战争与和平(上)-第274章

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grown　thin　and　pale。　But　it　was　not　that　that　made　her　unrecognisable。　No　one　could　have　recognised　her　at　the　moment　when　he　entered；　because　when　he　first　glanced　at　her　there　was　no　trace　of　a　smile　in　the　eyes　that　in　old　days　had　always　beamed　with　a　suppressed　smile　of　the　joy　of　life。　They　were　intent；　kindly　eyes；　full　of　mournful　inquiry；　and　nothing　more。
Pierre’s　embarrassment　was　not　reflected　in　a　corresponding　embarrassment　in　Natasha；　but　only　in　a　look　of　pleasure；　that　faintly　lighted　up　her　whole　face。


Chapter　16
“SHE　has　come　to　stay　with　me；”　said　Princess　Marya。　“The　count　and　the　countess　will　be　here　in　a　few　days。　The　countess　is　in　a　terrible　state。　But　Natasha　herself　had　to　see　the　doctors。　They　made　her　come　away　with　me。”
“Yes。　Is　there　a　family　without　its　own　sorrow？”　said　Pierre；　turning　to　Natasha。　“You　know　it　happened　the　very　day　we　were　rescued。　I　saw　him。　What　a　splendid　boy　he　was！”
Natasha　looked　at　him；　and；　in　answer　to　his　words；　her　eyes　only　opened　wider　and　grew　brighter。
“What　can　one　say；　or　think；　to　give　comfort？”　said　Pierre。　“Nothing。　Why　had　he　to　die；　such　a　noble　boy；　so　full　of　life？”
“Yes；　in　these　days　it　would　be　hard　to　live　without　faith　…”　said　Princess　Marya。
“Yes；　yes。　That　is　true；　indeed；”　Pierre　put　in　hurriedly。
“How　so？”　Natasha　asked；　looking　intently　into　Pierre’s　eyes。
“How　so？”　said　Princess　Marya。　“Why；　only　the　thought　of　what　awaits　…”
Natasha；　not　heeding　Princess　Marya’s　words；　looked　again　inquiringly　at　Pierre。
“And　because；”　Pierre　went　on；　“only　one　who　believes　that　there　is　a　God　guiding　our　lives　can　bear　such　a　loss　as　hers；　and　…　yours；”　said　Pierre。
Natasha　opened　her　mouth；　as　though　she　would　say　something；　but　she　suddenly　stopped。
Pierre　made　haste　to　turn　away　from　her；　and　to　address　Princess　Marya　again　with　a　question　about　the　last　days　of　his　friend’s　life。　Pierre’s　embarrassment　had　by　now　almost　disappeared；　but　at　the　same　time　he　felt　that　all　his　former　freedom　had　vanished　too。　He　felt　that　there　was　now　a　judge　criticising　every　word；　every　action　of　his；　a　judge　whose　verdict　was　of　greater　consequence　to　him　than　the　verdict　of　all　the　people　in　the　world。　As　he　talked　now　he　was　considering　the　impression　his　words　were　making　on　Natasha　as　he　uttered　them。　He　did　not　intentionally　say　what　might　please　her；　but　whatever　he　said；　he　looked　at　himself　from　her　point　of　view。
With　the　unwillingness　usual　in　such　cases；　Princess　Marya　began　telling　Pierre　of　the　position　in　which　she　had　found　her　brother。　But　Pierre’s　questions；　his　eagerly　restless　glance；　his　face　quivering　with　emotion；　gradually　induced　her　to　go　into　details　which　she　shrank；　for　her　own　sake；　from　recalling　to　her　imagination。
“Yes；　yes；　…”　said　Pierre；　bending　forward　over　Princess　Marya；　and　eagerly　drinking　in　her　words。　“Yes；　yes。　So　he　found　peace？　He　was　softened？　He　was　always　striving　with　his　whole　soul　for　one　thing　only：　to　be　entirely　good；　so　that　he　could　not　dread　death。　The　defects　that　were　in　him—if　he　had　any—did　not　come　from　himself。　So　he　was　softened？”　he　said。
“What　a　happy　thing　that　he　saw　you　again；”　he　said　to　Natasha；　turning　suddenly　to　her；　and　looking　at　her　with　eyes　full　of　tears。
Natasha’s　face　quivered。　She　frowned；　and　for　an　instant　dropped　her　eyes。　For　a　moment　she　hesitated　whether　to　speak　or　not　to　speak。
“Yes；　it　was　a　great　happiness；”　she　said　in　a　low；　deep　voice；　“for　me　it　was　certainly　a　great　happiness。”　She　paused。　“And　he　…　he　…　he　told　me　he　was　longing　for　it　the　very　moment　I　went　in　to　him　…”　Natasha’s　voice　broke。　She　flushed；　squeezed　her　hands　against　her　knees　and　suddenly；　with　an　evident　effort　to　control　herself；　she　lifted　her　head　and　began　speaking　rapidly：
