But now this head was swaying helplessly with the uneven movements of the bearers, and the cold listless gaze fixed itself upon nothing.
After a few minutes' bustle beside the high bedstead, those who had carried the sick man dispersed.

Anna Mikhaylovna touched Pierre's hand and said, "Come." Pierre went with her to the bed on which the sick man had been laid in a stately pose in keeping with the ceremony just completed.

He lay with his head propped high on the pillows.

His hands were symmetrically placed on the green silk quilt, the palms downward.
When Pierre came up the count was gazing straight at him, but with a look the significance of which could not be understood by mortal man.
Either this look meant nothing but that as long as one has eyes they must look somewhere, or it meant too much.

Pierre hesitated, not knowing what to do, and glanced inquiringly at his guide.