Prince Hippolyte laughed spasmodically as he stood in the porch waiting for the vicomte whom he had promised to take home.
"Well, mon cher," said the vicomte, having seated himself beside Hippolyte in the carriage, "your little princess is very nice, very nice indeed, quite French," and he kissed the tips of his fingers.

Hippolyte burst out laughing.
"Do you know, you are a terrible chap for all your innocent airs," continued the vicomte.

"I pity the poor husband, that little officer who gives himself the airs of a monarch." Hippolyte spluttered again, and amid his laughter said, "And you were saying that the Russian ladies are not equal to the French?
One has to know how to deal with them." Pierre reaching the house first went into Prince Andrew's study like one quite at home, and from habit immediately lay down on the sofa, took from the shelf the first book that came to his hand (it was Caesar's Commentaries), and resting on his elbow, began reading it in the middle.
"What have you done to Mlle Scherer?
She will be quite ill now," said Prince Andrew, as he entered the study, rubbing his small white hands.
Pierre turned his whole body, making the sofa creak.

He lifted his eager face to Prince Andrew, smiled, and waved his hand.
"That abbe is very interesting but he does not see the thing in the right light....

In my opinion perpetual peace is possible but--I do not know how to express it...