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Rostóv
and
Denísov
drove
away
with
the
wounded
Dólokhov
.
The
latter
lay
silent
in
the
sleigh
with
closed
eyes
and
did
not
answer
a
word
to
the
questions
addressed
to
him
.
But
on
entering
Moscow
he
suddenly
came
to
and
,
lifting
his
head
with
an
effort
,
took
Rostóv
,
who
was
sitting
beside
him
,
by
the
hand
.
Rostóv
was
struck
by
the
totally
altered
and
unexpectedly
rapturous
and
tender
expression
on
Dólokhov
's
face
.
"
Well
?
How
do
you
feel
?
"
he
asked
.
"
Bad
!
But
it
's
not
that
,
my
friend
--
"
said
Dólokhov
with
a
gasping
voice
.
"
Where
are
we
?
In
Moscow
,
I
know
.
I
do
n't
matter
,
but
I
have
killed
her
,
killed
...
She
wo
n't
get
over
it
!
She
wo
n't
survive
...
"
"
Who
?
"
asked
Rostóv
.
"
My
mother
!
My
mother
,
my
angel
,
my
adored
angel
mother
,
"
and
Dólokhov
pressed
Rostóv
's
hand
and
burst
into
tears
.
When
he
had
become
a
little
quieter
,
he
explained
to
Rostóv
that
he
was
living
with
his
mother
,
who
,
if
she
saw
him
dying
,
would
not
survive
it
He
implored
Rostóv
to
go
on
and
prepare
her
.
Rostóv
went
on
ahead
to
do
what
was
asked
,
and
to
his
great
surprise
learned
that
Dólokhov
the
brawler
,
Dólokhov
the
bully
,
lived
in
Moscow
with
an
old
mother
and
a
hunchback
sister
,
and
was
the
most
affectionate
of
sons
and
brothers
.
Pierre
had
of
late
rarely
seen
his
wife
alone
.
Both
in
Petersburg
and
in
Moscow
their
house
was
always
full
of
visitors
.
The
night
after
the
duel
he
did
not
go
to
his
bedroom
but
,
as
he
often
did
,
remained
in
his
father
's
room
,
that
huge
room
in
which
Count
Bezúkhov
had
died
.
