战争与和平(上)-第142章

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After　luncheon—it　was　always　her　best　time—Marya　Dmitryevna　seated　herself　in　her　own　arm…chair　and　drew　Natasha　and　the　old　count　to　her。
“Well；　my　friends；　I　have　thought　the　whole　matter　over　now；　and　I’ll　tell　you　my　advice；”　she　began。　“Yesterday；　as　you　know；　I　was　at　Prince　Bolkonsky’s；　well；　I　had　a　talk　with　him…He　thought　fit　to　scream　at　me。　But　there’s　no　screaming　me　down！　I　had　it　all　out　with　him。”
“Well；　but　what　does　he　mean？”　asked　the　count。
“He’s　crazy…he　won’t　hear　of　it；　and　there’s　no　more　to　be　said。　As　it　is　we　have　given　this　poor　girl　worry　enough；”　said　Marya　Dmitryevna。　“And　my　advice　to　you　is；　to　make　an　end　of　it　and　go　home　to　Otradnoe…and　there　to　wait。”
“Oh　no！”　cried　Natasha。
“Yes；　to　go　home；”　said　Marya　Dmitryevna；　“and　to　wait　there。　If　your　betrothed　comes　here　now；　there’ll　be　no　escaping　a　quarrel；　but　alone　here　he’ll　have　it　all　out　with　the　old　man；　and　then　come　on　to　you。”
Count　Ilya　Andreitch　approved　of　this　suggestion；　and　at　once　saw　all　the　sound　sense　of　it。　If　the　old　man　were　to　come　round；　then　it　would　be　better　to　visit　him　at　Moscow　or　Bleak　Hills；　later　on；　if　not；　then　the　wedding；　against　his　will；　could　only　take　place　at　Otradnoe。
“And　that’s　perfectly　true；”　said　he。　“I　regret　indeed　that　I　ever　went　to　see　him　and　took　her　too；”　said　the　count。
“No；　why　regret　it？　Being　here；　you　could　do　no　less　than　show　him　respect。　If　he　wouldn’t　receive　it；　that’s　his　affair；”　said　Marya　Dmitryevna；　searching　for　something　in　her　reticule。　“And　now　the　trousseau’s　ready；　what　have　you　to　wait　for？　What　is　not　ready；　I’ll　send　after　you。　Though　I’m　sorry　to　lose　you；　still　the　best　thing　is　for　you　to　go；　and　God　be　with　you。”　Finding　what　she　was　looking　for　in　her　reticule；　she　handed　it　to　Natasha。　It　was　a　letter　from　Princess　Marya。　“She　writes　to　you。　How　worried　she　is；　poor　thing！　She　is　afraid　you　might　think　she　does　not　like　you。”
“Well；　she　doesn’t　like　me；”　said　Natasha。
“Nonsense；　don’t　say　so；”　cried　Marya　Dmitryevna。
“I　won’t　take　any　one’s　word　for　that；　I　know　she　doesn’t　like　me；”　said　Natasha　boldly　as　she　took　the　letter；　and　there　was　a　look　of　cold　and　angry　resolution　in　her　face；　that　made　Marya　Dmitryevna　look　at　her　more　closely　and　frown。
“Don’t　you　answer　me　like　that；　my　good　girl；”　she　said。　“If　I　say　so；　it’s　the　truth。　Write　an　answer　to　her。”
Natasha　made　no　reply；　and　went　to　her　own　room　to　read　Princess　Marya’s　letter。
Princess　Marya　wrote　that　she　was　in　despair　at　the　misunderstanding　that　had　arisen　between　them。　Whatever　her　father’s　feelings　might　be；　wrote　Princess　Marya；　she　begged　Natasha　to　believe　that　she　could　not　fail　to　love　her；　as　the　girl　chosen　by　her　brother；　for　whose　happiness　she　was　ready　to　make　any　sacrifice。
“Do　not　believe；　though；”　she　wrote；　“that　my　father　is　ill…disposed　to　you。　He　is　an　old　man　and　an　invalid；　for　whom　one　must　make　excuses。　But　he　is　good…hearted　and　generous；　and　will　come　to　love　the　woman　who　makes　his　son　happy。”　Princess　Marya　begged　Natasha；　too；　to　fix　a　time　when　she　might　see　her　again。
After　reading　the　letter；　Natasha　sat　down　to　the　writing…table　to　answer　it。　“Dear　princess；”　she　began；　writing　rapidly　and　mechanically　in　French；　and　there　she　stopped。　What　more　could　she　write　after　what　had　happened　the　day　before？　“Yes；　yes；　all　that　had　happened；　and　now　everything　was　different；”　she　thought；　sitting　before　the　letter　she　had　begun。　“Must　I　refuse　him？　Must　I　really？　That’s　awful！…”　And　to　avoid　these　horrible　thoughts；　she　went　in　to　Sonya；　and　began　looking　through　embroidery　designs　with　her。
