战争与和平(上)-第179部分

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iedly　washing；　and　in　all　humility　putting　on　her　shabbiest　dress　and　old　mantle；　Natasha；　shuddering　at　the　chill　air；　went　out　into　the　deserted　streets；　in　the　limpid　light　of　the　early　dawn。　By　the　advice　of　Agrafena　Ivanovna；　Natasha　did　not　attend　the　services　of　her　own　parish　church；　but　went　to　a　church　where　the　priest　was　esteemed　by　the　devout　Madame　Byelov　as　being　of　a　particularly　severe　and　exemplary　life。　There　were　few　people　in　the　church。　Natasha　and　Madame　Byelov　always　took　the　same　seat　before　an　image　of　the　Mother　of　God；　carved　at　the　back　of　the　left　choir；　and　a　new　feeling　of　humility　before　the　great　mystery　came　over　Natasha；　as　at　that　unusual　hour　in　the　morning　she　gazed　at　the　black　outline　of　the　Mother　of　God；　with　the　light　of　the　candles　burning　in　front　of　it；　and　the　morning　light　falling　on　it　from　the　window。　She　listened　to　the　words　of　the　service；　and　tried　to　follow　and　understand　them。　When　she　did　understand　them；　all　the　shades　of　her　personal　feeling　blended　with　her　prayer；　when　she　did　not　understand；　it　was　still　sweeter　for　her　to　think　that　the　desire　to　understand　all　was　pride；　that　she　could　not　comprehend　all；　that　she　had　but　to　believe　and　give　herself　up　to　God；　Who　was；　she　felt；　at　those　moments　guiding　her　soul。　She　crossed　herself；　bowed　to　the　ground；　and　when　she　did　not　follow；　simply　prayed　to　God　to　forgive　her　everything；　everything；　and　to　have　mercy　on　her；　in　horror　at　her　own　vileness。　The　prayer　into　which　she　threw　herself　heart　and　soul　was　the　prayer　of　repentance。　On　the　way　home　in　the　early　morning；　when　they　met　no　one　but　masons　going　to　their　work；　or　porters　cleaning　the　streets；　and　every　one　was　asleep　in　the　houses；　Natasha　had　a　new　sense　of　the　possibility　of　correcting　herself　of　her　sins　and　leading　a　new　life　of　purity　and　happiness。
During　the　week　she　spent　in　this　way；　that　feeling　grew　stronger　with　every　day。　And　the　joy　of　“communication；”　as　Agrafena　Ivanovna　liked　to　call　taking　the　Communion；　seemed　to　her　so　great　that　she　fancied　she　could　not　live　till　that　blissful　Sunday。
But　the　happy　day　did　come。　And　when　on　that　memorable　Sunday　Natasha　returned　from　the　Sacrament　wearing　a　white　muslin　dress；　for　the　first　time　for　many　months　she　felt　at　peace；　and　not　oppressed　by　the　life　that　lay　before　her。
The　doctor　came　that　day　to　see　Natasha；　and　gave　directions　for　the　powders　to　be　continued　that　he　had　begun　prescribing　a　fortnight　ago。　“She　must　certainly　go　on　taking　them　morning　and　evening；”　he　said；　with　visible　and　simple…hearted　satisfaction　at　the　success　of　his　treatment。　“Please；　don’t　forget　them。　You　may　set　your　mind　at　rest；　countess；”　the　doctor　said　playfully；　as　he　deftly　received　the　gold　in　the　hollow　of　his　palm。　“She　will　soon　be　singing　and　dancing　again。　The　last　medicine　has　done　her　great；　great　good。　She　is　very　much　better。”
The　countess　looked　at　her　finger…nails　and　spat；　to　avert　the　ill…omen　of　such　words；　as　with　a　cheerful　face　she　went　back　to　the　drawing…room。


Chapter　18
AT　THE　BEGINNING　of　July　the　rumours　as　to　the　progress　of　the　war　current　in　Moscow　became　more　and　more　alarming；　and　there　was　talk　of　the　Tsar’s　appeal　to　the　people；　and　the　Tsar　himself　was　said　to　be　coming　from　the　army　to　Moscow。　And　as　up　to　the　11th　of　July　the　manifesto　and　appeal　to　the　people　had　not　been　received；　the　most　exaggerated　reports　about　them　and　the　position　of　Russia　were　common。　It　was　said　that　the　Tsar　was　coming　away　because　the　army　was　in　danger；　it　was　said　that　Smolensk　had　surrendered；　that　Napoleon　had　millions　of　troops；　and　that　nothing　short　of　a　miracle　could　save　Russia。
On　Saturday；　the　11th　of　July；　the　manifesto　was　received；　but　was　not　yet　in　print；　and　Pierre；　who　happened　to　be　at　the　Rostovs’；　promised　to　come　next　day；　Sunday；　to　dinner；　and　to　bring　the　manifesto；　which　he　could　obtain　from　Count　Rastoptchin。
