partner on his arm and looked at Natasha as one looks at a
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wall. Boris passed them twice and each time turned away.
Berg and his wife, who were not dancing, came up to them.
This family gathering seemed humiliating to Natashaas
if there were nowhere else for the family to talk but here at
the ball. She did not listen to or look at Vera, who was telling
her something about her own green dress.
At last the Emperor stopped beside his last partner (he
had danced with three) and the music ceased. A worried
aide-de-camp ran up to the Rostovs requesting them to
stand farther back, though as it was they were already close
to the wall, and from the gallery resounded the distinct,
precise, enticingly rhythmical strains of a waltz. The Em-
peror looked smilingly down the room. A minute passed
but no one had yet begun dancing. An aide-de-camp, the
Master of Ceremonies, went up to Countess Bezukhova and
asked her to dance. She smilingly raised her hand and laid it
on his shoulder without looking at him. The aide-de-camp,
an adept in his art, grasping his partner firmly round her
waist, with confident deliberation started smoothly, gliding
first round the edge of the circle, then at the corner of the
room he caught Helene’s left hand and turned her, the only
sound audible, apart from the ever-quickening music, be-
ing the rhythmic click of the spurs on his rapid, agile feet,
while at every third beat his partner’s velvet dress spread out
and seemed to flash as she whirled round. Natasha gazed at
them and was ready to cry because it was not she who was
dancing that first turn of the waltz.
Prince Andrew, in the white uniform of a cavalry col-
onel, wearing stockings and dancing shoes, stood looking
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animated and bright in the front row of the circle not far
from the Rostovs. Baron Firhoff was talking to him about
the first sitting of the Council of State to be held next day.
Prince Andrew, as one closely connected with Speranski
and participating in the work of the legislative commission,
could give reliable information about that sitting, concern-
ing which various rumors were current. But not listening to
what Firhoff was saying, he was gazing now at the sovereign
and now at the men intending to dance who had not yet
gathered courage to enter the circle.
Prince Andrew was watching these men abashed by the
Emperor’s presence, and the women who were breathlessly
longing to be asked to dance.
Pierre came up to him and caught him by the arm.
‘You always dance. I have a protegee, the young Rostova,
here. Ask her,’ he said.
‘Where is she?’ asked Bolkonski. ‘Excuse me!’ he added,
turning to the baron, ‘we will finish this conversation else-
whereat a ball one must dance.’ He stepped forward in the
direction Pierre indicated. The despairing, dejected expres-
sion of Natasha’s face caught his eye. He recognized her,
guessed her feelings, saw that it was her debut, remembered
her conversation at the window, and with an expression of
pleasure on his face approached Countess Rostova.
‘Allow me to introduce you to my daughter,’ said the
countess, with heightened color.
‘I have the pleasure of being already acquainted, if the
countess remembers me,’ said Prince Andrew with a low
and courteous bow quite belying Peronskaya’s remarks
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about his rudeness, and approaching Natasha he held out
his arm to grasp her waist before he had completed his invi-
tation. He asked her to waltz. That tremulous expression on
Natasha’s face, prepared either for despair or rapture, sud-
denly brightened into a happy, grateful, childlike smile.
‘I have long been waiting for you,’ that frightened hap-
py little girl seemed to say by the smile that replaced the
threatened tears, as she raised her hand to Prince Andrew’s
shoulder. They were the second couple to enter the circle.
Prince Andrew was one of the best dancers of his day and
Natasha danced exquisitely. Her little feet in their white
satin dancing shoes did their work swiftly, lightly, and in-
dependently of herself, while her face beamed with ecstatic
happiness. Her slender bare arms and neck were not beauti-
fulcompared to Helene’s her shoulders looked thin and her
bosom undeveloped. But Helene seemed, as it were, hard-
ened by a varnish left by the thousands of looks that had
scanned her person, while Natasha was like a girl exposed
for the first time, who would have felt very much ashamed
had she not been assured that this was absolutely neces-
sary.
Prince Andrew liked dancing, and wishing to escape as
quickly as possible from the political and clever talk which
everyone addressed to him, wishing also to break up the
circle of restraint he disliked, caused by the Emperor’s pres-
ence, he danced, and had chosen Natasha because Pierre
pointed her out to him and because she was the first pretty
girl who caught his eye; but scarcely had he embraced that
slender supple figure and felt her stirring so close to him
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and smiling so near him than the wine of her charm rose to
his head, and he felt himself revived and rejuvenated when
after leaving her he stood breathing deeply and watching
the other dancers.