After　dinner　Natasha　went　to　her　own　room　and　took　up　Princess　Marya’s　letter　again。　“Can　everything　be　over？”　she　thought。　“Can　all　this　have　happened　so　quickly　and　have　destroyed　all　that　went　before？”　She　recalled　in　all　its　past　strength　her　love　for　Prince　Andrey；　and　at　the　same　time　she　felt　that　she　loved　Kuragin。　She　vividly　pictured　herself　the　wife　of　Prince　Andrey；　of　her　happiness　with　him；　called　up　the　picture　she　had　so　often　dwelt　on　in　her　imagination；　and　at　the　same　time；　all　aglow　with　emotion；　she　recalled　every　detail　of　her　interview　the　previous　evening　with　Anatole。
“Why　could　not　that　be　as　well？”　she　wondered　sometimes　in　complete　bewilderment。　“It’s　only　so　that　I　could　be　perfectly　happy：　as　it　is；　I　have　to　choose；　and　without　either　of　them　I　can’t　be　happy。　There’s　one　thing；”　she　thought；　“to　tell　Prince　Andrey　what　has　happened；　to　hide　it　from　him—are　equally　impossible。　But　with　him　nothing　is　spoilt。　But　can　I　part　for　ever　from　the　happiness　of　Prince　Andrey’s　love；　which　I　have　been　living　on　for　so　long？”
“Madame；”　whispered　a　maid；　coming　into　the　room　with　a　mysterious　air；　“a　man　told　me　to　give　you　this。”　The　girl　gave　her　a　letter。　“Only　for　Christ’s　sake　…”　said　the　girl；　as　Natasha；　without　thinking；　mechanically　broke　the　seal　and　began　reading　a　love…letter　from　Anatole；　of　which　she　did　not　understand　a　word；　but　understood　only　that　it　was　a　letter　from　him；　from　the　man　whom　she　loved。　“Yes；　she　loved　him；　otherwise；　how　could　what　had　happened　have　happened？　How　could　a　love…letter　from　him　be　in　her　hand？”
With　trembling　hands　Natasha　held　that　passionate　love…letter；　composed　for　Anatole　by　Dolohov；　and　as　she　read　it；　she　found　in　it　echoes　of　all　that　it　seemed　to　her　she　was　feeling　herself。
“Since　yesterday　evening　my　fate　is　sealed：　to　be　loved　by　you　or　to　die。　There　is　nothing　else　left　for　me；”　the　letter　began。　Then　he　wrote　that　he　knew　her　relations　would　never　give　her　to　him；　to　Anatole；　that　there　were　secret　reasons　for　that　which　he　could　only　reveal　to　her　alone；　but　that　if　she　loved　him；　she　had　but　to　utter　the　word　Yes；　and　no　human　force　could　hinder　their　happiness。　Love　would　conquer　all。　He　could　capture　her　and　bear　her　away　to　the　ends　of　the　earth。
“Yes；　yes；　I　love　him！”　thought　Natasha；　reading　the　letter　over　for　the　twentieth　time；　and　finding　some　special　deep　meaning　in　every　word。
That　evening　Marya　Dmitryevna　was　going　to　the　Arharovs’；　and　proposed　taking　the　young　ladies　with　her。　Natasha　pleaded　a　headache　and　stayed　at　home。


Chapter　15
ON　RETURNING　LATE　in　the　evening；　Sonya　went　into　Natasha’s　room；　and　to　her　surprise　found　her　not　undressed　asleep　on　the　sofa。　On　the　table　near　her　Anatole’s　letter　lay　open。　Sonya　picked　up　the　letter　and　began　to　read　it。
She　read　it；　and　looked　at　Natasha　asleep；　seeking　in　her　face　some　explanation　of　what　she　had　read　and　not　finding　it。　Her　face　was　quiet；　gentle；　and　happy。　Clutching　at　her　own　chest　to　keep　herself　from　choking；　Sonya；　pale　and　shaking　with　horror　and　emotion；　sat　down　in　a　low　chair　and　burst　into　tears。
“How　was　it　I　saw　nothing？　How　can　it　have　gone　so　far？　Can　she　have　ceased　loving　Prince　Andrey？　And　how　could　she　have　let　this　Kuragin　go　as　far　as　this？　He’s　a　deceiver　and　a　villain；　that’s　clear。　What　will　Nikolenka—dear；　noble　Nikolenka—do　when　he　hears　of　it？　So　that　was　the　meaning　of　her　excited；　determined；　unnatural　face　the　day　before　yesterday；　and　yesterday　and　to…day；”　thought　Sonya。　“But　it’s　impossible　that　she　can　care　for　him！　Most　likely　she　opened　the　letter　not　knowing　from　whom　it　was。　Most　likely　she　feels　insulted　by　it。　She’s　not　capable　of　doing　such　a　thing！”
