战争与和平(上)-第133章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


de　a　stately　and　agreeable　spectacle。　But　those　visitors　did　not　reflect　that；　apart　from　the　couple　of　hours　during　which　they　saw　the　household；　there　were　twenty…two　hours　of　the　day　and　night　during　which　the　secret；　private　life　of　the　house　went　on　its　accustomed　way。
That　inner　life　had　become　very　hard　for　Princess　Marya　of　late　in　Moscow。　She　was　deprived　in　Moscow　of　her　two　greatest　pleasures—talks　with　God’s　folk　and　the　solitude　which　had　refreshed　her　spirit　at　Bleak　Hills；　and　she　had　none　of　the　advantages　and　pleasures　of　town　life。　She　did　not　go　into　society；　every　one　knew　that　her　father　would　not　allow　her　to　go　anywhere　without　him；　and　owing　to　his　failing　health　he　could　go　nowhere　himself。　She　was　not　even　invited　now　to　dinner…parties　or　balls。　Princess　Marya　had　laid　aside　all　hopes　of　marriage。　She　saw　the　coldness　and　hostility　with　which　the　old　prince　received　and　dismissed　the　young　men；　possible　suitors；　who　sometimes　appeared　at　the　house。　Friends；　Princess　Marya　now　had　none；　during　this　stay　in　Moscow　she　had　lost　all　faith　in　the　two　friends　who　had　been　nearest　to　her。　Mademoiselle　Bourienne；　with　whom　she　had　never　been　able　to　be　perfectly　open；　she　now　regarded　with　dislike；　and　for　certain　reasons　kept　at　a　distance。　Julie；　with　whom　Princess　Marya　had　kept　up　an　unbroken　correspondence　for　five　years；　was　in　Moscow。　When　Princess　Marya　renewed　her　personal　relations　with　her；　she　felt　her　former　friend　to　be　utterly　alien　to　her。　Julie；　who　had　become；　by　the　death　of　her　brothers；　one　of　the　wealthiest　heiresses　in　Moscow；　was　at　that　time　engrossed　in　a　giddy　whirl　of　fashionable　amusements。　She　was　surrounded　by　young　men；　whom　she　believed　to　have　become　suddenly　appreciative　of　her　qualities。　Julie　was　at　that　stage　when　a　young　lady　is　somewhat　past　her　first　youth　in　society　and　feels　that　her　last　chance　of　marrying　has　come；　and　that　now　or　never　her　fate　must　be　decided。　With　a　mournful　smile　Princess　Marya　reflected　every　Thursday　that　she　had　now　no　one　to　write　to；　seeing　that　Julie　was　here　and　saw　her　every　week；　though　her　friend’s　actual　presence　gave　her　no　sort　of　pleasure。　Like　the　old　French　émigré；　who　declined　to　marry　the　lady　with　whom　he　had　for　so　many　years　spent　his　evenings；　she　regretted　that　Julie　was　here　and　she　had　no　one　to　write　to。　In　Moscow　Princess　Marya　had　no　one　to　speak　to；　no　one　to　confide　her　sorrows　to；　and　many　fresh　sorrows　fell　to　her　lot　about　this　time。　The　time　for　Prince　Andrey’s　return　and　marriage　was　approaching；　and　his　commission　to　her　to　prepare　her　father’s　mind　was　so　far　from　being　successfully　carried　out　that　the　whole　thing　seemed　hopeless；　and　any　reference　to　the　young　Countess　Rostov　infuriated　the　old　prince；　who　was　for　the　most　part　out　of　humour　at　all　times　now。　Another　trouble　that　weighed　on　Princess　Marya　of　late　was　due　to　the　lessons　she　gave　to　her　six…year…old　nephew。　In　her　relations　with　little　Nikolay　she　recognised　to　her　consternation　symptoms　of　her　father’s　irritable　character　in　herself。　However　often　she　told　herself　that　she　must　not　let　herself　lose　her　temper；　when　teaching　her　nephew；　almost　every　time　she　sat　down　with　a　pointer　showing　him　the　French　alphabet；　she　so　longed　to　hasten；　to　make　easy　the　process　of　transferring　her　knowledge　to　the　child；　who　was　by　now　always　afraid　his　auntie　would　be　angry　the　next　moment；　that　at　the　slightest　inattention　she　was　quivering　in　nervous　haste　and　vexation；　she　raised　her　voice　and　sometimes　pulled　him　by　his　little　hand　and　stood　him　in　the　corner。　