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Chapter XVII
After Prince Andrew, Boris came up to ask Natasha for
dance, and then the aide-de-camp who had opened the ball,
and several other young men, so that, flushed and happy,
and passing on her superfluous partners to Sonya, she did
not cease dancing all the evening. She noticed and saw
nothing of what occupied everyone else. Not only did she
fail to notice that the Emperor talked a long time with the
French ambassador, and how particularly gracious he was
to a certain lady, or that Prince So-and-so and So-and-so
did and said this and that, and that Helene had great success
and was honored was by the special attention of So-and-so,
but she did not even see the Emperor, and only noticed that
he had gone because the ball became livelier after his depar-
ture. For one of the merry cotillions before supper Prince
Andrew was again her partner. He reminded her of their
first encounter in the Otradnoe avenue, and how she had
been unable to sleep that moonlight night, and told her how
he had involuntarily overheard her. Natasha blushed at that
recollection and tried to excuse herself, as if there had been
something to be ashamed of in what Prince Andrew had
overheard.
Like all men who have grown up in society, Prince An-
drew liked meeting someone there not of the conventional
society stamp. And such was Natasha, with her surprise,
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her delight, her shyness, and even her mistakes in speaking
French. With her he behaved with special care and tender-
ness, sitting beside her and talking of the simplest and most
unimportant matters; he admired her shy grace. In the
middle of the cotillion, having completed one of the figures,
Natasha, still out of breath, was returning to her seat when
another dancer chose her. She was tired and panting and ev-
idently thought of declining, but immediately put her hand
gaily on the man’s shoulder, smiling at Prince Andrew.
‘I’d be glad to sit beside you and rest: I’m tired; but you
see how they keep asking me, and I’m glad of it, I’m happy
and I love everybody, and you and I understand it all,’ and
much, much more was said in her smile. When her partner
left her Natasha ran across the room to choose two ladies
for the figure.
‘If she goes to her cousin first and then to another lady,
she will be my wife,’ said Prince Andrew to himself quite to
his own surprise, as he watched her. She did go first to her
cousin.
‘What rubbish sometimes enters one’s head!’ thought
Prince Andrew, ‘but what is certain is that that girl is so
charming, so original, that she won’t be dancing here a
month before she will be married.... Such as she are rare
here,’ he thought, as Natasha, readjusting a rose that was
slipping on her bodice, settled herself beside him.
When the cotillion was over the old count in his blue
coat came up to the dancers. He invited Prince Andrew to
come and see them, and asked his daughter whether she was
enjoying herself. Natasha did not answer at once but only
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looked up with a smile that said reproachfully: ‘How can
you ask such a question?’
‘I have never enjoyed myself so much before!’ she said,
and Prince Andrew noticed how her thin arms rose quick-
ly as if to embrace her father and instantly dropped again.
Natasha was happier than she had ever been in her life. She
was at that height of bliss when one becomes completely
kind and good and does not believe in the possibility of evil,
unhappiness, or sorrow.
At that ball Pierre for the first time felt humiliated by the
position his wife occupied in court circles. He was gloomy
and absent-minded. A deep furrow ran across his forehead,
and standing by a window he stared over his spectacles see-
ing no one.
On her way to supper Natasha passed him.
Pierre’s gloomy, unhappy look struck her. She stopped in
front of him. She wished to help him, to bestow on him the
superabundance of her own happiness.
‘How delightful it is, Count!’ said she. ‘Isn’t it?’
Pierre smiled absent-mindedly, evidently not grasping
what she said.
‘Yes, I am very glad,’ he said.
‘How can people be dissatisfied with anything?’ thought
Natasha. ‘Especially such a capital fellow as Bezukhov!’ In
Natasha’s eyes all the people at the ball alike were good,
kind, and splendid people, loving one another; none of
them capable of injuring anotherand so they ought all to
be happy.
