战争与和平(下)-第10节

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The　whole　household　was　ruled　by　the　supposed　directions　of　the　master；　that　is；　by　the　wishes　of　Pierre；　which　Natasha　tried　to　guess。　Their　manner　of　life　and　place　of　residence；　their　acquaintances　and　ties；　Natasha’s　pursuits；　and　the　bringing　up　of　the　children—all　followed；　not　only　Pierre’s　expressed　wishes；　but　even　the　deductions　Natasha　strove　to　draw　from　the　ideas　he　explained　in　conversation　with　her。　And　she　guessed　very　correctly　what　was　the　essential　point　of　Pierre’s　wishes；　and　having　once　guessed　it　she　was　steadfast　in　adhering　to　it：　even　when　Pierre　himself　would　have　veered　round　she　opposed　him　with　his　own　weapons。
In　the　troubled　days　that　Pierre　could　never　forget；　after　the　birth　of　their　first　child；　they　had　tried　three　wet　nurses；　one　after　another；　for　the　delicate　baby；　and　Natasha　had　fallen　ill　with　anxiety。　At　the　time　Pierre　had　explained　to　her　Rousseau’s　views　on　the　unnaturalness　and　harmfulness　of　a　child　being　suckled　by　any　woman　but　its　own　mother　and　told　her　he　fully　agreed　with　those　views。　When　the　next　baby　was　born；　in　spite　of　the　opposition　of　her　mother；　the　doctors；　and　even　of　her　husband　himself；　who　had　looked　on　it　as　something　unheard　of；　and　injurious；　she　insisted　on　having　her　own　way；　and　from　that　day　had　nursed　all　her　children　herself。　It　happened　very　often　in　moments　of　irritability　that　the　husband　and　wife　quarrelled；　but　long　after　their　dispute　Pierre　had；　to　his　own　delight　and　surprise；　found　in　his　wife’s　actions；　as　well　as　words；　that　very　idea　of　his　with　which　she　had　quarrelled。　And　he　not　only　found　his　own　idea；　but　found　it　purified　of　all　that　was　superfluous；　and　had　been　evoked　by　the　heat　of　argument　in　his　own　expression　of　the　idea。
After　seven　years　of　married　life；　Pierre　had　a　firm　and　joyful　consciousness　that　he　was　not　a　bad　fellow；　and　he　felt　this　because　he　saw　himself　reflected　in　his　wife。　In　himself　he　felt　all　the　good　and　bad　mingled　together；　and　obscuring　one　another。　But　in　his　wife　he　saw　reflected　only　what　was　really　good；　everything　not　quite　good　was　left　out。　And　this　result　was　not　reached　by　the　way　of　logical　thought；　but　by　way　of　a　mysterious；　direct　reflection　of　himself。


Chapter　11
TWO　MONTHS　PREVIOUSLY；　Pierre　was　already　settled　at　the　Rostovs’　when　he　received　a　letter　from　a　certain　Prince　Fyodor；　urging　him　to　come　to　Petersburg　for　the　discussion　of　various　important　questions　that　were　agitating　the　Petersburg　members　of　a　society；　of　which　Pierre　had　been　one　of　the　chief　founders。
Natasha　read　this　letter；　as　she　did　indeed　all　her　husband’s　letters；　and　bitterly　as　she　always　felt　his　absence；　she　urged　him　herself　to　go　to　Petersburg。　To　everything　appertaining　to　her　husband’s　intellectual；　abstract　pursuits；　she　ascribed　immense　consequence；　though　she　had　no　understanding　of　them；　and　she　was　always　in　dread　of　being　a　hindrance　to　her　husband　in　such　matters。　To　Pierre’s　timid　glance　of　inquiry　after　reading　the　letter；　she　replied　by　begging　him　to　go；　and　all　she　asked　was　that　he　would　fix　an　absolutely　certain　date　for　his　return。　And　leave　of　absence　was　given　him　for　four　weeks。
