战争与和平(上)-第141章

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“O　my　enchantress！”　she　said　to　the　blushing　Natasha。　“Charming！　No；　this　is　really　beyond　anything；　count；”　she　said　to　Count　Ilya　Andreitch；　who　had　followed　her　in。　“How　can　you　be　in　Moscow；　and　go　nowhere？　No；　I　won’t　let　you　off！　This　evening　we　have　Mademoiselle　George　giving　a　recitation；　and　a　few　people　are　coming；　and　if　you　don’t　bring　your　lovely　girls；　who　are　much　prettier　than　Mademoiselle　George；　I　give　up　knowing　you！　My　husband’s　not　here；　he　has　gone　away　to　Tver；　or　I　should　have　sent　him　for　you。　You　must　come；　you　positively　must；　before　nine　o’clock。”
She　nodded　to　the　dressmaker；　who　knew　her；　and　was　curtseying　respectfully；　and　seated　herself　in　a　low　chair　beside　the　looking…glass；　draping　the　folds　of　her　velvet　gown　picturesquely　about　her。　She　kept　up　a　flow　of　good…humoured　and　light…hearted　chatter；　and　repeatedly　expressed　her　enthusiastic　admiration　of　Natasha’s　beauty。　She　looked　through　her　dresses　and　admired　them；　spoke　with　admiration；　too；　of　a　new　dress　of　her　own　“of　metallic　gas；”　which　she　had　received　from　Paris；　and　advised　Natasha　to　have　one　like　it。
“But　anything　suits　you；　my　charmer！”　she　declared。　The　smile　of　pleasure　never　left　Natasha’s　face。　She　felt　happy；　and　as　it　were　blossoming　out　under　the　praises　of　this　charming　Countess　Bezuhov；　who　had　seemed　to　her　before　a　lady　so　unapproachable　and　dignified；　and　was　now　being　so　king　to　her。　Natasha’s　spirits　rose；　and　she　felt　almost　in　love　with　this　handsome　and　good…natured　woman。　Ellen；　for　her　part；　was　genuine　in　her　admiration　of　Natasha；　and　in　her　desire　to　make　her　enjoy　herself。　Anatole　had　begged　her　to　throw　him　with　Natasha；　and　it　was　with　that　object　she　had　come　to　the　Rostovs’。　The　idea　of　throwing　her　brother　and　Natasha　together　amused　her。
Although　Ellen　had　once　owed　Natasha　a　grudge　for　carrying　off　Boris　from　her　in　Petersburg；　she　thought　no　more　of　that　now；　and　with　all　her　heart　wished　Natasha　nothing　but　good。　As　she　was　leaving　the　Rostovs’；　she　drew　her　protégée　aside。
“My　brother　was　dining　with　me　yesterday—we　half　died　with　laughing　at　him—he　won’t　eat；　and　does　nothing　but　sigh　for　you；　my　charmer！　He　is　madly；　madly　in　love　with　you；　my　dear。”
Natasha　flushed　crimson　on　hearing　those　words。
“How　she　blushes；　how　she　blushes；　my　pretty！”　Ellen　went　on。　“You　must　be　sure　to　come。　If　you　do　love　some　one；　it　is　not　a　reason　to　cloister　yourself。　Even　if　you　are　betrothed；　I　am　sure　your　betrothed　would　have　preferred　you　to　go　into　society　rather　than　to　languish　in　ennui。”
“So　then　she　knows　I　am　engaged。　So　then　they　with　her　husband；　with　Pierre；　with　that　good　Pierre；　talked　and　laughed　about　it。　So　that　it　means　nothing。”
And　again　under　Ellen’s　influence　what　had　struck　her　before　as　terrible　seemed　to　her　simple　and　natural。　“And　she；　such　a　grande　dame；　is　so　kind；　and　obviously　she　likes　me　with　all　her　heart；”　thought　Natasha。　“And　why　not　enjoy　myself；”　thought　Natasha；　gazing　at　Ellen　with　wide…open；　wondering　eyes。
Marya　Dmitryevna　came　back　to　dinner　silent　and　serious；　having　evidently　been　defeated　by　the　old　prince。　She　was　too　much　agitated　by　the　conflict　she　had　been　through　to　be　able　to　describe　the　interview。　To　the　count’s　inquiries；　she　replied　that　everything　had　been　all　right　and　she　would　tell　him　about　it　next　day。　On　hearing　of　the　visit　of　Countess　Bezuhov　and　the　invitation　for　the　evening；　Marya　Dmitryevna　said：
“I　don’t　care　to　associate　with　Countess　Bezuhov　and　I　don’t　advise　you　to；　but　still；　since　you　have　promised；　better　go。　It　will　divert　your　mind；”　she　added；　addressing　Natasha。


Chapter　13
