战争与和平(上)-第111章

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engaged　in　hurried　preparations。
Many　had　been　the　discussions　and　the　preparations　for　that　ball　in　the　Rostov　family；　many　the　fears　that　an　invitation　might　not　arrive；　that　the　dresses　would　not　be　ready；　and　that　everything　would　not　be　arranged　as　it　ought　to　be。
The　Rostovs　were　to　be　accompanied　by　Marya　Ignatyevna　Peronsky；　a　friend　and　relation　of　the　countess；　a　thin　and　yellow　maid…of…honour　of　the　old　court；　who　was　acting　as　a　guide　to　the　provincial　Rostovs　in　the　higher　circles　of　Petersburg　society。
At　ten　o’clock　the　Rostovs　were　to　drive　to　Tavritchesky　Garden　to　call　for　the　maid…of…honour。　Meantime　it　was　five　minutes　to　ten；　and　the　young　ladies　were　not　yet　dressed。
Natasha　was　going　to　her　first　great　ball。　She　had　got　up　at　eight　o’clock　that　morning；　and　had　spent　the　whole　day　in　feverish　agitation　and　activity。　All　her　energies　had　since　morning　been　directed　to　the　one　aim　of　getting　herself；　her　mother；　and　Sonya　as　well　dressed　as　possible。　Sonya　and　her　mother　put　themselves　entirely　in　her　hands。　The　countess　was　to　wear　a　dark　red　velvet　dress；　the　two　girls　white　tulle　dresses　over　pink　silk　slips；　and　roses　on　their　bodices。　They　were　to　wear　their　hair　à　la　grecque。
All　the　essentials　were　ready。　Feet；　arms；　necks；　and　ears　had　been　washed；　scented；　and　powdered　with　peculiar　care　in　readiness　for　the　ball。　Openwork　silk　stockings　and　white　satin　shoes　with　ribbons　had　been　put　on。　The　hairdressing　was　almost　accomplished。　Sonya　was　finishing　dressing；　so　was　the　countess；　but　Natasha；　who　had　been　busily　looking　after　every　one；　was　behindhand。　She　was　still　sitting　before　the　looking…glass　with　a　peignoir　thrown　over　her　thin　shoulders。　Sonya；　already　dressed；　stood　in　the　middle　of　the　room；　and　was　trying　to　fasten　in　a　last　ribbon；　hurting　her　little　finger　as　she　pressed　the　pin　with　a　scrooping　sound　into　the　silk。
“Not　like　that；　Sonya；　not　like　that！”　said　Natasha；　turning　her　head；　and　clutching　her　hair　in　both　hands；　as　the　maid　arranging　it　was　not　quick　enough　in　letting　it　go。　“The　ribbon　mustn’t　go　like　that；　come　here。”　Sonya　squatted　down。　Natasha　pinned　the　ribbon　in　her　own　way。
“Really；　miss；　you　mustn’t　do　so；”　said　the　maid；　holding　Natasha’s　hair。
“Oh；　my　goodness！　Afterwards！　There；　that’s　right；　Sonya。”
“Will　you　soon　be　ready？”　they　heard　the　countess’s　voice。　“It　will　be　ten　in　a　minute。”
“Immediately；　immediately。…　And　are　you　ready；　mamma？”
“Only　my　cap　to　fasten　on。”
“Don’t　do　it　without　me；”　shouted　Natasha；　“you　don’t　know　how　to！”
“But　it’s　ten　o’clock　already。”
It　had　been　arranged　to　be　at　the　ball　at　half…past　ten；　and　Natasha　still　had　to　dress；　and　they　had　to　drive　to　Tavritchesky　Garden。
When　her　coiffure　was　finished；　Natasha；　in　her　mother’s　dressing…jacket　and　a　short　petticoat　under　which　her　dancing…shoes　could　be　seen；　ran　up　to　Sonya；　looked　her　over；　and　then　ran　to　her　mother。　Turning　her　head　round；　she　pinned　on　her　cap；　and　hurriedly　kissing　her　grey　hair；　ran　back　to　the　maids　who　were　shortening　her　skirt。
All　attention　was　now　centred　on　Natasha’s　skirt；　which　was　too　long。　Two　maids　were　running　it　up　round　the　edge；　hurriedly　biting　off　the　threads。　A　third　one；　with　pins　in　her　teeth　and　lips；　was　running　from　the　countess　to　Sonya；　a　fourth　was　holding　up　the　whole　tulle　dress　in　her　arms。
“Mavrushka；　quicker；　darling！”
“Give　me　that　thimble；　miss。”
“Will　you　be　quick？”　said　the　count　from　outside　the　door；　coming　in。　“Here　are　your　smelling…salts。　Madame　Peronsky　must　be　tired　of　waiting。”
“Ready；　miss；”　said　the　maid；　lifting　up　the　shortened　tulle　skirt　on　two　fingers；　blowing　something　off　it；　and　giving　it　a　shake　to　show　her　appreciation　of　the　transparency　and　purity　of　what　she　had　in　her　hands。
