战争与和平(上)-第127章

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able　investment。
The　count　went　into　his　affairs　as　though　walking　into　a　huge　net；　trying　not　to　believe　that　he　was　entangled；　and　at　every　step　getting　more　and　more　entangled；　and　feeling　too　feeble　either　to　tear　the　nets　that　held　him　fast；　or　with　care　and　patience　to　set　about　disentangling　them。　The　countess　with　her　loving　heart　felt　that　her　children　were　being　ruined；　that　the　count　was　not　to　blame；　that　he　could　not　help　being　what　he　was；　that　he　was　distressed　himself　（though　he　tried　to　conceal　it）　at　the　consciousness　of　his　own　and　his　children’s　ruin；　and　was　seeking　means　to　improve　their　position。　To　her　feminine　mind　only　one　way　of　doing　so　occurred—that　was；　to　marry　Nikolay　to　a　wealthy　heiress。　She　felt　that　this　was　their　last　hope；　and　that　if　Nikolay　were　to　refuse　the　match　she　had　found　for　him　she　must　bid　farewell　for　ever　to　all　chance　of　improving　their　position。　This　match　was　Julie　Karagin；　the　daughter　of　excellent　and　virtuous　parents；　known　to　the　Rostovs　from　childhood；　and　now　left　a　wealthy　heiress　by　the　death　of　her　last　surviving　brother。
The　countess　wrote　directly　to　Madame　Karagin　in　Moscow；　suggesting　to　her　the　marriage　of　her　daughter　to　her　own　son；　and　received　a　favourable　reply　from　her。　Madame　Karagin　replied　that　she　was　quite　ready　for　her　part　to　consent　to　the　match；　but　everything　must　depend　on　her　daughter’s　inclinations。　Madame　Karagin　invited　Nikolay　to　come　to　Moscow。　Several　times　the　countess；　with　tears　in　her　eyes；　had　told　her　son　that　now　that　both　her　daughters　were　settled；　her　only　wish　was　to　see　him　married。　She　said　that　she　could　rest　quietly　in　her　grave　if　this　were　settled。　Then　she　would　say　that　she　had　an　excellent　girl　in　her　eye；　and　would　try　and　get　from　him　his　views　on　matrimony。
On　other　occasions　she　praised　Julie　and　advised　Nikolay　to　go　to　Moscow　for　the　holidays　to　amuse　himself　a　little。　Nikolay　guessed　what　his　mother’s　hints　were　aiming　at；　and　on　one　such　occasion　he　forced　her　to　complete　frankness。　She　told　him　plainly　that　all　hope　of　improving　their　position　rested　now　on　his　marrying　Julie　Karagin。
“What；　if　I　loved　a　girl　with　no　fortune　would　you　really　desire　me；　mamma；　to　sacrifice　my　feeling　and　my　honour　for　the　sake　of　money？”　he　asked　his　mother；　with　no　notion　of　the　cruelty　of　his　question；　but　simply　wishing　to　show　his　noble　sentiments。
“No；　you　misunderstand　me；”　said　his　mother；　not　knowing　how　to　retrieve　her　mistake。　“You　misunderstand　me；　Nikolenka。　It　is　your　happiness　I　wish　for；”　she　added；　and　she　felt　she　was　speaking　falsely；　that　she　was　blundering。　She　burst　into　tears。
“Mamma；　don’t　cry；　and　only　tell　me　that　you　wish　it；　and　you　know　that　I　would　give　my　whole　life；　everything　for　your　peace　of　mind；”　said　Nikolay；　“I　will　sacrifice　everything　for　you；　even　my　feelings。”
But　the　countess　did　not　want　the　question　put　like　that；　she　did　not　want　to　receive　sacrifices　from　her　son；　she　would　have　liked　to　sacrifice　herself　to　him。
“No；　you　don’t　understand　me；　don’t　let　us　talk　of　it；”　she　said；　wiping　away　her　tears。
“Yes；　perhaps　I　really　do　love　a　poor　girl；”　Nikolay　said　to　himself；　“what；　am　I　to　sacrifice　my　feeling　and　my　honour　for　fortune？　I　wonder　how　mamma　could　say　such　a　thing。　Because　Sonya　is　poor　I　must　not　love　her；”　he　thought；　“I　must　not　respond　to　her　faithful；　devoted　love。　And　it　is　certain　I　should　be　happier　with　her　than　with　any　doll　of　a　Julie。　To　sacrifice　my　feelings　for　the　welfare　of　my　family　I　can　always　do；”　he　said　to　himself；　“but　I　can’t　control　my　feelings。　If　I　love　Sonya；　that　feeling　is　more　than　anything　and　above　anything　for　me。”