Sonya　dried　her　tears　and　went　up　to　Natasha；　carefully　scrutinising　her　face　again。
“Natasha！”　she　said；　hardly　audibly。
Natasha　waked　up　and　saw　Sonya。
“Ah；　you　have　come　back？”
And　with　the　decision　and　tenderness　common　at　the　moment　of　awakening　she　embraced　her　friend。　But　noticing　embarrassment　in　Sonya’s　face；　her　face　too　expressed　embarrassment　and　suspicion。
“Sonya；　you　have　read　the　letter？”　she　said。
“Yes；”　said　Sonya　softly。
Natasha　smiled　ecstatically。
“No；　Sonya；　I　can’t　help　it！”　she　said。　“I　can’t　keep　it　secret　from　you　any　longer。　You　know　we　love　each　other！　…　Sonya；　darling；　he　writes　…　Sonya　…”
Sonya　gazed　with　wide…open　eyes　at　Natasha；　as　though　unable　to　believe　her　ears。
“But　Bolkonsky？”　she　said。
“O　Sonya；　oh；　if　you　could　only　know　how　happy　I　am！”　said　Natasha。　“You　don’t　know　what　love　…”
“But；　Natasha；　you　can’t　mean　that　all　that　is　over？”
Natasha　looked　with　her　big；　wide　eyes　at　Sonya　as　though　not　understanding　her　question。
“Are　you　breaking　it　off　with　Prince　Andrey　then？”　said　Sonya。
“Oh；　you　don’t　understand；　don’t　talk　nonsense；　listen；”　said　Natasha；　with　momentary　annoyance。
“No；　I　can’t　believe　it；”　repeated　Sonya。　“I　don’t　understand　it。　What；　for　a　whole　year　you　have　been　loving　one　man；　and　all　at　once　…　Why；　you　have　only　seen　him　three　times。　Natasha；　I　can’t　believe　you；　you’re　joking。　In　three　days　to　forget　everything；　and　like　this　…”
“Three　days；”　said　Natasha。　“It　seems　to　me　as　though　I　had　loved　him　for　a　hundred　years。　It　seems　to　me　that　I　have　never　loved　any　one　before　him。　You　can’t　understand　that。　Sonya；　stay；　sit　here。”　Natasha　hugged　and　kissed　her。　“I　have　been　told　of　its　happening；　and　no　doubt　you　have　heard　of　it　too；　but　it’s　only　now　that　I　have　felt　such　love。　It’s　not　what　I　have　felt　before。　As　soon　as　I　saw　him；　I　felt　that　he　was　my　sovereign　and　I　was　his　slave；　and　that　I　could　not　help　loving　him。　Yes；　his　slave！　Whatever　he　bids　me；　I　shall　do。　You　don’t　understand　that。　What　am　I　to　do？　What　am　I　to　do；　Sonya？”　said　Natasha；　with　a　blissful　and　frightened　face。
“But　only　think　what　you　are　doing；”　said　Sonya。　“I　can’t　leave　it　like　this。　These　secret　letters　…　How　could　you　let　him　go　so　far　as　that？”　she　said；　with　a　horror　and　aversion　she　could　with　difficulty　conceal。
“I　have　told　you；”　answered　Natasha；　“that　I　have　no　will。　How　is　it　you　don’t　understand　that？　I　love　him！”
“Then　I　can’t　let　it　go　on　like　this。　I　shall　tell　about　it；”　cried　Sonya　with　a　burst　of　tears。
“What　…　for　God’s　sake　…　If　you　tell；　you　are　my　enemy；”　said　Natasha。　“You　want　to　make　me　miserable；　and　you　want　us　to　be　separated…”
On　seeing　Natasha’s　alarm；　Sonya　wept　tears　of　shame　and　pity　for　her　friend。
“But　what　has　passed　between　you？”　she　asked。　“What　has　he　said　to　you？　Why　doesn’t　he　come　to　the　house？”
Natasha　made　no　answer　to　her　question。
“For　God’s　sake；　Sonya；　don’t　tell　any　one；　don’t　torture　me；”　Natasha　implored　her。　“Remember　that　it　doesn’t　do　to　meddle　in　such　matters。　I　have　told　you　…”
“But　why　this　secrecy？　Why　doesn’t　he　come　to　the　house？”　Sonya　persisted。　“Why　doesn’t　he　ask　for　your　hand　straight　out？　Prince　Andrey；　you　know；　gave　you　complete　liberty；　if　it　really　is　so；　but　I　can’t　believe　in　it。　Natasha；　have　you　thought　what　the　secret　reasons　can　be？”
Natasha　looked　with　wondering　eyes　at　Sonya。　Evidently　it　was　the　first　time　that　question　had　presented　itself　to　her；　and　she　did　not　know　how　to　answer　it。
“What　the　reasons　are；　I　don’t　know。　But　there　must　be　reasons！”
Sonya　sighed　and　shook　her　head　distrustfully。
“If　there　were　reasons…”　she　was　beginning。　But　Natasha；　divining　her　doubts；　interrupted　her　in　dismay。
“Sonya；　you　mustn’t　doubt　of　him；　you　mustn’t；　you　mustn’t！　Do　y