战争与和平(上)-第62节

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　have　I　done　to　bring　it　about？　When　did　it　begin？　I　came　here　from　Moscow　with　Prince　Vassily；　then　there　was　nothing。　Afterwards　what　reason　was　there　for　not　staying　with　him？　Then　I　played　cards　with　her　and　picked　up　her　reticule；　and　went　skating　with　her。　When　did　it　begin；　when　did　it　all　come　about？”　And　here　he　was　sitting　beside　her　as　her　betrothed；　hearing；　seeing；　feeling　her　closeness；　her　breathing；　her　movements；　her　beauty。　Then　it　suddenly　seemed　to　him　that　it　was　not　she；　but　he　who　was　himself　extraordinarily　beautiful；　that　that　was　why　they　were　looking　at　him　so；　and　he；　happy　in　the　general　admiration；　was　drawing　himself　up；　lifting　his　head　and　rejoicing　in　his　happiness。　All　at　once　he　heard　a　voice；　a　familiar　voice；　addressing　him　for　the　second　time。
But　Pierre　was　so　absorbed　that　he　did　not　understand　what　was　said　to　him。
“I’m　asking　you；　when　you　heard　last　from　Bolkonsky；”　Prince　Vassily　repeated　a　third　time。　“How　absent…minded　you　are；　my　dear　boy。”　Prince　Vassily　smiled；　and　Pierre　saw　that　every　one；　every　one　was　smiling　at　him　and　at　Ellen。
“Well；　what　of　it；　since　you　all　know；”　Pierre　was　saying　to　himself。　“What　of　it？　it’s　the　truth；”　and　he　smiled　himself　his　gentle；　childlike　smile；　and　Ellen　smiled。
“When　did　you　get　a　letter？　From　Olmütz？”　repeated　Prince　Vassily；　who　wanted　to　know　in　order　to　settle　some　disputed　question。
“How　can　people　talk　and　think　of　such　trifles？”　thought　Pierre。
“Yes；　from　Olmütz；”　he　answered　with　a　sigh。
Pierre　took　his　lady　in　behind　the　rest　from　supper　to　the　drawing…room。　The　guests　began　to　take　leave；　and　several　went　away　without　saying　good…bye　to　Ellen。　As　though　unwilling　to　take　her　away　from　a　serious　occupation；　several　went　up　to　her　for　an　instant　and　made　haste　to　retire　again；　refusing　to　let　her　accompany　them　out。　The　diplomat　went　out　of　the　drawing…room　in　dumb　dejection。　He　felt　vividly　all　the　vanity　of　his　diplomatic　career　by　comparison　with　Pierre’s　happiness。　The　old　general　growled　angrily　at　his　wife　when　she　inquired　how　his　leg　was。　“The　old　fool；”　he　thought。　“Look　at　Elena　Vassilyevna；　she’ll　be　beautiful　at　fifty。”
“I　believe　I　may　congratulate　you；”　Anna　Pavlovna　whispered　to　Princess　Kuragin；　as　she　kissed　her　warmly。　“If　I　hadn’t　a　headache；　I　would　stay　on。”　The　princess　made　no　answer；　she　was　tormented　by　envy　of　her　daughter’s　happiness。
While　the　guests　were　taking　leave；　Pierre　was　left　a　long　while　alone　with　Ellen　in　the　little　drawing…room；　where　they　were　sitting。　Often　before；　during　the　last　six　weeks；　he　had　been　left　alone　with　Ellen；　but　he　had　never　spoken　of　love　to　her。　Now　he　felt　that　this　was　inevitable；　but　he　could　not　make　up　his　mind　to　this　final　step。　He　felt　ashamed；　it　seemed　to　him　that　here　at　Ellen’s　side　he　was　filling　some　other　man’s　place。　“This　happiness　is　not　for　you；”　some　inner　voice　said　to　him。　“This　happiness　is　for　those　who　have　not　in　them　what　you　have　within　you。”　But　he　had　to　say　something；　and　he　began　to　speak。　He　asked　her　whether　she　had　enjoyed　the　evening。　With　her　habitual　directness　in　replying；　she　answered　that　this　name…day　had　been　one　of　the　pleasantest　she　had　ever　had。
