战争与和平(上)-第127部分

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When　Pierre　went　up　to　them　he　noticed　that　Vera　was　in　full　flow　of　self…complacent　talk；　while　Prince　Andrey　seemed　embarrassed—a　thing　that　rarely　happened　to　him。
“What　do　you　think？”　Vera　was　saying　with　a　subtle　smile。　“You；　prince；　have　so　much　penetration　and　see　into　people’s　characters　at　once。　What　do　you　think　about　Natalie？　Is　she　capable　of　constancy　in　her　attachments？　Is　she　capable；　like　other　women”　（Vera　meant　herself）　“of　loving　a　man　once　for　all　and　remaining　faithful　to　him　for　ever？　That’s　what　I　regard　as　true　love！　What　do　you　think；　prince？”
“I　know　your　sister　too　little；”　answered　Prince　Andrey；　with　a　sarcastic　smile；　under　which　he　tried　to　conceal　his　embarrassment；　“to　decide　a　question　so　delicate；　and；　besides；　I　have　noticed　that　the　less　attractive　a　woman　is；　the　more　constant　she　is　apt　to　be；”　he　added；　and　he　looked　at　Pierre；　who　at　that　moment　joined　them。
“Yes；　that　is　true；　prince。　In　these　days；”　pursued　Vera　（talking　of　“these　days；”　as　persons　of　limited　intellect　as　a　rule　love　to　do；　supposing　they　have　discovered　and　estimated　the　peculiarities　of　the　times　and　that　human　characteristics　do　change　with　the　times）；　“in　these　days　a　girl　has　so　much　liberty　that　the　pleasure　of　being　paid　attention　often　stifles　these　feelings　in　her。　And　Natalie；　it　must　be　confessed；　is　very　susceptible　on　that　side。”
This　going　back　to　Natasha　again　made　Prince　Andrey　contract　his　brows　disagreeably。　He　tried　to　get　up；　but　Vera　persisted　with　a　still　more　subtle　smile。
“Nobody；　I　imagine；　has　been　so　much　run　after　as　she　has；”　Vera　went　on；　“but　no　one；　until　quite　of　late；　has　ever　made　a　serious　impression　on　her。　Of　course；　you　know；　count；”　she　turned　to　Pierre；　“even　our　charming　cousin；　Boris；　who；　entre　nous；　was　very；　very　far　gone　in　the　region　of　the　tender　passion　…”　She　intended　an　allusion　to　the　map　of　love　then　in　fashion。
Prince　Andrey　scowled；　and　was　mute。
“But；　of　course；　you　are　a　friend　of　Boris’s？”　Vera　said　to　him
“Yes；　I　know　him。　…”
“He　has　probably　told　you　of　his　childish　love　for　Natasha？”
“Oh；　was　there　a　childish　love　between　them？”　asked　Prince　Andrey　with　a　sudden；　unexpected　flush　on　his　face。
“Yes。　You　know　between　cousins　the　close　intimacy　often　leads　to　love。　Cousinhood　is　a　dangerous　neighbourhood。　Isn’t　it？”
“Oh；　not　a　doubt　of　it；”　said　Prince　Andrey；　and　with　sudden　and　unnatural　liveliness；　he　began　joking　with　Pierre　about　the　necessity　of　his　being　careful　with　his　cousins　at　Moscow；　ladies　of　fifty；　and　in　the　middle　of　these　jesting　remarks　he　got　up；　and　taking　Pierre’s　arm；　drew　him　aside。
“Well；　what　is　it？”　said　Pierre；　who　had　been　watching　in　wonder　his　friend’s　excitement；　and　noticed　the　glance　he　turned　upon　Natasha　as　he　got　up。
“I　must；　I　must　talk　to　you；”　said　Prince　Andrey。　“You　know　that　pair　of　women’s　gloves”　（he　referred　to　the　masonic　gloves　given　to　a　newly　initiated　brother　to　be　entrusted　to　the　woman　he　loved）。　“I　…　but　no；　I　will　talk　to　you　later　on。　…”　And　with　a　strange　light　in　his　eyes　and　a　restlessness　in　his　movements；　Prince　Andrey　approached　Natasha　and　sat　down　beside　her。　Pierre　saw　that　Prince　Andrey　asked　her　some　question；　and　she　answered　him；　flushing　hotly。
But　at　that　moment　Berg　approached　Pierre；　and　insisted　upon　his　taking　part　in　an　argument　between　the　general　and　the　colonel　on　affairs　in　Spain。
