战争与和平(上)-第78章

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e　old　prince　saw　from　this　official　account　that　our　army　had　been　defeated。　A　week　after　the　newspaper　that　had　brought　news　of　the　defeat　of　Austerlitz；　came　a　letter　from　Kutuzov；　who　described　to　the　old　prince　the　part　taken　in　it　by　his　son。
“Before　my　eyes；”　wrote　Kutuzov；　“your　son　with　the　flag　in　his　hands；　at　the　head　of　a　regiment；　fell　like　a　hero；　worthy　of　his　father　and　his　fatherland。　To　my　regret　and　the　general　regret　of　the　whole　army　it　has　not　been　ascertained　up　to　now　whether　he　is　alive　or　dead。　I　comfort　myself　and　you　with　the　hope　that　your　son　is　living；　as；　otherwise；　he　would　have　been　mentioned　among　the　officers　found　on　the　field　of　battle；　a　list　of　whom　has　been　given　me　under　flag　of　truce。”
After　receiving　this　letter；　late　in　the　evening　when　he　was　alone　in　his　study；　the　old　prince　went　for　this　morning　walk　as　usual　next　day。　But　he　was　silent　with　the　bailiff；　the　gardener；　and　the　architect；　and　though　he　looked　wrathful；　said　nothing　to　them。　When　Princess　Marya　went　in　to　him　at　the　usual　hour；　he　was　standing　at　the　lathe　and　went　on　turning　as　usual；　without　looking　round　at　her。　“Ah？　Princess　Marya！”　he　said　suddenly　in　an　unnatural　voice；　and　he　let　the　lathe　go。　（The　wheel　swung　round　from　the　impetus。　Long　after；　Princess　Marya　remembered　the　dying　creak　of　the　wheel；　which　was　associated　for　her　with　what　followed。）
Princess　Marya　went　up　to　him；　she　caught　sight　of　his　face；　and　something　seemed　suddenly　to　give　way　within　her。　Her　eyes　could　not　see　clearly。　From　her　father’s　face—not　sad　nor　crushed；　but　vindictive　and　full　of　unnatural　conflict—she　saw　that　there　was　hanging　over　her；　coming　to　crush　her；　a　terrible　calamity；　the　worst　in　life；　a　calamity　she　had　not　known　till　then；　a　calamity　irrevocable；　irremediable；　the　death　of　one　beloved。
“Father！　Andrey？　…”　said　the　ungainly；　awkward　princess　with　such　unutterable　beauty　of　sorrow　and　self…forgetfulness　that　her　father　could　not　bear　to　meet　her　eyes　and　turned　away　sobbing。
“I　have　had　news。　Not　among　the　prisoners；　not　among　the　killed；　Kutuzov　writes；”　he　screamed　shrilly；　as　though　he　would　drive　his　daughter　away　with　that　shriek。　“Killed！”
The　princess　did　not　swoon；　she　did　not　fall　into　a　faint。　She　was　pale；　but　when　she　heard　those　words　her　face　was　transformed；　and　there　was　a　radiance　of　something　in　her　beautiful；　luminous　eyes。　Something　like　joy；　an　exalted　joy；　apart　from　the　sorrows　and　joys　of　this　world；　flooded　the　bitter　grief　she　felt　within　her。　She　forgot　all　her　terror　of　her　father；　went　up　to　him；　took　him　by　the　hand；　drew　him　to　her；　and　put　her　arm　about　his　withered；　sinewy　neck。
“Father；”　she　said；　“do　not　turn　away　from　me；　let　us　weep　for　him　together。”
“Blackguards；　scoundrels！”　screamed　the　old　man；　turning　his　face　away　from　her。　“Destroying　the　army；　destroying　men！　What　for？　Go；　go　and　tell　Liza。”
Princess　Marya　sank　helplessly　into　an　armchair　beside　her　father　and　burst　into　tears。　She　could　see　her　brother　now　at　the　moment　when　he　parted　from　her　and　from　Liza　with　his　tender　and　at　the　same　time　haughty　expression。　She　saw　him　at　the　moment　when　tenderly　and　ironically　he　had　put　the　image　on。　“Did　he　believe　now？　Had　he　repented　of　his　unbelief？　Was　he　there　now？　There　in　the　realm　of　eternal　peace　and　blessedness？”　she　wondered。　“Father；　tell　me　how　it　was；”　she　asked　through　her　tears。
“Go　away；　go；—killed　in　a　defeat　into　which　they　led　the　best　men　of　Russia　and　the　glory　of　Russia　to　ruin。　Go　away；　Princess　Marya。　Go　and　tell　Liza。　I　will　come。”　When　Princess　Marya　went　back　from　her　father；　the　little　princess　was　sitting　at　her　work；　and　she　looked　up　with　that　special　inward　look　of　happy　calm　that　is　peculiar　to　women　with　child。　It　was　clear　that　her　eyes　were　not　seeing　Princess　Marya；　but　looking　deep　within　herself；　at　some　happy　mystery　that　was　being　accomplished　within　her。
