战争与和平(上)-第6章

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THERE　was　the　rustle　of　a　woman’s　dress　in　the　next　room。　Prince　Andrey　started　up；　as　it　were　pulling　himself　together；　and　his　face　assumed　the　expression　it　had　worn　in　Anna　Pavlovna’s　drawing…room。　Pierre　dropped　his　legs　down　off　the　sofa。　The　princess　came　in。　She　had　changed　her　gown；　and　was　wearing　a　house　dress　as　fresh　and　elegant　as　the　other　had　been。　Prince　Andrey　got　up　and　courteously　set　a　chair　for　her。
“Why　is　it；　I　often　wonder；”　she　began　in　French　as　always；　while　she　hurriedly　and　fussily　settled　herself　in　the　low　chair；　“why　is　it　Annette　never　married？　How　stupid　you　gentlemen　all　are　not　to　have　married　her。　You　must　excuse　me；　but　you　really　have　no　sense　about　women。　What　an　argumentative　person　you　are；　Monsieur　Pierre！”
“I’m　still　arguing　with　your　husband；　I　can’t　make　out　why　he　wants　to　go　to　the　war；”　said　Pierre；　addressing　the　princess　without　any　of　the　affectation　so　common　in　the　attitude　of　a　young　man　to　a　young　woman。
The　princess　shivered。　Clearly　Pierre’s　words　touched　a　tender　spot。
“Ah；　that’s　what　I　say；”　she　said。　“I　can’t　understand；　I　simply　can’t　understand　why　men　can’t　get　on　without　war。　Why　is　it　we　women　want　nothing　of　the　sort？　We　don’t　care　for　it。　Come；　you　shall　be　the　judge。　I　keep　saying　to　him：　here　he　is　uncle’s　adjutant；　a　most　brilliant　position。　He’s　so　well　known；　so　appreciated　by　every　one。　The　other　day　at　the　Apraxins’　I　heard　a　lady　ask：　‘So　that　is　the　famous　Prince　André？　Upon　my　word！’　”　She　laughed。　“He’s　asked　everywhere。　He　could　very　easily　be　a　flügel…adjutant。　You　know　the　Emperor　has　spoken　very　graciously　to　him。　Annette　and　I　were　saying　it　would　be　quite　easy　to　arrange　it。　What　do　you　think？”
Pierre　looked　at　Prince　Andrey；　and；　noticing　that　his　friend　did　not　like　this　subject；　made　no　reply。
“When　are　you　starting？”　he　asked。
“Ah；　don’t　talk　to　me　about　that　going　away；　don’t　talk　about　it。　I　won’t　even　hear　it　spoken　of；”　said　the　princess　in　just　the　capriciously　playful　tone　in　which　she　had　talked　to　Ippolit　at　the　soirée；　a　tone　utterly　incongruous　in　her　own　home　circle；　where　Pierre　was　like　one　of　the　family。　“This　evening　when　I　thought　all　these　relations　so　precious　to　me　must　be　broken　off。…And　then；　you　know；　André？”　She　looked　significantly　at　her　husband。　“I’m　afraid！　I’m　afraid！”　she　whispered；　twitching　her　shoulder。　Her　husband　looked　at　her　as　though　he　were　surprised　to　observe　that　there　was　some　one　in　the　room　beside　himself　and　Pierre；　and　with　frigid　courtesy　he　addressed　an　inquiry　to　his　wife。
“What　are　you　afraid　of；　Liza？　I　don’t　understand；”　he　said。
“See　what　egoists　all　men　are；　they　are　all；　all　egoists！　Of　his　own　accord；　for　his　own　whim；　for　no　reason　whatever；　he　is　deserting　me；　shutting　me　up　alone　in　the　country。”
“With　my　father　and　sister；　remember；”　said　Prince　Andrey　quietly。
“It’s　just　the　same　as　alone；　without　my　friends。…And　he　doesn’t　expect　me　to　be　afraid。”　Her　tone　was　querulous　now；　her　upper　lip　was　lifted；　giving　her　face　not　a　joyous　expression；　but　a　wild…animal　look；　like　a　squirrel。　She　paused　as　though　feeling　it　indecorous　to　speak　of　her　condition　before　Pierre；　though　the　whole　gist　of　the　matter　lay　in　that。
“I　still　don’t　understand　what　you　are　afraid　of；”　Prince　Andrey　said　deliberately；　not　taking　his　eyes　off　his　wife。　The　princess　flushed　red；　and　waved　her　hands　despairingly。
“No；　André；　I　say　you　are　so　changed；　so　changed…”
“Your　doctor’s　orders　were　that　you　were　to　go　to　bed　earlier；”　said　Prince　Andrey。　“It’s　time　you　were　asleep。”
The　princess　said　nothing；　and　suddenly　her　short；　downy　lip　began　to　quiver；　Prince　Andrey　got　up　and　walked　about　the　room；　shrugging　his　shoulders。