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Chapter XVIII
Next day Prince Andrew thought of the ball, but his mind
did not dwell on it long. ‘Yes, it was a very brilliant ball,’
and then... ‘Yes, that little Rostova is very charming. There’s
something fresh, original, un-Petersburg-like about her that
distinguishes her.’ That was all he thought about yesterday’s
ball, and after his morning tea he set to work.
But either from fatigue or want of sleep he was ill-
disposed for work and could get nothing done. He kept
criticizing his own work, as he often did, and was glad when
he heard someone coming.
The visitor was Bitski, who served on various committees,
frequented all the societies in Petersburg, and a passionate
devotee of the new ideas and of Speranski, and a diligent
Petersburg newsmongerone of those men who choose their
opinions like their clothes according to the fashion, but who
for that very reason appear to be the warmest partisans.
Hardly had he got rid of his hat before he ran into Prince
Andrew’s room with a preoccupied air and at once began
talking. He had just heard particulars of that morning’s sit-
ting of the Council of State opened by the Emperor, and he
spoke of it enthusiastically. The Emperor’s speech had been
extraordinary. It had been a speech such as only constitu-
tional monarchs deliver. ‘The Sovereign plainly said that the
Council and Senate are estates of the realm, he said that the
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government must rest not on authority but on secure bases.
The Emperor said that the fiscal system must be reorganized
and the accounts published,’ recounted Bitski, emphasizing
certain words and opening his eyes significantly.
‘Ah, yes! Today’s events mark an epoch, the greatest ep-
och in our history,’ he concluded.
Prince Andrew listened to the account of the opening
of the Council of State, which he had so impatiently await-
ed and to which he had attached such importance, and was
surprised that this event, now that it had taken place, did
not affect him, and even seemed quite insignificant. He lis-
tened with quiet irony to Bitski’s enthusiastic account of it.
A very simple thought occurred to him: ‘What does it mat-
ter to me or to Bitski what the Emperor was pleased to say at
the Council? Can all that make me any happier or better?’
And this simple reflection suddenly destroyed all the in-
terest Prince Andrew had felt in the impending reforms. He
was going to dine that evening at Speranski’s, ‘with only a
few friends,’ as the host had said when inviting him. The
prospect of that dinner in the intimate home circle of the
man he so admired had greatly interested Prince Andrew,
especially as he had not yet seen Speranski in his domestic
surroundings, but now he felt disinclined to go to it.
At the appointed hour, however, he entered the mod-
est house Speranski owned in the Taurida Gardens. In the
parqueted dining room this small house, remarkable for
its extreme cleanliness (suggesting that of a monastery),
Prince Andrew, who was rather late, found the friendly
gathering of Speranski’s intimate acquaintances already as-
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sembled at five o’clock. There were no ladies present except
Speranski’s little daughter (long-faced like her father) and
her governess. The other guests were Gervais, Magnitski,
and Stolypin. While still in the anteroom Prince Andrew
heard loud voices and a ringing staccato laugha laugh such
as one hears on the stage. Someoneit sounded like Speran-
skiwas distinctly ejaculating ha-ha-ha. Prince Andrew had
never before heard Speranski’s famous laugh, and this ring-
ing, high pitched laughter from a statesman made a strange
impression on him.
He entered the dining room. The whole company were
standing between two windows at a small table laid with
hors-d’oeuvres. Speranski, wearing a gray swallow-tail coat
with a star on the breast, and evidently still the same waist-
coat and high white stock he had worn at the meeting of the
Council of State, stood at the table with a beaming counte-
nance. His guests surrounded him. Magnitski, addressing
himself to Speranski, was relating an anecdote, and Sper-
anski was laughing in advance at what Magnitski was going
to say. When Prince Andrew entered the room Magnitski’s
words were again crowned by laughter. Stolypin gave a deep
bass guffaw as he munched a piece of bread and cheese. Ger-
vais laughed softly with a hissing chuckle, and Speranski in
a high-pitched staccato manner.
Still laughing, Speranski held out his soft white hand to
Prince Andrew.
‘Very pleased to see you, Prince,’ he said. ‘One moment...’
he went on, turning to Magnitski and interrupting his story.
‘We have agreed that this is a dinner for recreation, with not
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a word about business!’ and turning again to the narrator he
began to laugh afresh.
Prince Andrew looked at the laughing Speranski with
astonishment, regret, and disillusionment. It seemed to him
that this was not Speranski but someone else. Everything
that had formerly appeared mysterious and fascinating in
Speranski suddenly became plain and unattractive.