Ever　since　the　day　fixed　for　his　return；　a　fortnight　before；　Natasha　had　been　in　a　continual　condition　of　alarm；　depression；　and　irritability。
Denisov；　a　general　on　the　retired　list；　very　much　dissatisfied　at　the　present　position　of　public　affairs；　had　arrived　during　that　fortnight；　and　he　looked　at　Natasha　with　melancholy　wonder；　as　at　a　bad　likeness　of　a　person　once　loved。　A　bored；　dejected　glance；　random　replies；　and　incessant　talk　of　the　nursery　was　all　he　saw　and　heard　of　his　enchantress　of　old　days。
All　that　fortnight　Natasha　had　been　melancholy　and　irritable；　especially　when　her　mother；　her　brother；　Sonya；　or　Countess　Marya　tried　to　console　her　by　excusing　Pierre；　and　inventing　good　reasons　for　his　delay　in　returning。
‘‘It’s　all　nonsense；　all　idiocy；’’　Natasha　would　say；　‘‘all　his　projects　that　never　lead　to　anything；　and　all　those　fools　of　societies；’’　she　would　declare　of　the　very　matters　in　the　immense　importance　of　which　she　firmly　believed。　And　she　would　march　off　to　the　nursery　to　nurse　her　only　boy；　the　baby　Petya。
No　one　could　give　her　such　sensible　and　soothing　consolation　as　that　little　three　months’　old　creature；　when　it　lay　at　her　breast；　and　she　felt　the　movement　of　its　lips　and　the　snuffling　of　its　nose。　That　little　creature　said　to　her：　‘‘You　are　angry；　you　are　jealous；　you　would　like　to　punish　him；　you　are　afraid；　but　here　am　I—I　am　he。　Here；　I　am　he　…’’　And　there　was　no　answering　that。　It　was　more　than　true。
Natasha　had　so　often　during　that　fortnight　had　recourse　to　her　baby　for　comfort；　that　she　had　over…nursed　him；　and　he　had　fallen　ill。　She　was　terrified　at　his　illness；　but　still　this　was　just　what　she　needed。　In　looking　after　him；　she　was　able　to　bear　her　uneasiness　about　her　husband　better。
She　was　nursing　the　baby　when　Pierre’s　carriage　drove　noisily　up　to　the　entrance；　and　the　nurse；　knowing　how　to　please　her　mistress；　came　inaudibly　but　quickly　to　the　door　with　a　beaming　face。
‘‘He　has　come？’’　asked　Natasha　in　a　rapid　whisper；　afraid　to　stir　for　fear　of　waking　the　baby；　who　was　dropping　asleep。
‘‘He　has　come；　ma’am；’’　whispered　the　nurse。
The　blood　rushed　to　Natasha’s　face；　and　her　feet　involuntarily　moved；　but　to　jump　up　and　run　was　out　of　the　question。　The　baby　opened　its　little　eyes　again；　glanced；　as　though　to　say；　‘‘You　are　here；’’　and　gave　another　lazy　smack　with　its　lips。
Cautiously　withdrawing　her　breast；　Natasha　dandled　him；　handed　him　to　the　nurse；　and　went　with　swift　steps　towards　the　door。　But　at　the　door　she　stopped　as　though　her　conscience　pricked　her　for　being　in　such　haste　and　joy　to　leave　the　baby；　and　she　looked　back。　The　nurse；　with　her　elbows　raised；　was　lifting　the　baby　over　the　rail　of　the　cot。
‘‘Yes；　go　along；　go　along；　ma’am；　don’t　worry；　run　along；’’　whispered　the　nurse；　smiling　with　the　familiarity　that　was　common　between　nurse　and　mistress。