Pierre　looked　over　his　spectacles　in　na？ve　wonder　from　him　to　the　princess；　and　stirred　uneasily　as　though　he　too　meant　to　get　up；　but　had　changed　his　mind。
“What　do　I　care　if　Monsieur　Pierre　is　here；”　the　little　princess　said　suddenly；　her　pretty　face　contorted　into　a　tearful　grimace；　“I　have　long　wanted　to　say　to　you；　Andrey；　why　are　you　so　changed　to　me？　What　have　I　done？　You　go　away　to　the　war；　you　don’t　feel　for　me。　Why　is　it？”
“Liza！”　was　all　Prince　Andrey　said；　but　in　that　one　word　there　was　entreaty　and　menace；　and；　most　of　all；　conviction　that　she　would　herself　regret　her　words；　but　she　went　on　hurriedly。
“You　treat　me　as　though　I　were　ill；　or　a　child。　I　see　it　all。　You　weren’t　like　this　six　months　ago。”
“Liza；　I　beg　you　to　be　silent；”　said　Prince　Andrey；　still　more　expressively。
Pierre；　who　had　been　growing　more　and　more　agitated　during　this　conversation；　got　up　and　went　to　the　princess。　He　seemed　unable　to　endure　the　sight　of　her　tears；　and　was　ready　to　weep　himself。
“Please　don’t　distress　yourself；　princess。　You　only　fancy　that　because　…I　assure　you；　I’ve　felt　so　myself…because…through…oh；　excuse　me；　an　outsider　has　no　business…Oh；　don’t　distress　yourself…goodbye。”
Prince　Andrey　held　his　hand　and　stopped　him。
“No；　stay　a　little；　Pierre。　The　princess　is　so　good；　she　would　not　wish　to　deprive　me　of　the　pleasure　of　spending　an　evening　with　you。”
“No；　he　thinks　of　nothing　but　himself；”　the　princess　declared；　not　attempting　to　check　her　tears　of　anger。
“Liza；”　said　Prince　Andrey　drily；　raising　his　voice　to　a　pitch　that　showed　his　patience　was　exhausted。
All　at　once　the　angry　squirrel　expression　of　the　princess’s　lovely　little　face　changed　to　an　attractive　look　of　terror　that　awakened　sympathy。　She　glanced　from　under　her　brows　with　lovely　eyes　at　her　husband；　and　her　face　wore　the　timorous；　deprecating　look　of　a　dog　when　it　faintly　but　rapidly　wags　its　tail　in　penitence。
“Mon　Dieu！　mon　Dieu！”　murmured　the　princess；　and　holding　her　gown　with　one　hand；　she　went　to　her　husband　and　kissed　him　on　the　forehead。
“Good…night；　Liza；”　said　Prince　Andrey；　getting　up　and　kissing　her　hand　courteously；　as　though　she　were　a　stranger。
The　friends　were　silent。　Neither　of　them　began　to　talk。　Pierre　looked　at　Prince　Andrey；　Prince　Andrey　rubbed　his　forehead　with　his　small　hand。
“Let　us　go　and　have　supper；”　he　said　with　a　sigh；　getting　up　and　going　to　the　door。
They　went　into　the　elegantly；　newly　and　richly　furnished　dining…room。　Everything　from　the　dinner…napkins　to　the　silver；　the　china　and　the　glass；　wore　that　peculiar　stamp　of　newness　that　is　seen　in　the　household　belongings　of　newly　married　couples。　In　the　middle　of　supper　Prince　Andrey　leaned　on　his　elbow；　and　like　a　man　who　has　long　had　something　on　his　mind；　and　suddenly　resolves　on　giving　it　utterance；　he　began　to　speak　with　an　expression　of　nervous　irritation　which　Pierre　had　never　seen　in　his　friend　before。
“Never；　never　marry；　my　dear　fellow；　that’s　my　advice　to　you；　don’t　marry　till　you　have　faced　the　fact　that　you　have　done　all　you’re　capable　of　doing；　and　till　you　cease　to　love　the　woman　you　have　chosen；　till　you　see　her　plainly；　or　else　you　will　make　a　cruel　mistake　that　can　never　be　set　right。　Marry　when　you’re　old　and　good　for　nothing…Or　else　everything　good　and　lofty　in　you　will　be　done　for。　It　will　all　be　frittered　away　over　trifles。　Yes；　yes；　yes！　Don’t　look　at　me　with　such　surprise。　If　you　expect　anything　of　yourself　in　the　future　you　will　feel　at　every　step　that　for　you　all　is　over；　all　is　closed　up　except　the　drawing…room；　where　you　will　stand　on　the　same　level　with　the　court　lackey　and　the　idiot…And　why！”…He　made　a　vigorous　gesture。