At dinner the conversation did not cease for a moment
and seemed to consist of the contents of a book of funny an-
ecdotes. Before Magnitski had finished his story someone
else was anxious to relate something still funnier. Most of
the anecdotes, if not relating to the state service, related to
people in the service. It seemed that in this company the in-
significance of those people was so definitely accepted that
the only possible attitude toward them was one of good hu-
mored ridicule. Speranski related how at the Council that
morning a deaf dignitary, when asked his opinion, replied
that he thought so too. Gervais gave a long account of an
official revision, remarkable for the stupidity of everybody
concerned. Stolypin, stuttering, broke into the conversation
and began excitedly talking of the abuses that existed under
the former order of thingsthreatening to give a serious turn
to the conversation. Magnitski starting quizzing Stolypin
about his vehemence. Gervais intervened with a joke, and
the talk reverted to its former lively tone.
Evidently Speranski liked to rest after his labors and find
amusement in a circle of friends, and his guests, understand-
ing his wish, tried to enliven him and amuse themselves.
But their gaiety seemed to Prince Andrew mirthless and
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tiresome. Speranski’s high-pitched voice struck him un-
pleasantly, and the incessant laughter grated on him like a
false note. Prince Andrew did not laugh and feared that he
would be a damper on the spirits of the company, but no
one took any notice of his being out of harmony with the
general mood. They all seemed very gay.
He tried several times to join in the conversation, but his
remarks were tossed aside each time like a cork thrown out
of the water, and he could not jest with them.
There was nothing wrong or unseemly in what they said,
it was witty and might have been funny, but it lacked just
that something which is the salt of mirth, and they were not
even aware that such a thing existed.
After dinner Speranski’s daughter and her governess
rose. He patted the little girl with his white hand and kissed
her. And that gesture, too, seemed unnatural to Prince An-
drew.
The men remained at table over their portEnglish fash-
ion. In the midst of a conversation that was started about
Napoleon’s Spanish affairs, which they all agreed in approv-
ing, Prince Andrew began to express a contrary opinion.
Speranski smiled and, with an evident wish to prevent the
conversation from taking an unpleasant course, told a story
that had no connection with the previous conversation. For
a few moments all were silent.
Having sat some time at table, Speranski corked a bot-
tle of wine and, remarking, ‘Nowadays good wine rides
in a carriage and pair,’ passed it to the servant and got up.
All rose and continuing to talk loudly went into the draw-
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ing room. Two letters brought by a courier were handed to
Speranski and he took them to his study. As soon as he had
left the room the general merriment stopped and the guests
began to converse sensibly and quietly with one another.
‘Now for the recitation!’ said Speranski on return-
ing from his study. ‘A wonderful talent!’ he said to Prince
Andrew, and Magnitski immediately assumed a pose and
began reciting some humorous verses in French which he
had composed about various well-known Petersburg peo-
ple. He was interrupted several times by applause. When
the verses were finished Prince Andrew went up to Speran-
ski and took his leave.
‘Where are you off to so early?’ asked Speranski.
‘I promised to go to a reception.’
They said no more. Prince Andrew looked closely into
those mirrorlike, impenetrable eyes, and felt that it had been
ridiculous of him to have expected anything from Speran-
ski and from any of his own activities connected with him,
or ever to have attributed importance to what Speranski
was doing. That precise, mirthless laughter rang in Prince
Andrew’s ears long after he had left the house.
When he reached home Prince Andrew began thinking
of his life in Petersburg during those last four months as if
it were something new. He recalled his exertions and so-
licitations, and the history of his project of army reform,
which had been accepted for consideration and which they
were trying to pass over in silence simply because another,
a very poor one, had already been prepared and submitted
to the Emperor. He thought of the meetings of a committee
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of which Berg was a member. He remembered how carefully
and at what length everything relating to form and proce-
dure was discussed at those meetings, and how sedulously
and promptly all that related to the gist of the business was
evaded. He recalled his labors on the Legal Code, and how
painstakingly he had translated the articles of the Roman
and French codes into Russian, and he felt ashamed of him-
self. Then he vividly pictured to himself Bogucharovo, his
occupations in the country, his journey to Ryazan; he re-
membered the peasants and Dron the village elder, and
mentally applying to them the Personal Rights he had di-
vided into paragraphs, he felt astonished that he could have
spent so much time on such useless work.