“Marie；”　she　said；　moving　away　from　the　embroidery　frame　and　leaning　back；　“give　me　your　hand。”　She　took　her　sister…in…law’s　hand　and　laid　it　below　her　waist。　Her　eyes　smiled；　expectant；　her　little　dewy　lip　was　lifted　and　stayed　so　in　childlike　rapture。　Princess　Marya　knelt　down　before　her；　and　hid　her　face　in　the　folds　of　her　sister…in…law’s　dress。　“There—there—do　you　feel　it？　I　feel　so　strange。　And　do　you　know；　Marie；　I　am　going　to　love　him　very　much；”　said　Liza；　looking　at　her　sister…in…law　with　shining；　happy　eyes。　Princess　Marya　could　not　lift　her　head；　she　was　crying。
“What’s　the　matter　with　you；　Marie？”
“Nothing　…　only　I　felt　sad　…　sad　about　Andrey；”　she　said；　brushing　away　the　tears　on　the　folds　of　her　sister…in…law’s　dress。　Several　times　in　the　course　of　the　morning　Princess　Marya　began　trying　to　prepare　her　sister…in…law’s　mind；　and　every　time　she　began　to　weep。　These　tears；　which　the　little　princess　could　not　account　for；　agitated　her；　little　as　she　was　observant　in　general。　She　said　nothing；　but　looked　about　her　uneasily；　as　though　seeking　for　something。　Before　dinner　the　old　prince；　of　whom　she　was　always　afraid；　came　into　her　room；　with　a　particularly　restless　and　malignant　expression；　and　went　out　without　uttering　a　word。　She　looked　at　Princess　Marya　with　that　expression　of　attention　concentrated　within　herself　that　is　only　seen　in　women　with　child；　and　suddenly　she　burst　into　tears。
“Have　you　heard　news　from　Andrey？”　she　said。
“No；　you　know　news　could　not　come　yet；　but　father　is　uneasy；　and　I　feel　frightened。”
“Then　you　have　heard　nothing？”
“Nothing；”　said　Princess　Marya；　looking　resolutely　at　her　with　her　luminous　eyes。　She　had　made　up　her　mind　not　to　tell　her；　and　had　persuaded　her　father　to　conceal　the　dreadful　news　from　her　till　her　confinement；　which　was　expected　before　many　days。　Princess　Marya　and　the　old　prince；　in　their　different　ways；　bore　and　hid　their　grief。　The　old　prince　refused　to　hope；　he　made　up　his　mind　that　Prince　Andrey　had　been　killed；　and　though　he　sent　a　clerk　to　Austria　to　seek　for　traces　of　his　son；　he　ordered　a　monument　for　him　in　Moscow　and　intended　to　put　it　up　in　his　garden；　and　he　told　every　one　that　his　son　was　dead。　He　tried　to　keep　up　his　old　manner　of　life　unchanged；　but　his　strength　was　failing　him：　he　walked　less；　ate　less；　slept　less；　and　every　day　he　grew　weaker。　Princess　Marya　went　on　hoping。　She　prayed　for　her　brother；　as　living；　and　every　moment　she　expected　news　of　his　return。


Chapter　8
“Ma　bonne　amie；”　said　the　little　princess；　after　breakfast；　on　the　morning　of　the　19th　of　March；　and　her　little　downy　lip　was　lifted　as　of　old；　but　as　in　that　house　since　the　terrible　news　had　come；　smiles；　tones　of　voice；　movements　even　bore　the　stamp　of　mourning；　so　now　the　smile　of　the　little　princess；　who　was　influenced　by　the　general　temper　without　knowing　its　cause；　was　such　that　more　than　all　else　it　was　eloquent　of　the　common　burden　of　sorrow。
“My　dear；　I　am　afraid　that　this　morning’s　fruschtique　（as　Foka　calls　it）　has　disagreed　with　me。”
“What　is　the　matter　with　you；　my　darling？　You　look　pale。　Oh；　you　are　very　pale；”　said　Princess　Marya　in　alarm；　running　with　her　soft；　ponderous　tread　up　to　her　sister…in…law。
“Shouldn’t　we　send　for　Marya　Bogdanovna；　your　excellency？”　said　one　of　the　maids　who　was　present。　Marya　Bogdanovna　was　a　midwife　from　a　district　town；　who　had　been　for　the　last　fortnight　at　Bleak　Hills。
“Yes；　truly；”　assented　Princess　Marya；　“perhaps　it　is　really　that。　I’ll　go　and　get　her。　Courage；　my　angel。”　She　kissed　Liza　and　was　going　out　of　the　room。
