战争与和平(下)-第11节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


el　the　charm　of　these　exquisite　little　creatures？’’
‘‘Well；　I　don’t；　I　can’t；’’　said　Nikolay；　looking　coldly　at　the　baby。　‘‘Just　a　morsel　of　flesh。　Come　along；　Pierre。’’
‘‘The　great　thing　is；　that　he　is　really　a　devoted　father；’’　said　Countess　Marya；　apologising　for　her　husband；　‘‘but　only　after　a　year　or　so　…’’
‘‘Oh；　Pierre　is　a　capital　nurse；’’　said　Natasha；　‘‘he　says　his　hand　is　just　made　for　a　baby’s　back。　Just　look。’’
‘‘Oh　yes；　but　not　for　this；’’　Pierre　cried　laughing；　and　hurriedly　snatching　up　the　baby；　he　handed　him　back　to　his　nurse。


Chapter　12
AS　IN　EVERY　REAL　FAMILY；　there　were　several　quite　separate　worlds　living　together　in　the　Bleak　Hills　house；　and　while　each　of　these　preserved　its　own　individuality；　they　made　concessions　to　one　another；　and　mixed　into　one　harmonious　whole。　Every　event　that　occurred　in　the　house　was　alike　important　and　joyful　or　distressing　to　all　those　circles。　But　each　circle　had　its　own　private　grounds　for　rejoicing　or　mourning　at　every　event　quite　apart　from　the　rest。
So　Pierre’s　arrival　was　a　joyful　and　important　event；　reflected　as　such　in　all　the　circles　of　the　household。
The　servants；　the　most　infallible　judges　of　their　masters；　because　they　judge　them；　not　from　their　conversation　and　expression　of　their　feelings；　but　from　their　actions　and　their　manner　of　living；　were　delighted　at　Pierre’s　return；　because　they　knew　that　when　he　was　there；　the　count；　their　master；　would　not　go　out　every　day　to　superintend　the　peasants　on　the　estate；　and　would　be　in　better　temper　and　spirits；　and　also　because　they　knew　there　would　be　valuable　presents　for　all　of　them　for　the　fête　day。
The　children　and　their　governesses　were　delighted　at　Bezuhov’s　return；　because　no　one　drew　them　into　the　general　social　life　of　the　house　as　Pierre　did。　He　it　was　who　could　play　on　the　clavichord　that　écossaise　（his　one　piece）；　to　which；　as　he　said；　one　could　dance　all　possible　dances；　and　he　was　quite　sure；　too；　to　have　brought　all　of　them　presents。
Nikolinka　Bolkonsky；　who　was　now　a　thin；　delicate；　intelligent　boy　of　fifteen；　with　curly　light　hair　and　beautiful　eyes；　was　delighted　because　Uncle　Pierre；　as　he　called　him；　was　the　object　of　his　passionate　love　and　adoration。　No　one　had　instilled　a　particular　affection　for　Pierre　into　Nikolinka；　and　he　only　rarely　saw　him。　Countess　Marya；　who　had　brought　him　up；　had　done　her　utmost　to　make　Nikolinka　love　her　husband；　as　she　loved　him；　and　the　boy　did　like　his　uncle；　but　there　was　a　scarcely　perceptible　shade　of　contempt　in　his　liking　of　him。　Pierre　he　adored。　He　did　not　want　to　be　an　hussar　or　a　Cavalier　of　St。　George　like　his　Uncle　Nikolay；　he　wanted　to　be　learned；　clever；　and　kind　like　Pierre。　In　Pierre’s　presence　there　was　always　a　happy　radiance　on　his　face；　and　he　blushed　and　was　breathless　when　Pierre　addressed　him。　He　never　missed　a　word　that　Pierre　uttered；　and　afterwards　alone　or　with　Dessalle　recalled　every　phrase；　and　pondered　its　exact　significance。　Pierre’s　past　life；　his　unhappiness　before　1812　（of　which；　from　the　few　words　he　had　heard；　he　had　made　up　a　vague；　romantic　picture）；　his　adventures　in　Moscow；　and　captivity　with　the　French；　Platon　Karataev　（of　whom　he　had　heard　from　Pierre）；　his　love　for　Natasha　（whom　the　boy　loved　too　with　quite　a　special　feeling）；　and；　above　all；　his　friendship　with　his　father；　whom　Nikolinka　did　not　remember；　all　made　Pierre　a　hero　and　a　saint　in　his　eyes。