Nikolay　did　not　go　to　Moscow；　the　countess　did　not　renew　her　conversations　with　him　about　matrimony；　and　with　grief；　and　sometimes　with　exasperation；　saw　symptoms　of　a　growing　attachment　between　her　son　and　the　portionless　Sonya。　She　blamed　herself　for　it；　yet　could　not　refrain　from　scolding　and　upbraiding　Sonya；　often　reproving　her　without　cause　and　addressing　her　as　“my　good　girl。”　What　irritated　the　kind…hearted　countess　more　than　anything　was　that　this　poor；　dark…eyed　niece　was　so　meek；　so　good；　so　devoutly　grateful　to　her　benefactors；　and　so　truly；　so　constantly；　and　so　unselfishly　in　love　with　Nikolay　that　it　was　impossible　to　find　any　fault　with　her。
Nikolay　went　on　spending　his　term　of　leave　with　his　parents。　From　Prince　Andrey　a　fourth　letter　had　been　received　from　Rome。　In　it　he　wrote　that　he　would　long　ago　have　been　on　his　way　back　to　Russia；　but　that　in　the　warm　climate　his　wound　had　suddenly　re…opened；　which　would　compel　him　to　defer　his　return　till　the　beginning　of　the　new　year。　Natasha　was　as　much　in　love　with　her　betrothed；　as　untroubled　in　her　love；　and　as　ready　to　throw　herself　into　all　the　pleasures　of　life　as　ever。　But　towards　the　end　of　the　fourth　month　of　their　separation　she　began　to　suffer　from　fits　of　depression；　against　which　she　was　unable　to　contend。　She　felt　sorry　for　herself；　sorry　that　all　this　time　should　be　wasted　and　be　of　no　use　to　any　one；　while　she　felt　such　capacity　for　loving　and　being　loved。
Life　was　not　gay　in　the　Rostovs’　household。


Chapter　9
CHRISTMAS　came　and　except　for　the　High　Mass；　the　solemn　and　wearisome　congratulations　to　neighbours　and　house…serfs；　and　the　new　gowns　donned　by　every　one；　nothing　special　happened　to　mark　the　holidays；　though　the　still　weather　with　twenty　degrees　of　frost；　the　dazzling　sunshine　by　day　and　the　bright；　starlit　sky　at　night　seemed　to　call　for　some　special　celebration　of　the　season。
On　the　third　day　of　Christmas　week；　after　dinner；　all　the　members　of　the　household　had　separated　and　gone　to　their　respective　rooms。　It　was　the　dullest　time　of　the　day。　Nikolay；　who　had　been　calling　on　neighbours　in　the　morning；　was　asleep　in　the　divan…room。　The　old　count　was　resting　in　his　own　room。　In　the　drawing…room　Sonya　was　sitting　at　a　round　table　copying　a　design　for　embroidery。　The　countess　was　playing　patience。　Nastasya　Ivanovna；　the　buffoon；　with　a　dejected　countenance；　was　sitting　in　the　window　with　two　old　ladies。　Natasha　came　into　the　room；　went　up　to　Sonya；　looked　at　what　she　was　doing；　then　went　up　to　her　mother　and　stood　there　mutely。
“Why　are　you　wandering　about　like　an　unquiet　spirit？”　said　her　mother。　“What　do　you　want？”
“I　want　him…I　want　him　at　once；　this　minute；”　said　Natasha；　with　a　gleam　in　her　eyes　and　no　smile　on　her　lips。　The　countess　raised　her　head　and　looked　intently　at　her　daughter。
“Don’t　look　at　me；　mamma；　don’t　look　at　me　like　that；　I　shall　cry　in　a　minute。”
“Sit　down；　come　and　sit　by　me；”　said　the　countess。
“Mamma；　I　want　him。　Why　should　I　be　wasting　time　like　this；　Mamma？”…Her　voice　broke；　tears　gushed　into　her　eyes；　and　to　hide　them；　she　turned　quickly　and　went　out　of　the　room。　She　went　into　the　divan…room；　stood　there；　thought　a　moment　and　went　to　the　maids’　room。　There　an　old　maid…servant　was　scolding　a　young　girl　who　had　run　in　breathless　from　the　cold　outside。
“Give　over　playing；”　said　the　old　woman；　“there　is　a　time　for　everything。”
“Let　her　off；　Kondratyevna；”　said　Natasha。　“Run　along；　Mavrusha；　run　along。”
And　after　releasing　Mavrusha；　Natasha　crossed　the　big　hall　and　went　to　the　vestibule。　An　old　footman　and　two　young　ones　were　playing　cards。　They　broke　off　and　rose　at　the　entrance　of　their　young　mistress。　“What　am　I　to　do　with　them？”　Natasha　wondered。