A　few　of　the　nearest　relations　were　still　lingering　on。　They　were　sitting　in　the　big　drawing…room。　Prince　Vassily　walked　with　languid　steps　towards　Pierre。　Pierre　rose　and　observed　that　it　was　getting　late。　Prince　Vassily　levelled　a　look　of　stern　inquiry　upon　him；　as　though　what　he　had　said　was　so　strange　that　one　could　not　believe　one’s　ears。　But　the　expression　of　severity　immediately　passed　away；　and　Prince　Vassily　taking　Pierre’s　hand　drew　him　down　into　a　seat　and　smiled　affectionately。
“Well；　Ellen？”　he　said　at　once；　addressing　his　daughter　in　that　careless　tone　of　habitual　tenderness　which　comes　natural　to　parents　who　have　petted　their　children　from　infancy；　but　in　Prince　Vassily’s　case　was　only　arrived　at　by　imitation　of　other　parents。　And　he　turned　to　Pierre　again：　“　‘Sergey　Kuzmitch　on　all　sides；’　”　he　repeated；　unbuttoning　the　top　button　of　his　waistcoat。
Pierre　smiled；　but　his　smile　betrayed　that　he　understood　that　it　was　not　the　anecdote　of　Sergey　Kuzmitch　that　interested　Prince。　Vassily　at　that　moment；　and　Prince　Vassily　knew　that　Pierre　knew　it。　Prince　Vassily　all　at　once　muttered　something　and　went　away。　It　seemed　to　Pierre　that　Prince　Vassily　was　positively　disconcerted。　The　sight　of　the　discomfiture　of　this　elderly　man　of　the　world　touched　Pierre；　he　looked　round　at　Ellen—and　she；　he　fancied；　was　disconcerted　too；　and　her　glance　seemed　to　say：　“Well；　it’s　your　own　fault。”
“I　must　inevitably　cross　the　barrier；　but　I　can’t；　I　can’t；”　thought　Pierre；　and　he　began　again　speaking　of　extraneous　subjects；　of　Sergey　Kuzmitch；　inquiring　what　was　the　point　of　the　anecdote；　as　he　had　not　caught　it　all。　Ellen；　with　a　smile；　replied　that　she　did　not　know　it　either。
When　Prince　Vassily　went　into　the　drawing…room；　the　princess　was　talking　in　subdued　tones　with　an　elderly　lady　about　Pierre。
“Of　course　it　is　a　very　brilliant　match；　but　happiness；　my　dear　…”
“Marriages　are　made　in　heaven；”　responded　the　elderly　lady。
Prince　Vassily　walked　to　the　furthest　corner　and　sat　down　on　a　sofa；　as　though　he　had　not　heard　the　ladies。　He　closed　his　eyes　and　seemed　to　doze。　His　head　began　to　droop；　and　he　roused　himself。
“Aline；”　he　said　to　his　wife；　“go　and　see　what　they　are　doing。”
The　princess　went　up　to　the　door；　walked　by　it　with　a　countenance　full　of　meaning　and　affected　nonchalance；　and　glanced　into　the　little　drawing…room。　Pierre　and　Ellen　were　sitting　and　talking　as　before。
“Just　the　same；”　she　said　in　answer　to　her　husband。　Prince　Vassily　frowned；　twisting　his　mouth　on　one　side；　his　cheeks　twitched　with　the　unpleasant；　brutal　expression　peculiar　to　him　at　such　moments。　He　shook　himself；　got　up；　flung　his　head　back；　and　with　resolute　steps　passed　the　ladies　and　crossed　over　to　the　little　drawing…room。　He　walked　quickly；　joyfully　up　to　Pierre。　The　prince’s　face　was　so　extraordinarily　solemn　that　Pierre　got　up　in　alarm　on　seeing　him。
