Book 1 Chapter 15

COUNTESS ROSTOV, with her daughters and the greater number of the guests, was sitting in the drawing-room. The count led the gentlemen of the party to his room, calling their attention to his connoisseur's collection of Turkish pipes. Now and then he went out and inquired, had she come yet? They were waiting for Marya Dmitryevna Ahrosimov, known in society as le terrible dragon, a lady who owed her renown not to her wealth or her rank, but to her mental directness and her open, unconventional behaviour. Marya Dmitryevna was known to the imperial family; she was known to all Moscow and all Petersburg, and both cities, while they marvelled at her, laughed in their sleeves at her rudeness, and told good stories about her, nevertheless, all without exception respected and feared her.

In the count's room, full of smoke, there was talk of the war, which had been declared in a manifesto, and of the levies of troops. The manifesto no one had yet read, but every one knew of its appearance. The count was sitting on an ottoman with a man smoking and talking on each side of him. The count himself was neither smoking nor talking, but, with his head cocked first on one side and then on the other, gazed with evident satisfaction at the smokers, and listened to the argument he had got up between his two neighbours.

One of these two was a civilian with a thin, wrinkled, bilious, close-shaven face, a man past middle age, though dressed like the most fashionable young man. He sat with his leg up on the ottoman, as though he were at home, and with the amber mouthpiece in the side of his mouth, he smoked spasmodically, puckering up his face. This was an old bachelor, Shinshin, a cousin of the countess's, famed in Moscow drawing-rooms for his biting wit. He seemed supercilious in his manner to his companion, a fresh, rosy officer of the Guards, irreproachably washed and brushed and buttoned. He held his pipe in the middle of his mouth, and drawing in a little smoke, sent it coiling in rings out of his fine red lips. He was Lieutenant Berg, an officer in the Semenovsky regiment with whom Boris was to go away, and about whom Natasha had taunted Vera, calling Berg her suitor. The count sat between these two listening intently to them. The count's favourite entertainment, next to playing boston, of which he was very fond, was that of listening to conversation, especially when he had succeeded in getting up a dispute between two talkative friends.

“Come, how is it, mon très honorable Alphonse Karlitch,” said Shinshin, chuckling, and using a combination of the most popular Russian colloquialisms and the most recherchès French expressions, which constituted the peculiarity of his phraseology. “You reckon you'll get an income from the government, and you want to get a little something from your company too?”

“No, Pyotr Nikolaitch, I only want to show that in the cavalry the advantages are few as compared with the infantry. Consider my position now, for instance, Pyotr Nikolaitch.” Berg talked very precisely, serenely, and politely. All he said was always concerning himself. He always maintained a serene silence when any subject was discussed that had no direct bearing on himself. And he could be silent in that way for several hours at a time, neither experiencing nor causing in others the slightest embarrassment. But as soon as the conversation concerned him personally, he began to talk at length and with visible satisfaction.

“Consider my position, Pyotr Nikolaitch: if I were in the cavalry, I should get no more than two hundred roubles every four months, even at the rank of lieutenant, while as it is I get two hundred and thirty,” he explained with a beaming, friendly smile, looking at Shinshin and the count as though he had no doubt that his success would always be the chief goal of all other people's wishes. “Besides that, Pyotr Nikolaitch, exchanging into the Guards, I'm so much nearer the front,” pursued Berg, “and vacancies occur so much more frequently in the infantry guards. Then you can fancy how well I can manage on two hundred and thirty roubles. Why, I'm putting by and sending some off to my father too,” he pursued, letting off a ring of smoke.

“There is a balance. A German will thrash wheat out of the head of an axe, as the Russian proverb has it,” said Shinshin, shifting his pipe to the other side of his mouth and winking to the count.

The count chuckled. The other visitors seeing that Shinshin was talking came up to listen. Berg, without perceiving either their sneers or their lack of interest, proceeded to explain how by exchanging into the guards he had already gained a step in advance of his old comrades in the corps; how in war-time the commander of a company may so easily be killed, and he as next in command might very easily succeed him, and how every one in the regiment liked him, and how pleased his father was with him. Berg was unmistakably enjoying himself as he told all this, and seemed never to suspect that other people too might have their own interests. But all he said was so nice, so sedate, the na?veté of his youthful egoism was so undisguised, that he disarmed his listeners.