COUNT　ILYA　ANDREITCH　took　his　two　girls　to　the　Countess　Bezuhov’s。　There　were　a　good　many　people　assembled　there。　But　Natasha　hardly　knew　any　of　the　persons　present。　Count　Ilya　Andreitch　observed　with　dissatisfaction　that　almost　all　the　company　consisted　of　men　or　of　ladies　notorious　for　the　freedom　of　their　behaviour。　Mademoiselle　George　was　standing　in　one　corner　of　the　room；　surrounded　by　young　men。　There　were　several　Frenchmen　present；　and　among　them　Metivier；　who　had　been　a　constant　visitor　at　Countess　Bezuhov’s　ever　since　her　arrival　in　Moscow。　Count　Ilya　Andreitch　made　up　his　mind　not　to　take　a　hand　at　cards；　not　to　leave　his　daughter’s　side；　and　to　get　away　as　soon　as　Mademoiselle　George’s　performance　was　over。
Anatole　was　at　the　door；　unmistakably　on　the　look…out　for　the　Rostovs。　At　once　greeting　the　count；　he　went　up　to　Natasha　and　followed　her　in。　As　soon　as　Natasha　saw　him；　the　same　feeling　came　upon　her　as　at　the　theatre—the　feeling　of　gratified　vanity　at　his　admiration　of　her；　and　terror　at　the　absence　of　any　moral　barrier　between　them。
Ellen　gave　Natasha　a　delighted　welcome；　and　was　loud　in　her　admiration　of　her　loveliness　and　her　dress。　Soon　after　their　arrival；　Mademoiselle　George　went　out　of　the　room　to　change　her　dress。　In　the　drawing…room　chairs　were　being　set　in　rows　and　people　began　to　sit　down。　Anatole　moved　a　chair　for　Natasha；　and　would　have　sat　down　by　her；　but　the　count；　who　was　keeping　his　eye　on　Natasha；　took　the　seat　beside　her。　Anatole　sat　down　behind。
Mademoiselle　George；　with　bare；　fat；　dimpled　arms；　and　a　red　scarf　flung　over　one　shoulder；　came　into　the　empty　space　left　for　her　between　the　chairs　and　threw　herself　into　an　unnatural　pose。　An　enthusiastic　whisper　was　audible。
Mademoiselle　George　scanned　her　audience　with　stern　and　gloomy　eyes；　and　began　reciting　French　verses；　describing　her　guilty　love　for　her　son。　In　places　she　raised　her　voice；　in　places　she　dropped　to　a　whisper　solemnly　lifting　her　head；　in　places　she　broke　off　and　hissed　with　rolling　eyes。
“Exquisite；　divine；　marvellous！”　was　heard　on　all　sides。　Natasha　gazed　at　the　fat　actress；　but　she　heard　nothing；　saw　nothing　and　understood　nothing　of　what　was　passing　before　her。　She　felt　nothing；　but　that　she　was　borne　away　again　irrevocably　into　that　strange　and　senseless　world　so　remote　from　her　old　world；　a　world　in　which　there　was　no　knowing　what　was　good　and　what　was　bad；　what　was　sensible　and　what　was　senseless。　Behind　her　was　sitting　Anatole；　and　conscious　of　his　nearness；　she　was　in　frightened　expectation　of　something。
After　the　first　monologue　all　the　company　rose　and　surrounded　Mademoiselle　George；　expressing　their　admiration。
“How　handsome　she　is！”　said　Natasha　to　her　father；　as　he　got　up　with　the　rest　and　moved　through　the　crowd　to　the　actress。
“I　don’t　think　so；　looking　at　you；”　said　Anatole；　following　Natasha。　He　said　this　at　a　moment　when　no　one　but　she　could　hear　him。　“You　are　charming…from　the　moment　I　first　saw　you；　I　have　not　ceased…”
“Come　along；　come　along；　Natasha！”　said　the　count；　turning　back　for　his　daughter。　“How　pretty　she　is！”
Natasha　saying　nothing　went　up　to　her　father；　and　gazed　at　him　with　eyes　of　inquiring　wonder。
After　several　recitations　in　different　styles；　Mademoiselle　George　went　away；　and　Countess　Bezuhov　invited　all　the　company　to　the　great　hall。
The　count　would　have　taken　leave；　but　Ellen　besought　him　not　to　spoil　her　improvised　ball。　The　Rostovs　stayed　on。　Anatole　asked　Natasha　for　a　waltz；　and　during　the　waltz；　squeezing　her　waist　and　her　hand；　he　told　her　she　was　bewitching　and　that　he　loved　her。　During　the　écossaise；　which　she　danced　again　with　Kuragin；　when　they　were　left　alone　Anatole　said　nothing　to　her；　he　simply　looked　at　her。　Natasha　was　in　doubt　whether　she　had　not　dreamed　what　he　said　to　her　during　the　waltz。　At　the　end　of　the　first　figure　he　pressed　her　hand　again。　Natasha　lifted　her　frightened　eyes　to　his　face；　but　there　was　an　expression　of　such　assurance　and　warmth　in　his　fond　look　and　smile　that　she　could　not　as　she　looked　at　him　say　what　she　had　to　say　to　him。　She　dropped　her　eyes。
