战争与和平(上)-第68节

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“But　you　despise　me；　you　who　are　so　pure；　you　will　never　understand　this　frenzy　of　passion。　Ah；　it　is　only　my　poor　mother　…”
“I　understand　everything；”　said　Princess　Marya；　smiling　mournfully。　“Calm　yourself；　my　dear。　I　am　going　to　my　father；”　she　said；　and　she　went　out。
When　the　princess　went　in；　Prince　Vassily　was　sitting　with　one　leg　crossed　high　over　the　other；　and　a　snuff…box　in　his　hand。　There　was　a　smile　of　emotion　on　his　face；　and　he　looked　as　though　moved　to　such　an　extreme　point　that　he　could　but　regret　and　smile　at　his　own　sensibility。　He　took　a　hasty　pinch　of　snuff。
“Ah；　my　dear；　my　dear！”　he　said；　getting　up　and　taking　her　by　both　hands。　He　heaved　a　sigh；　and　went　on：　“My　son’s　fate　is　in　your　hands。　Decide；　my　good　dear；　sweet　Marie；　whom　I　have　always　loved　like　a　daughter。”　He　drew　back。　There　was　a　real　tear　in　his　eye。
“Fr　…　ffr　…”　snorted　the　old　prince。　“The　prince　in　his　protégé’s　…　his　son’s　name　makes　you　a　proposal。　Are　you　willing　or　not　to　be　the　wife　of　Prince　Anatole　Kuragin？　You　say：　yes　or　no；”　he　shouted；　“and　then　I　reserve　for　myself　the　right　to　express　my　opinion。　Yes；　my　opinion；　and　nothing　but　my　opinion；”　added　the　old　prince；　to　Prince　Vassily　in　response　to　his　supplicating　expression；　“Yes　or　no！”
“My　wish；　mon　père；　is　never　to　leave　you；　never　to　divide　my　life　from　yours。　I　do　not　wish　to　marry；”　she　said　resolutely；　glancing　with　her　beautiful　eyes　at　Prince　Vassily　and　at　her　father。
“Nonsense；　fiddlesticks！　Nonsense；　nonsense！”　shouted　the　old　prince；　frowning。　He　took　his　daughter’s　hand；　drew　her　towards　him　and　did　not　kiss　her；　but　bending　over；　touched　her　forehead　with　his；　and　wrung　the　hand　he　held　so　violently　that　she　winced　and　uttered　a　cry。　Prince　Vassily　got　up。
“My　dear；　let　me　tell　you　that　this　is　a　moment　I　shall　never　forget；　never；　but；　dear；　will　you　not　give　us　a　little　hope　of　touching　so　kind　and　generous　a　heart。　Say　that　perhaps。…　The　future　is　so　wide。…　Say：　perhaps。”
“Prince；　what　I　have　said　is　all　that　is　in　my　heart。　I　thank　you　for　the　honour　you　do　me；　but　I　shall　never　be　your　son’s　wife。”
“Well；　then　it’s　all　over；　my　dear　fellow。　Very　glad　to　have　seen　you；　very　glad　to　have　seen　you。　Go　to　your　room；　princess；　go　along　now；”　said　the　old　prince。　“Very；　very　glad　to　have　seen　you；”　he　repeated；　embracing　Prince　Vassily。
“My　vocation　is　a　different　one；”　Princess　Marya　was　thinking　to　herself；　“my　vocation　is　to　be　happy　in　the　happiness　of　others；　in　the　happiness　of　love　and　self…sacrifice。　And　at　any　cost　I　will　make　poor　Amélie　happy。　She　loves　him　so　passionately。　She　is　so　passionately　penitent。　I　will　do　everything　to　bring　about　their　marriage。　If　he　is　not　rich　I　will　give　her　means；　I　will　beg　my　father；　I　will　beg　Andrey。　I　shall　be　so　happy　when　she　is　his　wife。　She　is　so　unhappy；　a　stranger；　solitary　and　helpless！　And；　my　God；　how　passionately　she　must　love　him　to　be　able　to　forget　herself　so。　Perhaps　I　might　have　done　the　same！…”　thought　Princess　Marya。