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Chapter XIX
Next day Prince Andrew called at a few houses he had
not visited before, and among them at the Rostovs’ with
whom he had renewed acquaintance at the ball. Apart from
considerations of politeness which demanded the call, he
wanted to see that original, eager girl who had left such a
pleasant impression on his mind, in her own home.
Natasha was one of the first to meet him. She was wear-
ing a dark-blue house dress in which Prince Andrew
thought her even prettier than in her ball dress. She and
all the Rostov family welcomed him as an old friend, sim-
ply and cordially. The whole family, whom he had formerly
judged severely, now seemed to him to consist of excellent,
simple, and kindly people. The old count’s hospitality and
good nature, which struck one especially in Petersburg as a
pleasant surprise, were such that Prince Andrew could not
refuse to stay to dinner. ‘Yes,’ he thought, ‘they are capi-
tal people, who of course have not the slightest idea what
a treasure they possess in Natasha; but they are kindly folk
and form the best possible setting for this strikingly poetic,
charming girl, overflowing with life!’
In Natasha Prince Andrew was conscious of a strange
world completely alien to him and brimful of joys unknown
to him, a different world, that in the Otradnoe avenue and
at the window that moonlight night had already begun to
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disconcert him. Now this world disconcerted him no lon-
ger and was no longer alien to him, but he himself having
entered it found in it a new enjoyment.
After dinner Natasha, at Prince Andrew’s request, went
to the clavichord and began singing. Prince Andrew stood
by a window talking to the ladies and listened to her. In the
midst of a phrase he ceased speaking and suddenly felt tears
choking him, a thing he had thought impossible for him.
He looked at Natasha as she sang, and something new and
joyful stirred in his soul. He felt happy and at the same time
sad. He had absolutely nothing to weep about yet he was
ready to weep. What about? His former love? The little prin-
cess? His disillusionments?... His hopes for the future?... Yes
and no. The chief reason was a sudden, vivid sense of the
terrible contrast between something infinitely great and
illimitable within him and that limited and material some-
thing that he, and even she, was. This contrast weighed on
and yet cheered him while she sang.
As soon as Natasha had finished she went up to him and
asked how he liked her voice. She asked this and then be-
came confused, feeling that she ought not to have asked it.
He smiled, looking at her, and said he liked her singing as
he liked everything she did.
Prince Andrew left the Rostovs’ late in the evening. He
went to bed from habit, but soon realized that he could not
sleep. Having lit his candle he sat up in bed, then got up,
then lay down again not at all troubled by his sleeplessness:
his soul was as fresh and joyful as if he had stepped out of
a stuffy room into God’s own fresh air. It did not enter his
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head that he was in love with Natasha; he was not thinking
about her, but only picturing her to himself, and in conse-
quence all life appeared in a new light. ‘Why do I strive, why
do I toil in this narrow, confined frame, when life, all life
with all its joys, is open to me?’ said he to himself. And for
the first time for a very long while he began making happy
plans for the future. He decided that he must attend to his
son’s education by finding a tutor and putting the boy in
his charge, then he ought to retire from the service and go
abroad, and see England, Switzerland and Italy. ‘I must use
my freedom while I feel so much strength and youth in me,’
he said to himself. ‘Pierre was right when he said one must
believe in the possibility of happiness in order to be happy,
and now I do believe in it. Let the dead bury their dead, but
while one has life one must live and be happy!’ thought he.
CHAPTER XX
One morning Colonel Berg, whom Pierre knew as he
knew everybody in Moscow and Petersburg, came to see
him. Berg arrived in an immaculate brand-new uniform,
with his hair pomaded and brushed forward over his tem-
ples as the Emperor Alexander wore his hair.
‘I have just been to see the countess, your wife. Unfortu-
nately she could not grant my request, but I hope, Count, I
shall be more fortunate with you,’ he said with a smile.
‘What is it you wish, Colonel? I am at your service.’
‘I have now quite settled in my new rooms, Count’ (Berg
said this with perfect conviction that this information could
not but be agreeable), ‘and so I wish to arrange just a small
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