Figure of Speec...

Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.

Anna Pavlovna’s drawing-room was gradually filling. The highest Petersburg society was assembled there: people differing widely in age and character but alike in the social circle to which they belonged. Prince Vasili’s daughter, the beautiful Hélène, came to take her father to the ambassador’s entertainment; she wore a ball dress and her badge as maid of honour. The youthful little Princess Bolkonskaya, known as la femme la plus séduisante de Pétersbourg,5 was also there. She had been married during the previous winter, and being pregnant did not go out in high society, but only to small receptions.

Prince Vasili’s son, Ippolit, had come with Mortemart, whom he introduced. The Abbé Morio and many others had also come. To each new arrival Anna Pavlovna said, ‘You have not yet seen my aunt’, or ‘You do not know ma tante?’, and very gravely conducted him or her to a little old lady, wearing large bows of ribbons in her cap, who had come sailing in from another room as soon as the guests began to arrive; and slowly turning her eyes from the visitor to ma tante, Anna Pavlovna mentioned each one’s name and then left them.

Each visitor performed the ceremony of greeting this old aunt who not one of them knew, not one of them wanted to know, and not one of them cared about; Anna Pavlovna observed these greetings with mournful and solemn interest and silent approval. The aunt spoke to each of them in the same words, about their health and her own, and the health of her Majesty, ‘who, thank God, was better today’. And each visitor, though politeness prevented his showing impatience, left the old woman with a sense of relief at having performed a vexatious duty and did not return to her the whole evening.

The young Princess Bolkonskaya had brought some work in a goldembroidered velvet bag. Her pretty little upper lip, on which a delicate dark down was just perceptible, was too short for her teeth, but it lifted all the more sweetly, and was especially charming when she occasionally drew it down to meet the lower lip.

As is always the case with a thoroughly attractive woman, her defect—the shortness of her upper lip and her half open mouth—seemed to be her own special and peculiar form of beauty. Everyone brightened at the sight of this pretty young woman, so soon to become a mother, so full of life and health, and carrying her burden so lightly.

Old men and dull, dispirited young ones who looked at her, after being in her company and talking to her a little while, felt as if they too were becoming, like her, full of life and health.

[Extracts from WAR AND PEACE Translated with Notes by LOUISE and AYLMER MAUDE Revised and Edited with an Introduction by AMY MANDELKER]

Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.

Anna Pavlovna’s drawing-room was gradually filling. The highest Petersburg society was assembled there: people differing widely in age and character but alike in the social circle to which they belonged. Prince Vasili’s daughter, the beautiful Hélène, came to take her father to the ambassador’s entertainment; she wore a ball dress and her badge as maid of honour. The youthful little Princess Bolkonskaya, known as la femme la plus séduisante de Pétersbourg,5 was also there. She had been married during the previous winter, and being pregnant did not go out in high society, but only to small receptions.

Prince Vasili’s son, Ippolit, had come with Mortemart, whom he introduced. The Abbé Morio and many others had also come. To each new arrival Anna Pavlovna said, ‘You have not yet seen my aunt’, or ‘You do not know ma tante?’, and very gravely conducted him or her to a little old lady, wearing large bows of ribbons in her cap, who had come sailing in from another room as soon as the guests began to arrive; and slowly turning her eyes from the visitor to ma tante, Anna Pavlovna mentioned each one’s name and then left them.

Each visitor performed the ceremony of greeting this old aunt who not one of them knew, not one of them wanted to know, and not one of them cared about; Anna Pavlovna observed these greetings with mournful and solemn interest and silent approval. The aunt spoke to each of them in the same words, about their health and her own, and the health of her Majesty, ‘who, thank God, was better today’. And each visitor, though politeness prevented his showing impatience, left the old woman with a sense of relief at having performed a vexatious duty and did not return to her the whole evening.

The young Princess Bolkonskaya had brought some work in a goldembroidered velvet bag. Her pretty little upper lip, on which a delicate dark down was just perceptible, was too short for her teeth, but it lifted all the more sweetly, and was especially charming when she occasionally drew it down to meet the lower lip.

As is always the case with a thoroughly attractive woman, her defect—the shortness of her upper lip and her half open mouth—seemed to be her own special and peculiar form of beauty. Everyone brightened at the sight of this pretty young woman, so soon to become a mother, so full of life and health, and carrying her burden so lightly.

Old men and dull, dispirited young ones who looked at her, after being in her company and talking to her a little while, felt as if they too were becoming, like her, full of life and health.

[Extracts from WAR AND PEACE Translated with Notes by LOUISE and AYLMER MAUDE Revised and Edited with an Introduction by AMY MANDELKER]

Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.