Pierre　took　off　his　spectacles；　which　transformed　his　face；　making　it　look　even　more　good…natured；　and　looked　wonderingly　at　his　friend。
“My　wife；”　pursued　Prince　Andrey；　“is　an　excellent　woman。　She　is　one　of　those　rare　women　with　whom　one　can　feel　quite　secure　of　one’s　honour；　but；　my　God！　what　wouldn’t　I　give　now　not　to　be　married！　You　are　the　first　and　the　only　person　I　say　this　to；　because　I　like　you。”
As　Prince　Andrey　said　this　he　was　less　than　ever　like　the　Bolkonsky　who　had　sat　lolling　in　Anna　Pavlovna’s　drawing…room　with　half…closed　eyelids；　filtering　French　phrases　through　his　teeth。　His　dry　face　was　quivering　with　nervous　excitement　in　every　muscle；　his　eyes；　which　had　seemed　lustreless　and　lifeless；　now　gleamed　with　a　full；　vivid　light。　It　seemed　that　the　more　lifeless　he　was　at　ordinary　times；　the　more　energetic　he　became　at　such　moments　of　morbid　irritability。
“You　can’t　understand　why　I　say　this；”　he　went　on。　“Why；　the　whole　story　of　life　lies　in　it。　You　talk　of　Bonaparte　and　his　career；”　he　said；　though　Pierre　had　not　talked　of　Bonaparte；　“you　talk　of　Bonaparte；　but　Bonaparte　when　he　was　working　his　way　up；　going　step　by　step　straight　to　his　aim；　he　was　free；　he　had　nothing　except　his　aim　and　he　attained　it。　But　tie　yourself　up　with　a　woman；　and；　like　a　chained　convict；　you　lose　all　freedom。　And　all　the　hope　and　strength　there　is　in　you　is　only　a　drag　on　you；　torturing　you　with　regret。　Drawing…rooms；　gossip；　balls；　vanity；　frivolity—that’s　the　enchanted　circle　I　can’t　get　out　of。　I　am　setting　off　now　to　the　war；　the　greatest　war　there　has　ever　been；　and　I　know　nothing；　and　am　good　for　nothing。　I　am　very　agreeable　and　sarcastic；”　pursued　Prince　Andrey；　“and　at　Anna　Pavlovna’s　every　one　listens　to　me。　And　this　imbecile　society　without　which　my　wife　can’t　exist；　and　these　women…If　you　only　knew　what　these　society　women　are；　and；　indeed；　women　generally！　My　father’s　right。　Egoism；　vanity；　silliness；　triviality　in　everything—that’s　what　women　are　when　they　show　themselves　as　they　really　are。　Looking　at　them　in　society；　one　fancies　there’s　something　in　them；　but　there’s　nothing；　nothing；　nothing。　No；　don’t　marry；　my　dear　fellow；　don’t　marry！”　Prince　Andrey　concluded。
“It　seems　absurd　to　me；”　said　Pierre；　“that　you；　you　consider　yourself　a　failure；　your　life　wrecked。　You　have　everything；　everything　before　you。　And　you…”
He　did　not　say　why　you；　but　his　tone　showed　how　highly　he　thought　of　his　friend；　and　how　much　he　expected　of　him　in　the　future。
“How　can　he　say　that？”　Pierre　thought。
Pierre　regarded　Prince　Andrey　as　a　model　of　all　perfection；　because　Prince　Andrey　possessed　in　the　highest　degree　just　that　combination　of　qualities　in　which　Pierre　was　deficient；　and　which　might　be　most　nearly　expressed　by　the　idea　of　strength　of　will。　Pierre　always　marvelled　at　Prince　Andrey’s　faculty　for　dealing　with　people　of　every　sort　with　perfect　composure；　his　exceptional　memory；　his　wide　knowledge　（he　had　read　everything；　knew　everything；　had　some　notion　of　everything）；　and　most　of　all　at　his　capacity　for　working　and　learning。　If　Pierre　were　frequently　struck　in　Andrey　by　his　lack　of　capacity　for　dreaming　and　philosophising　（to　which　Pierre　was　himself　greatly　given）；　he　did　not　regard　this　as　a　defect　but　as　a　strong　point。　Even　in　the　very　warmest；　friendliest；　and　simplest　relations；　flattery　or　praise　is　needed　just　as　grease　is　needed　to　keep　wheels　going　round。
“I　am　a　man　whose　day　is　done；”　said　Prince　Andrey。　“Why　talk　of　me？　let’s　talk　about　you；”　he　said　after　a　brief　pause；　smiling　at　his　own　reassuring　thoughts。　The　smile　was　instantly　reflected　on　Pierre’s　face。
“Why；　what　is　there　to　say　about　me？”　said　Pierre；　letting　his　face　relax　into　an　easy…going；　happy　smile。　“What　am　I？　I　am　a　bastard。”　And　he　s