战争与和平(上)-第178部分

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s　for　that　that　they　are　paid；　and　on　that　they　have　wasted　the　best　years　of　their　life。　And　what　is　more；　that　reflection　could　not　occur　to　the　doctors　because　they　saw　that　they　unquestionably　were　of　use；　and　they　certainly　were　of　use　to　all　the　Rostov　household。　They　were　of　use；　not　because　they　made　the　patient　swallow　drugs；　mostly　injurious　（the　injury　done　by　them　was　hardly　perceptible　because　they　were　given　in　such　small　doses）。　They　were　of　use；　were　needed；　were　indispensable　in　fact　（for　the　same　reason　that　there　have　always　been；　and　always　will　be；　reputed　healers；　witches；　hom？opaths　and　allopaths）；　because　they　satisfied　the　moral　cravings　of　the　patient　and　those　who　loved　her。　They　satisfied　that　eternal　human　need　of　hope　for　relief；　that　need　for　sympathetic　action　that　is　felt　in　the　presence　of　suffering；　that　need　that　is　shown　in　its　simplest　form　in　the　little　child；　who　must　have　the　place　rubbed　when　it　has　hurt　itself。　The　child　is　hurt；　and　runs　at　once　to　the　arms　of　its　mother　or　nurse　for　them　to　kiss　or　rub　the　tender　spot；　and　it　feels　better　for　the　kissing　and　rubbing。　The　child　cannot　believe　that　these　stronger；　cleverer　creatures　have　not　the　power　to　relieve　its　pain。　And　the　hope　of　relief　and　the　expressions　of　sympathy　as　the　mother　rubs　it　comfort　it。　To　Natasha　the　doctors　took　the　place　of　the　mother；　kissing　and　rubbing　her　“bobo；”　when　they　declared　that　all　the　trouble　would　soon　be　over；　if　the　coachman　were　to　drive　to　the　chemist’s　shop；　in　Arbatsky　Place；　and　buy—for　a　rouble　and　seventy　copecks—those　powders　and　pills　in　a　pretty　little　box；　and　if　those　powders　were　given　to　the　patient　in　boiled　water　precisely　every　two　hours；　neither　more　nor　less。
What　would　Sonya；　and　the　count；　and　the　countess　have　done；　how　would　they　have　felt　if　they　had　taken　no　steps；　if　they　had　not　had　those　pills　at　certain　hours；　and　the　warm　beverage；　and　the　chicken　cutlets；　and　all　the　detailed　regime　laid　down　by　the　doctors；　which　gave　occupation　and　consolation　to　all　of　them。　How　could　the　count　have　borne　his　dearly　loved　daughter’s　illness　if　he　had　not　known　that　it　was　costing　him　a　thousand　roubles；　and　that　he　would　not　grudge　thousands　more；　if　that　would　do　her　any　good；　if　he　had　not　known　that；　in　case　she　did　not　get　better；　he　would　spend　thousands　more　on　taking　her　abroad　and　consulting　doctors　there；　if　he　had　not　been　able　to　tell　people　how　Metivier　and　Feller　had　failed　to　diagnose　the　complaint；　but　Friez　had　fathomed　it；　and　Mudrov　had　succeeded　even　better　in　defining　it？　What　would　the　countess　have　done　if　she　had　not　sometimes　been　able　to　scold　her　sick　Natasha　for　not　following　the　doctors’　orders　quite　faithfully？
“You　can　never　get　well　like　this；”　she　would　say；　finding　a　refuge　from　her　grief　in　anger；　“if　you　won’t　listen　to　the　doctors　and　take　your　medicine　properly！　We　can’t　have　any　nonsense；　when　it　may　turn　to　pneumonia；”　said　the　countess；　and　in　pronouncing　that—not　to　her　only—mysterious　word；　she　found　great　comfort。　What　would　Sonya　have　done；　had　she　not　had　the　glad　consciousness　that　at　first　she　had　not　had　her　clothes　off　for　three　nights　running；　so　as　to　be　in　readiness　to　carry　out　the　doctors’　orders；　and　that　now　she　did　not　sleep　at　night　for　fear　of　missing　the　exact　hour　at　which　the　innocuous　pills　were　to　be　given　out　of　the　gilt　pill…box？　Even　Natasha　herself；　though　she　did　declare　that　no　medicines　could　do　her　any　good；　and　that　it　was　all　nonsense；　was　glad　to　see　so　many　sacrifices　being　made　for　her；　and　glad　to　have　to　take　medicines　at　certain　hours。　And　she　was　even　glad；　indeed；　to　be　able　by　her　disregard　of　the　doctors’　prescription　to　show　how　little　faith　she　put　in　them；　and　how　little　she　cared　for　life。