“Well, my good fellow, whether you're in the infantry or in the cavalry, you'll always get on all right, that I venture to predict,” said Shinshin, patting him on the shoulder, and setting his feet down off the ottoman. Berg smiled gleefully. The count and the guests after him went into the drawing-room.

It was that interval just before a dinner when the assembled guests do not care to enter on a lengthy conversation, expecting to be summoned to the dining-room; while they feel it incumbent on them to move about and not to be silent, so as to show that they are not impatient to sit down to table. The host and hostess look towards the door, and occasionally at one another. The guests try from these glances to divine whom or what they are waiting for; some important relation late in arriving, or some dish which is not ready.

Pierre arrived just at dinner-time, and awkwardly sat down in the middle of the drawing-room in the first easy-chair he came across, blocking up the way for every one. The countess tried to make him talk, but he looked na?vely round him over his spectacles as though he were looking for some one, and replied in monosyllables to all the countess's questions. He was in the way, and was the only person unaware of it. The greater number of the guests, knowing the story of the bear, looked inquisitively at this big, stout, inoffensive-looking person, puzzled to think how such a spiritless and staid young man could have played such a prank.

“You have only lately arrived?” the countess asked him.

“Oui, madame.”

“You have not seen my husband?”

“Non, madame.” He smiled very inappropriately.

“You have lately been in Paris, I believe? I suppose it's very interesting.”

“Very interesting.”

The countess exchanged glances with Anna Mihalovna. Anna Mihalovna saw that she was asked to undertake the young man, and sitting down by him she began talking of his father. But to her as to the countess he replied only in monosyllables. The other guests were all busily engaged together. “The Razumovskys … It was very charming … You are so kind … Countess Apraxin …” rose in murmurs on all sides. The countess got up and went into the reception hall.

“Marya Dmitryevna?” her voice was heard asking from there.

“Herself,” a rough voice was heard in reply, and immediately after, Marya Dmitryevna walked into the room. All the girls and even the ladies, except the very old ones, got up. Marya Dmitryevna, a stout woman of fifty, stopped in the doorway, and holding her head with its grey curls erect, she looked down at the guests and as though tucking up her cuffs, she deliberately arranged the wide sleeves of her gown. Marya Dmitryevna always spoke Russian.

“Health and happiness to the lady whose name-day we are keeping and to her children,” she said in her loud, rich voice that dominated all other sounds. “Well, you old sinner,” she turned to the count who was kissing her hand. “I suppose you are tired of Moscow—nowhere to go out with the dogs? Well, my good man, what's to be done? these nestlings will grow up.…” She pointed to the girls. “Willy-nilly, you must look out for young men for them.”

“Well, my Cossack?” (Marya Dmitryevna used to call Natasha a Cossack) she said, stroking the hand of Natasha, who came up to kiss her hand gaily without shyness. “I know you're a wicked girl, but I like you.”

She took out of her huge reticule some amber earrings with drops, and giving them to Natasha, whose beaming birthday face flushed rosy red, she turned away immediately and addressed Pierre.

“Ay, ay! come here, sir!” she said in an intentionally quiet and gentle voice. “Come here, sir …” And she tucked her sleeve up higher in an ominous manner.

Pierre went up, looking innocently at her over his spectacles.

“Come along, come along, sir! I was the only person that told your father the truth when he was in high favour, and in your case it is a sacred duty.” She paused. Every one was mutely expectant of what was to follow, feeling that this was merely a prelude. “A pretty fellow, there's no denying! a pretty fellow! … His father is lying on his deathbed, and he's amusing himself, setting a police-constable astride on a bear! For shame, sir, for shame! You had better have gone to the war.”

She turned away and gave her hand to the count, who could hardly keep from laughing.