Anna Pavlovna’s drawing-room was gradually filling. The highest Petersburg society was assembled there: people differing widely in age and character but alike in the social circle to which they belonged. Prince Vasili’s daughter, the beautiful Hélène, came to take her father to the ambassador’s entertainment; she wore a ball dress and her badge as maid of honour. The youthful little Princess Bolkonskaya, known as la femme la plus séduisante de Pétersbourg,5 was also there. She had been married during the previous winter, and being pregnant did not go out in high society, but only to small receptions.

Prince Vasili’s son, Ippolit, had come with Mortemart, whom he introduced. The Abbé Morio and many others had also come. To each new arrival Anna Pavlovna said, ‘You have not yet seen my aunt’, or ‘You do not know ma tante?’, and very gravely conducted him or her to a little old lady, wearing large bows of ribbons in her cap, who had come sailing in from another room as soon as the guests began to arrive; and slowly turning her eyes from the visitor to ma tante, Anna Pavlovna mentioned each one’s name and then left them.

Each visitor performed the ceremony of greeting this old aunt who not one of them knew, not one of them wanted to know, and not one of them cared about; Anna Pavlovna observed these greetings with mournful and solemn interest and silent approval. The aunt spoke to each of them in the same words, about their health and her own, and the health of her Majesty, ‘who, thank God, was better today’. And each visitor, though politeness prevented his showing impatience, left the old woman with a sense of relief at having performed a vexatious duty and did not return to her the whole evening.

The young Princess Bolkonskaya had brought some work in a goldembroidered velvet bag. Her pretty little upper lip, on which a delicate dark down was just perceptible, was too short for her teeth, but it lifted all the more sweetly, and was especially charming when she occasionally drew it down to meet the lower lip.

As is always the case with a thoroughly attractive woman, her defect—the shortness of her upper lip and her half open mouth—seemed to be her own special and peculiar form of beauty. Everyone brightened at the sight of this pretty young woman, so soon to become a mother, so full of life and health, and carrying her burden so lightly.

Old men and dull, dispirited young ones who looked at her, after being in her company and talking to her a little while, felt as if they too were becoming, like her, full of life and health.

[Extracts from WAR AND PEACE Translated with Notes by LOUISE and AYLMER MAUDE Revised and Edited with an Introduction by AMY MANDELKER]

Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.

Anna Pavlovna’s drawing-room was gradually filling. The highest Petersburg society was assembled there: people differing widely in age and character but alike in the social circle to which they belonged. Prince Vasili’s daughter, the beautiful Hélène, came to take her father to the ambassador’s entertainment; she wore a ball dress and her badge as maid of honour. The youthful little Princess Bolkonskaya, known as la femme la plus séduisante de Pétersbourg,5 was also there. She had been married during the previous winter, and being pregnant did not go out in high society, but only to small receptions.

Prince Vasili’s son, Ippolit, had come with Mortemart, whom he introduced. The Abbé Morio and many others had also come. To each new arrival Anna Pavlovna said, ‘You have not yet seen my aunt’, or ‘You do not know ma tante?’, and very gravely conducted him or her to a little old lady, wearing large bows of ribbons in her cap, who had come sailing in from another room as soon as the guests began to arrive; and slowly turning her eyes from the visitor to ma tante, Anna Pavlovna mentioned each one’s name and then left them.

Each visitor performed the ceremony of greeting this old aunt who not one of them knew, not one of them wanted to know, and not one of them cared about; Anna Pavlovna observed these greetings with mournful and solemn interest and silent approval. The aunt spoke to each of them in the same words, about their health and her own, and the health of her Majesty, ‘who, thank God, was better today’. And each visitor, though politeness prevented his showing impatience, left the old woman with a sense of relief at having performed a vexatious duty and did not return to her the whole evening.

The young Princess Bolkonskaya had brought some work in a goldembroidered velvet bag. Her pretty little upper lip, on which a delicate dark down was just perceptible, was too short for her teeth, but it lifted all the more sweetly, and was especially charming when she occasionally drew it down to meet the lower lip.

As is always the case with a thoroughly attractive woman, her defect—the shortness of her upper lip and her half open mouth—seemed to be her own special and peculiar form of beauty. Everyone brightened at the sight of this pretty young woman, so soon to become a mother, so full of life and health, and carrying her burden so lightly.

Old men and dull, dispirited young ones who looked at her, after being in her company and talking to her a little while, felt as if they too were becoming, like her, full of life and health.