“Yes；　Nikita；　go　out；　please…Where　am　I　to　send　him？…Yes；　go　to　the　yard　and　bring　me　a　cock；　please；　and　you；　Misha；　bring　me　some　oats。”
“Just　a　few　oats；　if　you　please？”　said　Misha；　with　cheerful　readiness。
“Run　along；　make　haste；”　the　old　man　urged　him。
“Fyodor；　you　get　me　some　chalk。”
As　she　passed　the　buffet　she　ordered　the　samovar；　though　it　was　not　the　right　time　for　it。
The　buffet…waiter；　Foka；　was　the　most　ill…tempered　person　in　the　house。　Natasha　liked　to　try　her　power　over　him。　He　did　not　believe　in　her　order；　and　went　to　inquire　if　it　were　really　wanted。
“Ah；　you’re　a　nice　young　lady！”　said　Foka；　pretending　to　frown　at　Natasha。
No　one　in　the　house　sent　people　on　errands　and　gave　the　servants　so　much　work　as　Natasha。　She　could　not　see　people　without　wanting　to　send　them　for　something。　She　seemed　to　be　trying　to　see　whether　one　of　them　would　not　be　cross　or　sulky　with　her；　but　no　one’s　orders　were　so　readily　obeyed　by　the　servants　as　Natasha’s。　“What　am　I　to　do？　Where　am　I　to　go？”　Natasha　wondered；　strolling　slowly　along　the　corridor。
“Nastasya　Ivanovna；　what　will　my　children　be？”　she　asked　the　buffoon；　who　came　towards　her　in　his　woman’s　jacket。
“Fleas；　and　dragon…flies；　and　grasshoppers；”　answered　the　buffoon。
“My　God！　my　God！　always　the　same。　Oh；　where　am　I　to　go？　What　am　I　to　do　with　myself？”　And　she　ran　rapidly　upstairs；　tapping　with　her　shoes；　to　see　Vogel　and　his　wife；　who　had　rooms　on　the　top　floor。　The　two　governesses　were　sitting　with　the　Vogels　and　on　the　table　were　plates　of　raisins；　walnuts；　and　almonds。　The　governesses　were　discussing　the　question　which　was　the　cheaper　town　to　live　in；　Moscow　or　Odessa。　Natasha　sat　down；　listened　to　their　talk　with　a　serious　and　dreamy　face；　and　got　up。　“The　island　Madagascar；”　she　said。　“Mada…ga…scar；”　she　repeated；　articulating　each　syllable　distinctly；　and　making　no　reply　to　Madame　Schoss’s　inquiry　into　her　meaning；　she　went　out　of　the　room。
Petya；　her　brother；　was　upstairs　too。　He　was　engaged　with　his　tutor　making　fireworks　to　let　off　that　night。
“Petya！　Petya！”　she　shouted　to　him；　“carry　me　downstairs。”　Petya　ran　to　her　and　offered　her　his　back；　and　he　pranced　along　with　her。　“No；　enough。　The　island　Madagascar；”　she　repeated；　and　jumping　off　his　back　she　went　downstairs。
Having　as　it　were　reviewed　her　kingdom；　tried　her　power；　and　made　sure　that　all　were　submissive；　but　yet　that　she　was　dull；　Natasha　went　into　the　big　hall；　took　up　the　guitar；　and　sat　down　with　it　in　a　dark　corner　behind　a　bookcase。　She　began　fingering　the　strings　in　the　bass；　picking　out　a　phrase　she　recalled　from　an　opera　she　had　heard　in　Petersburg　with　Prince　Andrey。　For　other　listeners　the　sounds　that　came　from　her　guitar　would　have　had　no　sort　of　meaning；　but　these　sounds　called　up　in　her　imagination　a　whole　series　of　reminiscences。　She　sat　behind　the　bookcase　with　her　eyes　fixed　on　a　streak　of　light　that　fell　from　the　crack　in　the　pantry　door；　and　listened　to　herself　and　recalled　the　past。　She　was　in　the　mood　for　brooding　over　memories。
Sonya　crossed　the　hall；　and　went　into　the　pantry　with　a　glass　in　her　hand。　Natasha　glanced　at　her　through　the　crack　in　the　pantry　door；　and　it　seemed　to　her　that　she　remembered　the　light　falling　through　the　crack　in　the　pantry　door；　and　Sonya　passing　with　the　glass　in　just　the　same　way。　“Yes；　and　it　was　exactly　the　same　in　every　detail；”　thought　Natasha。
“Sonya；　what　is　this？”　called　Natasha；　twanging　the　thick　cord　with　her　fingers。
“Oh；　are　you　there？”　said　Sonya　starting；　and　she　came　up　and　listened。　“I　don’t　know。　A　storm？”　she　said　timidly；　afraid　of　being　wrong。
“Why；　she　started　in　just　the　same　way；　and　came　up　and　smiled　the　same　timid　smile　when　it　all　happened　before；”　thought　Natasha；　“and　just　in　the　same　way；　too。…I　thought　there　was　something　wanting　in　her。”
“No