战争与和平(上)-第265章

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tasha　had　wondered。　He　had　noticed　her　attention；　raised　his　eyes；　and；　without　smiling；　began　to　speak。
“One　thing　would　be　awful；”　he　said：　“to　bind　oneself　for　ever　to　a　suffering　invalid。　It　would　be　an　everlasting　torture。”　And　he　had　looked　with　searching　eyes　at　her。　Natasha；　as　she　always　did；　had　answered　without　giving　herself　time　to　think；　she　had　said：　“It　can’t　go　on　like　this；　it　won’t　be　so；　you　will　get　well—quite　well。”
She　was　seeing　him　now　as　though　it　were　the　first　time；　and　going　through　all　she　had　felt　at　that　time。　She　recalled　the　long；　mournful；　stern　gaze　he　had　given　her　at　those　words；　and　she　understood　all　the　reproach　and　the　despair　in　that　prolonged　gaze。
“I　agreed；”　Natasha　said　to　herself　now；　“that　it　would　be　awful　if　he　were　to　remain　always　suffering。　I　said　that　then　only　because　it　would　be　so　awful　for　him；　but　he　did　not　understand　it　so。　He　thought　that　it　would　be　awful　for　me。　Then　he　still　wanted　to　live；　and　was　afraid　of　death。　And　I　said　it　so　clumsily；　so　stupidly。　I　was　not　thinking　that。　I　was　thinking　something　quite　different。　If　I　had　said　what　I　was　thinking；　I　should　have　said：　‘Let　him　be　dying；　dying　all　the　time　before　my　eyes；　and　I　should　be　happy　in　comparison　with　what　I　am　now。’　Now　…　there　is　nothing；　no　one。　Did　he　know　that？　No。　He　did　not　know；　and　never　will　know　it。　And　now　it　can　never；　never　be　made　up　for。”
And　again　he　was　saying　the　same　words；　but　this　time　Natasha　in　her　imagination　made　him　a　different　answer。　She　stopped　him；　and　said：　“Awful　for　you；　but　not　for　me。　You　know　that　I　have　nothing　in　life　but　you；　and　to　suffer　with　you　is　the　greatest　happiness　possible　for　me。”　And　he　took　her　hand　and　pressed　it；　just　as　he　had　pressed　it　on　that　terrible　evening　four　days　before　his　death。　And　in　her　imagination　she　said　to　him　other　words　of　tenderness　and　love；　which　she　might　have　said　then；　which　she　only　said　now　…　“I　love　thee！　…　thee　…　I　love；　love　thee　…”　she　said；　wringing　her　hands　convulsively；　and　setting　her　teeth　with　bitter　violence。
And　a　sweeter　mood　of　sorrow　was　coming　over　her；　and　tears　were　starting　into　her　eyes；　but　all　at　once　she　asked　herself：　“To　whom　was　she　saying　that？　Where　is　he；　and　what　is　he　now？”
And　again　everything　was　shrouded　in　chill；　cruel　doubt；　and　again；　frowning　nervously；　she　tried　to　gaze　into　that　world　where　he　was。　And　now；　now；　she　thought；　she　was　just　penetrating　the　mystery　…　But　at　that　instant；　when　the　incomprehensible；　it　seemed；　was　being　unveiled　before　her　eyes；　a　loud　rattle　at　the　door　handle　broke　with　a　painful　shock　on　her　hearing。　Her　maid；　Dunyasha；　rushed　quickly　and　abruptly　into　the　room　with　frightened　eyes；　that　took　no　heed　of　her。
“Come　to　your　papa；　make　haste；”　Dunyasha　said；　with　a　strange　excited　expression。　“A　misfortune　…　Pyotr　Ilyitch　…　a　letter；”　she　gasped　out；　sobbing。


Chapter　2
THE　FEELING　of　aloofness　from　all　the　world；　that　Natasha　experienced　at　this　time；　she　felt　in　an　even　more　marked　degree　with　the　members　of　her　own　family。　All　her　own　family；　her　father　and　mother　and　Sonya；　were　so　near　her；　so　everyday　and　ordinary　that　every　word　they　uttered；　every　feeling　they　expressed；　was　jarring　in　the　world　in　which　she　had　lived　of　late。　She　felt　more　than　indifference；　positive　hostility　to　them。　She　heard　Dunyasha’s　words　of　Pyotr　Ilyitch；　of　a　misfortune；　but　she　did　not　understand　them。
“What　misfortune　could　they　have；　what　misfortune　is　possible　to　them？　Everything　goes　on　in　its　old；　regular；　easy　way　with　them；”　Natasha　was　saying　inwardly。
