战争与和平(上)-第123部分

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“How　lovely！　She’s　quite　equal　to　Marya　Antonovna。　Look　how　attentive　all　the　men　are　to　her；　young　and　old　alike。　She’s　both　lovely　and　clever。…　They　say　Prince　So…and…So　is　wild　about　her。　And　you　see　these　two；　though　they　are　not　good…looking；　they　are　even　more　run　after。”
She　pointed　out　a　lady　who　was　crossing　the　room　accompanied　by　a　very　ugly　daughter。
“That’s　the　heiress　of　a　million；”　said　Madame　Peronsky。　“And；　look；　here　come　her　suitors。…That’s　Countess　Bezuhov’s　brother；　Anatole　Kuragin；”　she　said；　pointing　to　a　handsome　officer　in　the　Horse　Guards；　who　passed　by　them　looking　from　the　height　of　his　lifted　head　over　the　ladies　to　something　beyond　them。　“He　is　handsome；　isn’t　he？　They　say　he　is　to　be　married　to　that　heiress。　And　your　cousin；　Drubetskoy；　is　very　attentive　to　her　too。　They　say　she　has　millions。　Oh；　that’s　the　French　ambassador　himself；”　she　said　in　answer　to　the　countess’s　inquiry　as　to　the　identity　of　Caulaincourt。　“Just　look；　he’s　like　some　monarch。　But　yet　they’re　nice；　the　French　are　very　nice。　No　people　more　charming　in　society。　Ah；　here　she　is！　Yes；　still　lovelier　than　any　one；　our　Marya　Antonovna！　And　how　simply　dressed！　Exquisite！”
“And　that　stout　fellow　in　spectacles　is　a　universal　freemason；”　said　Madame　Peronsky；　indicating　Bezuhov。　“Set　him　beside　his　wife：　he’s　a　motley　fool！”
Swinging　his　stout　frame；　Pierre　slouched　through　the　crowd；　nodding　to　right　and　to　left；　as　casually　and　good…naturedly　as　though　he　were　walking　through　a　crowd　in　a　market。　He　made　his　way　through　the　crowd　unmistakably　looking　for　some　one。
Natasha　looked　with　joy　at　the　familiar　face　of　Pierre；　the　motley　fool；　as　Madame　Peronsky　called　him；　and　knew　that　it　was　they；　and　she　in　particular；　of　whom　Pierre　was　in　search　in　the　crowd。　Pierre　had　promised　her　to　be　at　the　ball　and　to　find　her　partners。　But　before　reaching　them；　Pierre　came　to　a　standstill　beside　a　very　handsome；　dark　man　of　medium　height　in　a　white　uniform；　who　was　standing　in　a　window　talking　to　a　tall　man　wearing　stars　and　a　ribbon。
Natasha　at　once　recognised　the　handsome　young　man　in　the　white　uniform；　it　was　Bolkonsky；　who　seemed　to　her　to　have　grown　much　younger；　happier；　and　better　looking。
“There’s　some　one　else　we　know；　Bolkonsky；　do　you　see；　mamma？”　said　Natasha；　pointing　out　Prince　Andrey。　“Do　you　remember　he　stayed　a　night　at　home；　at　Otradnoe？”
“Oh；　do　you　know　him？”　said　Madame　Peronsky。　“I　can’t　bear　him。　Every　one　is　crazy　over　him。　And　his　conceit！　it’s　beyond　all　bounds！　He　takes　after　his　worthy　papa！　And　he’s　hand　in　glove　now　with　Speransky；　making　out　some　sort　of　plans　for　reform。　Just　look　how　he　behaves　with　ladies！　She’s　speaking　to　him；　and　he　has　turned　his　back　on　her；”　she　said；　pointing　to　him。　“I　would　soon　send　him　about　his　business　if　he　were　to　treat　me　like　those　ladies。”


Chapter　16
