In this chapter, astonishingly, we continue the tale of Old Bolkonsky, as he goes about sending his servants on errands and trying to decide where to sleep. And, finally, as he is dropping off to sleep, he knows there’s something he needs to think about in that letter . . .
If he’d read the letter and been terrified and worried, that I think would have been a powerful piece of writing from Tolstoy.
But it’s sheer genius to have his mind turn back to him as “a young general, without one wrinkle on his brow”. Another brilliant, brilliant chapter.