战争与和平(上)-第151部分

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se　me；　to　excuse　me…I　didn’t　know；　madam。　As　God’s　above；　I　didn’t　know　that　you　were　deigning　to　visit　us；　and　came　in　to　my　daughter　in　this　costume。　I　beg　you　to　excuse　me…as　God’s　above；　I　didn’t　know；”　he　repeated　so　unnaturally；　with　emphasis　on　the　word　“God；”　and　so　unpleasantly；　that　Princess　Marya　rose　to　her　feet　with　her　eyes　on　the　ground；　not　daring　to　look　either　at　her　father　or　at　Natasha。　Natasha；　getting　up　and　curtseying；　did　not　know　either　what　she　was　to　do。　Only　Mademoiselle　Bourienne　smiled　agreeably。
“I　beg　you　to　excuse　me；　I　beg　you　to　excuse　me！　As　God’s　above；　I　didn’t　know；”　muttered　the　old　man；　and　looking　Natasha　over　from　head　to　foot；　he　went　out。
Mademoiselle　Bourienne　was　the　first　to　recover　herself　after　this　apparition；　and　began　talking　about　the　prince’s　ill…health。　Natasha　and　Princess　Marya　gazed　dumbly　at　one　another；　and　the　longer　they　gazed　dumbly　at　one　another　without　saying　what　they　wanted　to　say；　the　more　unfavourably　each　felt　disposed　to　the　other。
When　the　count　returned；　Natasha　showed　a　discourteous　relief　at　seeing　him；　and　made　haste　to　get　away。　At　that　moment　she　almost　hated　that　stiff；　oldish　princess；　who　could　put　her　in　such　an　awkward　position；　and　spend　half　an　hour　with　her　without　saying　a　word　about　Prince　Andrey。　“I　couldn’t　be　the　first　to　speak　of　him　before　that　Frenchwoman；”　thought　Natasha。　Princess　Marya　meanwhile　was　tortured　by　the　very　same　feeling。　She　knew　what　she　had　to　say　to　Natasha；　but　she　could　not　do　it；　both　because　Mademoiselle　Bourienne　prevented　her；　and　because　she　did　not　know　herself　why—it　was　difficult　for　her　to　begin　to　speak　of　the　marriage。　The　count　was　already　going　out　of　the　room　when　Princess　Marya　moved　rapidly　up　to　Natasha；　took　her　hand；　and；　with　a　heavy　sigh；　said：　“Wait　a　moment；　I　want…”　Natasha’s　expression　as　she　looked　at　Princess　Marya　was　ironical；　though　she　did　not　know　why。
“Dear　Natalie；”　said　Princess　Marya；　“do　believe　how　glad　I　am　that　my　brother　has　found　such　happiness…”　She　paused；　feeling　she　was　telling　a　lie。　Natasha　noticed　the　pause；　and　guessed　the　reason　of　it。
“I　imagine；　princess；　that　it　is　not　now　suitable　to　speak　of　that；”　said　Natasha；　with　external　dignity　and　coldness；　though　she　felt　the　tears　rising　in　her　throat。
“What　have　I　said；　what　have　I　done？”　she　thought　as　soon　as　she　had　gone　out　of　the　room。
They　had　to　wait　a　long　while　for　Natasha　to　come　to　dinner　that　day。　She　was　sitting　in　her　room；　crying　like　a　child；　choking；　and　sobbing。　Sonya　stood　over　her；　and　kept　kissing　her　on　the　head。
“Natasha；　what　is　it？”　she　kept　saying。　“Why　need　you　mind　about　them？　It　will　pass；　Natasha。”
“No；　if　only　you　knew　how　insulting　it　was…as　though　I…”
“Don’t　talk　of　it；　Natasha；　it’s　not　your　fault；　you　see；　so　what　does　it　matter　to　you！　Kiss　me；”　said　Sonya。
Natasha　raised　her　head；　and　kissing　her　friend　on　the　lips；　pressed　her　wet　face　against　her。
“I　can’t　say；　I　don’t　know。　It’s　no　one’s　fault；”　said　Natasha；　“it’s　my　fault。　But　it’s　all　awfully　painful。　Oh；　why　doesn’t　he　come？…”
She　went　down　to　dinner　with　red　eyes。　Marya　Dmitryevna；　who　had　heard　how　the　old　prince　had　received　the　Rostovs；　pretended　not　to　notice　Natasha’s　troubled　face；　and　kept　up　a　loud；　jesting　conversation　at　table　with　the　count　and　the　other　guests。