THERE　was　a　sudden　stir；　the　crowd　began　talking；　rushed　forward；　then　moved　apart　again；　and　down　the　space　left　open　through　it；　the　Tsar　walked　to　the　strains　of　the　band；　which　struck　up　at　once。　Behind　him　walked　the　host　and　hostess。　The　Tsar　walked　in　rapidly；　bowing　to　right　and　to　left；　as　though　trying　to　hurry　over　the　first　moments　of　greeting。　The　musicians　played　the　polonaise　in　vogue　at　the　time　on　account　of　the　words　set　to　it。　The　words　began：　“Alexander；　Elisaveta；　our　hearts　ye　ravish　quite。”　The　Tsar　went　into　the　drawing…room；　the　crowd　made　a　dash　for　the　door；　several　persons　ran　hurriedly　to　the　door　and　back　with　excited　faces。　The　crowd　made　another　rush　back；　away　from　the　drawing…room　door　at　which　the　Tsar　appeared　in　conversation　with　the　hostess。　A　young　man；　looking　distraught；　pounced　down　on　the　ladies　and　begged　them　to　move　aside。　Several；　with　faces　that　betrayed　a　total　oblivion　of　all　the　rules　of　decorum；　squeezed　forward；　to　the　destruction　of　their　dresses。　The　men　began　approaching　the　ladies；　and　couples　were　formed　for　the　polonaise。
There　was　a　general　movement　of　retreat；　and　the　Tsar；　smiling；　came　out　of　the　drawing…room　door；　leading　out　the　lady　of　the　house；　and　not　keeping　time　to　the　music。　He　was　followed　by　the　host　with　Marya　Antonovna　Narishkin；　then　came　ambassadors；　ministers；　and　various　generals；　whose　names　Madame　Peronsky　never　tired　of　reciting。　More　than　half　the　ladies　had　partners；　and　were　taking　part；　or　preparing　to　take　part；　in　the　polonaise。
Natasha　felt　that　she　would　be　left　with　her　mother　and　Sonya　in　that　minority　of　the　ladies　who　were　crowded　back　against　the　wall；　and　not　invited　to　dance　the　polonaise。　She　stood；　her　thin　arms　hanging　at　her　sides；　and　her　scarcely　outlined　bosom　heaving　regularly。　She　held　her　breath；　and　gazed　before　her　with　shining；　frightened　eyes；　with　an　expression　of　equal　readiness　for　the　utmost　bliss　or　the　utmost　misery。　She　took　no　interest　in　the　Tsar；　nor　in　all　the　great　people　Madame　Peronsky　was　pointing　out；　her　mind　was　filled　by　one　thought：　“Is　it　possible　no　one　will　come　up　to　me？　Is　it　possible　that　I　shall　not　dance　among　the　foremost？　Is　it　possible　I　shall　not　be　noticed　by　all　these　men；　who　now　don’t　even　seem　to　see　me；　but　if　they　look　at　me；　look　with　an　expression　as　though　they　would　say：　‘Ah！　that’s　not　she；　so　it’s　no　use　looking’？”　“No；　it　cannot　be！”　she　thought。　“They　must　know　how　I　long　to　dance；　how　well　I　dance；　and　how　they　would　enjoy　dancing　with　me。”
The　strains　of　the　polonaise；　which　had　already　lasted　some　time；　were　beginning　to　sound　like　a　melancholy　reminiscence　in　the　ears　of　Natasha。　She　wanted　to　cry。　Madame　Peronsky　had　left　them。　The　count　was　at　the　other　end　of　the　ballroom；　the　countess；　Sonya；　and　she　stood　in　that　crowd　of　strangers　as　lonely　as　in　a　forest；　of　no　interest；　of　no　use　to　any　one。　Prince　Andrey　with　a　lady　passed　close　by　them；　obviously　not　recognising　them。　The　handsome　Anatole　said　something　smiling　to　the　lady　on　his　arm；　and　he　glanced　at　Natasha’s　face　as　one　looks　at　a　wall。　Boris　passed　by　them；　twice；　and　each　time　turned　away。　Berg　and　his　wife；　who　were　not　dancing；　came　towards　them。
This　family　meeting　here；　in　a　ballroom；　seemed　a　humiliating　thing　to　Natasha；　as　though　there　were　nowhere　else　for　family　talk　but　here　at　a　ball。　She　did　not　listen；　and　did　not　look　at　Vera；　who　said　something　to　her　about　her　own　green　dress。