Natasha　began　putting　on　the　dress。
“In　a　minute；　in　a　minute；　don’t　come　in；　papa；”　she　shouted　to　her　father　at　the　door；　from　under　the　tulle　of　the　dress　that　concealed　all　her　face。　Sonya　slammed　the　door。　A　minute　later　the　count　was　admitted。　He　was　wearing　a　blue　frock　coat；　stockings；　and　dancing…shoes；　and　was　perfumed　and　pomaded。
“Ah；　papa；　how　nice　you　look；　lovely！”　said　Natasha；　standing　in　the　middle　of　the　room；　stroking　out　the　folds　of　her　tulle。
“If　you　please；　miss；　if　you　please…”　said　a　maid；　pulling　up　the　skirt　and　turning　the　pins　from　one　corner　of　her　mouth　to　the　other　with　her　tongue。
“Say　what　you　like！”　cried　Sonya；　with　despair　in　her　voice；　as　she　gazed　at　Natasha’s　skirt；　“say　what　you　like！—it’s　too　long　still！”
Natasha　walked　a　little　further　off　to　look　at　herself　in　the　pierglass。　The　skirt　was　too　long。
“My　goodness；　madam；　it’s　not　a　bit　too　long；”　said　Mavrushka；　creeping　along　the　floor　on　her　knees　after　her　young　lady。
“Well；　if　it’s　long；　we’ll　tack　it　up；　in　one　minute；　we’ll　tack　it　up；”　said　Dunyasha；　a　resolute　character。　And　taking　a　needle　out　of　the　kerchief　on　her　bosom　she　set　to　work　again　on　the　floor。
At　that　moment　the　countess　in　her　cap　and　velvet　gown　walked　shyly　with　soft　steps　into　the　room。
“Oo…oo！　my　beauty！”　cried　the　count。　“She　looks　nicer　than　any　of　you！”…He　would　have　embraced　her；　but；　flushing；　she　drew　back　to　avoid　being　crumpled。
“Mamma；　the　cap　should　be　more　on　one　side；”　said　Natasha。　“I’ll　pin　it　fresh；”　and　she　darted　forward。　The　maids　turning　up　her　skirt；　not　prepared　for　her　hasty　movement；　tore　off　a　piece　of　the　tulle。
“Oh；　mercy！　What　was　that？　Really　it’s　not　my　fault…”
“It’s　all　right；　I’ll　run　it　up；　it　won’t　show；”　said　Dunyasha。
“My　beauty；　my　queen！”　said　the　old　nurse　coming　in　at　the　doorway。　“And　Sonyushka；　too；　ah；　the　beauties！…”
At　a　quarter　past　ten　they　were　at　last　seated　in　their　carriage　and　driving　off。　But　they　still　had　to　drive　to　Tavritchesky　Garden
Madame　Peronsky　was　ready　and　waiting。　In　spite　of　her　age　and　ugliness；　just　the　same　process　had　been　going　on　with　her　as　with　the　Rostovs；　not　with　flurry；　for　with　her　it　was　a　matter　of　routine。　Her　elderly　and　unprepossessing　person　had　been　also　washed　and　scented　and　powdered；　she　had　washed　as　carefully　behind　her　ears；　and　like　the　Rostovs’　nurse；　her　old　maid　had　enthusiastically　admired　her　mistress’s　attire；　when　she　came　into　the　drawing…room　in　her　yellow　gown　adorned　with　her　badge　of　a　maid…of…honour。　Madame　Peronsky　praised　the　Rostovs’　costumes；　and　they　praised　her　attire　and　her　taste。　Then；　careful　of　their　coiffures　and　their　dresses；　at　eleven　o’clock　they　settled　themselves　in　the　carriages　and　drove　off。


Chapter　15
NATASHA　had　not　had　a　free　moment　all　that　day；　and　had　not　once　had　time　to　think　of　what　lay　before　her。
In　the　damp；　chill　air；　in　the　closeness　and　half　dark　of　the　swaying　carriage；　she　pictured　to　herself　for　the　first　time　what　was　in　store　for　her　there；　at　the　ball；　in　the　brightly　lighted　halls—music；　flowers；　dancing；　the　Tsar；　all　the　brilliant　young　people　of　Petersburg。　The　prospect　before　her　was　so　splendid　that　she　could　not　even　believe　that　it　would　come　to　pass：　so　incongruous　it　seemed　with　the　chilliness；　darkness；　and　closeness　of　the　carriage。　She　could　only　grasp　all　that　awaited　her　when；　walking　over　the　red　cloth；　she　went　into　the　vestibule；　took　off　her　cloak；　and　walked　beside　Sonya　in　front　of　her　mother　between　the　flowers　up　the　lighted　staircase。　Only　then　she　remembered　how　she　must　behave　at　a　ball；　and　tried　to　assume　the　majestic　manner　that　she　considered　indispensable　for　a　girl　at　a　ball。　