Chapter　8
THAT　EVENING　the　Rostovs　went　to　the　opera；　for　which　Marya　Dmitryevna　had　obtained　them　a　box。
Natasha　had　no　wish　to　go；　but　it　was　impossible　to　refuse　after　Marya　Dmitryevna’s　kindness；　especially　as　it　had　been　arranged　expressly　for　her。　When　she　was　dressed　and　waiting　for　her　father　in　the　big　hall；　she　looked　at　herself　in　the　big　looking…glass；　and　saw　that　she　was　looking　pretty；　very　pretty。　She　felt　even　sadder；　but　it　was　a　sweet　and　tender　sadness。
“My　God；　if　he　were　only　here；　I　wouldn’t　have　any　stupid　shyness　of　something　as　I　used　to；　but　in　quite　a　new　way；　simply；　I　would　embrace　him；　press　close　to　him；　force　him　to　look　at　me　with　those　scrutinising；　inquisitive　eyes；　with　which　he　used　so　often　to　look　at　me；　and　then　I　would　make　him　laugh；　as　he　used　to　laugh　then；　and　his　eyes—how　I　see　those　eyes！”　thought　Natasha。　“And　what　does　it　matter　to　me　about　his　father　and　sister；　I　love　no　one　but　him；　him；　him；　with　that　face　and　those　eyes；　with　his　smile；　manly；　and　yet　childlike。…　No；　better　not　think　of　him；　not　think；　forget；　utterly　forget　him　for　the　time。　I　can’t　bear　this　suspense；　I　shall　sob　in　a　minute；”　and　she　turned　away　from　the　looking…glass；　making　an　effort　not　to　weep。　“And　how　can　Sonya　love　Nikolenka　so　quietly；　so　calmly；　and　wait　so　long　and　so　patiently！”　she　wondered；　looking　at　Sonya；　who　came　in；　dressed　for　the　theatre　with　a　fan　in　her　hand。　“No；　she’s　utterly　different。　I　can’t。”
Natasha　at　that　moment　felt　so　softened　and　moved　that　to　love　and　know　that　she　was　loved　was　not　enough　for　her：　she　wanted　now；　now　at　once　to　embrace　the　man　she　loved；　and　to　speak　and　hear　from　him　the　words　of　love；　of　which　her　heart　was　full。　When　she　was　in　the　carriage　sitting　beside　her　father　and　pensively　watching　the　lights　of　the　street　lamps　flitting　by　the　frozen　window；　she　felt　even　sadder　and　more　in　love；　and　forgot　with　whom　and　where　she　was　going。　The　Rostovs’　carriage　fell　into　the　line　of　carriages；　and　drove　up　to　the　theatre；　its　wheels　crunching　slowly　over　the　snow。　Natasha　and　Sonya　skipped　hurriedly　out　holding　up　their　dresses；　the　count　stepped　out　supported　by　the　footmen；　and　all　three　walked　to　the　corridor　for　the　boxes　in　the　stream　of　ladies　and　gentlemen　going　in　and　people　selling　programmes。　They　could　hear　the　music　already　through　the　closed　doors。
“Natasha；　your　hair　…”　whispered　Sonya。　The　box…opener　deferentially　and　hurriedly　slipped　before　the　ladies　and　opened　the　door　of　the　box。　The　music　became　more　distinctly　audible　at　the　door；　and　they　saw　the　brightly　lighted　rows　of　boxes；　with　the　bare　arms　and　shoulders　of　the　ladies；　and　the　stalls　below；　noisy；　and　gay　with　uniforms。　A　lady　entering　the　next　box　looked　round　at　Natasha　with　an　envious；　feminine　glance。　The　curtain　had　not　yet　risen　and　they　were　playing　the　overture。　Natasha　smoothing　down　her　skirt　went　in　with　Sonya　and　sat　down　looking　round　at　the　brightly　lighted　tiers　of　boxes　facing　them。　The　sensation　she　had　not　experienced　for　a　long　while—that　hundreds　of　eyes　were　looking　at　her　bare　arms　and　neck—suddenly　came　upon　her　both　pleasantly　and　unpleasantly；　calling　up　a　whole　swarm　of　memories；　desires；　and　emotions　connected　with　that　sensation。