“Thank　God！”　he　said。　“My　wife　has　told　me　all　about　it。”　He　put　one　arm　round　Pierre；　the　other　round　his　daughter。　“My　dear　boy！　Ellen！　I　am　very；　very　glad。”　His　voice　quavered。　“I　loved　your　father　…　and　she　will　make　you　a　good　wife　…　God’s　blessing　on　you！　…”　He　embraced　his　daughter；　then　Pierre　again；　and　kissed　him　with　his　elderly　lips。　Tears　were　actually　moist　on　his　cheeks。　“Aline；　come　here；”　he　called。
The　princess　went　in　and　wept　too。　The　elderly　lady　also　put　her　handkerchief　to　her　eye。　They　kissed　Pierre；　and　he　several　times　kissed　the　hand　of　the　lovely　Ellen。　A　little　later　they　were　again　left　alone。
“All　this　had　to　be　so　and　could　not　have　been　otherwise；”　thought　Pierre；　“so　that　it’s　no　use　to　inquire　whether　it　was　a　good　thing　or　not。　It’s　a　good　thing　because　it’s　definite；　and　there’s　none　of　the　agonising　suspense　there　was　before。”　Pierre　held　his　betrothed’s　hand　in　silence；　and　gazed　at　the　heaving　and　falling　of　her　lovely　bosom。
“Ellen！”　he　said　aloud；　and　stopped。　“There’s　something　special　is　said　on　these　occasions；”　he　thought；　but　he　could　not　recollect　precisely　what　it　was　that　was　said　on　these　occasions。　He　glanced　into　her　face。　She　bent　forward　closer　to　him。　Her　face　flushed　rosy　red。
“Ah；　take　off　those　…　those　…”　she　pointed　to　his　spectacles。
Pierre　took　off　his　spectacles；　and　there　was　in　his　eyes　besides　the　strange　look　people’s　eyes　always　have　when　they　remove　spectacles；　a　look　of　dismay　and　inquiry。　He　would　have　bent　over　her　hand　and　have　kissed　it。　But　with　an　almost　brutal　movement　of　her　head；　she　caught　at　his　lips　and　pressed　them　to　her　own。　Pierre　was　struck　by　the　transformed；　the　unpleasantly　confused　expression　of　her　face。
“Now　it’s　too　late；　it’s　all　over；　and　besides　I　love　her；”　thought　Pierre。
“I　love　you！”　he　said；　remembering　what　had　to　be　said　on　these　occasions。　But　the　words　sounded　so　poor　that　he　felt　ashamed　of　himself。
Six　weeks　later　he　was　married；　and　the　lucky　possessor　of　a　lovely　wife　and　millions　of　money；　as　people　said；　he　took　up　his　abode　in　the　great；　newly　decorated　Petersburg　mansion　of　the　Counts　Bezuhov。


Chapter　3
IN　THE　DECEMBER　of　1805；　the　old　Prince　Nikolay　Andreitch　Bolkonsky　received　a　letter　from　Prince　Vassily；　announcing　that　he　intended　to　visit　him　with　his　son。　（“I　am　going　on　an　inspection　tour；　and　of　course　a　hundred　versts　is　only　a　step　out　of　the　way　for　me　to　visit　you；　my　deeply…honoured　benefactor；”　he　wrote。　“My　Anatole　is　accompanying　me　on　his　way　to　the　army；　and　I　hope　you　will　permit　him　to　express　to　you　in　person　the　profound　veneration　that；　following　his　father’s　example；　he　entertains　for　you。”）
“Well；　there’s　no　need　to　bring　Marie　out；　it　seems；　suitors　come　to　us　of　themselves；”　the　little　princess　said　heedlessly　on　hearing　of　this。　Prince　Nikolay　Andreitch　scowled　and　said　nothing。
A　fortnight　after　receiving　the　letter；　Prince　Vassily’s　servants　arrived　one　evening　in　advance　of　him；　and　the　following　day　he　came　himself　with　his　son。
Old　Bolkonsky　had　always　had　a　poor　opinion　of　Pri