Chapter　6
IT　was　a　long　while　since　the　Rostovs　had　had　news　of　their　Nikolushka。　But　in　the　middle　of　the　winter　a　letter　was　handed　to　Count　Rostov；　on　the　envelope　of　which　he　recognised　his　son’s　handwriting。　On　receiving　the　letter　the　count；　in　alarm　and　in　haste；　ran　on　tiptoe　to　his　room；　trying　to　escape　notice；　shut　himself　in　and　read　the　letter。　Anna　Mihalovna　had　learned　（as　she　always　did　learn　all　that　passed　in　the　house）　that　he　had　received　a　letter；　and　treading　softly；　she　went　in　to　the　count　and　found　him　with　the　letter　in　his　hand；　sobbing　and　laughing　at　once。　Anna　Mihalovna；　though　her　fortunes　had　been　looking　up；　was　still　an　inmate　of　the　Rostov　household。
“My　dear　friend？”　Anna　Mihalovna　brought　out　in　a　voice　of　melancholy　inquiry；　equally　ready　for　sympathy　in　any　direction。　The　count　sobbed　more　violently
“Nikolushka　…　letter　…　wounded　…　he　would　…　my　dear　…　wounded　…　my　darling　boy　…　the　little　countess　…　promoted　…　thank　God　…　how　are　we　to　tell　the　little　countess？”
Anna　Mihalovna　sat　down　by　his　side；　with　her　own　handkerchief　wiped　the　tears　from　his　eyes　and　from　the　letter；　then　dried　her　own　tears；　read　the　letter；　soothed　the　count；　and　decided　that　before　dinner　and　before　tea　she　would　prepare　the　countess；　and　after　tea；　with　God’s　help；　tell　her　all。　During　dinner　Anna　Mihalovna　talked　of　the　rumours　from　the　war；　of　dear　Nikolay；　inquired　twice　when　his　last　letter　had　been　received；　though　she　knew　perfectly　well；　and　observed　that　they　might　well　be　getting　a　letter　from　him　to…day。　Every　time　that　the　countess　began　to　be　uneasy　under　these　hints　and　looked　in　trepidation　from　the　count　to　Anna　Mihalovna；　the　latter　turned　the　conversation　in　the　most　unnoticeable　way　to　insignificant　subjects。　Natasha；　who　was　of　all　the　family　the　one　most　gifted　with　the　faculty　of　catching　the　shades　of　intonations；　of　glances；　and　expressions；　had　been　on　the　alert　from　the　beginning　of　dinner；　and　was　certain　that　there　was　some　secret　between　her　father　and　Anna　Mihalovna；　and　that　it　had　something　to　do　with　her　brother；　and　that　Anna　Mihalovna　was　paving　the　way　for　it。　Natasha　knew　how　easily　upset　her　mother　was　by　any　references　to　news　from　Nikolushka；　and　in　spite　of　all　her　recklessness　she　did　not　venture　at　dinner　to　ask　a　question。　But　she　was　too　much　excited　to　eat　any　dinner　and　kept　wriggling　about　on　her　chair；　regardless　of　the　protests　of　her　governess。　After　dinner　she　rushed　headlong　to　overtake　Anna　Mihalovna；　and　in　the　divan…room　dashed　at　her　and　flung　herself　on　her　neck：　“Auntie；　darling；　do　tell　me　what　it　is。”
“Nothing；　my　dear。”
“No；　darling；　sweet；　precious　peach；　I　won’t　leave　off；　I　know　you　know　something。”
Anna　Mihalovna　shook　her　head。　“You　are　sharp；　my　child！”　she　said。
“A　letter　from　Nikolinka？　I’m　sure　of　it！”　cried　Natasha；　reading　an　affirmative　answer　on　the　face　of　Anna　Mihalovna。
“But；　for　God’s　sake；　be　more　careful；　you　know　what　a　shock　it　may　be　to　your　mamma。”
