战争与和平(上)-第102章

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d　without　any　perceptible　exertion。　He　possessed　in　the　highest　degree　the　quality　Pierre　lacked；　that　practical　tenacity　which；　without　fuss　or　any　great　effort　on　his　part；　set　things　in　working　order。
On　one　estate　of　his；　three　hundred　serfs　were　transformed　into　free　cultivators　（it　was　one　of　the　first　examples　in　Russia）；　in　others　forced　labour　was　replaced　by　payment　of　rent。　On　Bogutcharovo　a　trained　midwife　had　been　engaged　at　his　expense　to　assist　the　peasant…women　in　childbirth；　and　a　priest；　at　a　fixed　salary；　was　teaching　the　children　of　the　peasants　and　house　servants　to　read　and　write。
Half　his　time　Prince　Andrey　spent　at　Bleak　Hills　with　his　father　and　his　son；　who　was　still　in　the　nursery。　The　other　half　he　passed　at　his　Bogutcharovo　retreat；　as　his　father　called　his　estate。　In　spite　of　the　indifference　to　all　the　external　events　of　the　world　that　he　had　shown　to　Pierre；　he　studiously　followed　them；　received　many　books；　and；　to　his　own　surprise；　when　people　coming　fresh　from　Petersburg；　the　very　vortex　of　life；　visited　him　or　his　father；　he　noticed　that　those　people；　in　knowledge　of　all　that　was　passing　in　home　and　foreign　politics；　were　far　behind　him；　though　he　had　never　left　the　country。
Besides　looking　after　his　estates；　and　much　general　reading　of　the　most　varied　kind；　Prince　Andrey　was　busily　engaged　at　this　time　upon　a　critical　survey　of　our　two　late　disastrous　campaigns　and　the　composition　of　a　proposal　for　reforms　in　our　army　rules　and　regulations。
In　the　spring　of　1809　Prince　Andrey　set　off　to　visit　the　Ryazan　estates；　the　heritage　of　his　son；　whose　trustee　he　was。
Warmed　by　the　spring　sunshine　he　sat　in　the　carriage；　looking　at　the　first　grass；　the　first　birch　leaves　and　the　first　flecks　of　white　spring　clouds　floating　over　the　bright　blue　of　the　sky。　He　was　thinking　of　nothing；　but　looking　about　him；　light…hearted　and　thoughtless。
They　crossed　the　ford　where　he　had　talked　with　Pierre　a　year　before。　They　drove　through　a　muddy　village；　by　threshing　floors；　and　patches　of　green　corn；　down　hill　by　a　drift　of　snow　still　lying　near　the　bridge；　up　hill　along　a　clay　road　hollowed　out　by　the　rain；　by　strips　of　stubble…field；　with　copse　turning　green　here　and　there；　and　drove　at　last　into　a　birch　forest　that　lay　on　both　sides　of　the　road。　In　the　forest　it　was　almost　hot；　the　wind　could　not　be　felt。　The　birches；　all　studded　with　sticky；　green　leaves；　did　not　stir；　and　lilac…coloured　flowers　and　the　first　grass　lifted　the　last　year’s　leaves　and　peeped　out　green　from　under　them。　Tiny　fir…trees；　dotted　here　and　there　among　the　birches；　brought　a　jarring　reminder　of　winter　with　their　coarse；　unchanging　green。　The　horses　neighed　as　they　entered　the　forest　and　were　visibly　heated。
Pyotr　the　footman　said　something　to　the　coachman；　the　coachman　assented。　But　apparently　the　coachman’s　sympathy　was　not　enough　for　Pyotr。　He　turned　round　on　the　box　to　his　master。
“Your　excellency；　how　soft　it　is！”　he　said；　smiling　respectfully。
“Eh？”
“It　is　soft；　your　excellency。”
“What　does　he　mean？”　wondered　Prince　Andrey。　“Oh；　the　weather；　most　likely；”　he　thought；　looking　from　side　to　side。　“And；　indeed；　everything’s　green　already…how　soon！　And　the　birch　and　the　wild　cherry　and　the　alder　beginning　to　come　out。…But　I　haven’t　noticed　the　oak。　Yes；　here　he　is；　the　oak！”
At　the　edge　of　the　wood　stood　an　oak。　Probably　ten　times　the　age　of　the　birch…trees　that　formed　the　bulk　of　the　forest；　it　was　ten　times　the　thickness　and　twice　the　height　of　any　birch…tree。　It　was　a　huge　oak；　double　a　man’s　span；　with　branches　broken　off；　long　ago　it　seemed；　and　with　bark　torn　off；　and　seared　with　old　scars。　With　its　huge；　uncouth；　gnarled　arms　and　fingers　sprawling　unsymmetrically；　it　stood　an　aged；　angry；　and　scornful　monster　among　the　smiling　birches。　Only　the　few　dead…looking；　evergreen　firs　dotted　about　the　forest；　and　this　oak；　refused　to　yield　to　the　spell　of　spring；　and　would　see　neither　spring　nor　sunshine。