When　she　had　stood　him　in　the　corner　she　would　begin　to　cry　herself　over　her　evil；　wicked　nature；　and　little　Nikolay；　his　sobs　vying　with　hers；　would　come　unbidden　out　of　the　corner　to　pull　her　wet　hands　from　her　face　and　try　to　comfort　her。　But　the　greatest；　far　the　greatest　of　the　princess’s　burdens　was　her　father’s　irascibility；　which　was　invariably　directed　against　his　daughter；　and　had　of　late　reached　the　point　of　cruelty。　Had　he　forced　her　to　spend　the　night　bowing　to　the　ground；　had　he　beaten　her；　or　made　her　carry　in　wood　and　water；　it　would　never　have　entered　her　head　that　her　position　was　a　hard　one。　But　this　loving　despot—most　cruel　of　all　because　he　loved；　and　for　that　very　reason　tortured　himself　and　her—knew　not　only　how　to　mortify　and　humiliate　her；　but　of　set　purpose；　to　prove　to　her　that　she　was　always　to　blame　in　everything。　Of　late　he　had　taken　a　new　departure；　which　caused　Princess　Marya　more　misery　than　anything—that　was　his　closer　and　closer　intimacy　with　Mademoiselle　Bourienne。　The　idea；　that　had　occurred　to　him　in　jest　at　the　first　moment　of　receiving　the　news　of　his　son’s　intentions；　that　if　Andrey　got　married　he；　too；　would　marry　Mademoiselle　Bourienne；　obviously　pleased　him；　and　he　had　of　late—　simply；　as　Princess　Marya　fancied；　to　annoy　her—persisted　in　being　particularly　gracious　to　Mademoiselle　Bourienne　and　manifesting　his　dissatisfaction　with　his　daughter　by　demonstrations　of　love　for　the　Frenchwoman。
One　day　in　Princess　Marya’s　presence　（it　seemed　to　her　that　her　father　did　it　on　purpose　because　she　was　there）　the　old　prince　kissed　Mademoiselle　Bourienne’s　hand；　and　drawing　her　to　him　embraced　her　affectionately。　Princess　Marya　flushed　hotly　and　ran　out　of　the　room。　A　few　minutes　later；　Mademoiselle　Bourienne　went　into　Princess　Marya’s　room；　smiling　and　making　some　cheerful　remarks　in　her　agreeable　voice。　Princess　Marya　hastily　wiped　away　her　tears；　with　resolute　steps　went　up　to　the　Frenchwoman；　and　obviously　unconscious　of　what　she　was　doing；　with　wrathful　haste　and　breaks　in　her　voice　she　began　screaming　at　her：
“It’s　loathsome；　vile；　inhuman　to　take　advantage　of　feebleness…”　She　could　not　go　on。　“Go　out　of　my　room；”　she　cried；　and　broke　into　sobs。
The　next　day　the　old　prince　did　not　say　a　word　to　his　daughter；　but　she　noticed　that　at　dinner　he　gave　orders　for　the　dishes　to　be　handed　to　Mademoiselle　Bourienne　first。　When　towards　the　end　of　dinner；　the　footman　from　habit　handed　the　coffee；　beginning　with　the　princess；　the　old　prince　flew　into　a　sudden　frenzy　of　rage；　flung　his　cane　at　Filipp；　and　immediately　gave　orders　for　him　to　be　sent　for　a　soldier。
“He　won’t　obey…twice　I　told　him！…and　he　didn’t　obey。　She’s　the　first　person　in　this　house；　she’s　my　best　friend；”　screamed　the　old　prince。　And　if　you　allow　yourself；”　he　shouted　in　a　fury；　for　the　first　time　addressing　Princess　Marya；　“ever　again；　as　you　dared　yesterday　…　to　forget　yourself　in　her　presence；　I’ll　show　you　who　is　master　in　this　house。　Away！　don’t　let　me　set　eyes　on　you！　Beg　her　pardon！”
Princess　Marya　begged　Amalia　Yevgenyevna’s　pardon　and　also　her　father’s；　both　for　herself　and　the　footman　Filipp；　who　implored　her　intervention。
At　such　moments　the　feeling　that　prevailed　in　Princess　Marya’s　soul　was　akin　to　the　pride　of　sacrifice。　And　all　of　a　sudden　at　such　moments；　that　father　whom　she　was　judging　would　look　for　his　spectacles；　fumbling　by　them　and　not　seeing　them；　or　would　forget　what　had　just　happened；　or　would　take　a　tottering　step　with　his　weak　legs；　and　look　round　to　see　whether　any　one　had　noticed　his　feebleness；　or　what　was　worst　of　all；　at　dinner　when　there　were　no　guests　to　excite　him；　he　would　suddenly　fall　asleep；　letting　his　napkin　drop　and　his　shaking　head　sink　over　his　plate。　“He　is　old　and　feeble；　and　I　dare　to　judge　him！”　she　thought；　revolted　by　herself。


Chapter　3
