for which he needed Anatole, the process itself of controlling another man’s will was an enjoyment, a habit, and a necessity for Dolohov.
Natasha had made a great impression on Kuragin. At supper, after the theatre, he analysed to Dolohov, with the manner of a connoisseur, the points of her arms, her shoulders, her foot, and her hair, and announced his intention of getting up a flirtation with her. What might come of such a flirtation—Anatole was incapable of considering, and had no notion, as he never had a notion of what would come of any of his actions.
“She’s pretty, my lad, but she’s not for us,” Dolohov said to him.
“I’ll tell my sister to ask her to dinner,” said Anatole. “Eh?”
“You’d better wait till she’s married.…”
“You know I adore little girls,” said Anatole; “they’re all confusion in a minute.”
“You’ve come to grief once already over a ‘little girl,’ ” said Dolohov, who knew of Anatole’s marriage. “Beware.”
“Well, one can’t do it twice! Eh?” said Anatole, laughing good-humouredly.