As　she　went　into　the　drawing…room；　her　father　came　quickly　out　of　the　countess’s　room。　His　face　was　puckered　up　and　wet　with　tears。　He　had　evidently　run　out　of　the　room　to　give　vent　to　the　sobs　that　were　choking　him。　Seeing　Natasha；　he　waved　his　arms　in　despair；　and　went　off　into　violent；　miserable　sobs；　that　convulsed　his　soft；　round　face。
“Pet　…　Petya　…　Go；　go　in；　she’s　calling　…”　And　sobbing　like　a　child；　he　tottered　with　feeble　legs　to　a　chair；　and　almost　dropped　on　to　it；　hiding　his　face　in　his　hands。
An　electric　shock　seemed　to　run　all　through　Natasha。　Some　fearful　pain　seemed　to　stab　her　to　the　heart。　She　felt　a　poignant　anguish；　it　seemed　to　her　that　something　was　being　rent　within　her；　and　she　was　dying。　But　with　the　pain　she　felt　an　instant　release　from　the　seal　that　shut　her　out　of　life。　At　the　sight　of　her　father；　and　the　sound　of　a　fearful；　husky　scream　from　her　mother　through　the　door；　she　instantly　forgot　herself　and　her　own　sorrow。
She　ran　up　to　her　father；　but　he　feebly　motioned　her　towards　her　mother’s　door。　Princess　Marya；　with　a　white　face　and　quivering　lower　jaw；　came　out　and　took　Natasha’s　hand；　saying　something　to　her。　Natasha　neither　saw　nor　heard　her。　With　swift　steps　she　went　towards　the　door；　stopped　for　an　instant　as　though　struggling　with　herself；　and　ran　in　to　her　mother。
The　countess　was　lying　down　on　a　low　chair　in　a　strange　awkward　attitude；　she　was　beating　her　head　against　the　wall。　Sonya　and　some　maid…servants　were　holding　her　by　the　arms。
“Natasha；　Natasha！…”　the　countess　was　screaming。　“It’s　not　true；　not　true　…　it’s　false　…　Natasha！”　she　screamed；　pushing　the　maids　away。　“All　you　go　away；　it’s　not　true！　Killed！…ha；　ha；　ha！…not　true！…”
Natasha　knelt　down　on　the　low　chair；　bent　over　her　mother；　embraced　her；　with　surprising　strength　lifted　her　up；　turned　her　face　to　her；　and　pressed　close　to　her。
“Mama！　…　darling！　…　I’m　here；　dearest　mamma；”　she　whispered　to　her；　never　ceasing　for　a　second。
She　would　not　let　her　mother　go；　she　struggled　tenderly　with　her；　asked　for　pillows　and　water；　unbuttoned　and　tore　open　her　mother’s　dress。　“Dearest　…　my　darling　…　mamma　…　my　precious；”　she　whispered　without　pausing；　kissing　her　head；　her　hands；　her　face；　and　feeling　the　tears　streaming　in　irrepressible　floods　over　her　nose　and　cheeks。
The　countess　squeezed　her　daughter’s　hand；　closed　her　eyes；　and　was　quieter　for　a　moment。　All　at　once　she　sat　up　with　unnatural　swiftness；　looked　vacantly　round；　and　seeing　Natasha；　began　hugging　her　head　to　her　with　all　her　might。　Natasha’s　face　involuntarily　worked　with　the　pain；　as　her　mother　turned　it　toward　her；　and　gazed　a　long　while　into　it。　“Natasha；　you　love　me；”　she　said；　in　a　soft；　confiding　whisper。　“Natasha；　you　won’t　deceive　me？　You　will　tell　me　the　whole　truth？”
Natasha　looked　at　her　with　eyes　swimming　with　tears；　and　in　her　face　seemed　only　imploring　her　love　and　forgiveness。
“Mamma　…　darling；”　she　kept　repeating；　putting　forth　all　the　strength　of　her　love　to　try　somehow　to　take　a　little　of　the　crushing　load　of　sorrow　off　her　mother　on　to　herself。
And　again　in　the　helpless　struggle　with　reality；　the　mother；　refusing　to　believe　that　she　could　live　while　her　adored　boy；　just　blossoming　into　life；　was　dead；　took　refuge　from　reality　in　the　world　of　delirium。
Natasha　had　no　recollection　of　how　she　spent　that　day　and　that　night；　and　the　following　day　and　the　following　night。　She　did　not　sleep；　and　did　not　leave　her　mother’s　side。　Natasha’s　love；　patient　and　persistent；　seemed　to　enfold　the　countess　on　all　sides　every　second；　offering　no　explanation；　no　consolation；　simply　beckoning　her　back　to　life。
On　the　third　night　the　countess　was　quiet　for　a　few　minutes；　and　Natasha　closed　her　eyes；　her　head　propped　on　the　arm　of　the　chair。　The　bedstead　creaked；　Natasha　opened　her　eyes。　The　countess　was　sitting　up　in　bed；　and　talking　softly。
