It shone with such gaiety and youth, such innocent youth, that it suggested the liveliness of a fourteen-year-old boy, and yet it was the face of the majestic Emperor.

Casually, while surveying the squadron, the Emperor's eyes met Rostov's and rested on them for not more than two seconds.

Whether or no the Emperor understood what was going on in Rostov's soul (it seemed to Rostov that he understood everything), at any rate his light-blue eyes gazed for about two seconds into Rostov's face.

A gentle, mild light poured from them.