War and Peace
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part of the room behind the columns, with a high silk-cur- tained mahogany bedstead on one side and on the other an immense case containing icons, was brightly illuminated with red light like a Russian church during evening service. Under the gleaming icons stood a long invalid chair, and in that chair on snowy-white smooth pillows, evidently freshly changed, Pierre sawcovered to the waist by a bright green quiltthe familiar, majestic figure of his father, Count Bezuk- hov, with that gray mane of hair above his broad forehead which reminded one of a lion, and the deep characteristical- ly noble wrinkles of his handsome, ruddy face. He lay just under the icons; his large thick hands outside the quilt. Into the right hand, which was lying palm downwards, a wax ta- per had been thrust between forefinger and thumb, and an old servant, bending over from behind the chair, held it in position. By the chair stood the priests, their long hair fall- ing over their magnificent glittering vestments, with lighted tapers in their hands, slowly and solemnly conducting the service. A little behind them stood the two younger prin- cesses holding handkerchiefs to their eyes, and just in front of them their eldest sister, Catiche, with a vicious and deter- mined look steadily fixed on the icons, as though declaring War and Peace 144 to all that she could not answer for herself should she glance round. Anna Mikhaylovna, with a meek, sorrowful, and all-forgiving expression on her face, stood by the door near the strange lady. Prince Vasili in front of the door, near the invalid chair, a wax taper in his left hand, was leaning his left arm on the carved back of a velvet chair he had turned round for the purpose, and was crossing himself with his right hand, turning his eyes upward each time he touched his forehead. His face wore a calm look of piety and resig- nation to the will of God. ‘If you do not understand these sentiments,’ he seemed to be saying, ‘so much the worse for you!’ Behind him stood the aide-de-camp, the doctors, and the menservants; the men and women had separated as in church. All were silently crossing themselves, and the read- ing of the church service, the subdued chanting of deep bass voices, and in the intervals sighs and the shuffling of feet were the only sounds that could be heard. Anna Mikhay- lovna, with an air of importance that showed that she felt she quite knew what she was about, went across the room to where Pierre was standing and gave him a taper. He lit it and, distracted by observing those around him, began crossing himself with the hand that held the taper. Sophie, the rosy, laughter-loving, youngest princess with the mole, watched him. She smiled, hid her face in her handkerchief, and remained with it hidden for awhile; then looking up and seeing Pierre she again began to laugh. She evidently felt unable to look at him without laughing, but could not resist looking at him: so to be out of temptation 145 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com she slipped quietly behind one of the columns. In the midst of the service the voices of the priests suddenly ceased, they whispered to one another, and the old servant who was holding the count’s hand got up and said something to the ladies. Anna Mikhaylovna stepped forward and, stoop- ing over the dying man, beckoned to Lorrain from behind her back. The French doctor held no taper; he was leaning against one of the columns in a respectful attitude implying that he, a foreigner, in spite of all differences of faith, under- stood the full importance of the rite now being performed and even approved of it. He now approached the sick man with the noiseless step of one in full vigor of life, with his delicate white fingers raised from the green quilt the hand that was free, and turning sideways felt the pulse and re- flected a moment. The sick man was given something to drink, there was a stir around him, then the people resumed their places and the service continued. During this inter- val Pierre noticed that Prince Vasili left the chair on which he had been leaning, andwith air which intimated that he knew what he was about and if others did not understand him it was so much the worse for themdid not go up to the dying man, but passed by him, joined the eldest princess, and moved with her to the side of the room where stood the high bedstead with its silken hangings. On leaving the bed both Prince Vasili and the princess passed out by a back door, but returned to their places one after the other before the service was concluded. Pierre paid no more attention to this occurrence than to the rest of what went on, having made up his mind once for all that what he saw happening War and Peace 146 around him that evening was in some way essential. The chanting of the service ceased, and the voice of the priest was heard respectfully congratulating the dying man on having received the sacrament. The dying man lay as lifeless and immovable as before. Around him everyone be- gan to stir: steps were audible and whispers, among which Anna Mikhaylovna’s was the most distinct. Pierre heard her say: ‘Certainly he must be moved onto the bed; here it will be impossible..’ The sick man was so surrounded by doctors, princesses, and servants that Pierre could no longer see the reddish-yel- low face with its gray manewhich, though he saw other faces as well, he had not lost sight of for a single moment during the whole service. He judged by the cautious movements of those who crowded round the invalid chair that they had lifted the dying man and were moving him. ‘Catch hold of my arm or you’ll drop him!’ he heard one of the servants say in a frightened whisper. ‘Catch hold from underneath. Here!’ exclaimed different voices; and the heavy breathing of the bearers and the shuffling of their feet grew more hurried, as if the weight they were carrying were too much for them. As the bearers, among whom was Anna Mikhaylovna, passed the young man he caught a momentary glimpse be- tween their heads and backs of the dying man’s high, stout, uncovered chest and powerful shoulders, raised by those who were holding him under the armpits, and of his gray, curly, leonine head. This head, with its remarkably broad 147 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com brow and cheekbones, its handsome, sensual mouth, and its cold, majestic expression, was not disfigured by the ap- proach of death. It was the same as Pierre remembered it three months before, when the count had sent him to Pe- tersburg. But now this head was swaying helplessly with the uneven movements of the bearers, and the cold listless gaze fixed itself upon nothing. After a few minutes’ bustle beside the high bedstead, those who had carried the sick man dispersed. Anna Mikhaylovna touched Pierre’s hand and said, ‘Come.’ Pierre went with her to the bed on which the sick man had been laid in a stately pose in keeping with the ceremony just com- pleted. He lay with his head propped high on the pillows. His hands were symmetrically placed on the green silk quilt, the palms downward. When Pierre came up the count was gazing straight at him, but with a look the significance of which could not be understood by mortal man. Either this look meant nothing but that as long as one has eyes they must look somewhere, or it meant too much. Pierre hesi- tated, not knowing what to do, and glanced inquiringly at his guide. Anna Mikhaylovna made a hurried sign with her eyes, glancing at the sick man’s hand and moving her lips as if to send it a kiss. Pierre, carefully stretching his neck so as not to touch the quilt, followed her suggestion and pressed his lips to the large boned, fleshy hand. Neither the hand nor a single muscle of the count’s face stirred. Once more Pierre looked questioningly at Anna Mikhaylovna to see what he was to do next. Anna Mikhaylovna with her eyes indicated a chair that stood beside the bed. Pierre obediently sat down, War and Peace 148 his eyes asking if he were doing right. Anna Mikhaylovna nodded approvingly. Again Pierre fell into the naively sym- metrical pose of an Egyptian statue, evidently distressed that his stout and clumsy body took up so much room and doing his utmost to look as small as possible. He looked at the count, who still gazed at the spot where Pierre’s face had been before he sat down. Anna Mikhaylovna indicated by her attitude her consciousness of the pathetic importance of these last moments of meeting between the father and son. This lasted about two minutes, which to Pierre seemed an hour. Suddenly the broad muscles and lines of the count’s face began to twitch. The twitching increased, the hand- some mouth was drawn to one side (only now did Pierre realize how near death his father was), and from that dis- torted mouth issued an indistinct, hoarse sound. Anna Mikhaylovna looked attentively at the sick man’s eyes, try- ing to guess what he wanted; she pointed first to Pierre, then to some drink, then named Prince Vasili in an inquiring whisper, then pointed to the quilt. The eyes and face of the sick man showed impatience. He made an effort to look at the servant who stood constantly at the head of the bed. ‘Wants to turn on the other side,’ whispered the servant, and got up to turn the count’s heavy body toward the wall. Pierre rose to help him. While the count was being turned over, one of his arms fell back helplessly and he made a fruitless effort to pull it forward. Whether he noticed the look of terror