“How　glad　I　am　you　have　come　home。　You　are　tired；　won’t　you　have　tea？”　Natasha　went　up　to　her。　“You　have　grown　so　handsome　and　manly；”　the　countess　went　on；　taking　her　daughter’s　hand。
“Mamma；　what　are　you　saying　…？”
“Natasha；　he　is　gone；　he　is　no　more。”　And　embracing　her　daughter；　the　countess　for　the　first　time　began　to　weep。


Chapter　3
PRINCESS　MARYA　put　off　her　departure。　Sonya　and　the　count　tried　to　take　Natasha’s　place；　but　they　could　not。　They　saw　that　she　was　the　only　one　who　could　keep　the　mother　from　the　frenzy　of　despair。　For　three　weeks　Natasha　never　left　her　mother’s　side；　slept　on　a　lounge　in　her　room；　made　her　drink　and　eat；　and　without　pause　talked　to　her；　talked　because　her　tender；　loving　voice　was　the　only　thing　that　soothed　the　countess。
The　wound　in　the　mother’s　heart　could　never　be　healed。　Petya’s　death　had　torn　away　half　of　her　life。　When　the　news　of　Petya’s　death　reached　her；　she　was　a　fresh…looking；　vigorous　woman　of　fifty；　a　month　later　she　came　out　of　her　room　an　old　woman；　half　dead　and　with　no　more　interest　in　life。　But　the　wound　that　half　killed　the　countess；　that　fresh　wound；　brought　Natasha　back　to　life。
A　spiritual　wound　that　comes　from　a　rending　of　the　spirit　is　like　a　physical　wound；　and　after　it　has　healed　externally；　and　the　torn　edges　are　scarred　over；　yet；　strange　to　say；　like　a　deep　physical　injury；　it　only　heals　inwardly　by　the　force　of　life　pushing　up　from　within。
So　Natasha’s　wound　healed。　She　believed　that　her　life　was　over。　But　suddenly　her　love　for　her　mother　showed　her　that　the　essence　of　her　life—love—was　still　alive　within　her。　Love　was　awakened；　and　life　waked　with　it。
The　last　days　of　Prince　Andrey　had　been　a　close　bond　between　Natasha　and　Princess　Marya。　This　fresh　trouble　brought　them　even　closer　together。　Princess　Marya　put　off　her　departure；　and　for　the　last　three　weeks　she　had　been　looking　after　Natasha；　as　though　she　were　a　sick　child。　Those　weeks　spent　by　Natasha　in　her　mother’s　room　had　completely　broken　down　her　health。
One　day　Princess　Marya　noticed　that　Natasha　was　shivering　with　a　feverish　chill；　and　brought　her　away　to　her　own　room；　and　tucked　her　up　in　bed　in　the　middle　of　the　day。　Natasha　lay　down；　but　when　Princess　Marya；　having　let　down　the　blinds；　was　about　to　leave　the　room；　Natasha　called　her　to　her。
“I’m　not　sleepy；　Marie；　stay　with　me。”
“You　are　tired；　try　and　go　to　sleep。”
“No；　no。　Why　did　you　bring　me　away？　She　will　ask　for　me。”
“She　is　much　better。　She　was　talking　much　more　like　herself　to…day；”　said　Princess　Marya。
Natasha　lay　on　the　bed；　and　in　the　half…dark　room　she　tried　to　make　out　Princess　Marya’s　face。
“Is　she　like　him？”　Natasha　wondered。　“Yes；　like　and　unlike。　But　she　is　original；　different；　a　quite　new；　unknown　person。　And　she　likes　me。　What　is　there　in　her　heart？　Everything　good。　But　what　is　it　like？　What　are　her　thoughts　like？　How　does　she　look　on　me？　Yes；　she　is　nice！”
“Masha；”　she　said；　shyly　drawing　her　hand　towards　her。　“Masha；　you　mustn’t　think　I’m　horrid。　No？　Masha；　darling！　How　I　love　you！　Let　us　be　quite；　quite　friends。”　And　embracing　her；　Natasha　fell　to　kissing　her　hands　and　face。
Princess　Marya　was　abashed　and　overjoyed　at　this　demonstration　of　feeling。
From　that　day　there　sprang　up　between　Princess　Marya　and　Natasha　one　of　those　tender　and　passionate　friendships　which　can　only　exist　between　women。　They　were　continually　kissing　each　other　and　saying　tender　things　to　one　another；　and　they　spent　the　greater　part　of　their　time　together。　If　one　went　away；　the　other　was　uneasy　and　hastened　to　join　her。　They　felt　more　harmony　together　with　each　other　than　apart；　each　with　herself。　There　sprang　up　between　them　a　feeling　stronger　than　friendship；　that　was　the　feeling　of　life　bein