At　last　the　Tsar　stood　still　beside　the　last　of　his　partners　（he　had　danced　with　three）；　the　music　ceased。　An　anxious…looking　adjutant　ran　up　to　the　Rostovs；　begging　them　to　move　a　little　further　back；　though　they　were　already　close　to　the　wall；　and　from　the　orchestra　came　the　circumspect；　precise；　seductively；　stately　rhythm　of　the　waltz。　The　Tsar　glanced　with　a　smile　down　the　ballroom。　A　moment　passed；　no　one　had　yet　begun。　An　adjutant；　who　was　a　steward；　went　up　to　Countess　Bezuhov　and　asked　her　to　dance。　Smiling；　she　raised　her　hand　and　laid　it　on　the　adjutant’s　shoulder　without　looking　at　him。　The　adjutant…steward；　a　master　of　his　art；　grasped　his　partner　firmly；　and　with　confident　deliberation　and　smoothness　broke　with　her　into　the　first　gallop　round　the　edge　of　the　circle；　then　at　the　corner　of　the　ballroom　caught　his　partner’s　left　hand；　turned　her；　and　through　the　quickening　strains　of　the　music　nothing　could　be　heard　but　the　regular　jingle　of　the　spurs　on　the　adjutant’s　rapid；　practised　feet；　and　at　every　third　beat　the　swish　of　his　partner’s　flying　velvet　skirt　as　she　whirled　round。
Natasha　looked　at　them；　and　was　ready　to　cry　that　it　was　not　she　dancing　that　first　round　of　the　waltz。
Prince　Andrey；　in　his　white　uniform　of　a　cavalry　colonel；　wearing　stockings　and　dancing…shoes；　stood　looking　eager　and　lively；　in　the　front　of　the　ring　not　far　from　the　Rostovs。　Baron　Firhoff　was　talking　to　him　of　the　proposed　first　sitting　of　the　State　Council　to　be　held　next　day。　From　his　intimacy　with　Speransky；　and　the　part　he　was　taking　in　the　labours　of　the　legislative　commission；　Prince　Andrey　was　in　a　position　to　give　authoritative　information　in　regard　to　that　sitting；　about　which　the　most　diverse　rumours　were　current。　But　he　did　not　hear　what　Firhoff　was　saying　to　him；　and　looked　from　the　Tsar　to　the　gentlemen　preparing　to　dance；　who　had　not　yet　stepped　out　into　the　ring。
Prince　Andrey　was　watching　these　gentlemen；　who　were　timid　in　the　presence　of　the　Tsar；　and　the　ladies；　who　were　dying　to　be　asked　to　dance。
Pierre　went　up　to　Prince　Andrey　and　took　him　by　the　arm。
“You　always　dance。　Here　is　my　protégée；　the　younger　Rostov　girl；　ask　her；”　he　said。
“Where？”　asked　Bolkonsky。　“I　beg　your　pardon；”　he　said；　turning　to　the　baron；　“we　will　finish　this　conversation　in　another　place；　but　at　a　ball　one　must　dance。”　He　went　forward　in　the　direction　indicated　by　Pierre。　Natasha’s　despairing；　tremulous　face　broke　upon　Prince　Andrey。　He　recognised　her；　guessed　her　feelings；　saw　that　it　was　her　debut；　remembered　what　she　had　said　at　the　window；　and　with　an　expression　of　pleasure　on　his　face　he　approached　Countess　Rostov。
“Permit　me　to　introduce　you　to　my　daughter；”　said　the　countess；　reddening。
“I　have　the　pleasure　of　her　acquaintance　already；　if　the　countess　remembers　me；”　said　Prince　Andrey；　with　a　low　and　courteous　bow；　which　seemed　a　direct　contradiction　to　Madame　Peronsky’s　remarks　about　his　rudeness。　He　went　up　to　Natasha；　and　raised　his　hand　to　put　it　round　her　waist　before　he　had　fully　uttered　the　invitation　to　dance。　He　proposed　a　waltz　to　her。　The　tremulous　expression　of　Natasha’s　face；　ready　for　despair　or　for　ecstasy；　brightened　at　once　into　a　happy；　grateful；　childlike　smile。
“I　have　been　a　long　while　waiting　for　you；”　that　alarmed　and　happy　young　girl　seemed　to　say　to　him　in　the　smile　that　peeped　out　through　the　starting　tears　as　she　raised　her　hand　to　Prince　Andrey’s　shoulder。　They　were　the　second　couple　that　walked　forward　into　the　ring。
Prince　Andrey　was　one　of　the　best　dancers　of　his　day。　Natasha　danced　exquisitely。　Her　little　feet　in　their　satin　dancing…shoes　performed　their　task　lightly　and　independently　of　her；　and　her　face　beamed　with　a　rapture　of　happiness。
Her　bare　neck　and　arms　were　thin；　and　not　beautiful　compared　with　Ellen’s　shoulders。　Her　shoulders　were　thin；　her　bosom　undefined；　her　arms　were　slender。　But