From　the　phrases　he　had　heard　dropped　about　his　father　and　Natasha；　from　the　emotion　with　which　Pierre　spoke　of　him；　and　the　circumspect；　reverent　tenderness　with　which　Natasha　spoke　of　him；　the　boy；　who　was　only　just　beginning　to　form　his　conceptions　of　love；　had　gathered　the　idea　that　his　father　had　loved　Natasha；　and　had　bequeathed　her　at　his　death　to　his　friend。　That　father；　of　whom　the　boy　had　no　memory；　seemed　to　him　a　divine　being；　of　whom　one　could　have　no　clear　conception；　and　of　whom　he　could　not　think　without　a　throbbing　heart　and　tears　of　sorrow　and　rapture。
And　so　the　boy　too　was　happy　at　Pierre’s　arrival。
The　guests　in　the　house　were　glad　to　see　Pierre；　for　he　was　a　person　who　always　enlivened　every　party；　and　made　its　different　elements　mix　well　together。
The　grown…up　members　of　the　household　were　glad　to　see　a　friend　who　always　made　daily　life　run　more　smoothly　and　easily。
The　old　ladies　were　pleased　both　at　the　presents　he　brought　them；　and　still　more　at　Natasha’s　being　herself　again。
Pierre　felt　the　various　views　those　different　sets　of　people　took　of　him；　and　made　haste　to　satisfy　the　expectations　of　all　of　them。
Though　he　was　the　most　absent…minded　and　forgetful　of　men；　by　the　help　of　a　list　his　wife　made　for　him；　he　had　bought　everything；　not　forgetting　a　single　commission　from　his　mother…in…law　or　brother…in…law；　nor　the　presents　of　a　dress　for　Madame　Byelov　and　toys　for　his　nephews。
In　the　early　days　of　his　married　life　his　wife’s　expectation　that　he　should　forget　nothing　he　had　undertaken　to　buy　had　struck　him　as　strange；　and　he　had　been　impressed　by　her　serious　chagrin　when　after　his　first　absence　he　had　returned　having　forgotten　everything。　But　in　time　he　had　grown　used　to　this。　Knowing　that　Natasha　gave　him　no　commissions　on　her　own　account；　and　for　others　only　asked　him　to　get　things　when　he　had　himself　offered　to　do　so；　he　now　took　a　childish　pleasure；　that　was　a　surprise　to　himself；　in　those　purchases　of　presents　for　all　the　household；　and　never　forgot　anything。　If　he　incurred　Natasha’s　censure　now；　it　was　only　for　buying　too　much；　and　paying　too　much　for　his　purchases。　To　her　other　defects　in　the　eyes　of　the　world—good　qualities　in　Pierre’s　eyes—her　untidiness　and　negligence；　Natasha　added　that　of　stinginess。
Ever　since　Pierre　had　begun　living　a　home　life；　involving　increased　expenses　in　a　large　house；　he　had　noticed　to　his　astonishment　that　he　was　spending　half　what　he　had　spent　in　the　past；　and　that　his　circumstances；　somewhat　straitened　latterly；　especially　by　his　first　wife’s　debts；　were　beginning　to　improve。