with which Pierre regarded that lifeless arm, or whether some other thought flitted across his dying brain, at any rate he glanced 149 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com at the refractory arm, at Pierre’s terror-stricken face, and again at the arm, and on his face a feeble, piteous smile ap- peared, quite out of keeping with his features, that seemed to deride his own helplessness. At sight of this smile Pierre felt an unexpected quivering in his breast and a tickling in his nose, and tears dimmed his eyes. The sick man was turned on to his side with his face to the wall. He sighed. ‘He is dozing,’ said Anna Mikhaylovna, observing that one of the princesses was coming to take her turn at watch- ing. ‘Let us go.’ Pierre went out. War and Peace 150 Chapter XXIV There was now no one in the reception room except Prince Vasili and the eldest princess, who were sitting under the portrait of Catherine the Great and talking eagerly. As soon as they saw Pierre and his companion they became silent, and Pierre thought he saw the princess hide something as she whispered: ‘I can’t bear the sight of that woman.’ ‘Catiche has had tea served in the small drawing room,’ said Prince Vasili to Anna Mikhaylovna. ‘Go and take something, my poor Anna Mikhaylovna, or you will not hold out.’ To Pierre he said nothing, merely giving his arm a sym- pathetic squeeze below the shoulder. Pierre went with Anna Mikhaylovna into the small drawing room. ‘There is nothing so refreshing after a sleepless night as a cup of this delicious Russian tea,’ Lorrain was saying with an air of restrained animation as he stood sipping tea from a delicate Chinese handleless cup before a table on which tea and a cold supper were laid in the small circular room. Around the table all who were at Count Bezukhov’s house that night had gathered to fortify themselves. Pierre well remembered this small circular drawing room with its mir- rors and little tables. During balls given at the house Pierre, who did not know how to dance, had liked sitting in this 151 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com room to watch the ladies who, as they passed through in their ball dresses with diamonds and pearls on their bare shoulders, looked at themselves in the brilliantly lighted mirrors which repeated their reflections several times. Now this same room was dimly lighted by two candles. On one small table tea things and supper dishes stood in disorder, and in the middle of the night a motley throng of people sat there, not merrymaking, but somberly whispering, and betraying by every word and movement that they none of them forgot what was happening and what was about to happen in the bedroom. Pierre did not eat anything though he would very much have liked to. He looked inquiringly at his monitress and saw that she was again going on tiptoe to the reception room where they had left Prince Vasili and the eldest princess. Pierre concluded that this also was essential, and after a short interval followed her. Anna Mikhaylovna was standing beside the princess, and they were both speak- ing in excited whispers. ‘Permit me, Princess, to know what is necessary and what is not necessary,’ said the younger of the two speakers, evidently in the same state of excitement as when she had slammed the door of her room. ‘But, my dear princess,’ answered Anna Mikhaylovna blandly but impressively, blocking the way to the bedroom and preventing the other from passing, ‘won’t this be too much for poor Uncle at a moment when he needs repose? Worldly conversation at a moment when his soul is already prepared..’ Prince Vasili was seated in an easy chair in his famil- War and Peace 152 iar attitude, with one leg crossed high above the other. His cheeks, which were so flabby that they looked heavier below, were twitching violently; but he wore the air of a man little concerned in what the two ladies were saying. ‘Come, my dear Anna Mikhaylovna, let Catiche do as she pleases. You know how fond the count is of her.’ ‘I don’t even know what is in this paper,’ said the younger of the two ladies, addressing Prince Vasili and pointing to an inlaid portfolio she held in her hand. ‘All I know is that his real will is in his writing table, and this is a paper he has forgotten...’ She tried to pass Anna Mikhaylovna, but the latter sprang so as to bar her path. ‘I know, my dear, kind princess,’ said Anna Mikhay- lovna, seizing the portfolio so firmly that it was plain she would not let go easily. ‘Dear princess, I beg and implore you, have some pity on him! Je vous en conjure..’ The princess did not reply. Their efforts in the struggle for the portfolio were the only sounds audible, but it was evident that if the princess did speak, her words would not be flattering to Anna Mikhaylovna. Though the latter held on tenaciously, her voice lost none of its honeyed firmness and softness. ‘Pierre, my dear, come here. I think he will not be out of place in a family consultation; is it not so, Prince?’ ‘Why don’t you speak, cousin?’ suddenly shrieked the princess so loud that those in the drawing room heard her and were startled. ‘Why do you remain silent when heaven knows who permits herself to interfere, making a scene on 153 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com the very threshold of a dying man’s room? Intriguer!’ she hissed viciously, and tugged with all her might at the port- folio. But Anna Mikhaylovna went forward a step or two to keep her hold on the portfolio, and changed her grip. Prince Vasili rose. ‘Oh!’ said he with reproach and sur- prise, ‘this is absurd! Come, let go I tell you.’ The princess let go. ‘And you too!’ But Anna Mikhaylovna did not obey him. ‘Let go, I tell you! I will take the responsibility. I myself will go and ask him, I!... does that satisfy you?’ ‘But, Prince,’ said Anna Mikhaylovna, ‘after such a sol- emn sacrament, allow him a moment’s peace! Here, Pierre, tell them your opinion,’ said she, turning to the young man who, having come quite close, was gazing with astonish- ment at the angry face of the princess which had lost all dignity, and at the twitching cheeks of Prince Vasili. ‘Remember that you will answer for the consequences,’ said Prince Vasili severely. ‘You don’t know what you are doing.’ ‘Vile woman!’ shouted the princess, darting unexpected- ly at Anna Mikhaylovna and snatching the portfolio from her. Prince Vasili bent his head and spread out his hands. At this moment that terrible door, which Pierre had watched so long and which had always opened so quietly, burst noisily open and banged against the wall, and the sec- ond of the three sisters rushed out wringing her hands. War and Peace 154 ‘What are you doing!’ she cried vehemently. ‘He is dying and you leave me alone with him!’ Her sister dropped the portfolio. Anna Mikhaylovna, stooping, quickly caught up the object of contention and ran into the bedroom. The eldest princess and Prince Vasili, recovering themselves, followed her. A few minutes later the eldest sister came out with a pale hard face, again biting her underlip. At sight of Pierre her expression showed an irre- pressible hatred. ‘Yes, now you may be glad!’ said she; ‘this is what you have been waiting for.’ And bursting into tears she hid her face in her handkerchief and rushed from the room. Prince Vasili came next. He staggered to the sofa on which Pierre was sitting and dropped onto it, covering his face with his hand. Pierre noticed that he was pale and that his jaw quivered and shook as if in an ague. ‘Ah, my friend!’ said he, taking Pierre by the elbow; and there was in his voice a sincerity and weakness Pierre had never observed in it before. ‘How often we sin, how much we deceive, and all for what? I am near sixty, dear friend... I too... All will end in death, all! Death is awful...’ and he burst into tears. Anna Mikhaylovna came out last. She approached Pierre with slow, quiet steps. ‘Pierre!’ she said. Pierre gave her an inquiring look. She kissed the young man on his forehead, wetting him with her tears. Then after a pause she said: ‘He is no more...’ 155 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com Pierre looked at her over his spectacles. ‘Come, I will go with you. Try to weep, nothing gives such relief as tears.’ She led him into the dark drawing room and Pierre was glad no one could see his face. Anna Mikhaylovna left him, and when she returned he was fast asleep with his head on his arm. In the morning Anna Mikhaylovna said to Pierre: ‘Yes, my dear, this is a great loss for us all, not to speak of you. But God will support you: you are young, and are now, I hope, in command of an immense fortune. The will has not yet been opened. I know you well enough to be sure that this will not turn your head, but it imposes duties on you, and you must be a man.’ Pierre was silent. ‘Perhaps later on I may tell you, my dear boy, that if I had not been there, God only knows what would have hap- pened! You know, Uncle promised me only the day before yesterday not to forget Boris. But he had no time. I hope, my dear friend, you will carry out your father’s wish?’ Pierre understood nothing of all this and coloring shyly looked in silence at Princess Anna Mikhaylovna. After her talk with Pierre, Anna Mikhaylovna returned to the Ros- tovs’ and went to bed. On waking in the morning she told the Rostovs and all her acquaintances the details of Count Bezukhov’s death. She said the count had died as she would herself wish to die, that his end was not only touching but edifying. As to the last meeting between father and son, it was so touching that she could not think of it without tears, War and Peace 156 and did not know which had behaved better during those awful momentsthe father who so remembered everything and everybody at last and last and had spoken such pathetic words to the son, or Pierre, whom it had been pitiful to see, so stricken was he with grief, though he tried hard to hide it in order not to sadden his dying father. ‘It is painful, but it does one good. It uplifts the soul to see such men as the old count and his worthy son,’ said she. Of the behavior of the eldest princess and Prince Vasili she spoke disapprovingly, but in whispers and as a great secret. 157 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com Chapter XXV At Bald Hills, Prince Nicholas Andreevich Bolkonski’s estate, the arrival of young Prince Andrew and his wife was daily expected, but this expectation did not upset the reg- ular routine of life in the old prince’s household. General in Chief Prince Nicholas Andreevich (nicknamed in soci- ety, ‘the King of Prussia’) ever since the Emperor Paul had exiled him to his country estate had lived there continuous- ly with his daughter, Princess Mary, and her companion, Mademoiselle Bourienne. Though in the new reign he was free to return to the capitals, he still continued to live in the country, remarking that anyone who wanted to see him could come the hundred miles from Moscow to Bald Hills, while he himself needed no one and nothing. He used to say that there are only two sources of human viceidleness and superstition, and only two virtuesactivity and intelligence. He himself undertook his daughter’s education, and to de- velop these two cardinal virtues in her gave her lessons in algebra and geometry till she was twenty, and arranged her life so that her whole time was occupied. He was himself always occupied: writing his memoirs, solving problems in higher mathematics, turning snuffboxes on a lathe, work- ing in the garden, or superintending the building that was always going on at his estate. As regularity is a prime con- dition facilitating activity, regularity in his household was War and Peace 158 carried to the highest point of exactitude. He always came to table under precisely the same conditions, and not only at the same hour but at the same minute. With those about him, from his daughter to his serfs, the prince was sharp and invariably exacting, so that without being a hardheart- ed man he inspired such fear and respect as few hardhearted men would have aroused. Although he was in retirement and had now no influence in political affairs, every high of- ficial appointed to the province in which the prince’s estate lay considered it his duty to visit him and waited in the lofty antechamber ante chamber just as the architect, gardener, or Princess Mary did, till the prince appeared punctually to the appointed hour. Everyone sitting in this antechamber experienced the same feeling of respect and even fear when the enormously high study door opened and showed the figure of a rather small old man, with powdered wig, small withered hands, and bushy gray eyebrows which, when he frowned, sometimes hid the gleam of his shrewd, youthful- ly glittering eyes. On the morning of the day that the young couple were to arrive, Princess Mary entered the antechamber as usu- al at the time appointed for the morning greeting, crossing herself with trepidation and repeating a silent prayer. Every morning she came in like that, and every morning prayed that the daily interview might pass off well. An old powdered manservant who was sitting in the an- techamber rose quietly and said in a whisper: ‘Please walk in.’ Through the door came the regular hum of a lathe. The 159 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com princess timidly opened the door which moved noiseless- ly and easily. She paused at the entrance. The prince was working at the lathe and after glancing round continued his work. The enormous study was full of things evidently in con- stant use. The large table covered with books and plans, the tall glass-fronted bookcases with keys in the locks, the high desk for writing while standing up, on which lay an open ex- ercise book, and the lathe with tools laid ready to hand and shavings scattered aroundall indicated continuous, varied, and orderly activity. The motion of the small foot shod in a Tartar boot embroidered with silver, and the firm pres- sure of the lean sinewy hand, showed that the prince still possessed the tenacious endurance and vigor of hardy old age. After a few more turns of the lathe he removed his foot from the pedal, wiped his chisel, dropped it into a leath- er pouch attached to the lathe, and, approaching the table, summoned his daughter. He never gave his children a bless- ing, so he simply held out his bristly cheek (as yet unshaven) and, regarding her tenderly and attentively, said severely: ‘Quite well? All right then, sit down.’ He took the exer- cise book containing lessons in geometry written by himself and drew up a chair with his foot. ‘For tomorrow!’ said he, quickly finding the page and making a scratch from one paragraph to another with his hard nail. The princess bent over the exercise book on the table. ‘Wait a bit, here’s a letter for you,’ said the old man sud- denly, taking a letter addressed in a woman’s hand from a War and Peace 160 bag hanging above the table, onto which he threw it. At the sight of the letter red patches showed themselves on the princess’ face. She took it quickly and bent her head over it. ‘From Heloise?’ asked the prince with a cold smile that showed his still sound, yellowish teeth. ‘Yes, it’s from Julie,’ replied the princess with a timid glance and a timid smile. ‘I’ll let two more letters pass, but the third I’ll read,’ said the prince sternly; ‘I’m afraid you write much nonsense. I’ll read the third!’ ‘Read this if you like, Father,’ said the princess, blushing still more and holding out the letter. ‘The third, I said the third!’ cried the prince abruptly, pushing the letter away, and leaning his elbows on the table he drew toward him the exercise book containing geometri- cal figures. ‘Well, madam,’ he began, stooping over the book close to his daughter and placing an arm on the back of the chair on which she sat, so that she felt herself surrounded on all sides by the acrid scent of old age and tobacco, which she had known so long. ‘Now, madam, these triangles are equal; please note that the angle ABC..’ The princess looked in a scared way at her father’s eyes glittering close to her; the red patches on her face came and went, and it was plain that she understood nothing and was so frightened that her fear would prevent her understanding any of her father’s further explanations, however clear they might be. Whether it was the teacher’s fault or the pupil’s, 161 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com this same thing happened every day: the princess’ eyes grew dim, she could not see and could not hear anything, but was only conscious of her stern father’s withered face close to her, of his breath and the smell of him, and could think only of how to get away quickly to her own room to make out the problem in peace. The old man was beside himself: moved the chair on which he was sitting noisily backward and forward, made efforts to control himself and not be- come vehement, but almost always did become vehement, scolded, and sometimes flung the exercise book away. The princess gave a wrong answer. ‘Well now, isn’t she a fool!’ shouted the prince, pushing the book aside and turning sharply away; but rising imme- diately, he paced up and down, lightly touched his daughter’s hair and sat down again. He drew up his chair. and continued to explain. ‘This won’t do, Princess; it won’t do,’ said he, when Prin- cess Mary, having taken and closed the exercise book with the next day’s lesson, was about to leave: ‘Mathematics are most important, madam! I don’t want to have you like our silly ladies. Get used to it and you’ll like it,’ and he patted her cheek. ‘It will drive all the nonsense out of your head.’ She turned to go, but he stopped her with a gesture and took an uncut book from the high desk. ‘Here is some sort of Key to the Mysteries that your He- loise has sent you. Religious! I don’t interfere with anyone’s belief... I have looked at it. Take it. Well, now go. Go.’ He patted her on the shoulder and himself closed the door after her. War and Peace 162 Princess Mary went back to her room with the sad, scared expression that rarely left her and which made her plain, sickly face yet plainer. She sat down at her writing table, on which stood miniature portraits and which was littered with books and papers. The princess was as untidy as her father was tidy. She put down the geometry book and eagerly broke the seal of her letter. It was from her most inti- mate friend from childhood; that same Julie Karagina who had been at the Rostovs’ name-day party. Julie wrote in French: Dear and precious Friend, How terrible and frightful a thing is separation! Though I tell myself that half my life and half my happiness are wrapped up in you, and that in spite of the distance separating us our hearts are united by indissoluble bonds, my heart rebels against fate and in spite of the pleasures and distractions around me I cannot over- come a certain secret sorrow that has been in my heart ever since we parted. Why are we not together as we were last summer, in your big study, on the blue sofa, the confidential sofa? Why