IN　THE　YEAR　1811　there　was　living　in　Moscow　a　French　doctor　called　Metivier；　who　was　rapidly　coming　into　fashion。　He　was　a　very　tall；　handsome　man；　polite　as　only　a　Frenchman　is；　and　was　said　by　every　one　in　Moscow　to　be　an　extraordinarily　clever　doctor。　He　was　received　in　the　very　best　houses；　not　merely　as　a　doctor；　but　as　an　equal。
Prince　Nikolay　Andreitch　had　always　ridiculed　medicine；　but　of　late　he　had　by　Mademoiselle　Bourienne’s　advice　allowed　this　doctor　to　see　him；　and　had　become　accustomed　to　his　visits。　Metivier　used　to　see　the　old　prince　twice　a　week。
On　St。　Nikolay’s　day；　the　name…day　of　the　old　prince；　all　Moscow　was　driving　up　to　the　approach　of　his　house；　but　he　gave　orders　for　no　one　to　be　admitted　to　see　him。　Only　a　few　guests；　of　whom　he　gave　a　list　to　Princess　Marya；　were　to　be　invited　to　dinner。
Metivier；　who　arrived　in　the　morning　with　his　felicitations；　thought　himself　as　the　old　prince’s　doctor　entitled　to　forcer　la　consigne；　as　he　told　Princess　Marya；　and　went　in　to　the　prince。　It　so　happened　that　on　that　morning　of　his　name…day　the　old　prince　was　in　one　of　his　very　worst　tempers。　He　had　spent　the　whole　morning　wandering　about　the　house；　finding　fault　with　every　one；　and　affecting　not　to　understand　what　was　said　to　him　and　to　be　misunderstood　by　everybody。　Princess　Marya　knew　that　mood　well　from　subdued　and　fretful　grumbling；　which　usually　found　vent　in　a　violent　outburst　of　fury；　and　as　though　facing　a　cocked　and　loaded　gun；　she　went　all　the　morning　in　expectation　of　an　explosion。　The　morning　passed　off　fairly　well；　till　the　doctor’s　arrival。　After　admitting　the　doctor；　Princess　Marya　sat　down　with　a　book　in　the　drawing…room　near　the　door；　where　she　could　hear　all　that　passed　in　the　prince’s　study。
At　first　she　heard　Metivier’s　voice　alone；　then　her　father’s　voice；　then　both　voices　began　talking　at　once。　The　door　flew　open；　and　in　the　doorway　she　saw　the　handsome；　terrified　figure　of　Metivier　with　his　shock　of　black　hair；　and　the　old　prince　in　a　skull…cap　and　dressing…gown；　his　face　hideous　with　rage　and　his　eyes　lowered。
“You　don’t　understand；”　screamed　the　old　prince；　“but　I　do！　French　spy；　slave　of　Bonaparte；　spy；　out　of　my　house—away；　I　tell　you！”　And　he　slammed　the　door。　Metivier；　shrugging　his　shoulders；　went　up　to　Mademoiselle　Bourienne；　who　ran　out　of　the　next　room　at　the　noise。
“The　prince　is　not　quite　well；　bile　and　rush　of　blood　to　the　head。　Calm　yourself；　I　will　look　in　to…morrow；”　said　Metivier；　and　putting　his　fingers　to　his　lips　he　hurried　off。
Through　the　door　could　be　heard　steps　shuffling　in　slippers　and　shouts：　“Spies；　traitors；　traitors　everywhere！　Not　a　minute　of　peace　in　my　own　house！”
After　Metivier’s　departure　the　old　prince　sent　for　his　daughter；　and　the　whole　fury　of　his　passion　spent　itself　on　her。　She　was　to　blame　for　the　spy’s　having　been　admitted　to　see　him。　Had　not　he　told　her；　told　her　to　make　a　list；　and　that　those　not　on　the　list　were　on　no　account　to　be　admitted？　Why　then　had　that　scoundrel　been　shown　up？　She　was　to　blame　for　everything。　With　her　he　could　not　have　a　minute　of　peace；　could　not　die　in　peace；　he　told　her。
“No；　madame；　we　must　part；　we　must　part；　I　tell　you！　I　can　put　up　with　no　more；”　he　said；　and　went　out　of　the　room。　And　as　though　afraid　she　might　find　some　comfort；　he　turned　back　and　trying　to　assume　an　air　of　calmness；　he　added：　“And　don’t　imagine　that　I　have　said　this　in　a　moment　of　temper；　no；　I’m　quite　calm　and　I　have　thought　it　well　over；　and　it　shall　be　so—you　shall　go　away；　and　find　some　place　for　yourself！…”　But　he　could　not　restrain　himself；　and　with　the　vindictive　fury　which　can　only　exist　where　a　man　loves；　obviously　in　anguish；　he　shook　his　fists　and　screamed　at　her：　“Ah！　if　some　fool　would　marry　her！”　He　slammed　the　door；　sent　for　Mademoiselle　Bourienne；　a