“Well, I suppose dinner's ready, eh?” said Marya Dmitrvevna. The count led the way with Marya Dmitryevna, then followed the countess, taken in by a colonel of hussars, a person of importance, as Nikolay was to travel in his company to join the regiment; then Anna Mihalovna with Shinshin. Berg gave his arm to Vera, Julie Karagin walked in smiling with Nikolay. They were followed by a string of other couples, stretching right across the hall, and behind all, the children with their tutors and governesses trooped in, walked singly. There was a bustle among the waiters and a creaking of chairs; the orchestra began playing, as the guests took their places. Then the strains of the count's household band were succeeded by the clatter of knives and forks, the conversation of the guests, and the subdued tread of the waiters. The countess presided at one end of the table. On her right was Marya Dmitryevna; on her left Anna Mihalovna and the other ladies of the party. At the other end sat the count, with the colonel of hussars on his left, and on his right Shinshin and the other guests of the male sex. On one side of the large table sat the more grown-up of the young people: Vera beside Berg, Pierre beside Boris. On the other side were the children with their tutors and governesses. The count peeped from behind the crystal of the decanters and fruit-dishes at his wife and her high cap with blue ribbons, and zealously poured out wine for his neighbours, not overlooking himself. The countess, too, while mindful of her duties as hostess, cast significant glances from behind the pineapples at her husband, whose face and bald head struck her as looking particularly red against his grey hair. At the ladies' end there was a rhythmic murmur of talk, but at the other end of the table the men's voices grew louder and louder, especially the voice of the colonel of hussars, who, getting more and more flushed, ate and drank so much that the count held him up as a pattern to the rest. Berg with a tender smile was telling Vera that love was an emotion not of earth but of heaven. Boris was telling his new friend Pierre the names of the guests, while he exchanged glances with Natasha sitting opposite him. Pierre said little, looked about at the new faces, and ate a great deal. Of the two soups he chose à la tortue, and from that course to the fish-pasties and the grouse, he did not let a single dish pass, and took every sort of wine that the butler offered him, as he mysteriously poked a bottle wrapped in a napkin over his neighbour's shoulder, murmuring, “Dry Madeira,” or “Hungarian,” or “Rhine wine.” Pierre took a wine-glass at random out of the four crystal glasses engraved with the count's crest that were set at each place, and drank with relish, staring at the guests with a countenance that became more and more amiable as the dinner went on. Natasha, who sat opposite him, gazed at Boris as girls of thirteen gaze at the boy whom they have just kissed for the first time, and with whom they are in love. This gaze sometimes strayed to Pierre, and at the look on the funny, excited little girl's face, he felt an impulse to laugh himself without knowing why.

Nikolay was sitting a long way from Sonya, beside Julie Karagin, and again smiling the same unconscious smile, he was talking to her. Sonya wore a company smile, but she was visibly in agonies of jealousy; at one moment she turned pale, then she crimsoned, and all her energies were concentrated on listening to what Nikolay and Julie were saying. The governess looked nervously about her, as though preparing to resent any slight that might be offered to the children. The German tutor was trying to learn by heart a list of all the kinds of dishes, desserts, and wines, in order to write a detailed description of them to the folks at home in Germany, and was greatly mortified that the butler with the bottle in the napkin had passed him over. The German knitted his brows, and tried to look as though he would not have cared to take that wine, but he was mortified because no one would understand that he had not wanted the wine to quench his thirst, or through greed, but from a conscientious desire for knowledge.

叫做罗斯托娃的伯爵夫人随同几个女儿陪伴着许多客人坐在客厅里。伯爵把几位男客带进书斋去，让他们玩赏他所搜集的土耳其烟斗。他有时候走出来，问问大家：“她来了没有？”大伙儿正在等候玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜·阿赫罗西莫娃——上流社会中绰号叫做leterribledragon①的夫人，她之所以大名鼎鼎，并不是由于财富或荣耀地位，而是由于心地正直，待人朴实的缘故。皇室知道玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜，整个莫斯科和整个彼得堡都知道她。她使这两个城市的人感到惊奇，他们悄悄地讥笑她的粗暴，谈论她的趣闻。但是人人都一无例外地尊敬她，而且畏惧她。

①法语：恐龙。

书斋里烟雾弥漫，大家正在谈论文告中业已宣布的战争和征兵事宜。谁也还没有读到上谕，但是人人都知道业已颁布了。那伯爵坐在一面抽烟，一面交谈的两位邻近的客人之间的土耳其式沙发上。伯爵自己不抽烟，也不开口说话，可是他时而把头侧向这边，时而侧向那边，显然他在留意地观看这两位抽烟的客人，静听被他惹起的两位邻座的讧争。