cannot I now, as three months ago, draw fresh moral strength from your look, so gentle, calm, and pen- etrating, a look I loved so well and seem to see before me as I write? Having read thus far, Princess Mary sighed and glanced into the mirror which stood on her right. It reflected a weak, ungraceful figure and thin face. Her eyes, always sad, now looked with particular hopelessness at her reflection in the glass. ‘She flatters me,’ thought the princess, turning away and continuing to read. But Julie did not flatter her friend, 163 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com the princess’ eyeslarge, deep and luminous (it seemed as if at times there radiated from them shafts of warm light)were so beautiful that very often in spite of the plainness of her face they gave her an attraction more powerful than that of beauty. But the princess never saw the beautiful expression of her own eyesthe look they had when she was not think- ing of herself. As with everyone, her face assumed a forced unnatural expression as soon as she looked in a glass. She went on reading: All Moscow talks of nothing but war. One of my two brothers is already abroad, the other is with the Guards, who are starting on their march to the frontier. Our dear Emperor has left Petersburg and it is thought intends to ex- pose his precious person to the chances of war. God grant that the Corsican monster who is destroying the peace of Europe may be overthrown by the angel whom it has pleased the Almighty, in His goodness, to give us as sovereign! To say nothing of my brothers, this war has deprived me of one of the associations nearest my heart. I mean young Nich- olas Rostov, who with his enthusiasm could not bear to remain inactive and has left the university to join the army. I will confess to you, dear Mary, that in spite of his extreme youth his departure for the army was a great grief to me. This young man, of whom I spoke to you last summer, is so noble-minded and full of that real youthfulness which one seldom finds nowadays among our old men of twenty and, particularly, he is so frank and has so much heart. He is so pure and poetic that my relations with him, transient as they were, have been one of the sweetest comforts to my War and Peace 164 poor heart, which has already suffered so much. Someday I will tell you about our parting and all that was said then. That is still too fresh. Ah, dear friend, you are happy not to know these poignant joys and sorrows. You are fortunate, for the latter are generally the stronger! I know very well that Count Nicholas is too young ever to be more to me than a friend, but this sweet friendship, this poetic and pure inti- macy, were what my heart needed. But enough of this! The chief news, about which all Moscow gossips, is the death of old Count Bezukhov, and his inheritance. Fancy! The three princesses have received very little, Prince Vasili nothing, and it is Monsieur Pierre who has inherited all the property and has besides been recognized as legitimate; so that he is now Count Bezukhov and possessor of the finest fortune in Russia. It is rumored that Prince Vasili played a very despi- cable part in this affair and that he returned to Petersburg quite crestfallen. I confess I understand very little about all these matters of wills and inheritance; but I do know that since this young man, whom we all used to know as plain Monsieur Pierre, has become Count Bezukhov and the owner of one of the largest fortunes in Russia, I am much amused to watch the change in the tone and manners of the mammas burdened by marriageable daughters, and of the young ladies them- selves, toward him, though, between you and me, he always seemed to me a poor sort of fellow. As for the past two years people have amused themselves by finding husbands for me (most of whom I don’t even know), the matchmak- ing chronicles of Moscow now speak of me as the future 165 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com Countess Bezukhova. But you will understand that I have no desire for the post. A propos of marriages: do you know that a while ago that universal auntie Anna Mikhaylovna told me, under the seal of strict secrecy, of a plan of mar- riage for you. It is neither more nor less than with Prince Vasili’s son Anatole, whom they wish to reform by marry- ing him to someone rich and distinguee, and it is on you that his relations’ choice has fallen. I don’t know what you will think of it, but I consider it my duty to let you know of it. He is said to be very handsome and a terrible scapegrace. That is all I have been able to find out about him. But enough of gossip. I am at the end of my second sheet of paper, and Mamma has sent for me to go and dine at the Apraksins’. Read the mystical book I am sending you; it