“We　knew　nothing　about　it　when　we　were　leaving　Moscow。　I　did　not　dare　ask　about　him。　And　all　at　once　Sonya　told　me　he　was　with　us。　I　could　think　of　nothing；　I　had　no　conception　in　what　state　he　was；　all　I　wanted　was　to　see　him—to　be　with　him；”　she　said；　trembling　and　breathless。　And　not　letting　them　interrupt　her；　she　told　all　that　she　had　never　spoken　of　to　any　one　before；　all　she　had　gone　through　in　those　three　weeks　of　their　journey　and　their　stay　in　Yaroslavl。
Pierre　heard　her　with　parted　lips　and　eyes　full　of　tears　fastened　upon　her。　As　he　listened　to　her；　he　was　not　thinking　of　Prince　Andrey；　nor　of　death；　nor　of　what　she　was　saying。　He　heard　her　voice　and　only　pitied　her　for　the　anguish　she　was　feeling　now　in　telling　him。
The　princess；　frowning　in　the　effort　to　restrain　her　tears；　sat　by　Natasha’s　side　and　heard　for　the　first　time　the　story　of　those　last　days　of　her　brother’s　and　Natasha’s　love。
To　speak　of　that　agonising　and　joyous　time　was　evidently　necessary　to　Natasha。
She　talked　on；　mingling　up　the　most　insignificant　details　with　the　most　secret　feelings　of　her　heart；　and　it　seemed　as　though　she　could　never　finish。　Several　times　she　said　the　same　thing　twice。
Dessalle’s　voice　was　heard　at　the　door　asking　whether　Nikolushka　might　come　in　to　say　good…night。　“And　that　is　all；　all　…”　said　Natasha。　She　got　up　quickly　at　the　moment　Nikolushka　was　coming　in；　and　almost　running　to　the　door；　knocked　her　head　against　it　as　it　was　hidden　by　the　portière；　and　with　a　moan；　half　of　pain；　half　of　sorrow；　she　rushed　out　of　the　room。
Pierre　gazed　at　the　door　by　which　she　had　gone　out；　and　wondered　why　he　felt　suddenly　alone　in　the　wide　world。
Princess　Marya　roused　him　from　his　abstraction；　calling　his　attention　to　her　nephew　who　had　just　come　into　the　room。
The　face　of　Nikolushka；　so　like　his　father；　had　such　an　effect　on　Pierre　at　this　moment　of　emotional　tension；　that；　after　kissing　the　child；　he　got　up　himself；　and　taking　out　his　handkerchief；　walked　away　to　the　window。　He　would　have　taken　leave；　but　Princess　Marya　would　not　let　him　go。
“No；　Natasha　and　I　often　do　not　go　to　bed　till　past　two；　please　stay　a　little　longer。　We　will　have　supper。　Go　downstairs；　we　will　come　in　a　moment。”
Before　Pierre　went　down；　the　princess　said　to　him：　“It　is　the　first　time　she　has　talked　of　him　like　this。”


Chapter　17
PIERRE　was　conducted　into　the　big；　lighted…up　dining…room。　In　a　few　minutes　he　heard　footsteps　and　the　princess　and　Natasha　came　into　the　room。　Natasha　was　calm；　though　the　stern；　unsmiling　expression　had　come　back　again　now　into　her　face。　Princess　Marya；　Natasha；　and　Pierre　all　equally　experienced　that　feeling　of　awkwardness　which　usually　follows　when　a　serious　and　deeply　felt　conversation　is　over。　To　continue　on　the　same　subject　is　impossible；　to　speak　of　trivial　matters　seems　desecration；　and　to　be　silent　is　unpleasant；　because　one　wants　to　talk；　and　this　silence　seems　a　sort　of　affectation。　In　silence　they　came　to　the　table。　The　footmen　drew　back　and　pushed　up　the　chairs。　Pierre　unfolded　his　cold　dinner　napkin；　and　making　up　his　mind　to　break　the　silence　he　glanced　at　Natasha　and　at　Princess　Marya。　Both　had　plainly　reached　the　same　decision　at　the　same　moment；　in　the　eyes　of　both　there　gleamed　a　satisfaction　with　life；　and　an　admission　that　there　was　gladness　in　it　as　well　as　sorrow。
“Do　you　drink　vodka？”　said　Princess　Marya；　and　those　words　at　once　dispelled　the　shadows　of　the　past。
“Tell　us　about　yourself；”　said　Princess　Marya；　“such　incredibly　marvellous　stories　are　being　told　about　you。”