交谈者之中一人是文官，那布满皱纹、瘦削的面部刮得很光，带着易动肝火的神态，他已经趋近老年，但穿着像个挺时髦的年轻人。他盘着两腿坐在土耳其式沙发上，那模样跟户主家里人不相上下，他的嘴角上深深地叼着一根琥珀烟嘴子，一面眯缝起眼睛，若断若续地抽烟。这位客人是老光棍，伯爵夫人的堂兄，莫斯科的沙龙中常常议论他，都说他是个造谣中伤的人。他对交谈者，似乎会装作屈尊俯就的样子。另一位客人长着一张白里透红的面孔，精神焕发，是个近卫军军官，他梳洗得整齐清洁，扣上了衣扣，嘴中叼着一根琥珀烟嘴子，用那粉红的嘴唇轻轻地吸烟，从美丽的嘴中吐出一个个烟圈来。他就是谢苗诺夫兵团的军官贝格中尉，鲍里斯和他一起在这个兵团入伍。娜塔莎逗弄过薇拉——伯爵夫人的长女，将贝格称为她的未婚夫。伯爵坐在他们之间，全神贯注地听着。除开他所酷爱的波士顿牌戏之外，倾听大家争论，是一件使他至为愉快的事，尤其是当他在两个喜爱聊天的人中间引起争论的时候，他就觉得更加高兴了。

“老兄，怎么啦，montrèshonoraole①阿尔万斯·卡尔雷奇，”申申说道，微微一笑，他把民间最通俗的俄文语句和优雅的法文句子混杂在一起，这也就是他说话的特点，“Vouscomptezvousfairedesrentessurl'etat②，您想获得连队的一笔收入吗？”

①法语：可尊敬的。

②法语：您想获得政府的一笔收入。

“彼得·尼古拉耶维奇，不是这么回事，我只是想表白一下，骑兵服役的收益比步兵服役要少得多，彼得·尼古拉耶维奇，请您设想一下我现在的处境吧。”

贝格说起话来总是十分准确、心平气和，态度很谦恭，他的谈话向来只是关系到他个人的私事，每当他人谈论的事情和他没有直接关系时，他便沉默不言。他能这样接连几个小时默不作声，一点也不觉得忸怩不安，而且不让他人产生这种感觉。可是交谈一提到他本人，他就长篇大论地说起来，明显地露出喜悦的神色。

“彼得·尼古拉耶维奇，请您想想我的处境：如果我在骑兵部队服役，那怕是挂中尉军衔，在四个月之内我所挣的钱也不会超过两百卢布，现在我已挣到两百三十卢布。”他说道，脸上露出洋洋得意的令人喜悦的微笑，一面回头看看申申和伯爵，仿佛他的成就永远是其他一切人共同期望的主要目标，他认为这是显而易见的事情。

“彼得·尼古拉耶维奇，除此之外，我调到近卫军以后，现在就崭露头角了，”贝格继续说道，“近卫军的步兵里常有空缺。请您设想一下，靠这两百三十卢布，我怎么能够安排自己的生活呢。我要储存一些钱，还得寄一些给父亲。”他继续说道，一面吐出一个烟圈。

“Labalanceyest……①commeditleproverbe，②德国人用斧头背都能打出谷来。”申申说道，另一边嘴角上叼着一根烟嘴子，并且向伯爵丢了个眼色。

①法语：是真的……

②法语：照谚语说。

伯爵哈哈大笑起来。其余的客人看见申申在谈话，都走到面前来听听。贝格对嘲笑和冷漠的态度都不注意，继续述说他调到近卫军后，军衔就高于中等军事学校的同学了，他讲在战时连长可能就义，而他在连队职位较高，能够轻而易举地当上连长，他又讲他在兵团里人人热爱他，他父亲对他非常满意。贝格谈论这一切，看来洋洋自得，似乎没有意料到，人家也会有自己的志趣。可是他讲得娓娓动听，不卑不亢，那种年轻人所固有的幼稚的自私心理暴露无遗，终于使听众无力反驳了。

