"What were losses, and Dolokhov, and words of honor?... All nonsense! One might kill and rob and yet be happy..." It was long since Rostov had felt such enjoyment from music as he did that day.

But no sooner had Natasha finished her barcarolle than reality again presented itself.

He got up without saying a word and went downstairs to his own room.

A quarter of an hour later the old count came in from his Club, cheerful and contented.