“Yes；”　answered　Pierre；　with　the　gentle　smile　of　irony　that　had　now　become　habitual　with　him。　“I　myself　am　told　of　marvels　that　I　never　dreamed　of。　Marya　Abramovna　invited　me　to　come　and　see　her　and　kept　telling　me　what　had　happened　to　me；　or　ought　to　have　happened。　Stepan　Stepanovitch　too　instructed　me　how　I　was　to　tell　my　story。　Altogether　I　have　noticed　that　to　be　an　interesting　person　is　a　very　easy　position　（I　am　now　an　interesting　person）；　people　invite　me　and　then　tell　me　all　about　it。”
Natasha　smiled　and　was　about　to　say　something。
“We　have　been　told　that　you　lost　two　millions　in　Moscow。　Is　that　true？”
“Oh；　I　am　three　times　as　rich；”　said　Pierre。　In　spite　of　the　strain　on　his　fortune；　of　his　wife’s　debts；　and　the　necessity　of　rebuilding；　Pierre　still　said　that　he　had　become　three　times　as　rich。
“What　I　have　undoubtedly　gained；”　he　said；　“is　freedom　…”　he　was　beginning　seriously；　but　on　second　thoughts　he　did　not　continue；　feeling　that　it　was　too　egoistic　a　subject。
“And　you　are　building？”
“Yes；　such　are　Savelitch’s　orders。”
“Tell　me；　you　had　not　heard　of　the　countess’s　death　when　you　stayed　in　Moscow？”　said　Princess　Marya；　and　she　flushed　crimson　at　once；　conscious　that　in　putting　this　question　to　him　after　his　mention　of　“freedom；”　she　was　ascribing　a　significance　to　his　words　which　was　possibly　not　intended。
“No；”　answered　Pierre；　obviously　unconscious　of　any　awkwardness　in　the　interpretation　Princess　Marya　had　put　on　his　allusion　to　his　freedom。　“I　heard　of　it　in　Orel；　and　you　cannot　imagine　how　it　affected　me。　We　were　not　an　exemplary　couple；”　he　said　quickly；　glancing　at　Natasha　and　detecting　in　her　face　curiosity　as　to　how　he　would　speak　of　his　wife。　“But　her　death　affected　me　greatly。　When　two　people　quarrel；　both　are　always　in　fault。　And　one　becomes　terribly　aware　of　one’s　shortcomings　towards　any　one　who　is　no　more。　And　then　such　a　death　…　apart　from　friends　and　consolation。　I　felt　very　sorry　for　her；”　he　concluded；　and　noticed　with　satisfaction　a　glad　look　of　approval　on　Natasha’s　face。
“And　so　you　are　once　more　an　eligible　parti；”　said　Princess　Marya。
Pierre　flushed　suddenly　crimson；　and　for　a　long　while　he　tried　not　to　look　at　Natasha。　When　he　did　venture　to　glance　at　her；　her　face　was　cold　and　severe；　even；　he　fancied；　disdainful。
“But　did　you　really　see　and　talk　to　Napoleon；　as　we　have　been　told？”　said　Princess　Marya。
Pierre　laughed。
“Not　once；　never。　Every　one　always　imagines　that　to　be　a　prisoner　is　equivalent　to　being　on　a　visit　to　Napoleon。　I　never　saw；　never　even　heard　anything　about　him。　I　was　in　much　lower　company。”
Supper　was　over；　and　Pierre；　who　had　at　first　refused　to　talk　about　his　captivity；　was　gradually　drawn　into　telling　them　about　it。
“But　it　is　true　that　you　stayed　behind　to　kill　Napoleon？”　Natasha　asked　him　with　a　slight　smile。　“I　guessed　that　at　the　time　when　we　met　you　by　the　Suharev　Tower：　do　you　remember？”
Pierre　owned　that　it　was　so；　and　from　that　question　was　led　on　by　Princess　Marya’s；　and　still　more　by　Natasha’s；　questions　to　give　a　detailed　account　of　his　adventures。
At　first　he　told　his　story　with　that　tone　of　gentle　irony　that　he　always　had　now　towards　men　and　especially　towards　himself。　But　as　he　came　to　describe　the　horrors　and　sufferings　he　had　seen；　he　was　drawn　on　unawares；　and　began　to　speak　with　the　suppressed　emotion　of　a　man　living　again　in　imagination　through　the　intense　impressions　of　the　past。
Princess　Marya　looked　from　Pierre　to　Natasha　with　a　gentle　smile。　In　all　he　told　them　she　saw　only　Pierre　and　his　goodness。　Natasha；　her　head　supported　in　her　hand；　and　her　face　changing　continually　with　the　story；　watched　Pierre；　never　taking　her　eyes　off　him；　and　was　in　imagination　passing　through　all　he　told　her　with　him。　Not　only　her　eyes；　but　her　exclamations　and　the　brief　questions　she　put　showed　Pierre　that　she　understood　from　his