“老兄，您不论在步兵服役，还是在骑兵服役，到处都有办法，这就是我对您的预言。”申申说道，拍拍他的肩膀，把脚从土耳其式沙发上放下来。

贝格喜悦地微微一笑。伯爵和跟随在他身后的客人，都向客厅走去。

午宴前还有一小段时间，前来聚会的客人都已就坐，等候吃小菜，他们还没有开始长谈，但是同时却又认为必须活动一下，而且用不着默不作声，以此表示他们根本不急于就坐。主人们隔一会儿望一下门口，有时候彼此看一眼。客人们就凭这种眼神来竭力猜度，主人们还在等候谁，或者等候什么，是等候迟迟未到的高贵亲戚呢，还是等候尚未煮熟的肴馔。

皮埃尔在临近午宴时来到了，他在客厅当中随便碰到的一把安乐椅上不好意思地坐着，拦住大家的络。伯爵夫人想要他说话，但是他戴着眼镜稚气地向四周张望，好像在寻找某人似的，他简短地回答伯爵夫人提出的各种问题。他的样子羞羞涩涩，只有他一人觉察不出来。大部分客人都晓得他耍狗熊闹出的丑闻，因此都出于好奇心看看这个长得高大的胖乎乎的忠厚人，心里都疑惑这个谦虚的笨伯怎么会戏弄警察分局局长呢。

“您是不久以前回国的吗？”伯爵夫人问他。

“Oui，madame．”①他向四面打量，答道。

“您没有看见我丈夫吗？”

“Non，madame．”②他不适时地微微一笑。

“您不久以前好像到过巴黎？我想这非常有趣。”

“非常有趣。”

伯爵夫人和安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜互使眼色。安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜心中明白，这是人家要她来接待这个年轻人，她于是就坐在他的近旁，开始提到他的父亲的事；他如同回答伯爵夫人一样，只用三言两语来回答她的话。客人们彼此正忙于应酬。

“LesRazoumovsky…caaétécharmant…Vousêtesbienbonne…LacomtesseApraksine…”③四面传来了话语声。伯爵夫人站起身来，向大厅走去了。

①法语：夫人，是，是，是。

②法语：夫人，还没有，没有。

③法语：拉祖莫夫斯基家里的人……太好了……这太好了……伯爵夫人阿普拉克辛娜……

“是玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜吗？”大厅里传来了她的声音。

“正是她。”听见有一个女人嗓音刺耳地回答。玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜应声随即走进房里来。

小姐们、甚至夫人们，年迈的女人除外，都站立起来。玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜在门口停步了，她身材十分肥胖，高大，这个五十岁的太太高高地抬起长满一绺绺斑白鬈发的头，环顾了一下客人，不慌不忙地弄平连衣裙的宽大的袖子，好像要卷起自己的袖子似的。玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜向来都说俄国话。

“祝贺过命名日的亲爱的夫人和儿童们，”她说道，声音洪亮而圆浑，盖过了其他声音，“你这个老色鬼，怎么样了，“她把脸转向正在吻着她的手的伯爵说道，“你在莫斯科大概觉得无聊吧？没有地方可以追逐猎犬了吧？但是毫无办法啊，老爷，你瞧瞧这些小鸟儿都要长大了……”她用手指着几个姑娘说道，“无论你愿意，还是不愿意，应该给她们找个未婚夫。”

“我的哥萨克，怎么样了？”（玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜把娜塔莎叫做哥萨克。）她说道，用手抚摩着毫无惧色、欢欢喜喜走来吻她的手的娜塔莎，“我知道这个姑娘是个狐狸精，可是我还喜爱她。”

她从女式大手提包里取出一双梨形蓝宝石耳环，送给两颊粉红、喜气洋洋的过命名日的娜塔莎，之后立即转过脸去避开她，对皮埃尔说话。

“嗨，嗨，亲爱的！到这里来，”她用假装的尖声细语说道，“亲爱的，来吧……”

她现出威吓的样子把衣袖卷得更高了。

皮埃尔走到面前来了，他透过眼镜稚气地望着她。

“亲爱的，到我跟前来，到我跟前来！当你父亲有权有势的时候，只有我这个人才对他说真心话，对于你呢，我听凭上帝的吩咐，也这样做就是。”

她沉默一会儿，大家都不开腔，等待着就要发生什么事，都觉得这只是一个开场白而已。

“这孩子好嘛，没有什么话可说！这孩子好嘛！……他父亲躺在病榻上，他却寻欢作乐，竟然把警察分局局长捆在狗熊背上。我的天，真不要脸，真不要脸！去打仗好了。”

