first epilogue-第6部分

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That's　all　poetry　and　old　wives'　talk…　all　that　doing　good　to　one's

neighbor！　What　I　want　is　that　our　children　should　not　have　to　go

begging。　I　must　put　our　affairs　in　order　while　I　am　alive；　that's　all。

And　to　do　that；　order　and　strictness　are　essential。。。。　That's　all

about　it！〃　said　he；　clenching　his　vigorous　fist。　〃And　fairness；　of

course；〃　he　added；　〃for　if　the　peasant　is　naked　and　hungry　and　has

only　one　miserable　horse；　he　can　do　no　good　either　for　himself　or

for　me。〃

　　And　all　Nicholas　did　was　fruitful…　probably　just　because　he

refused　to　allow　himself　to　think　that　he　was　doing　good　to　others　for

virtue's　sake。　His　means　increased　rapidly；　serfs　from　neighboring

estates　came　to　beg　him　to　buy　them；　and　long　after　his　death　the

memory　of　his　administration　was　devoutly　preserved　among　the　serfs。

〃He　was　a　master。。。　the　peasants'　affairs　first　and　then　his　own。　Of

course　he　was　not　to　be　trifled　with　either…　in　a　word；　he　was　a

real　master！〃

EP1｜CH8

　　CHAPTER　VIII



　　One　matter　connected　with　his　management　sometimes　worried　Nicholas；

and　that　was　his　quick　temper　together　with　his　old　hussar　habit　of

making　free　use　of　his　fists。　At　first　he　saw　nothing　reprehensible　in

this；　but　in　the　second　year　of　his　marriage　his　view　of　that　form

of　punishment　suddenly　changed。

　　Once　in　summer　he　had　sent　for　the　village　elder　from　Bogucharovo；　a

man　who　had　succeeded　to　the　post　when　Dron　died　and　who　was　accused

of　dishonesty　and　various　irregularities。　Nicholas　went　out　into　the

porch　to　question　him；　and　immediately　after　the　elder　had　given　a　few

replies　the　sound　of　cries　and　blows　were　heard。　On　returning　to　lunch

Nicholas　went　up　to　his　wife；　who　sat　with　her　head　bent　low　over

her　embroidery　frame；　and　as　usual　began　to　tell　her　what　he　had

been　doing　that　morning。　Among　other　things　he　spoke　of　the

Bogucharovo　elder。　Countess　Mary　turned　red　and　then　pale；　but

continued　to　sit　with　head　bowed　and　lips　compressed　and　gave　her

husband　no　reply。

　　〃Such　an　insolent　scoundrel！〃　he　cried；　growing　hot　again　at　the

mere　recollection　of　him。　〃If　he　had　told　me　he　was　drunk　and　did

not　see。。。　But　what　is　the　matter　with　you；　Mary？〃　he　suddenly　asked。

　　Countess　Mary　raised　her　head　and　tried　to　speak；　but　hastily　looked

down　again　and　her　lips　puckered。

　　〃Why；　whatever　is　the　matter；　my　dearest？〃

　　The　looks　of　the　plain　Countess　Mary　always　improved　when　she　was　in

tears。　She　never　cried　from　pain　or　vexation；　but　always　from　sorrow

or　pity；　and　when　she　wept　her　radiant　eyes　acquired　an　irresistible

charm。

　　The　moment　Nicholas　took　her　hand　she　could　no　longer　restrain

herself　and　began　to　cry。

　　〃Nicholas；　I　saw　it。。。　he　was　to　blame；　but　why　do　you。。。　Nicholas！〃

and　she　covered　her　face　with　her　hands。

　　Nicholas　said　nothing。　He　flushed　crimson；　left　her　side；　and

paced　up　and　down　the　room。　He　understood　what　she　was　weeping

about；　but　could　not　in　his　heart　at　once　agree　with　her　that　what

he　had　regarded　from　childhood　as　quite　an　everyday　event　was　wrong。

〃Is　it　just　sentimentality；　old　wives'　tales；　or　is　she　right？〃　he

asked　himself。　Before　he　had　solved　that　point　he　glanced　again　at　her

face　filled　with　love　and　pain；　and　he　suddenly　realized　that　she

