A Father's Final Moments — War and Peace

Pierre enters the icon-lit chamber he knows from childhood, now red as a church at evening service. Count Bezukhov sits in an invalid chair under the gleaming icons, a wax taper thrust between the fingers of his right hand, a bright green quilt to his waist, the gray lion mane still handsome. Priests chant. Catiche stares at the saints with a vicious, determined look. Vasili performs resigned piety and seems to say that if you do not understand these sentiments, so much the worse for you. Sophie laughs behind a column. Anna Mikhaylovna hands Pierre a taper as if she owns the ritual; he crosses himself with the hand that holds it.

The service pauses for Lorrain's pulse check. Vasili and Catiche slip to the silk-hung bedstead and out a back door, then return before the chanting ends. Bearers lift the count's heavy body onto the state bed; a servant whispers to catch hold from underneath. Pierre kisses the motionless hand, sits at Anna's signal, and watches his father's face twitch toward speech that never clears. Anna guesses drink, Pierre, Vasili, the quilt; the eyes show only impatience.

A helpless arm falls back as they turn him to the wall. The count glances at that arm, at Pierre's terror, and at the arm again, and a feeble, piteous smile breaks Pierre's composure. Tears come. Anna calls it dozing, sees a princess coming to take her turn, and leads him out. Sacred theater has been pierced by one honest human flicker amid the inheritance watch.