[Extracts from WAR AND PEACE Translated with Notes by LOUISE and AYLMER MAUDE Revised and Edited with an Introduction by AMY MANDELKER]

Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.

Anna Pavlovna’s drawing-room was gradually filling. The highest Petersburg society was assembled there: people differing widely in age and character but alike in the social circle to which they belonged. Prince Vasili’s daughter, the beautiful Hélène, came to take her father to the ambassador’s entertainment; she wore a ball dress and her badge as maid of honour. The youthful little Princess Bolkonskaya, known as la femme la plus séduisante de Pétersbourg,5 was also there. She had been married during the previous winter, and being pregnant did not go out in high society, but only to small receptions.

Prince Vasili’s son, Ippolit, had come with Mortemart, whom he introduced. The Abbé Morio and many others had also come. To each new arrival Anna Pavlovna said, ‘You have not yet seen my aunt’, or ‘You do not know ma tante?’, and very gravely conducted him or her to a little old lady, wearing large bows of ribbons in her cap, who had come sailing in from another room as soon as the guests began to arrive; and slowly turning her eyes from the visitor to ma tante, Anna Pavlovna mentioned each one’s name and then left them.

Each visitor performed the ceremony of greeting this old aunt who not one of them knew, not one of them wanted to know, and not one of them cared about; Anna Pavlovna observed these greetings with mournful and solemn interest and silent approval. The aunt spoke to each of them in the same words, about their health and her own, and the health of her Majesty, ‘who, thank God, was better today’. And each visitor, though politeness prevented his showing impatience, left the old woman with a sense of relief at having performed a vexatious duty and did not return to her the whole evening.

The young Princess Bolkonskaya had brought some work in a goldembroidered velvet bag. Her pretty little upper lip, on which a delicate dark down was just perceptible, was too short for her teeth, but it lifted all the more sweetly, and was especially charming when she occasionally drew it down to meet the lower lip.

As is always the case with a thoroughly attractive woman, her defect—the shortness of her upper lip and her half open mouth—seemed to be her own special and peculiar form of beauty. Everyone brightened at the sight of this pretty young woman, so soon to become a mother, so full of life and health, and carrying her burden so lightly.

Old men and dull, dispirited young ones who looked at her, after being in her company and talking to her a little while, felt as if they too were becoming, like her, full of life and health.

[Extracts from WAR AND PEACE Translated with Notes by LOUISE and AYLMER MAUDE Revised and Edited with an Introduction by AMY MANDELKER]

Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.

The elderly lady was a Princess Drubetskaya, belonging to one of the best families in Russia, but she was poor, and having long been out of society had lost her former influential connections. She had now come to Petersburg to procure an appointment in the Guards for her only son. It was, in fact, solely to meet Prince Vasili that she had obtained an invitation to Anna Pavlovna’s reception, and had sat listening to the vicomte’s story.

Prince Vasili’s words frightened her, an embittered look clouded her once handsome face, but only for a moment; then she smiled again and clutched Prince Vasili’s arm more tightly. ‘Listen to me, Prince,’ said she. ‘I have never yet asked you for anything and I never will again, nor have I ever reminded you of my father’s friendship for you; but now I entreat you for God’s sake to do this for my son—and I shall always regard you as a benefactor,’ she added hurriedly.

‘No, don’t be angry, but promise! I have asked Golitsyn and he has refused. Soyez le bon enfant que vous avez été,’1 she said, trying to smile though tears were in her eyes. ‘Papá, we shall be late,’ said Princess Hélène, turning her beautiful head and looking over her classically moulded shoulder as she stood waiting by the door. Influence in society, however, is capital which has to be economized if it is to last. Prince Vasili knew this, and having once realized that if he asked on behalf of all who begged of him, he would soon be unable to ask for himself, he became chary of using his influence.

But in Princess Drubetskaya’s case he felt, after her second appeal, something like qualms of conscience. She had reminded him of what was quite true; he had been indebted to her father for the first steps in his career. Moreover, he could see by her manner that she was one of those women—mostly mothers—who having once made up their minds, will not rest until they have gained their end, and are prepared if necessary to go on insisting day after day and hour after hour, and even to make scenes. This last consideration moved him.

‘Chère Anna Mikhailovna,’ said he with his usual familiarity and weariness of tone, ‘it is almost impossible for me to do what you ask; but to prove my devotion to you and how I respect your father’s memory, I will do the impossible—your son shall be transferred to the Guards. Here is my hand on it. Are you satisfied?’ ‘My dear benefactor! This is what I expected from you—I knew your kindness!’ He turned to go.