was　right　and　that　he　had　long　been　sinning　against　himself。

　　〃Mary；〃　he　said　softly；　going　up　to　her；　〃it　will　never　happen

again；　I　give　you　my　word。　Never；〃　he　repeated　in　a　trembling　voice

like　a　boy　asking　for　forgiveness。

　　The　tears　flowed　faster　still　from　the　countess'　eyes。　She　took

his　hand　and　kissed　it。

　　〃Nicholas；　when　when　did　you　break　your　cameo？〃　she　asked　to

change　the　subject；　looking　at　his　finger　on　which　he　wore　a　ring　with

a　cameo　of　Laocoon's　head。

　　〃Today…　it　was　the　same　affair。　Oh；　Mary；　don't　remind　me　of　it！〃

and　again　he　flushed。　〃I　give　you　my　word　of　honor　it　shan't　occur

again；　and　let　this　always　be　a　reminder　to　me；〃　and　he　pointed　to　the

broken　ring。

　　After　that；　when　in　discussions　with　his　village　elders　or

stewards　the　blood　rushed　to　his　face　and　his　fists　began　to　clench；

Nicholas　would　turn　the　broken　ring　on　his　finger　and　would　drop　his

eyes　before　the　man　who　was　making　him　angry。　But　he　did　forget

himself　once　or　twice　within　a　twelvemonth；　and　then　he　would　go　and

confess　to　his　wife；　and　would　again　promise　that　this　should　really

be　the　very　last　time。

　　〃Mary；　you　must　despise　me！〃　he　would　say。　〃I　deserve　it。〃

　　〃You　should　go；　go　away　at　once；　if　you　don't　feel　strong　enough

to　control　yourself；〃　she　would　reply　sadly；　trying　to　comfort　her

husband。

　　Among　the　gentry　of　the　province　Nicholas　was　respected　but　not

liked。　He　did　not　concern　himself　with　the　interests　of　his　own　class；

and　consequently　some　thought　him　proud　and　others　thought　him　stupid。

The　whole　summer；　from　spring　sowing　to　harvest；　he　was　busy　with

the　work　on　his　farm。　In　autumn　he　gave　himself　up　to　hunting　with　the

same　business　like　seriousness…　leaving　home　for　a　month；　or　even　two；

with　his　hunt。　In　winter　he　visited　his　other　villages　or　spent　his

time　reading。　The　books　he　read　were　chiefly　historical；　and　on

these　he　spent　a　certain　sum　every　year。　He　was　collecting；　as　he

said；　a　serious　library；　and　he　made　it　a　rule　to　read　through　all　the

books　he　bought。　He　would　sit　in　his　study　with　a　grave　air；

reading…　a　task　he　first　imposed　upon　himself　as　a　duty；　but　which

afterwards　became　a　habit　affording　him　a　special　kind　of　pleasure　and

a　consciousness　of　being　occupied　with　serious　matters。　In　winter；

except　for　business　excursions；　he　spent　most　of　his　time　at　home

making　himself　one　with　his　family　and　entering　into　all　the　details

of　his　children's　relations　with　their　mother。　The　harmony　between　him

and　his　wife　grew　closer　and　closer　and　he　daily　discovered　fresh

spiritual　treasures　in　her。

　　From　the　time　of　his　marriage　Sonya　had　lived　in　his　house。　Before

that；　Nicholas　had　told　his　wife　all　that　had　passed　between　himself

and　Sonya；　blaming　himself　and　commending　her。　He　had　asked　Princess

Mary　to　be　gentle　and　kind　to　his　cousin。　She　thoroughly　realized

the　wrong　he　had　done　Sonya；　felt　herself　to　blame　toward　her；　and

imagined　that　her　wealth　had　influenced　Nicholas'　choice。　She　could

not　find　fault　with　Sonya　in　any　way　and　tried　to　be　fond　of　her；

but　often　felt　ill…will　toward　her　which　she　could　not　overcome。

　　Once　she　had　a　talk　with　her　friend　Natasha　about　Sonya　and　about

her　own　injustice　toward　her。

　　〃You　know；〃　said　Natasha；　〃you　have　read　the　Gospels　a　great　deal…

there　is　a　passage　in　them　that　just　fits　Sonya。〃