“Oh；　no；　no！”　And　besides　her　pallor；　the　face　of　the　little　princess　expressed　a　childish　terror　at　the　inevitable　physical　suffering　before　her。
“No；　it　is　indigestion；　say　it　is　indigestion；　say　so；　Marie；　say　so！”　And　the　little　princess　began　to　cry；　wringing　her　little　hands　with　childish　misery　and　capriciousness　and　affected　exaggeration　too。　Princess　Marya　ran　out　of　the　room　to　fetch　Marya　Bogdanovna。
“Mon　Dieu！　mon　Dieu！　Oh！”　she　heard　behind　her。　The　midwife　was　already　on　her　way　to　meet　her；　rubbing　her　plump；　small　white　hands；　with　a　face　of　significant　composure。
“Marya　Bogdanovna！　I　think　it　has　begun；”　said　Princess　Marya；　looking　with　wide…open；　frightened　eyes　at　the　midwife。
“Well；　I　thank　God　for　it；”　said　Marya　Bogdanovna；　not　hastening　her　step。　“You　young　ladies　have　no　need　to　know　anything　about　it。”
“But　how　is　it　the　doctor　has　not　come　from　Moscow　yet？”　said　the　princess。　（In　accordance　with　the　wishes　of　Liza　and　Prince　Andrey；　they　had　sent　to　Moscow　for　a　doctor；　and　were　expecting　him　every　minute。）
“It’s　no　matter；　princess；　don’t　be　uneasy；”　said　Marya　Bogdanovna；　“we　shall　do　very　well　without　the　doctor。”
Five　minutes　later　the　princess　from　her　room　heard　something　heavy　being　carried　by。　She　peeped　out；　the　footmen　were　for　some　reason　moving　into　the　bedroom　the　leather　sofa　which　stood　in　Prince　Andrey’s　study。　There　was　a　solemn　and　subdued　look　on　the　men’s　faces。
Princess　Marya　sat　alone　in　her　room；　listening　to　the　sounds　of　the　house；　now　and　then　opening　the　door　when　any　one　passed　by　and　looking　at　what　was　taking　place　in　the　corridor。　Several　women　passed　to　and　fro　treading　softly；　they　glanced　at　the　princess　and　turned　away　from　her。　She　did　not　venture　to　ask　questions；　and　going　back　to　her　room　closed　the　door　and　sat　still　in　an　armchair；　or　took　up　her　prayer…book；　or　knelt　down　before　the　shrine。　To　her　distress　and　astonishment　she　felt　that　prayer　did　not　soothe　her　emotion。　All　at　once　the　door　of　her　room　was　softly　opened；　and　she　saw　on　the　threshold　her　old　nurse；　Praskovya　Savvishna；　with　a　kerchief　over　her　head。　The　old　woman　hardly　ever；　owing　to　the　old　prince’s　prohibition；　came　into　her　room。
“I’ve　come　to　sit　a　bit　with　thee；　Mashenka；”　said　the　nurse；　“and　here　I’ve　brought　the　prince’s　wedding　candles　to　light　before　his　saint；　my　angel；”　she　said；　sighing。
“Ah；　how　glad　I　am；　nurse！”
“God　is　merciful；　my　darling。”　The　nurse　lighted　the　gilt　candles　before　the　shrine；　and　sat　down　with　her　stocking　near　the　door。　Princess　Marya　took　a　book　and　began　reading。　Only　when　they　heard　steps　or　voices；　the　princess　and　the　nurse　looked　at　one　another；　one　with　alarmed　inquiry；　the　other　with　soothing　reassurance　in　her　face。　The　feeling　that　Princess　Marya　was　experiencing　as　she　sat　in　her　room　had　overpowered　the　whole　house　and　taken　possession　of　every　one。　Owing　to　the　belief　that　the　fewer　people　know　of　the　sufferings　of　a　woman　in　labour；　the　less　she　suffers；　every　one　tried　to　affect　to　know　nothing　of　it；　no　one　talked　about　it；　but　over　and　above　the　habitual　staidness　and　respectfulness　of　good　manners　that　always　reigned　in　the　prince’s　household；　there　was　apparent　in　all　a　sort　of　anxiety；　a　softening　of　the　heart；　and　a　consciousness　of　some　great；　unfathomable　mystery　being　accomplished　at　that　moment。　There　was　no　sound　of　laughter　in　the　big　room　where　the　maids　sat。　In　the　waiting…room　the　men　all　sat　in　silence；　as　it　were　on　the　alert。　Torches　and　candles　were　burning　in　the　serfs’　quarters；　and　no　one　slept。　The　old　prince　walked　about　his　study；　treading　on　his　heels；　and　sent　Tihon　to　Marya　Bogdanovna　to　ask　what　news。
“Only　say：　the　prince　has　sent　to