The　doctor　came　every　day；　felt　her　pulse；　looked　at　her　tongue；　and　made　jokes；　regardless　of　her　dejected　face。　But　then　when　he　had　gone　into　the　next　room；　and　the　countess　had　hastily　followed　him；　he　assumed　a　serious　face；　and　shaking　his　head　gravely；　said　that　though　there　was　indeed　danger；　he　had　hopes　from　the　effect　of　the　most　recent　medicine；　and　that　they　could　only　wait　and　see；　that　the　illness　was　more　due　to　moral　than　physical　causes；　but　…　The　countess　slipped　some　gold　into　his　hand；　trying　to　conceal　the　action　from　herself　and　from　him；　and　always　went　back　to　the　sick…room　with　a　lighter　heart。
The　symptoms　of　Natasha’s　illness　were　loss　of　appetite；　sleeplessness；　a　cough；　and　continual　depression。　The　doctors　declared　that　she　must　have　medical　treatment；　and　therefore　kept　her　in　the　stifling　atmosphere　of　the　town。　And　all　the　summer　of　1812　the　Rostovs　did　not　visit　the　country。
In　spite　of　the　numerous　little　bottles　and　boxes　of　pills；　drops；　and　powders；　of　which　Madame　Schoss；　who　had　a　passion　for　them；　made　a　complete　collection；　in　spite　of　the　loss　of　the　country　life　to　which　she　was　accustomed；　youth　gained　the　upper　hand；　Natasha’s　grief　began　to　be　covered　up　by　the　impressions　of　daily　life；　it　ceased　to　lie　like　an　aching　load　on　her　heart；　it　began　to　fade　into　the　past；　and　Natasha　began　to　return　to　physical　health　again。


Chapter　17
NATASHA　was　calmer；　but　no　happier。　She　did　not　merely　shun　every　external　form　of　amusement—balls；　skating；　concerts；　and　theatres—but　she　never　even　laughed　without　the　sound　of　tears　behind　her　laughter。　She　could　not　sing。　As　soon　as　she　began　to　laugh　or　attempted　to　sing　all　by　herself；　tears　choked　her：　tears　of　remorse；　tears　of　regret　for　that　time　of　pure　happiness　that　could　never　return；　tears　of　vexation　that　she　should　so　wantonly　have　ruined　her　young　life；　that　might　have　been　so　happy。　Laughter　and　singing　especially　seemed　to　her　like　scoffing　at　her　grief。　She　never　even　thought　of　desiring　admiration；　she　had　no　impulse　of　vanity　to　restrain。　She　said　and　felt　at　that　time　that　all　men　were　no　more　to　her　than　Nastasya　Ivanovna；　the　buffoon。　An　inner　sentinel　seemed　to　guard　against　every　sort　of　pleasure。　And；　indeed；　she　seemed　to　have　lost　all　the　old　interests　of　her　girlish；　careless　life；　that　had　been　so　full　of　hope。　Most　often；　and　with　most　pining；　she　brooded　over　the　memory　of　those　autumn　months；　the　hunting；　the　old　uncle；　and　the　Christmas　holidays　spent　with　Nikolay　at　Otradnoe。　What　would　she　not　have　given　to　bring　back　one　single　day　of　that　time！　But　it　was　all　over　for　her。　Her　presentiment　at　the　time　had　not　deceived　her；　that　such　a　time　of　freedom　and　readiness　for　every　enjoyment　would　never　come　again。　But　yet　she　had　to　live。