她把脸转了过去，向伯爵伸出一只手来，伯爵险些儿忍不住要笑出声来。

“好吧，我看差不多要就座了吧？”玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜说道。

伯爵和玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜启程前行，骠骑兵上校领着伯爵夫人尾随其后，上校是个合乎时代需要的能人，他要和尼古拉一道去追赶已经开拔的团队。安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜和申申搓成一对了。贝格向薇拉伸出手来，做出亲热的姿态。笑容可掬的朱莉·卡拉金娜和尼古拉一同走向餐桌，准备入座。其他一些成对的男女跟随在他们后面。沿着大厅鱼贯而行。儿童和男女家庭教师不结成一对，作为殿后。堂倌都忙碌起来，椅子碰撞得轧轧作响，乐队奏起合唱曲，客人入席就座了。刀叉的铿锵声、客人的说话声、堂倌轻盈的步履声替代了伯爵家庭乐队的奏鸣声。伯爵夫人坐在餐桌一端的首席上。玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜坐在右边，安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜和其他女客坐在左边。伯爵坐在餐桌的另一端，骠骑兵上校坐在左边，申申和其他男客坐在右边。年纪较大的年轻人坐在长餐桌的一旁；薇拉和贝格并排而坐，皮埃尔和鲍里斯并排而坐；儿童和男女家庭教师坐在另一旁。伯爵从水晶玻璃器皿、酒瓶和水果盘后不时地望望妻子和她那系着蓝色绸带的高高翘起的寝帽，亲热地给邻座斟酒，但也没有把自己忘记。伯爵夫人并没有忘记她这个主妇应尽的责任，也向她丈夫投以意味深长的目光，她似乎觉得丈夫的秃头和面庞在苍苍白发的强烈对照下，显得红透了。在妇女就座的餐桌一端，传来均匀的嘟哝声，在男人就坐的另一端，说话声越来越响亮，尤其是那个骠骑兵上校的嗓音如雷贯耳，他吃得多，喝得多，脸红得越来越厉害，伯爵把他看作客人的模范。贝格面露温和的微笑，正和薇拉谈到，爱情并非是世俗的感情，而是纯洁的感情。鲍里斯向他自己的新相识说出餐桌上客人的姓名，并和坐在对面的娜塔莎互使眼色。皮埃尔寡于言谈，不时地瞧瞧陌生的面孔，他吃得太多了。从那两道汤中他所挑选的alatortue①和大馅饼，直到花尾榛鸡，他何尝放过一道菜。当那管家从邻座肩后悄悄地端出一只裹着餐巾的酒瓶，一边说：“纯马德拉葡萄酒”，“匈牙利葡萄酒”，或“莱茵葡萄酒”时，他何尝放过一种葡萄酒。每份餐具前面放着四只刻有伯爵姓名花字的酒樽，皮埃尔随便拿起一只酒樽，高高兴兴地喝酒，一面露出愈益快活的神态打量着客人。娜塔莎坐在对面，她正盯着鲍里斯，就像十三岁的姑娘两眼盯着头次接了吻的她所热恋的男孩那样。有时候她把同样的目光投在皮埃尔身上，但不知为什么，他在这个可笑的活泼的姑娘的目光逼视下真想笑出声来。

①法语：甲鱼汤。

尼古拉在朱莉·卡拉金娜身旁坐着，离索尼娅很远。他又面露情不自禁的微笑和她说些什么话。索尼娅含着微笑，摆出很大的架子，但显而易见，她深受醋意的折磨，脸上时而发白，时而发红，聚精会神地谛听尼古拉和朱莉之间的谈话。一位家庭女教师心神不安地环顾四周，仿佛倘若有人想要凌辱儿童，她就要给予反击似的。一名德国男家庭教师极力记住种种肴馔，甜点心以及葡萄酒，以便在寄往德国的家信中把这全部情形详尽地描述一下。当那管家拿着裹有餐巾的酒瓶给大家斟酒时，竟把他漏掉了，他简直气忿极了。他愁眉苦脸，力图表示他不想饮这种葡萄酒。他所以恼火，是因为谁也不了解，他喝酒不是解渴，也不是贪婪，而是由于一种真诚的求知欲所致。