________________________________________________
_ It was a long time before Pierre could fall asleep that night. He
paced up and down his room, now turning his thoughts on a difficult
problem and frowning, now suddenly shrugging his shoulders and
wincing, and now smiling happily.
He was thinking of Prince Andrew, of Natasha, and of their love,
at one moment jealous of her past, then reproaching himself for that
feeling. It was already six in the morning and he still paced up and
down the room.
"Well, what's to be done if it cannot be avoided? What's to be done?
Evidently it has to be so," said he to himself, and hastily undressing
he got into bed, happy and agitated but free from hesitation or
indecision.
"Strange and impossible as such happiness seems, I must do
everything that she and I may be man and wife," he told himself.
A few days previously Pierre had decided to go to Petersburg on
the Friday. When he awoke on the Thursday, Savelich came to ask him
about packing for the journey.
"What, to Petersburg? What is Petersburg? Who is there in
Petersburg?" he asked involuntarily, though only to himself. "Oh, yes,
long ago before this happened I did for some reason mean to go to
Petersburg," he reflected. "Why? But perhaps I shall go. What a good
fellow he is and how attentive, and how he remembers everything," he
thought, looking at Savelich's old face, "and what a pleasant smile he
has!"
"Well, Savelich, do you still not wish to accept your freedom?"
Pierre asked him.
"What's the good of freedom to me, your excellency? We lived under
the late count- the kingdom of heaven be his!- and we have lived under
you too, without ever being wronged."
"And your children?"
"The children will live just the same. With such masters one can
live."
"But what about my heirs?" said Pierre. "Supposing I suddenly
marry... it might happen," he added with an involuntary smile.
"If I may take the liberty, your excellency, it would be a good
thing."
"How easy he thinks it," thought Pierre. "He doesn't know how
terrible it is and how dangerous. Too soon or too late... it is
terrible!"
"So what are your orders? Are you starting tomorrow?" asked
Savelich.
"No, I'll put it off for a bit. I'll tell you later. You must
forgive the trouble I have put you to," said Pierre, and seeing
Savelich smile, he thought: "But how strange it is that he should
not know that now there is no Petersburg for me, and that that must be
settled first of all! But probably he knows it well enough and is only
pretending. Shall I have a talk with him and see what he thinks?"
Pierre reflected. "No, another time."
At breakfast Pierre told the princess, his cousin, that he had
been to see Princess Mary the day before and had there met- "Whom do
you think? Natasha Rostova!"
The princess seemed to see nothing more extraordinary in that than
if he had seen Anna Semenovna.
"Do you know her?" asked Pierre.
"I have seen the princess," she replied. "I heard that they were
arranging a match for her with young Rostov. It would be a very good
thing for the Rostovs, they are said to be utterly ruined."
"No; I mean do you know Natasha Rostova?"
"I heard about that affair of hers at the time. It was a great
pity."
"No, she either doesn't understand or is pretending," thought
Pierre. "Better not say anything to her either."
The princess too had prepared provisions for Pierre's journey.
"How kind they all are," thought Pierre. "What is surprising is that
they should trouble about these things now when it can no longer be of
interest to them. And all for me!"
On the same day the Chief of Police came to Pierre, inviting him
to send a representative to the Faceted Palace to recover things
that were to be returned to their owners that day.
"And this man too," thought Pierre, looking into the face of the
Chief of Police. "What a fine, good-looking officer and how kind.
Fancy bothering about such trifies now! And they actually say he is
not honest and takes bribes. What nonsense! Besides, why shouldn't
he take bribes? That's the way he was brought up, and everybody does
it. But what a kind, pleasant face and how he smiles as he looks at
me."
Pierre went to Princess Mary's to dinner.
As he drove through the streets past the houses that had been burned
down, he was surprised by the beauty of those ruins. The
picturesqueness of the chimney stacks and tumble-down walls of the
burned-out quarters of the town, stretching out and concealing one
another, reminded him of the Rhine and the Colosseum. The cabmen he
met and their passengers, the carpenters cutting the timber for new
houses with axes, the women hawkers, and the shopkeepers, all looked
at him with cheerful beaming eyes that seemed to say: "Ah, there he
is! Let's see what will come of it!"
At the entrance to Princess Mary's house Pierre felt doubtful
whether he had really been there the night before and really seen
Natasha and talked to her. "Perhaps I imagined it; perhaps I shall
go in and find no one there." But he had hardly entered the room
before he felt her presence with his whole being by the loss of his
sense of freedom. She was in the same black dress with soft folds
and her hair was done the same way as the day before, yet she was
quite different. Had she been like this when he entered the day before
he could not for a moment have failed to recognize her.
She was as he had known her almost as a child and later on as Prince
Andrew's fiancee. A bright questioning light shone in her eyes, and on
her face was a friendly and strangely roguish expression.