It　comforted　her　to　think；　not　that　she　was　better；　as　she　had　once　fancied；　but　worse；　far　worse　than　any　one；　than　any　one　in　the　whole　world。　But　that　meant　little　to　her。　She　believed　it；　but　then　she　asked：　“And　what　next？”　And　there　was　nothing　to　come。　There　was　no　gladness　in　life；　but　life　was　passing。　All　Natasha　tried　after　was　plainly　to　be　no　burden　to　others；　and　not　to　hinder　other　people’s　enjoyment；　but　for　herself　she　wanted　nothing。　She　held　aloof　from　all　the　household。　It　was　only　with　her　brother；　Petya；　that　she　felt　at　ease。　She　liked　being　with　him　better　than　being　with　the　rest；　and　sometimes　even　laughed　when　she　was　alone　with　him。　She　hardly　left　the　house　to　go　anywhere；　and　of　the　guests　who　came　to　the　house　she　was　only　glad　to　see　one　person—Pierre。　No　one　could　have　been　more　tender；　circumspect；　and　at　the　same　time　serious；　than　Count　Bezuhov　in　his　manner　to　her。　Natasha　was　unconsciously　aware　of　this　tenderness；　and　it　was　owing　to　it　that　she　found　more　pleasure　in　his　society。　But　she　was　not　even　grateful　to　him　for　it。　Nothing　good　in　him　seemed　to　her　due　to　an　effort　on　Pierre’s　part。　It　seemed　so　natural　to　Pierre　to　be　kind　that　there　was　no　merit　in　his　kindness。　Sometimes　Natasha　noticed　some　confusion　or　awkwardness　in　Pierre　in　her　presence；　especially　when　he　was　trying　to　do　something　for　her　pleasure　or　afraid　something　in　the　conversation　might　suggest　to　her　painful　reminiscences。　She　observed　this；　and　put　it　down　to　his　general　kindliness　and　shyness；　which　she　supposed　would　be　the　same　with　every　one　else。　Ever　since　those　unforeseen　words—that　if　he　had　been　free；　he　would　have　asked　on　his　knees　for　her　hand　and　her　love—uttered　in　a　moment　full　of　violent　emotion　for　her；　Pierre　had　said　nothing　of　his　feelings　to　Natasha；　and　it　seemed　to　her　clear　that　those　words；　which　had　so　comforted　her；　had　been　uttered；　just　as　one　says　any　meaningless　nonsense　to　console　a　weeping　child。　It　was　not　because　Pierre　was　a　married　man；　but　because　Natasha　felt　between　herself　and　him　the　force　of　that　moral　barrier—of　the　absence　of　which　she　had　been　so　conscious　with　Kuragin—that　the　idea　never　occurred　to　her　that　her　relations　with　Pierre　might　develop　into　love　on　her　side；　and　still　less　on　his；　or　even　into　that　tender；　self…conscious；　romantic　friendship　between　a　man　and　a　woman；　of　which　she　had　known　several　instances。
Towards　the　end　of　St。　Peter’s　fast；　Agrafena　Ivanovna　Byelov；　a　country　neighbour　of　the　Rostovs；　came　to　Moscow　to　pay　her　devotions　to　the　saints　there。　She　suggested　to　Natasha　that　she　should　prepare　herself　for　the　Sacrament；　and　Natasha　caught　eagerly　at　the　suggestion。　Although　the　doctors　forbade　her　going　out　early　in　the　morning；　Natasha　insisted　on　keeping　the　fast；　and　not　simply　as　it　was　kept　in　the　Rostovs’　household；　by　taking　part　in　three　services　in　the　house；　but　keeping　it　as　Agrafena　Ivanova　was　doing；　that　is　to　say；　for　a　whole　week；　not　missing　a　single　early　morning　service；　or　litany；　or　vesper。
The　countess　was　pleased　at　these　signs　of　religious　fervour　in　Natasha。　After　the　poor　results　of　medical　treatment；　at　the　bottom　of　her　heart　she　hoped　that　prayer　would　do　more　for　her　than　medicine；　and　though　she　concealed　it　from　the　doctors　and　had　some　inward　misgivings；　she　fell　in　with　Natasha’s　wishes；　and　intrusted　her　to　Madame　Byelov。
Agrafena　Ivanovna　went　in　to　wake　Natasha　at　three　o’clock　in　the　night；　and　frequently　found　her　not　asleep。　Natasha　was　afraid　of　sleeping　too　late　for　the　early　morning　service。　Hurriedly　washing；　and　in　all　humility　putting　on　her　shabbiest　dress　and　old　mantle；　Natasha；　shudderin