‘[Extracts from WAR AND PEACE Translated with Notes by LOUISE and AYLMER MAUDE Revised and Edited with an Introduction by AMY MANDELKER]

Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.

The elderly lady was a Princess Drubetskaya, belonging to one of the best families in Russia, but she was poor, and having long been out of society had lost her former influential connections. She had now come to Petersburg to procure an appointment in the Guards for her only son. It was, in fact, solely to meet Prince Vasili that she had obtained an invitation to Anna Pavlovna’s reception, and had sat listening to the vicomte’s story.

Prince Vasili’s words frightened her, an embittered look clouded her once handsome face, but only for a moment; then she smiled again and clutched Prince Vasili’s arm more tightly. ‘Listen to me, Prince,’ said she. ‘I have never yet asked you for anything and I never will again, nor have I ever reminded you of my father’s friendship for you; but now I entreat you for God’s sake to do this for my son—and I shall always regard you as a benefactor,’ she added hurriedly.

‘No, don’t be angry, but promise! I have asked Golitsyn and he has refused. Soyez le bon enfant que vous avez été,’1 she said, trying to smile though tears were in her eyes. ‘Papá, we shall be late,’ said Princess Hélène, turning her beautiful head and looking over her classically moulded shoulder as she stood waiting by the door. Influence in society, however, is capital which has to be economized if it is to last. Prince Vasili knew this, and having once realized that if he asked on behalf of all who begged of him, he would soon be unable to ask for himself, he became chary of using his influence.

But in Princess Drubetskaya’s case he felt, after her second appeal, something like qualms of conscience. She had reminded him of what was quite true; he had been indebted to her father for the first steps in his career. Moreover, he could see by her manner that she was one of those women—mostly mothers—who having once made up their minds, will not rest until they have gained their end, and are prepared if necessary to go on insisting day after day and hour after hour, and even to make scenes. This last consideration moved him.

‘Chère Anna Mikhailovna,’ said he with his usual familiarity and weariness of tone, ‘it is almost impossible for me to do what you ask; but to prove my devotion to you and how I respect your father’s memory, I will do the impossible—your son shall be transferred to the Guards. Here is my hand on it. Are you satisfied?’ ‘My dear benefactor! This is what I expected from you—I knew your kindness!’ He turned to go.

‘[Extracts from WAR AND PEACE Translated with Notes by LOUISE and AYLMER MAUDE Revised and Edited with an Introduction by AMY MANDELKER]

Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.

The elderly lady was a Princess Drubetskaya, belonging to one of the best families in Russia, but she was poor, and having long been out of society had lost her former influential connections. She had now come to Petersburg to procure an appointment in the Guards for her only son. It was, in fact, solely to meet Prince Vasili that she had obtained an invitation to Anna Pavlovna’s reception, and had sat listening to the vicomte’s story.

Prince Vasili’s words frightened her, an embittered look clouded her once handsome face, but only for a moment; then she smiled again and clutched Prince Vasili’s arm more tightly. ‘Listen to me, Prince,’ said she. ‘I have never yet asked you for anything and I never will again, nor have I ever reminded you of my father’s friendship for you; but now I entreat you for God’s sake to do this for my son—and I shall always regard you as a benefactor,’ she added hurriedly.

‘No, don’t be angry, but promise! I have asked Golitsyn and he has refused. Soyez le bon enfant que vous avez été,’1 she said, trying to smile though tears were in her eyes. ‘Papá, we shall be late,’ said Princess Hélène, turning her beautiful head and looking over her classically moulded shoulder as she stood waiting by the door. Influence in society, however, is capital which has to be economized if it is to last. Prince Vasili knew this, and having once realized that if he asked on behalf of all who begged of him, he would soon be unable to ask for himself, he became chary of using his influence.

But in Princess Drubetskaya’s case he felt, after her second appeal, something like qualms of conscience. She had reminded him of what was quite true; he had been indebted to her father for the first steps in his career. Moreover, he could see by her manner that she was one of those women—mostly mothers—who having once made up their minds, will not rest until they have gained their end, and are prepared if necessary to go on insisting day after day and hour after hour, and even to make scenes. This last consideration moved him.

‘Chère Anna Mikhailovna,’ said he with his usual familiarity and weariness of tone, ‘it is almost impossible for me to do what you ask; but to prove my devotion to you and how I respect your father’s memory, I will do the impossible—your son shall be transferred to the Guards. Here is my hand on it. Are you satisfied?’ ‘My dear benefactor! This is what I expected from you—I knew your kindness!’ He turned to go.

‘[Extracts from WAR AND PEACE Translated with Notes by LOUISE and AYLMER MAUDE Revised and Edited with an Introduction by AMY MANDELKER]

Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.