　　〃What？〃　asked　Countess　Mary；　surprised。

　　〃'To　him　that　hath　shall　be　given；　and　from　him　that　hath　not

shall　be　taken　away。'　You　remember？　She　is　one　that　hath　not；　why；　I

don't　know。　Perhaps　she　lacks　egotism；　I　don't　know；　but　from　her　is

taken　away；　and　everything　has　been　taken　away。　Sometimes　I　am

dreadfully　sorry　for　her。　Formerly　I　very　much　wanted　Nicholas　to

marry　her；　but　I　always　had　a　sort　of　presentiment　that　it　would　not

come　off。　She　is　a　sterile　flower；　you　know…　like　some　strawberry

blossoms。　Sometimes　I　am　sorry　for　her；　and　sometimes　I　think　she

doesn't　feel　it　as　you　or　I　would。〃

　　Though　Countess　Mary　told　Natasha　that　those　words　in　the　Gospel

must　be　understood　differently；　yet　looking　at　Sonya　she　agreed　with

Natasha's　explanation。　It　really　seemed　that　Sonya　did　not　feel　her

position　trying；　and　had　grown　quite　reconciled　to　her　lot　as　a

sterile　flower。　She　seemed　to　be　fond　not　so　much　of　individuals　as　of

the　family　as　a　whole。　Like　a　cat；　she　had　attached　herself　not　to　the

people　but　to　the　home。　She　waited　on　the　old　countess；　petted　and

spoiled　the　children；　was　always　ready　to　render　the　small　services

for　which　she　had　a　gift；　and　all　this　was　unconsciously　accepted　from

her　with　insufficient　gratitude。

　　The　country　seat　at　Bald　Hills　had　been　rebuilt；　though　not　on　the

same　scale　as　under　the　old　prince。

　　The　buildings；　begun　under　straitened　circumstances；　were　more

than　simple。　The　immense　house　on　the　old　stone　foundations　was　of

wood；　plastered　only　inside。　It　had　bare　deal　floors　and　was　furnished

with　very　simple　hard　sofas；　armchairs；　tables；　and　chairs　made　by

their　own　serf　carpenters　out　of　their　own　birchwood。　The　house　was

spacious　and　had　rooms　for　the　house　serfs　and　apartments　for

visitors。　Whole　families　of　the　Rostovs'　and　Bolkonskis'　relations

sometimes　came　to　Bald　Hills　with　sixteen　horses　and　dozens　of

servants　and　stayed　for　months。　Besides　that；　four　times　a　year；　on

the　name　days　and　birthdays　of　the　hosts；　as　many　as　a　hundred

visitors　would　gather　there　for　a　day　or　two。　The　rest　of　the　year

life　pursued　its　unbroken　routine　with　its　ordinary　occupations；　and

its　breakfasts；　lunches；　dinners；　and　suppers；　provided　out　of　the

produce　of　the　estate。

EP1｜CH9

　　CHAPTER　IX



　　It　was　the　eve　of　St。　Nicholas；　the　fifth　of　December；　1820。　Natasha

had　been　staying　at　her　brother's　with　her　husband　and　children

since　early　autumn。　Pierre　had　gone　to　Petersburg　on　business　of　his

own　for　three　weeks　as　he　said；　but　had　remained　there　nearly　seven

weeks　and　was　expected　back　every　minute。

　　Besides　the　Bezukhov　family；　Nicholas'　old　friend　the　retired

General　Vasili　Dmitrich　Denisov　was　staying　with　the　Rostovs　this

fifth　of　December。

　　On　the　sixth；　which　was　his　name　day　when　the　house　would　be　full　of

visitors；　Nicholas　knew　he　would　have　to　exchange　his　Tartar　tunic　for

a　tail　coat；　and　put　on　narrow　boots　with　pointed　toes；　and　drive　to

the　new　church　he　had　built；　and　then　receive　visitors　who　would

come　to　congratulate　him；　offer　them　refreshments；　and　talk　about

the　elections　of　the　nobility；　but　he　considered　himself　entitled　to

spend　the　eve　of　that　day　in　his　usual　way。　He　examined　the

bailiff's　accounts　of　the　village　in　Ryazan　which　belonged　to　his

wife's　nep