“Spring　and　love　and　happiness！”　that　oak　seemed　to　say。　“Are　you　not　sick　of　that　ever…same；　stupid；　and　meaningless　cheat？　Always　the　same；　and　always　a　cheat！　There　is　no　spring；　nor　sunshine；　nor　happiness。　See　yonder　stand　the　cramped；　dead　fir…trees；　ever　the　same；　and　here　I　have　flung　my　torn　and　broken　fingers　wherever　they　have　grown　out　of　my　back　or　my　sides。　As　they　have　grown；　so　I　stand；　and　I　put　no　faith　in　your　hopes　and　deceptions。”
Prince　Andrey　looked　round　several　times　at　that　oak　as　though　he　expected　something　from　it。　There　were　flowers　and　grass　under　the　oak　too；　but　still　it　stood；　scowling；　rigid；　weird　and　grim；　among　them。
“Yes；　he’s　right；　a　thousand　times　right；　the　old　oak；”　thought　Prince　Andrey。　“Others；　young　creatures；　may　be　caught　anew　by　that　deception；　but　we　know　life—our　life　is　over！”　A　whole　fresh　train　of　ideas；　hopeless；　but　mournfully　sweet；　stirred　up　in　Prince　Andrey’s　soul　in　connection　with　that　oak。　During　this　journey　he　thought　over　his　whole　life　as　it　were　anew；　and　came　to　the　same　hopeless　but　calming　conclusion；　that　it　was　not　for　him　to　begin　anything　fresh；　that　he　must　live　his　life；　content　to　do　no　harm；　dreading　nothing　and　desiring　nothing。


Chapter　2
PRINCE　ANDREY’S　DUTIES　as　trustee　of　his　son’s　Ryazan　estates　necessitated　an　interview　with　the　marshal　of　the　district。　This　marshal　was　Count　Ilya　Andreivitch　Rostov；　and　in　the　middle　of　May　Prince　Andrey　went　to　see　him。
It　was　by　now　the　hot　period　of　spring。　The　forest　was　already　in　full　leaf。　It　was　dusty；　and　so　hot　that　at　the　sight　of　water　one　longed　to　bathe。
Prince　Andrey　drove　along　the　avenue　leading　to　the　Rostovs’　house　at　Otradnoe；　depressed　and　absorbed　in　considering　what　questions　he　must　ask　the　marshal　about　his　business。　Behind　some　trees　on　the　right　he　heard　merry　girlish　cries；　and　caught　sight　of　a　party　of　girls　running　across　the　avenue　along　which　his　coach　was　driving。　In　front　of　all　the　rest　there　ran　towards　the　coach　a　black…haired；　very　slender；　strangely　slender；　black…eyed　girl　in　a　yellow　cotton　gown。　On　her　head　was　a　white　pocket…handkerchief；　from　under　which　strayed　locks　of　her　loose　hair。　The　girl　was　shouting　something；　but　perceiving　a　stranger；　she　ran　back　laughing；　without　glancing　at　him。
Prince　Andrey　for　some　reason　felt　a　sudden　pang。　The　day　was　so　lovely；　the　sun　so　bright；　everything　around　him　so　gay；　and　that　slim　and　pretty　girl　knew　nothing　of　his　existence；　and　cared　to　know　nothing；　and　was　content　and　happy　in　her　own　life—foolish　doubtless—but　gay　and　happy　and　remote　from　him。　What　was　she　so　glad　about？　What　was　she　thinking　of？　Not　of　army　regulations；　not　of　the　organisation　of　the　Ryazan　rent…paying　peasants。　“What　is　she　thinking　about；　and　why　is　she　so　happy？”　Prince　Andrey　could　not　help　wondering　with　interest。
Count　Ilya　Andreivitch　was　living　in　the　year　1809　at　Otradnoe；　exactly　as　he　had　always　done　in　previous　years；　that　is　to　say；　entertaining　almost　the　whole　province　with　hunts；　theatricals；　dinner　parties　and　concerts。　He　was　delighted　to　see　Prince　Andrey；　as　he　always　was　to　see　any　new　guest；　and　quite　forced　him　to　stay　the　night。
Prince　Andrey　spent　a　tedious　day；　entertained　by　his　elderly　host　and　hostess　and　the　more　honoured　among　the　guests；　of　whom　the　count’s　house　was　full　in　honour　of　an　approaching　name…day。　Several　times　in　the　course　of　it；　Bolkonsky　glanced　at　Natasha；　continually　laughing　and　full　of　gaiety　among　the　younger　members　of　the　company；　and　asked　himself　each　time；　“What　is　she　thinking　of？　What　is　she　so　glad　about？”