Pierre dined with them and would have spent the whole evening there,
but Princess Mary was going to vespers and Pierre left the house
with her.
Next day he came early, dined, and stayed the whole evening.
Though Princess Mary and Natasha were evidently glad to see their
visitor and though all Pierre's interest was now centered in that
house, by the evening they had talked over everything and the
conversation passed from one trivial topic to another and repeatedly
broke off. He stayed so long that Princess Mary and Natasha
exchanged glances, evidently wondering when he would go. Pierre
noticed this but could not go. He felt uneasy and embarrassed, but sat
on because he simply could not get up and take his leave.
Princess Mary, foreseeing no end to this, rose first, and
complaining of a headache began to say good night.
"So you are going to Petersburg tomorrow?" she asked.
"No, I am not going," Pierre replied hastily, in a surprised tone
and as though offended. "Yes... no... to Petersburg? Tomorrow- but I
won't say good-by yet. I will call round in case you have any
commissions for me," said he, standing before Princess Mary and
turning red, but not taking his departure.
Natasha gave him her hand and went out. Princess Mary on the other
hand instead of going away sank into an armchair, and looked sternly
and intently at him with her deep, radiant eyes. The weariness she had
plainly shown before had now quite passed off. With a deep and
long-drawn sigh she seemed to be prepared for a lengthy talk.
When Natasha left the room Pierre's confusion and awkwardness
immediately vanished and were replaced by eager excitement. He quickly
moved an armchair toward Princess Mary.
"Yes, I wanted to tell you," said he, answering her look as if she
had spoken. "Princess, help me! What am I to do? Can I hope? Princess,
my dear friend, listen! I know it all. I know I am not worthy of
her, I know it's impossible to speak of it now. But I want to be a
brother to her. No, not that, I don't, I can't..."
He paused and rubbed his face and eyes with his hands.
"Well," he went on with an evident effort at self-control and
coherence. "I don't know when I began to love her, but I have loved
her and her alone all my life, and I love her so that I cannot imagine
life without her. I cannot propose to her at present, but the
thought that perhaps she might someday be my wife and that I may be
missing that possibility... that possibility... is terrible. Tell
me, can I hope? Tell me what I am to do, dear princess!" he added
after a pause, and touched her hand as she did not reply.
"I am thinking of what you have told me," answered Princess Mary.
"This is what I will say. You are right that to speak to her of love
at present..."
Princess Mary stopped. She was going to say that to speak of love
was impossible, but she stopped because she had seen by the sudden
change in Natasha two days before that she would not only not be
hurt if Pierre spoke of his love, but that it was the very thing she
wished for.
"To speak to her now wouldn't do," said the princess all the same.
"But what am I to do?
"Leave it to me," said Princess Mary. "I know..."
Pierre was looking into Princess Mary's eyes.
"Well?... Well?..." he said.
"I know that she loves... will love you," Princess Mary corrected
herself.
Before her words were out, Pierre had sprung up and with a
frightened expression seized Princess Mary's hand.
"What makes you think so? You think I may hope? You think...?"
"Yes, I think so," said Princess Mary with a smile. "Write to her
parents, and leave it to me. I will tell her when I can. I wish it
to happen and my heart tells me it will."
"No, it cannot be! How happy I am! But it can't be.... How happy I
am! No, it can't be!" Pierre kept saying as he kissed Princess
Mary's hands.
"Go to Petersburg, that will be best. And I will write to you,"
she said.
"To Petersburg? Go there? Very well, I'll go. But I may come again
tomorrow?"
Next day Pierre came to say good-by. Natasha was less animated
than she had been the day before; but that day as he looked at her
Pierre sometimes felt as if he was vanishing and that neither he nor
she existed any longer, that nothing existed but happiness. "Is it
possible? No, it can't be," he told himself at every look, gesture,
and word that filled his soul with joy.
When on saying good-by he took her thin, slender hand, he could
not help holding it a little longer in his own.
"Is it possible that this hand, that face, those eyes, all this
treasure of feminine charm so strange to me now, is it possible that
it will one day be mine forever, as familiar to me as I am to
myself?... No, that's impossible!..."
"Good-by, Count," she said aloud. "I shall look forward very much to
your return," she added in a whisper.
And these simple words, her look, and the expression on her face
which accompanied them, formed for two months the subject of
inexhaustible memories, interpretations, and happy meditations for
Pierre. "'I shall look forward very much to your return....' Yes, yes,
how did she say it? Yes, 'I shall look forward very much to your
return.' Oh, how happy I am! What is happening to me? How happy I am!"
said Pierre to himself. _
Read next: Book Fifteen: 1812-13: Chapter 19
Read previous: Book Fifteen: 1812-13: Chapter 17
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