began looking at his life in Peters-burg during the last four months, as though it were something new. He thought of the efforts he had made, and the people he had tried to see, and the history of his project of army reform, which had been accepted for consideration, and had been shelved because another scheme, a very poor one, had already been worked out and presented to the Tsar. He thought of the sittings of the committee, of which Berg was a member. He thought of the conscientious and prolonged deliberations that took place at those sittings on every point relating to the formalities of the sittings themselves, and the studious brevity with which anything relating to the reality of their duties was touched on in passing. He thought of his work on the legislative reforms, of his careful translation of the Roman and French codes into Russian, and he felt ashamed of himself. Then he vividly imagined Bogutcharovo, his pursuits in the country, his expedition to Ryazan; he thought of his peasants, of Dron the village elder; and applying the section on Personal Rights, which he had divided into paragraphs, to them, he marvelled how he could have so long busied himself on work so idle.

第二天，安德烈公爵想起了昨天的舞会，但他的心绪没有长久地驻留于舞会。“是的，一次很出色的舞会。还有……是的，罗斯托娃很可爱。在她身上有一种新鲜的、特殊的、非彼得堡的、使她独具一格的东西。”这就是他所想到的昨天举办的舞会上的一切，他畅饮了一顿早茶，就坐下来工作。

但因疲倦或失眠的关系，这天不适应于工作，安德烈公爵什么事也不能做，他自己总是批评自己的工作上的缺点，过去他常有这种事情；但当他一听到有人来访，心里很高兴。

来访的人是比茨基，他在形形色色的委员会里供职，并常在彼得堡的交际场合出现，热烈地崇拜斯佩兰斯基和新思想，也是彼得堡的一个最操劳的传播消息的人，又是一个把选择流派视如挑选时装的人，因而这种人好像是最热心的首先倡导流派的人。他一摘下宽边帽子，就顾虑重重地跑去拜访安烈公爵，马上打开话匣子。他刚刚得知国王在今天早上召开的国务会议的详情，并且极为欣喜地叙述这件事。国王的讲话不同寻常。这是只有立宪君主才会发表的一篇演说。

“国王直截了当地说，国务院和参政院均为国家·组·织，他说，治理国事不应横行霸道，而应根据·坚·实·的原则。国王说，财政必须加以改造，决算必须公开。”比茨基讲道，他把众所周知的词说得很重，意味深长地睁开眼睛。

“是的，目前的事件开辟了一个纪元，我们历史上的一个最伟大的纪元。”他说了这句收尾的话。

安德烈公爵静听有关国务会议开幕的情形，他很急切地企盼这次会议，并且认为它具有重大意义，但是使他感到诧异的是，当这一事件现在已经发生的时候，他非但未尝受到感动，而且觉得这是一件毫无意义的事。他微带嘲笑地听着比茨基的得意的叙述。他的脑海中浮现着一个最简单的想法：国王是否愿意在国务会议上发言，这与我和比茨基何干？与我们何干？这一切岂能使我变得更幸福，更美好吗？

这种简单的见解突然破坏了安德烈公爵对所实现的改革原有的兴趣。这一天安德烈公爵要在斯佩兰斯基家的“en　petit　cemité”①出席午宴，主人邀请他时说了这番话。这次午宴是在他所称赞的人士的家庭中的一个友好的圈子里举办的，这在以前会使他很感兴趣，而且直至如今他没有见过家庭生活中的斯佩兰斯基，可是他现在他根本不愿去了。

①法语：友好的圈子里。

但是，在约定的午宴时间，安德烈公爵已经走进一幢坐落在道利达花园旁边的斯佩兰斯基的不大的私人住宅。一幢不大的住宅异常清洁（像修道士的居室那样清洁），稍微迟到的安德烈公爵在一间铺有镶木地板的餐厅里，发现了几个斯佩兰斯基的密友，他们（这个友好的圈子里的人）在五点钟都到齐了，除开斯佩兰斯基的幼女（长脸蛋，像她爸爸）和她的家庭女教师之外，这里并没有任何别的女子了。客人中有热尔韦、马格尼茨基和斯托雷平。安德烈公爵还在接待室就听见洪亮的语声、清晰响亮的笑声，就像舞台上发出来的哈哈大笑声。某人用那颇似斯佩兰斯基的嗓音一拍一拍地发出哈……哈……哈……的笑声。安德烈公爵从来都没有听见过斯佩兰斯基的笑声，这个国事活动家的响亮而微妙的笑声使他觉得古怪。

安烈公爵走进了餐厅。所有的人都站在两扇窗户之间的一张摆着冷盘的桌旁。斯佩兰斯基穿着灰色燕尾服，佩戴勋章，显然他在出席闻名的国务会议时也穿着这件白色的坎肩，系着这条高高的白领带，这会儿他带着愉快的面容站在餐桌旁。客人们站在他周围。马格尼茨基把脸转向米哈伊尔·米哈伊洛维奇，正在叙述一则趣闻。斯佩兰斯基听着，对马格尼茨基要讲的话事先就冷嘲热讽。当安德烈公爵走进房里来，马格尼茨基所讲的话又被笑声淹没了。斯托雷平一面用低沉的嗓音哈哈大笑，一面咀嚼着一块带有干酪的面包；热尔韦低声地吃吃地笑，斯佩兰斯基发出清晰而含蓄的笑声。

斯佩兰斯基还在不停地发笑，他向安德烈公爵伸出一又白又嫩的手。

“公爵，看见您，我很高兴，”他说，“等一等……”他把脸转向马格尼茨基时说，他把他的话打断了，“我们今儿约定：我们举办一次快乐的午宴，宴间切勿谈论国家大事。”接着他又把脸转向讲故事的人，又开始大笑起来。