With　light　steps　Natasha　ran　to　the　vestibule。　Denisov；　coming　out　of　the　study　into　the　hall　with　a　pipe　in　his　mouth；　seemed　to　see　Natasha　again　for　the　first　time。　A　vivid　radiance　of　joy　shed　streams　of　light　from　her　transfigured　countenance。
‘‘He　has　come！’’　she　called　to　him；　as　she　flew　by；　and　Denisov　felt　that　he　was　thrilled　to　hear　that　Pierre　had　come；　though　he　did　not　particularly　care　for　him。　Running　into　the　vestibule；　Natasha　saw　a　tall　figure　in　a　fur　cloak　fumbling　at　his　scarf。
‘‘He！　he！　It’s　true。　Here　he　is；’’　she　said　to　herself；　and　darting　up　to　him；　she　hugged　him；　squeezing　her　head　to　his　breast；　and　then　drawing　back；　glanced　at　the　frosty；　red；　and　happy　face　of　Pierre。　‘‘Yes；　here　he　is；　happy；　satisfied　…’’
And　all　at　once　she　remembered　all　the　tortures　of　suspense　she　had　passed　through　during　the　last　fortnight。　The　joy　beaming　in　her　face　vanished；　she　frowned；　and　a　torrent　of　reproaches　and　angry　words　broke　upon　Pierre。
‘‘Yes；　you　are　all　right；　you　have　been　happy；　you　have　been　enjoying　yourself　…　But　what　about　me！　You　might　at　least　think　of　your　children。　I　am　nursing；　my　milk　went　wrong　…　Petya　nearly　died　of　it。　And　you　have　been　enjoying　yourself。　Yes；　enjoying　yourself　…’’
Pierre　knew　he　was　not　to　blame；　because　he　could　not　have　come　sooner。　He　knew　this　outburst　on　her　part　was　unseemly；　and　would　be　all　over　in　two　minutes。　Above　all；　he　knew　that　he　was　himself　happy　and　joyful。　He　would　have　liked　to　smile；　but　dared　not　even　think　of　that。　He　made　a　piteous；　dismayed　face；　and　bowed　before　the　storm。
‘‘I　could　not；　upon　my　word。　But　how　is　Petya？’’
‘‘He　is　all　right　now；　come　along。　Aren’t　you　ashamed？　If　you　could　see　what　I　am　like　without　you；　how　wretched　I　am　…’’
‘‘Are　you　quite　well？’’
‘‘Come　along；　come　along；’’　she　said；　not　letting　go　of　his　hand。　And　they　went　off　to　their　rooms。　When　Nikolay　and　his　wife　came　to　look　for　Pierre；　they　found　him　in　the　nursery；　with　his　baby　son　awake　in　his　arms；　and　he　was　dandling　him。　There　was　a　gleeful　smile　on　the　baby’s　broad　face　and　open；　toothless　mouth。　The　storm　had　long　blown　over；　and　a　bright；　sunny　radiance　of　joy　flowed　all　over　Natasha’s　face；　as　she　gazed　tenderly　at　her　husband　and　son。
‘‘And　did　you　have　a　good　talk　over　everything　with　Prince　Fyodor？’’　Natasha　was　saying。
‘‘Yes；　capital。’’
‘‘You　see；　he　holds　his　head　up’’　（Natasha　meant　the　baby）。　‘‘Oh；　what　a　fright　he　gave　me。　And　did　you　see　the　princess？　Is　it　true　that　she　is　in　love　with　that　…’’
‘‘Yes；　can　you　fancy　…’’
At　that　moment　Nikolay　came　in　with　his　wife。　Pierre；　not　letting　go　of　his　son；　stooped　down；　kissed　them；　and　answered　their　inquiries。　But　it　was　obvious　that　in　spite　of　the　many　interesting　things　they　had　to　discuss；　the　baby；　with　the　wobbling　head　in　the　little　cap；　was　absorbing　Pierre’s　whole　attention。
‘‘How　sweet　he　is！’’　said　Countess　Marya；　looking　at　the　baby　and　playing　with　him。　‘‘That’s　thing　I　can’t　understand；　Nikolay；’’　she　said；　turning　to　her　husband；　‘‘how　it　is　you　don’t　feel　the　charm　of　these　exquisite　little　creatures？’’
‘‘Well；　I　don’t；　I　can’