Living　was　much　cheaper；　because　his　life　was　coherent；　the　most　expensive　luxury　in　his　former　manner　of　life；　that　is；　the　possibility　of　a　complete　change　in　it　at　any　moment；　Pierre　had　not　now；　and　had　no　desire　for。　He　felt　that　his　manner　of　life　was　settled　now　once　for　all　till　death；　that　to　change　it　was　not　in　his　power；　and　therefore　that　manner　of　life　was　cheaper。
With　a　beaming；　smiling　countenance；　Pierre　was　unpacking　his　purchases。
‘‘Look！’’　he　said；　unfolding　a　piece　of　material　like　a　shopman。　Natasha　was　sitting　opposite　him　with　her　eldest　girl　on　her　knee；　and　she　turned　her　sparkling　eyes　from　her　husband　to　what　he　was　showing　her。
‘‘That’s　for　Madame　Byelov？　Splendid。’’　She　touched　it　to　feel　the　goodness　of　the　material。　‘‘It　must　have　been　a　rouble　a　yard？’’
Pierre　mentioned　the　price。
‘‘Very　dear；’’　said　Natasha。　‘‘Well；　how　pleased　the　children　will　be　and　maman　too。　Only　you　shouldn’t　have　bought　me　this；’’　she　added；　unable　to　suppress　a　smile；　as　she　admired　the　gold　and　pearl　comb；　of　a　pattern　just　then　coming　into　fashion。
‘‘Adèle　kept　on　at　me　to　buy　it；’’　said　Pierre。
‘‘When　shall　I　wear　it？’’　Natasha　put　it　in　her　coil　of　hair。　‘‘It　will　do　when　I　have　to　bring　little　Masha　out；　perhaps　they　will　come　in　again　then。　Well；　let　us　go　in。’’
And　gathering　up　the　presents；　they　went　first　into　the　nursery；　and　then　in　to　see　the　countess。
The　countess；　as　her　habit　was；　was　sitting　playing　patience　with　Madame　Byelov　when　Pierre　and　Natasha　went　into　the　drawing…room　with　parcels　under　their　arms。
The　countess　was　by　now　over　sixty。　Her　hair　was　completely　grey；　and　she　wore　a　cap　that　surrounded　her　whole　face　with　a　frill。　Her　face　was　wrinkled；　her　upper　lip　had　sunk；　and　her　eyes　were　dim。
After　the　deaths　of　her　son　and　her　husband　that　had　followed　so　quickly　on　one　another；　she　had　felt　herself　a　creature　accidentally　forgotten　in　this　world；　with　no　object　and　no　interest　in　life。　She　ate　and　drank；　slept　and　lay　awake；　but　she　did　not　live。　Life　gave　her　no　impressions。　She　wanted　nothing　from　life　but　peace；　and　that　peace　she　could　find　only　in　death。　But　until　death　came　to　her　she　had　to　go　on　living—　that　is；　using　her　vital　forces。　There　was　in　the　highest　degree　noticeable　in　her　what　may　be　observed　in　very　small　children　and　in　very　old　people。　No　external　aim　could　be　seen　in　her　existence；　all　that　could　be　seen　was　the　need　to　exercise　her　various　capacities　and　propensities。　She　had　to　eat；　to　sleep；　to　think；　to　talk；　to　weep；　to　work；　to　get　angry；　and　so　on；　simply　because　she　had　a　stomach；　a　brain；　muscles；　nerves；　and　spleen。　All　this　she　did；　not　at　the　promptings　of　any　external　motive；　as　people　do　in　the　full　vigour　of　life；　when　the　aim　towards　which　they　strive　screens　from　our　view　that　other　aim　of　exercising　their　powers。　She　only　talked　because　she　needed　to　exercise　her　lungs　and　her　tongue。　She　cried　like　a　child；　because　she　needed　the　physical　relief　of　tears；　and　so　on。　What　for　people　in　their　full　vigour　is　a　motive；　with　her　was　obviously　a　pretext。
Thus　in　the　morning；　especially　if　she　had　eaten　anything　too　rich　the　night　before；　she　sought　an　occasi