Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for language.
Anatole waited as guests trickled into the ballroom. He rudely neglected to greet every woman and man who glided through the tall double doors. He mumbled to himself "How I adore little girls! They lose their heads at once!"
Helene sauntered up to her despondant brother and laid a slender arm around his shoulder. "My sweet brother! You truly are infatuated with this little (she said the word with spite) girl! As you said, I went to her house this morning to invite her, on your behalf of course, but she didn't seem too... interested."
Anatole shrugged off his sisters arm and gestured for her to leave. She did, and he returned to gazing out the door. He was so distracted, he didn't even notice when Dolokhov walked up to him with two glasses of wine in his hand. He pushed it towards Anatole, who was startled.
"Calm down Tolly! What on earth has gotten into you?!"
"Oh- I," Replied Anatole with a distant look on his face.
Dolokhov huffed and trundled away, the second glass almost slipping out of Anatole's hand.
To Anatole, the long wait was worth it. When the beautiful Natalie Rostov turned the corner with a swish of her skirts, Anatole's mouth dropped. She was wearing a long white dress, with lace, that so contrasted her perfect skin. An easy smile settled on her lips as she almost flew into the now crowded room.
Anatole rushed forward from his place at the door to meet her. He grabbed her arm and bowed deeply, kissing her delicate, gloved hand. A small, almost controlled blush spread across her cheeks. That is, until she looked up and blushed scarlet.
Anatole stood quite suddenly, arm in arm with Natasha, and moved forward. Natasha steered the uncomfortable couple towards Helene, who was beckoning from across the room.
As they came upon Anatole's perfect sister, Anatole announced "Me dearest Natalie, you must dance with me at once!"
Both Natasha and Helene looked more than slightly uncomfortable, but the oblivious Anatole did not pick up on that. He simple stood there with a gay grin on his handsome face!
"Well of course!" Cried Natasha, "But first, Helene and I must go get something to drink! I'm starved for some wine!"
Anatole smiled and moved to the side of the room, leaning quite inappropriately on a table for a setting such as the one he was in. After a few minutes, Dolokhov walked up and said, "You seem awfully happy for somebody who must have just been denied by one beautiful Natalia Rostova!"
"Well that is where you are wrong, my friend! She has promised me a dance, and then I shall profess my undying love to her!"
Dolokhov smirked, "And what of the fact that your so beloved and your sister have just slipped out of the room together, not five minutes ago!?"
Anatole momentarily looked quite aghast, but soon regained his composure and said, "surely they are fetching some drink or another from elsewhere! It is of no import, but I shall indeed ask this kind gentleman here where they have went, for your sake, dear old friend,"
He glanced uneasily at a sly looking Dolokhov before looking intensely at the footman standing right by them.
"The countess has retired to her quarters with Natalia Rostova, but she has requested to not be disturbed."
It took whole seconds for Anatole to process this information. Once he had, his face dropped and he stumbled away, Dolokhov trailing behind. The sounds of the ball all of sudden became too much for Anatole to bear. Tripping over his own feet, he walked briskly to the door, trying his best to seem inconspicuous.
Dolokhov started to ask if he was okay, but his voice, along with all other noises, were cut off by the sharp thud of the heavy wooden doors swinging closed.