Berg　was　satisfied　and　happy。　The　smile　of　glee　never　left　his　face。　The　soirée　was　a　great　success；　and　exactly　like　other　soirées　he　had　seen。　Everything　was　precisely　similar：　the　ladies’　refined　conversation；　and　the　cards；　and　after　the　cards　the　general　raising　his　voice　and　the　samovar　and　the　tea　cakes；　but　one　thing　was　still　lacking；　which　he　had　always　seen　at　soirées；　and　wished　to　imitate。　There　was　still　wanting　the　usual　loud　conversation　between　the　gentlemen　and　discussion　about　some　serious　intellectual　question。　The　general　had　started　that　conversation；　and　Berg　drew　Pierre　into　it。


Chapter　22
NEXT　DAY　Prince　Andrey　went　to　dine　at　the　Rostovs’；　as　Count　Ilya　Andreitch　had　invited　him；　and　spent　the　whole　day　with　them。
Every　one　in　the　house　perceived　on　whose　account　Prince　Andrey　came；　and　he　openly　tried　to　be　all　day　long　with　Natasha。
Not　only　in　the　soul　of　Natasha—scared；　but　happy　and　enthusiastic—in　the　whole　household；　too；　there　was　a　feeling　of　awe；　of　something　of　great　gravity　being　bound　to　happen。　With　sorrowful　and　sternly　serious　eyes　the　countess　looked　at　Prince　Andrey　as　he　talked　to　Natasha；　and　shyly　and　self…consciously　tried　to　begin　some　insignificant　talk　with　him　as　soon　as　he　looked　round　at　her。　Sonya　was　afraid　to　leave　Natasha；　and　afraid　of　being　in　their　way　if　she　stayed　with　them。　Natasha　turned　pale　in　a　panic　of　expectation　every　time　she　was　left　for　a　moment　alone　with　him。　Prince　Andrey’s　timidity　impressed　her。　She　felt　that　he　wanted　to　tell　her　something；　but　could　not　bring　himself　up　to　the　point。
When　Prince　Andrey　had　gone　away　in　the　evening；　the　countess　went　up　to　Natasha　and　whispered：
“Well？”
“Mamma；　for　God’s　sake；　don’t　ask　me　anything　just　now。　This　one　can’t　talk　of；”　said　Natasha。
But　in　spite　of　this　answer；　Natasha　lay　a　long　while　in　her　mother’s　bed　that　night；　her　eyes　fixed　before　her；　excited　and　scared　by　turns。　She　told　her　how　he　had　praised　her；　how　he　had　said　he　was　going　abroad；　how　he　had　asked　where　they　were　going　to　spend　the　summer；　and　how　he　had　asked　her　about　Boris。
“But　anything　like　this；　like　this　…　I　have　never　felt　before！”　she　said。　“Only　I’m　afraid　with　him；　I’m　always　afraid　with　him。　What　does　that　mean？　Does　it　mean　that　it’s　the　real　thing？　Mamma；　are　you　asleep？”
“No；　my　darling。　I’m　afraid　of　him　myself；”　answered　her　mother。　“Go　to　bed。”
“Anyhow；　I　shouldn’t　go　to　sleep。　How　stupid　sleep　is！　Mamma；　mamma；　nothing　like　this　have　I　ever　felt　before；”　she　said；　with　wonder　and　terror　at　the　feeling　she　recognised　in　herself。　“And　could　we　ever　have　dreamed！　…”
It　seemed　to　Natasha　that　she　had　fallen　in　love　with　Prince　Andrey　the　first　time　she　saw　him　at　Otradnoe。　She　was　as　it　were　terrified　at　this　strange；　unexpected　happiness　that　the　man　she　had　chosen　even　then　（she　was　firmly　convinced　that　she　had　done　so）—that　very　man　should　meet　them　again　now　and　be　apparently　not　indifferent　to　her。
“And　it　seems　as　though　it　all　happened　on　purpose—his　coming　to　Petersburg　just　while　we　are　here。　And　our　meeting　at　that　ball。　It　was　all　fate。　It’s　clear　that　it　is　fate；　that　it　has　all　led　up　to　this。　Even　then；　as　soon　as　I　saw　him；　I　felt　something　quite　different。”
“What　has　he　said　to　you？　What　are　those　verses？　Read　them　…”　said　the　mother　thoughtfully；　referring　to　the　verses　Prince　Andrey　had　written　in　Natasha’s　album。