“Don’t　say　such　things　to　me。　I　am　betrothed；　and　I　love　another　man　…”　she　articulated　rapidly。　She　glanced　at　him。　Anatole　was　neither　disconcerted　nor　mortified　at　what　she　had　said。
“Don’t　talk　to　me　of　that。　What　is　that　to　me；”　he　said；　“I　tell　you　I　am　mad；　mad　with　love　of　you。　Is　it　my　fault　that　you　are　fascinating？…It’s　for　us　to　begin。”
Natasha；　eager　and　agitated；　looked　about　her　with　wide…open；　frightened　eyes；　and　seemed　to　be　enjoying　herself　more　than　usual。　She　scarcely　grasped　anything　that　happened　that　evening。　They　danced　the　écossaise　and　“Grandfather。”　Her　father　suggested　their　going；　and　she　begged　to　stay　longer。　Wherever　she　was；　and　with　whomsoever　she　was　speaking；　she　felt　his　eyes　upon　her。　Then　she　remembered　that　she　had　asked　her　father’s　permission　to　go　into　a　dressing…room　to　rearrange　her　dress；　that　Ellen　had　followed　her；　had　talked　to　her；　laughing；　of　her　brother’s　passion；　and　that　in　the　little　divan…room　she　had　been　met　again　by　Anatole；　that　Ellen　had　somehow　vanished；　they　were　left　alone；　and　Anatole　taking　her　by　the　hand；　had　said　in　a　tender　voice：
“I　can’t　come　to　see　you；　but　is　it　possible　that　I　shall　never　see　you？　I　love　you　madly。　Can　I　never　…？”　and　barring　her　way　he　brought　his　face　close　to　hers。
His　large；　shining；　masculine　eyes　were　so　close　to　her　eyes；　that　she　could　see　nothing　but　those　eyes。
“Natalie？”　his　voice　whispered　interrogatively；　and　her　hands　were　squeezed　till　it　hurt。　“Natalie？”
“I　don’t　understand；　I　have　nothing　to　say；”　was　the　answer　in　her　eyes。
Burning　lips　were　pressed　to　her　lips；　and　at　the　same　instant　she　felt　herself　set　free　again；　and　caught　the　sound　of　Ellen’s　steps　and　rustling　gown　in　the　room　again。　Natasha　looked　round　towards　Ellen；　then；　red　and　trembling；　she　glanced　at　him　with　alarmed　inquiry；　and　moved　towards　the　door。
“One　word；　just　one　word；　for　God’s　sake；”　Anatole　was　saying。　She　stopped。　She　so　wanted　him　to　say　that　word；　that　would　have　explained　to　her　what　had　happened　and　to　which　she　could　have　found　an　answer。
“Natalie；　one　word　…　one　…”　he　kept　repeating；　plainly　not　knowing　what　to　say；　and　he　repeated　it　till　Ellen　reached　them。
Ellen　went　back　with　Natasha　to　the　drawing…room。　The　Rostovs　went　away　without　staying　to　supper。
When　she　got　home；　Natasha　did　not　sleep　all　night。　She　was　tortured　by　the　insoluble　question；　Which　did　she　love；　Anatole　or　Prince　Andrey？　Prince　Andrey；　she　did　love—she　remembered　clearly　how　great　her　love　was　for　him。　But　she　loved　Anatole　too；　of　that　there　was　no　doubt。　“Else　could　all　that　have　happened？”　she　thought。　“If　after　that　I　could　answer　with　a　smile　to　his　smile　at　parting；　if　I　could　sink　to　that；　it　means　that　I　fell　in　love　with　him　from　the　first　minute。　So　he　must　be　kind；　noble；　and　good；　and　I　could　not　help　loving　him。　What　am　I　to　do；　if　I　love　him　and　the　other　too？”　she　said　to　herself；　and　was　unable　to　find　an　answer　to　those　terrible　questions。


Chapter　14
THE　MORNING　came　with　daily　cares　and　bustle。　Every　one　got　up　and　began　to　move　about　and　to　talk；　dressmakers　came　again；　again　Marya　Dmitryevna　went　out　and　they　were　summoned　to　tea。　Natasha　kept　uneasily　looking　round　at　every　one　with　wide…open　eyes；　as　though　she　wanted　to　intercept　every　glance　turned　upon　her。　She　did　her　utmost　to　seem　exactly　as　usual。
After　luncheon—it　was　always　her　best　time—Marya　Dmitryevna　seated　herself　in　her　own　arm…chair　and　drew　Natas