“I　will　be；　I　will；　but　tell　me　about　it。　You　won’t？　Well；　then；　I’ll　run　and　tell　her　this　minute。”
Anna　Mihalovna　gave　Natasha　a　brief　account　of　what　was　in　the　letter；　on　condition　that　she　would　not　tell　a　soul。
“On　my　word　of　honour；”　said　Natasha；　crossing　herself；　“I　won’t　tell　any　one；”　and　she　ran　at　once　to　Sonya。　“Nikolinka　…　wounded　…　a　letter　…”　she　proclaimed　in　gleeful　triumph
“Nikolinka！”　was　all　Sonya　could　articulate；　instantly　turning　white。　Natasha　seeing　the　effect　of　the　news　of　her　brother’s　wound　on　Sonya；　for　the　first　time　felt　the　painful　aspect　of　the　news。
She　rushed　at　Sonya；　hugged　her；　and　began　to　cry。　“A　little　wounded；　but　promoted　to　be　an　officer；　he’s　all　right　now；　he　writes　himself；”　she　said　through　her　tears。
“One　can　see　all　you　women　are　regular　cry…babies；”　said　Petya；　striding　with　resolute　steps　up　and　down　the　room；　“I’m　very　glad；　really　very　glad；　that　my　brother　has　distinguished　himself　so。　You　all　start　blubbering！　you　don’t　understand　anything　about　it。”　Natasha　smiled　through　her　tears。
“You　haven’t　read　the　letter？”　asked　Sonya
“No；　but　she　told　me　it　was　all　over；　and　that　he’s　an　officer　now　…”
“Thank　God；”　said　Sonya；　crossing　herself。　“But　perhaps　she　was　deceiving　you。　Let　us　go　to　mamma。”
Petya　had　been　strutting　up　and　down　in　silence
“If　I　were　in　Nikolinka’s　place；　I’d　have　killed　a　lot　more　of　those　Frenchmen；”　he　said；　“they’re　such　beasts！　I’d　have　killed　them　till　there　was　a　regular　heap　of　them；”　Petya　went　on。
“Hold　your　tongue；　Petya；　what　a　silly　you　are！　…”
“I’m　not　a　silly；　people　are　silly　who　cry　for　trifles；”　said　Petya。
“Do　you　remember　him？”　Natasha　asked　suddenly；　after　a　moment’s　silence。　Sonya　smiled。
“Do　I　remember　Nikolinka？”
“No；　Sonya；　but　do　you　remember　him　so　as　to　remember　him　thoroughly；　to　remember　him　quite；”　said　Natasha　with　a　strenuous　gesture；　as　though　she　were　trying　to　put　into　her　words　the　most　earnest　meaning。　“And　I　do　remember　Nikolinka；　I　remember　him；”　she　said。　“But　I　don’t　remember　Boris。　I　don’t　remember　him　a　bit　…”
“What？　You　don’t　remember　Boris？”　Sonya　queried　with　surprise。
“I　don’t　mean　I　don’t　remember　him。　I　know　what　he’s　like；　but　not　as　I　remember　Nikolinka。　I　shut　my　eyes　and　I　can　see　him；　but　not　Boris”　（she　shut　her　eyes）；　“no；　nothing！”
“Ah；　Natasha！”　said　Sonya；　looking　solemnly　and　earnestly　at　her　friend；　as　though　she　considered　her　unworthy　to　hear　what　she　meant　to　say；　and　was　saying　it　to　some　one　else　with　whom　joking　was　out　of　the　question。　“I　have　come　to　love　your　brother　once　for　all；　and　whatever　were　to　happen　to　him　and　to　me；　I　could　never　cease　to　love　him　all　my　life。”
With　inquisitive；　wondering　eyes；　Natasha　gazed　at　Sonya；　and　she　did　not　speak。　She　felt　that　what　Sonya　was　saying　was　the　truth；　that　there　was　love　such　as　Sonya　was　speaking　of。　But　Natasha　had　never　known　anything　like　it。　She　believed　that　it　might　be　so；　but　she　did　not　understand　it。
“Shall　you　write　to　him？”　she　asked。　Sonya　sank　into　thought。　How　she　should　write　to　Nikolay；　and　whether　she　ought　to　write　to　him；　was　a　questi