“Mamma；　does　it　matter　his　being　a　widower？”
“Hush；　Natasha。　Pray　to　God。　Marriages　are　made　in　heaven；”　she　said；　quoting　the　French　proverb。
“Mamma；　darling；　how　I　love　you！　how　happy　I　am！”　cried　Natasha；　shedding　tears　of　excitement　and　happiness　and　hugging　her　mother。
At　that　very　time　Prince　Andrey　was　telling　Pierre　of　his　love　for　Natasha　and　of　his　fixed　determination　to　marry　her。
That　evening　the　Countess　Elena　Vassilyevna　gave　a　reception；　the　French　ambassador　was　there；　and　a　royal　prince　who　had　become　a　very　frequent　visitor　at　the　countess’s　of　late　and　many　brilliant　ladies　and　gentlemen。　Pierre　came　down　to　it；　wandered　through　the　rooms　and　impressed　all　the　guests　by　his　look　of　concentrated　preoccupation　and　gloom。
Pierre　had　been　feeling　one　of　his　attacks　of　nervous　depression　coming　upon　him　ever　since　the　day　of　the　ball　and　had　been　making　desperate　efforts　to　struggle　against　it。　Since　his　wife’s　intrigue　with　the　royal　prince；　Pierre　had　been　to　his　surprise　appointed　a　kammerherr；　and　ever　since　he　had　felt　a　sense　of　weariness　and　shame　in　court　society；　and　his　old　ideas　of　the　vanity　of　all　things　human　began　to　come　back　oftener　and　oftener。　The　feeling　he　had　lately　noticed　between　his　protégée　Natasha　and　Prince　Andrey　had　aggravated　his　gloom　by　the　contrast　between　his　own　position　and　his　friend’s。　He　tried　equally　to　avoid　thinking　of　his　wife　and　also　of　Natasha　and　Prince　Andrey。　Again　everything　seemed　to　him　insignificant　in　comparison　with　eternity；　again　the　question　rose　before　him：　“What　for？”　And　for　days　and　nights　together　he　forced　himself　to　work　at　masonic　labours；　hoping　to　keep　off　the　evil　spirit。　Pierre　had　come　out　of　the　countess’s　apartments　at　midnight；　and　was　sitting　in　a　shabby　dressing…gown　at　the　table　in　his　own　low…pitched；　smoke…blackened　room　upstairs；　copying　out　long　transactions　of　the　Scottish　freemasons；　when　some　one　came　into　his　room。　It　was　Prince　Andrey。
“Oh；　it’s　you；”　said　Pierre；　with　a　preoccupied　and　dissatisfied　air。　“I’m　at　work；　you　see；”　he　added；　pointing　to　the　manuscript　book　with　that　look　of　escaping　from　the　ills　of　life　with　which　unhappy　people　look　at　their　work。
Prince　Andrey　stood　before　Pierre　with　a　radiant；　ecstatic　face；　full　of　new　life；　and　with　the　egoism　of　happiness　smiled　at　him　without　noticing　his　gloomy　face。
“Well；　my　dear　boy；”　he　said；　“I　wanted　to　tell　you　yesterday；　and　I　have　come　to　do　so　to…day。　I　have　never　felt　anything　like　it。　I　am　in　love。”
Pierre　suddenly　heaved　a　heavy　sigh；　and　dumped　down　his　heavy　person　on　the　sofa　beside　Prince　Andrey。
“With　Natasha　Rostov；　yes？”　he　said　“Yes；　yes；　who　else　could　it　be？　I　would　never　have　believed　it；　but　the　feeling　is　too　strong　for　me。　Yesterday　I　was　in　torment；　in　agony；　but　I　would　not　exchange　that　agony　even　for　anything　in　the　world。　I　have　never　lived　till　now；　but　I　cannot　live　without　her。　But　can　she　love　me？　…　I’m　too　old　for　her。…Why　don’t　you　speak？　…”
“I？　I？　What　did　I　tell　you？”　said　Pierre；　suddenly　getting　up　and　walking　about　the　room。　“I　always　thought　so。…That　girl　is　a　treasure。…She’s　a　very　rare　sort　of　girl。…My　dear　fellow；　don’t；　I　entreat　you；　be　too　wise；　don’t　doubt；　marry；　marry；　marry！　…　And　I　am　sure　no　man　was　ever　happier　than　you　will　be。”
“But　she？”
“She　loves　you。”
“Don’t　talk　nonsense　…”　s