A short stout man of about thirty, in white breeches and high boots and a batiste shirt that he had evidently only just put on, standing in that room, and his valet was buttoning on to the back of his breeches a new pair of handsome silk-embroidered braces that, for some reason, attracted Rostov's attention.

This man was speaking to someone in the adjoining room.

"A good figure and in her first bloom," he was saying, but on seeing Rostov, he stopped short and frowned.