安德烈公爵带着惊讶的、由于失望而忧郁的神态静听他的笑声，谛视哈哈大笑的他（斯佩兰斯基）。安德烈公爵仿佛觉得他不是斯佩兰斯基，而是另外一个人。从前安德烈公爵认为斯佩兰斯基神秘莫测，富有魅力，而今这一切蓦地被他看穿了，不再惹人瞩目了。

桌旁的谈话一刻也没有中断，它仿佛在于搜集笑话。马格尼茨基还没有讲完自己的故事，就有另外一个人表示愿意讲个更加可笑的故事。笑话多半涉及职务范围，否则势必涉及供职人员。这群人似乎一口断定这些公务人员都是微不足道的，对他们的唯一的态度只能是善心的讪笑。斯佩兰斯基讲到，今天早上举行的国务会议上，问一个聋子大臣有何意见，他回答，说他也有这样的意见。热尔韦讲了一件有关监察的事，这件事所以引人注目，是因为当事人的行为太荒谬了。斯托雷平结结巴巴地插话，开始急躁地谈到昔时的理所当然的舞弊行为，威吓对话人要赋予谈话以严肃认真的性质。马格尼茨基开始取笑斯托雷平的急躁情绪。热尔韦插进一个笑话，于是谈话又具有从前那种欢快的趋向。

虽然，斯佩兰斯基喜欢在工余休息一下，在朋友圈子里寻欢作乐，他所有的客人明了他的意图，极力地使他开心，也让他们自己开心。但是安德烈公爵仿佛觉得这种娱乐是沉重的，不愉快的。斯佩兰斯基的尖细的嗓音听来逆耳，使他觉得奇怪，他那经久不息的虚伪的笑声，不知为什么使安德烈公爵在感情上受到侮辱。安德烈公爵没有面露笑意，他害怕，他将会教这群人在思想上感到沉重。但是没有人发觉，他和大家的情绪相抵触。大家都觉得非常愉快。

他有几次想参加谈话，但是每次他的话溅了出去，就像软木塞从水里溅出去似的，他没法和他们一起打诨。

他们说的话没有什么粗俗和不妥之处，都是颇有心计的，滑稽可笑的，不过，这里头不仅没有什么乐趣可言，而且，他们不知道有这样一种乐趣。

午宴完毕后斯佩兰斯基的女儿和她的家庭女教师都站起来。斯佩兰斯基用他那只洁白的手抚摸自己的女儿，吻吻她。

安德烈公爵仿佛觉得这个动作不自然。

男人们按照英国方式仍然坐在餐桌旁，他们身旁摆着波尔图葡萄酒。谈话谈到半中间，话题正涉及拿破仑在西班牙的所作所为，受到众人一致的赞扬，安德烈公爵却反驳他们的意见。斯佩兰斯基微微一笑，显然他想引开话头，于是讲了一则与话题无关的趣闻。众人沉默了一会。

斯佩兰斯基在桌旁坐了一会儿，便塞住一只装着剩酒的瓶子并且开口说：“今儿好酒贵起来了，很难搞到。”他把酒瓶交给仆人，站立起来，大家都站立起来，仍然是谈东道西，唧唧喳喳，在嘈杂声中走进了客厅。有人将信使送来的两封信递给斯佩兰斯基。他拿起两封书函，走进那书斋。他刚刚走出去，大家的娱乐就停止了，客人们开始审慎地低声地彼此交谈几句。

“喂，现在朗诵诗歌吧！”斯佩兰斯基走出书斋时说。“非凡的天才！”他把脸转向安德烈公爵时说道。马格尼茨基立刻摆出一副架势，开始朗诵他为讥讽几位彼得堡的知名人士而作的法文滑稽诗，有几次被掌声打断。诗歌朗诵完毕后，安德烈公爵走到斯佩兰斯基跟前，向他告辞。

“这么早，您想走到哪里去呢？”斯佩兰斯基说。

“我答应出席……晚会。”

他们沉默了片刻。安德烈公爵从近处望着这对明净如镜的不让人逼近的眼睛，他觉得可笑，他怎么能够对斯佩兰斯基抱有什么期望，对自己与他息息相关的活动抱有什么期望，他怎么能够对斯佩兰斯基所做的事业予以重视。在他离开斯佩兰斯基以后，这种有节制的、忧郁的笑声经久不息地在安德烈公爵的耳旁发出回响。

安德烈公爵回家后，开始回忆他这四个月的彼得堡的生活，仿佛记忆尤新，往事历历在目。他回忆起他东奔西走，阿谀奉承，回忆起他草拟军事条令的经过，这份草案业已备查，但是人人避而不谈，唯一的原因是，另一份极为拙劣的草案亦已拟就，并且呈送回去了；他回想起贝格担任委员的那个委员会的几次会议；在这几次会议上人们长时间地、认真地讨论涉及委员会会议的形式和程序的各种问题，而对涉及问题实质的一切事情却很简略地加以讨论，马虎地应付过去。他回忆起他所参与的立法事宜，回忆起他很操心地把罗马法典和法国法典的条文译成俄文，他为自己而感到羞愧。后来他深刻地想象到博古恰罗沃村，他在农村的作业，他赴梁赞的一次游历，回顾一些农夫。村长德龙；并将分成章节的有关人权的条文施用于他们。他感到惊奇，他竟能如此长久地从事这种无益的工作。