In　the　evening；　alone　in　a　new　place；　he　was　for　a　long　while　unable　to　sleep。　He　read　for　a　time；　then　put　out　his　candle；　and　afterwards　lighted　it　again。　It　was　hot　in　the　bedroom　with　the　shutters　closed　on　the　inside。　He　felt　irritated　with　this　foolish　old　gentleman　（so　he　mentally　called　Count　Rostov）　who　had　detained　him；　declaring　that　the　necessary　deeds　had　not　yet　come　from　the　town；　and　he　was　vexed　with　himself　for　staying。
Prince　Andrey　got　up　and　went　to　the　window　to　open　it。　As　soon　as　he　opened　the　shutter；　the　moonlight　broke　into　the　room　as　though　it　had　been　waiting　a　long　while　outside　on　the　watch　for　this　chance。　He　opened　the　window。　The　night　was　fresh　and　bright　and　still。　Just　in　front　of　the　window　stood　a　row　of　pollard…trees；　black　on　one　side；　silvery　bright　on　the　other。　Under　the　trees　were　rank；　moist；　bushy；　growing　plants　of　some　kind；　with　leaves　and　stems　touched　here　and　there　with　silver。　Further　away；　beyond　the　black　trees；　was　the　roof　of　something　glistening　with　dew；　to　the　right　was　a　great；　leafy　tree；　with　its　trunk　and　branches　brilliantly　white；　and　above　it　the　moon；　almost　full；　in　a　clear；　almost　starless；　spring　sky。　Prince　Andrey　leaned　his　elbow　on　the　window；　and　his　eyes　rested　on　that　sky。
His　room　was　on　the　second　story；　there　were　people　in　the　room　over　his　head；　and　awake　too。　He　heard　girls’　chatter　overhead。
“Only　this　once　more；”　said　a　girlish　voice；　which　Prince　Andrey　recognised　at　once。
“But　when　are　you　coming　to　bed？”　answered　another　voice。
“I’m　not　coming！　I　can’t　sleep；　what’s　the　use？　Come；　for　the　last　time。…”
Two　feminine　voices　sang　a　musical　phrase；　the　finale　of　some　song。
“Oh；　it’s　exquisite！　Well；　now　go　to　sleep；　and　there’s　an　end　of　it。”
“You　go　to　sleep；　but　I　can’t；”　responded　the　first　voice；　coming　nearer　to　the　window。　She　was　evidently　leaning　right　out　of　the　window；　for　he　could　hear　the　rustle　of　her　garments　and　even　her　breathing。　All　was　hushed　and　stonily　still；　like　the　moon　and　its　lights　and　shadows。　Prince　Andrey　dared　not　stir　for　fear　of　betraying　his　unintentional　presence。
“Sonya！　Sonya！”　he　heard　the　first　voice　again。　“Oh；　how　can　you　sleep！　Do　look　how　exquisite！　Oh；　how　exquisite！　Do　wake　up；　Sonya！”　she　said；　almost　with　tears　in　her　voice。　“Do　you　know　such　an　exquisite　night　has　never；　never　been　before。”
Sonya　made　some　reluctant　reply。
“No；　do　look　what　a　moon！…Oh；　how　lovely　it　is！　Do　come　here。　Darling；　precious；　do　come　here。　There；　do　you　see？　One　has　only　to　squat　on　one’s　heels　like　this—see—and　to　hold　one’s　knees—as　tight；　as　tight　as　one　can—give　a　great　spring　and　one　would　fly　away。…　Like　this—see！”
“Mind；　you’ll　fall。”
He　heard　sounds　of　a　scuffle　and　Sonya’s　voice　in　a　tone　of　vexation：　“Why；　it’s　past　one　o’clock。”
“Oh；　you　only　spoil　it　all　for　me。　Well；　go　to　bed　then；　go　along。”
All　was　hushed　again；　but　Prince　Andrey　knew　she　was　still　sitting　there。　He　heard　at　times　a　soft　rustle；　and　at　times　a　sigh。
“O　my　God！　my　God！　what　does　it　mean？”　she　cried　suddenly。　“To　bed　then；　if　it　must　be　so！”　and　she　closed　the　window　with　a　slam。
“And　nothing　to　do　with　my　existence！”　thought　Prince　Andrey　while　he　had　been　listening　to　her　talk；　for　some　reason　hoping　and　dreading　she　might　say　something　about　him。　“And　she　again！　As　though　it　were　on　purpose！”　he　thought。　All　at　once　there　stirred　within　his　soul　such　a　wholly　unexpected　medley　of　youthful　hopes　and　ideas；　running　counter　to　the　whole　tenor　of　his　life；　that　he　made　haste　to　fall　asleep；　feeling　incapable　of　seeing　clearly　into　his　own　state　of　mind。


Chapter　3
NEXT　DAY　Prince　Andrey　t