The elderly lady was a Princess Drubetskaya, belonging to one of the best families in Russia, but she was poor, and having long been out of society had lost her former influential connections. She had now come to Petersburg to procure an appointment in the Guards for her only son. It was, in fact, solely to meet Prince Vasili that she had obtained an invitation to Anna Pavlovna’s reception, and had sat listening to the vicomte’s story.

Prince Vasili’s words frightened her, an embittered look clouded her once handsome face, but only for a moment; then she smiled again and clutched Prince Vasili’s arm more tightly. ‘Listen to me, Prince,’ said she. ‘I have never yet asked you for anything and I never will again, nor have I ever reminded you of my father’s friendship for you; but now I entreat you for God’s sake to do this for my son—and I shall always regard you as a benefactor,’ she added hurriedly.

‘No, don’t be angry, but promise! I have asked Golitsyn and he has refused. Soyez le bon enfant que vous avez été,’1 she said, trying to smile though tears were in her eyes. ‘Papá, we shall be late,’ said Princess Hélène, turning her beautiful head and looking over her classically moulded shoulder as she stood waiting by the door. Influence in society, however, is capital which has to be economized if it is to last. Prince Vasili knew this, and having once realized that if he asked on behalf of all who begged of him, he would soon be unable to ask for himself, he became chary of using his influence.

But in Princess Drubetskaya’s case he felt, after her second appeal, something like qualms of conscience. She had reminded him of what was quite true; he had been indebted to her father for the first steps in his career. Moreover, he could see by her manner that she was one of those women—mostly mothers—who having once made up their minds, will not rest until they have gained their end, and are prepared if necessary to go on insisting day after day and hour after hour, and even to make scenes. This last consideration moved him.

‘Chère Anna Mikhailovna,’ said he with his usual familiarity and weariness of tone, ‘it is almost impossible for me to do what you ask; but to prove my devotion to you and how I respect your father’s memory, I will do the impossible—your son shall be transferred to the Guards. Here is my hand on it. Are you satisfied?’ ‘My dear benefactor! This is what I expected from you—I knew your kindness!’ He turned to go.

‘[Extracts from WAR AND PEACE Translated with Notes by LOUISE and AYLMER MAUDE Revised and Edited with an Introduction by AMY MANDELKER]

Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.

The elderly lady was a Princess Drubetskaya, belonging to one of the best families in Russia, but she was poor, and having long been out of society had lost her former influential connections. She had now come to Petersburg to procure an appointment in the Guards for her only son. It was, in fact, solely to meet Prince Vasili that she had obtained an invitation to Anna Pavlovna’s reception, and had sat listening to the vicomte’s story.

Prince Vasili’s words frightened her, an embittered look clouded her once handsome face, but only for a moment; then she smiled again and clutched Prince Vasili’s arm more tightly. ‘Listen to me, Prince,’ said she. ‘I have never yet asked you for anything and I never will again, nor have I ever reminded you of my father’s friendship for you; but now I entreat you for God’s sake to do this for my son—and I shall always regard you as a benefactor,’ she added hurriedly.

‘No, don’t be angry, but promise! I have asked Golitsyn and he has refused. Soyez le bon enfant que vous avez été,’1 she said, trying to smile though tears were in her eyes. ‘Papá, we shall be late,’ said Princess Hélène, turning her beautiful head and looking over her classically moulded shoulder as she stood waiting by the door. Influence in society, however, is capital which has to be economized if it is to last. Prince Vasili knew this, and having once realized that if he asked on behalf of all who begged of him, he would soon be unable to ask for himself, he became chary of using his influence.

But in Princess Drubetskaya’s case he felt, after her second appeal, something like qualms of conscience. She had reminded him of what was quite true; he had been indebted to her father for the first steps in his career. Moreover, he could see by her manner that she was one of those women—mostly mothers—who having once made up their minds, will not rest until they have gained their end, and are prepared if necessary to go on insisting day after day and hour after hour, and even to make scenes. This last consideration moved him.

‘Chère Anna Mikhailovna,’ said he with his usual familiarity and weariness of tone, ‘it is almost impossible for me to do what you ask; but to prove my devotion to you and how I respect your father’s memory, I will do the impossible—your son shall be transferred to the Guards. Here is my hand on it. Are you satisfied?’ ‘My dear benefactor! This is what I expected from you—I knew your kindness!’ He turned to go.

‘[Extracts from WAR AND PEACE Translated with Notes by LOUISE and AYLMER MAUDE Revised and Edited with an Introduction by AMY MANDELKER]