has an enormous success here. Though there are things in it dif- ficult for the feeble human mind to grasp, it is an admirable book which calms and elevates the soul. Adieu! Give my respects to monsieur your father and my compliments to Mademoiselle Bourienne. I embrace you as I love you. JULIE P.S. Let me have news of your brother and his charming little wife. The princess pondered awhile with a thoughtful smile and her luminous eyes lit up so that her face was entirely transformed. Then she suddenly rose and with her heavy tread went up to the table. She took a sheet of paper and her hand moved rapidly over it. This is the reply she wrote, also in French: Dear and precious Friend, Your letter of the 13th has giv- War and Peace 166 en me great delight. So you still love me, my romantic Julie? Separation, of which you say so much that is bad, does not seem to have had its usual effect on you. You complain of our separation. What then should I say, if I dared complain, I who am deprived of all who are dear to me? Ah, if we had not religion to console us life would be very sad. Why do you suppose that I should look severely on your affection for that young man? On such matters I am only severe with myself. I understand such feelings in others, and if never having felt them I cannot approve of them, neither do I con- demn them. Only it seems to me that Christian love, love of one’s neighbor, love of one’s enemy, is worthier, sweeter, and better than the feelings which the beautiful eyes of a young man can inspire in a romantic and loving young girl like yourself. The news of Count Bezukhov’s death reached us before your letter and my father was much affected by it. He says the count was the last representative but one of the great century, and that it is his own turn now, but that he will do all he can to let his turn come as late as possible. God pre- serve us from that terrible misfortune! I cannot agree with you about Pierre, whom I knew as a child. He always seemed to me to have an excellent heart, and that is the quality I value most in people. As to his in- heritance and the part played by Prince Vasili, it is very sad for both. Ah, my dear friend, our divine Saviour’s words, that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God, are ter- ribly true. I pity Prince Vasili but am still more sorry for 167 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com Pierre. So young, and burdened with such richesto what temptations he will be exposed! If I were asked what I de- sire most on earth, it would be to be poorer than the poorest beggar. A thousand thanks, dear friend, for the volume you have sent me and which has such success in Moscow. Yet since you tell me that among some good things it con- tains others which our weak human understanding cannot grasp, it seems to me rather useless to spend time in read- ing what is unintelligible and can therefore bear no fruit. I never could understand the fondness some people have for confusing their minds by dwelling on mystical books that merely awaken their doubts and excite their imagination, giving them a bent for exaggeration quite contrary to Chris- tian simplicity. Let us rather read the Epistles and Gospels. Let us not seek to penetrate what mysteries they contain; for how can we, miserable sinners that we are, know the ter- rible and holy secrets of Providence while we remain in this flesh which forms an impenetrable veil between us and the Eternal? Let us rather confine ourselves to studying those sublime rules which our divine Saviour has left for our guidance here below. Let us try to conform to them and fol- low them, and let us be persuaded that the less we let our feeble human minds roam, the better we shall please God, who rejects all knowledge that does not come from Him; and the less we seek to fathom what He has been pleased to conceal from us, the sooner will He vouchsafe its revelation to us through His divine Spirit. My father has not spoken to me of a suitor, but has only told me that he has received a letter and is expecting a visit War and Peace 168 from Prince Vasili. In regard to this project of marriage for me, I will tell you, dear sweet friend, that I look on marriage as a divine institution to which we must conform. However painful it may be to me, should the Almighty lay the duties of wife and wife and mother upon me I shall try to perform them as faithfully as I can, without disquieting myself by examining my feelings toward him whom He may give me for husband. I have had a letter from my brother, who announces his speedy arrival at Bald Hills with his wife. This pleasure will be but a brief one, however, for he will leave, us again to take Yüklə 9,73 Mb. Dostları ilə paylaş:
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