The　two　strikingly　pretty　girls；　Natasha　and　Sonya；　with　Count　Ilya　Andreitch；　who　had　not　been　seen　for　a　long　while　in　Moscow；　attracted　general　attention。　Moreover；　every　one　had　heard　vaguely　of　Natasha’s　engagement　to　Prince　Andrey；　knew　that　the　Rostovs　had　been　living　in　the　country　ever　since；　and　looked　with　curiosity　at　the　girl　who　was　to　make　one　of　the　best　matches　in　Russia。
Natasha　had；　so　every　one　told　her；　grown　prettier　in　the　country；　and　that　evening；　owing　to　her　excited　condition；　she　was　particularly　pretty。　She　made　a　striking　impression　of　fulness　of　life　and　beauty；　together　with　indifference　to　everything　around　her。　Her　black　eyes　gazed　at　the　crowd；　seeking　out　no　one；　while　her　slender　arm；　bare　to　above　the　elbow；　leaned　on　the　velvet　edge　of　the　box；　and　her　hand；　holding　the　programme；　clasped　and　unclasped　in　time　to　the　music　with　obvious　unconsciousness。
“Look；　there’s　Alenina；”　said　Sonya；　“with　her　mother；　isn’t　it？”
“Heavens；　Mihail　Kirillitch　is　really　stouter　than　ever；”　said　the　old　count。
“Look！　our　Anna　Mihalovna　in　such　a　cap！”
“The　Karagins；　Julie；　and　Boris　with　them。　One　can　see　at　once　they　are　engaged。”
“Drubetskoy　has　made　his　offer！　To　be　sure；　I　heard　so　to…day；”　said　Shinshin；　coming　into　the　Rostovs’　box。
Natasha　looked　in　the　direction　her　father　was　looking　in　and　saw　Julie　with　diamonds　on　her　thick；　red　neck　（Natasha　knew　it　was　powdered）；　sitting　with　a　blissful　face　beside　her　mother。
Behind　them　could　be　seen　the　handsome；　well…brushed　head　of　Boris；　with　a　smile　inclining　his　ear　towards　Julie’s　mouth。　He　looked　from　under　his　brows　at　the　Rostovs；　and　said　something；　smiling；　to　his　betrothed。
“They　are　talking　about　us；　about　me　and　himself！”　thought　Natasha。　“And　he　is；　most　likely；　soothing　his　fiancée’s　jealousy　of　me；　they　needn’t　worry　themselves！　If　only　they　knew　how　little　they　matter　to　me；　any　one　of　them。”
Behind　the　engaged　couple　sat　Anna　Mihalovna　in　a　green　cap；　with　a　face　happy；　in　honour　of　the　festive　occasion；　and　devoutly　resigned　to　the　will　of　God。　Their　box　was　full　of　that　atmosphere　of　an　engaged　couple—which　Natasha　knew　so　well　and　liked　so　much。　She　turned　away；　and　suddenly　all　that　had　been　humiliating　in　her　morning　visit　came　back　to　her　mind。
“What　right　has　he　not　to　want　to　receive　me　into　his　family？　Ah；　better　not　think　about　it；　not　think　till　he　comes　back！”　she　said　to　herself；　and　began　to　look　about　at　the　faces；　known　and　unknown；　in　the　stalls。
In　the　front　of　the　stalls；　in　the　very　centre；　leaning　back　against　the　rail　stood　Dolohov；　in　a　Persian　dress；　with　his　huge　shock　of　curly　hair　combed　upwards。　He　stood　in　the　most　conspicuous　place　in　the　theatre；　well　aware　that　he　was　attracting　the　attention　of　the　whole　audience；　and　as　much　at　his　ease　as　though　he　had　been　alone　in　his　room。　The　most　brilliant　young　men　in　Moscow　were　all　thronging　about　him；　and　he　was　obviously　the　leading　figure　among　them。
Count　Ilya　Andreitch；　laughing；　nudged　the　blushing　Sonya；　pointing　out　her　former　admirer。
“Did　you　recognise　him？”　he　asked。　“And　where　has　he　dropped　from？”　said　he；　turning　to　Shinshin。　“I　thought　he　had　disappeared　somewhere？”
“He　did　disappear；”　answered　Shinshin。　“He　was　in　the　Caucasus；　and　he　ran　away　from　there；　and　they　say　he　has　been　acting　as　minister　to　some　reigning　prince　in　Persia；　and　there　killed　the　Shah’s　brother。　Well；　all　the　Moscow　ladies　are　wild　about　him！　‘Dolohov　the　Persian；’　that’s　what　does　it！　Nowadays　there’s　nothing　can　be　done　without　Dolohov；　they　do　homage