But　luckily　she　felt　that　there　was　a　mist　before　her　eyes；　she　could　see　nothing　clearly；　her　pulse　beat　a　hundred　times　a　minute；　and　the　blood　throbbed　at　her　heart。　She　was　unable　to　assume　the　manner　that　would　have　made　her　absurd；　and　moved　on；　thrilling　with　excitement；　and　trying　with　all　her　might　simply　to　conceal　it。　And　it　was　just　in　this　mood　that　she　looked　her　best。　In　front　and　behind　them　walked　guests　dressed　in　similar　ball…dresses　and　conversing　in　similarly　subdued　tones。　The　looking…glasses　on　the　stair…cases　reflected　ladies　in　white；　blue；　and　pink　dresses；　with　diamonds　and　pearls　on　their　bare　arms　and　necks。
Natasha　looked　into　the　looking…glasses　and　could　not　distinguish　herself　from　the　rest。　All　was　mingled　into　one　brilliant　procession。　At　the　entrance　into　the　first　room；　the　regular　hum　of　voices；　footsteps；　greetings；　deafened　Natasha；　the　light　and　brilliance　dazzled　her　still　more。　The　host　and　hostess　who　had　been　already　standing　at　the　door　for　half　an　hour；　saying　exactly　the　same　words　to　every　guest　on　arrival；　Charmé　de　vous　voir；　gave　the　same　greeting　to　the　Rostovs　and　Madame　Peronsky。　The　two　young　girls　in　their　white　dresses；　with　roses　alike　in　their　black　hair；　made　curtsies　just　alike；　but　unconsciously　the　hostess’s　eyes　rested　longer　on　the　slender　figure　of　Natasha。　She　looked　at　her；　and　smiled　at　her　a　smile　that　was　something　more　than　the　smile　of　welcome　she　had　for　all。　Looking　at　her；　the　hostess　was　reminded　perhaps　of　her　golden　days　of　girlhood；　gone　never　to　return；　of　her　own　first　ball。　The　host　too　followed　Natasha　with　his　eyes；　and　asked　the　count　which　of　the　girls　was　his　daughter。
“Charming！”　he　said；　kissing　his　own　finger…tips。
In　the　ballroom；　guests　stood　crowding　about　the　entry　in　expectation　of　the　Tsar。　The　countess　took　up　her　position　in　the　front　row　of　this　crowd。　Natasha　heard　and　felt　that　several　voices　were　asking　who　she　was；　that　many　pairs　of　eyes　were　fixed　on　her。　She　knew　that　she　was　making　a　good　impression　on　those　who　noticed　her；　and　this　observation　calmed　her　somewhat。
“There　are　some　like　ourselves；　and　some　not　as　good；”　she　thought。
Madame　Peronsky　was　pointing　out　to　the　countess　the　most　distinguished　persons　at　the　ball。
“That　is　the　Dutch　ambassador；　do　you　see；　the　grey…haired　man；”　Madame　Peronsky　was　saying；　indicating　an　old　man　with　a　profusion　of　silver…grey　curls；　who　was　surrounded　by　ladies　laughing　at　some　story　he　was　telling。　“And　here　she　comes；　the　queen　of　Petersburg　society；　Countess　Bezuhov；”　she　said；　pointing　to　Ellen　who　had　just　come　in。
“How　lovely！　She’s　quite　equal　to　Marya　Antonovna。　Look　how　attentive　all　the　men　are　to　her；　young　and　old　alike。　She’s　both　lovely　and　clever。…　They　say　Prince　So…and…So　is　wild　about　her。　And　you　see　these　two；　though　they　are　not　good…looking；　they　are　even　more　run　after。”
She　pointed　out　a　lady　who　was　crossing　the　room　accompanied　by　a　very　ugly　daughter。
“That’s　the　heiress　of　a　million；”　said　Madame　Peronsky。　“And；　look；　here　come　her　suitors。…That’s　Countess　Bezuhov’s　brother；　Anatole　Kuragin；”　she　said；　pointing　to　a　handsome　officer　in　the　Horse　Guards；　who　passed　by　them　looking　from　the　height　of　his　lifted　head　over　the　ladies　to　something　beyond　them。　“He　is　handsome；　isn’t　he？　They　say　he　is　to　be　married　to　that　heiress。　And　your　cousin；　Drubetskoy；　is　very　attentive　to　her　too。　They　say　she　has　millions。　Oh；　that’s　the　French　ambassador　himself；”　she　said　in　answer　to　the　countess’s　inquiry　as　to　the　identity　of　Caulaincourt。　“Just　look；　he’s　like　some　monarch。　But　yet　they’re　nice；　the　French　are　very　nice。　No　people　more　charming　in　society。　Ah；　here　she　is！　Yes；　still　l