That　Sunday　the　Rostovs　attended　service　as　usual　in　the　private　chapel　of　the　Razumovskys。　It　was　a　hot　July　day。　Even　by　ten　o’clock；　when　the　Rostovs　got　out　of　their　carriage　before　the　chapel；　the　sultry　air；　the　shouts　of　the　street　hawkers；　the　gay；　light　summer　dresses　of　the　crowd；　the　dusty　leaves　of　the　trees　on　the　boulevard；　the　martial　music　and　white　trousers　of　the　battalion　marching　by　to　parade；　the　rattle　of　the　pavements；　and　the　brilliant；　hot　sunshine；　were　all　full　of　that　summer　languor；　that　content　and　discontent　with　the　present；　which　is　felt　particularly　vividly　on　a　bright；　hot　day　in　town。　All　the　fashionable　world　of　Moscow；　all　the　Rostovs’　acquaintances　were　in　the　chapel。　A　great　number　of　wealthy　families；　who　usually　spent　the　summer　in　the　country；　were　staying　on　in　Moscow　that　year；　as　though　in　vague　anticipation　of　something。
As　Natasha　walked　beside　her　mother；　behind　a　footman　in　livery；　who　made　way　for　them　through　the　crowd；　she　heard　the　voice　of　some　young　man　speaking　in　too　loud　a　whisper　about　her：
“That’s　the　young　Countess　Rostov；　the　very　girl！”
“She’s　ever　so　much　thinner；　but　still　pretty！”　she　caught；　and　fancied　that　the　names　of　Kuragin　and　Bolkonsky　were　mentioned。　But　that　was　always　happening。　She　was　always　fancying　that　any　one　who　looked　at　her　could　be　thinking　of　nothing　but　what　happened　to　her。　With　a　sinking　heart；　wretched　as　she　always　was　now　in　a　crowd；　Natasha；　in　her　lilac　silk　dress；　trimmed　with　black　lace；　walked　on；　as　only　women　know　how　to　do；　with　an　air　of　ease　and　dignity　all　the　greater　for　the　pain　and　shame　in　her　heart。　She　knew　for　a　fact　that　she　was　pretty；　but　that　did　not　give　her　pleasure　now；　as　once　it　had。　On　the　contrary；　it　had　been　a　source　of　more　misery　than　anything　of　late；　and　especially　so　on　this　bright；　hot　summer　day　in　town。　“Another　Sunday；　another　week；”　she　said　to　herself；　recalling　how　she　had　been　here　on　that　memorable　Sunday；　“and　still　the　same　life　that　is　no　life；　and　still　the　same　circumstances　in　which　life　used　to　seem　so　easy　once。　Young　and　pretty；　and　I　know　that　now　I　am　good；　and　before　I　was　wicked！　But　now　I　am　good；”　she　mused；　“but　yet　the　best　years；　the　best　of　my　life；　are　all　being　wasted；　and　no　good　to　any　one。”　She　stood　by　her　mother’s　side；　and　nodded　to　the　acquaintances　who　were　standing　near。　From　force　of　habit　Natasha　scrutinised　the　dresses　of　the　ladies；　and　criticised　the　tenue　of　a　lady　standing　near　her；　and　the　awkward　and　cramped　way　in　which　she　was　crossing　herself。　Then　she　thought　with　vexation　that　she　was　herself　being　criticised　again；　and　was　criticising　others；　and　at　the　first　sounds　of　the　service　she　was　horrified　at　her　sinfulness；　horrified　that　her　purity　of　heart　should　be　lost　again。
A　handsome；　clean…looking　old　priest　read　the　service　with　the　mild　solemnity　that　has　such　an　elevating　and　soothing　effect　on　the　souls　of　those　who　pray。　The　sanctuary　doors　were　closed；　the　curtain　was　slowly　drawn；　and　a　voice；　mysteriously　subdued；　uttered　some　word　from　it。　Tears；　that　she　could　not　herself　have　explained；　rose　to　Natasha’s　eyes；　and　a　feeling　of　joyful　agitation　came　upon　her。
“Teach　me　what　to　do；　how　to　live　my　life；　how　to　conquer　my　sins　for　ever；　for　ever！”…she　prayed。　The　deacon　came　out　to　the　steps　before　the　altar　screen；　with　his　thumb　held　out　apart　from　the　rest；　he　pulled　his　long　hair　out　from　under　his　surplice；　and　laying　the　cross　on　his　breast；　he　began　in　a　loud　voice　solemnly　reading　the　prayer：
“As　one　community　let　us　pray　to　the　Lord。”
“As　one　community；　all　together　without　distinction　of　class；　free　from　enmity；　all　united　in　brotherly　love；　let　us　pray；”　thought　Natasha。
“For　the　world　above　and　the　salvation　of　our　souls！”
“For　the　world　of　angels　and　the　souls　of　all　spiritual　beings　who　live　above　us；”　prayed　Natasha。
When　they　prayed　for　the　army；　she　thought　of　her　brother　and　Denisov。　When　they　prayed　for　all　travelling　by　sea　and　by　land；　she　thought　of　Prince　Andrey；　and　prayed　for　him；　and　prayed　that　God　would　forgive　her　the　wrong　she　had　done　him。　When　they　prayed　for　all　who　love　us；　she　prayed　for　all　her　family；　her　father　and　mother；　and　Sonya—for　the　first　time　feeling　all　the　shortcomings　in　her　behaviour　to　them；　and　all　the　strength　of　her　own　love　for　them。　When　they　prayed　for　those　who　hate　us；　she　tried　to　think　of　enemies；　to　pray　for　them。　She　reckoned　as　enemies　all　her　father’s　creditors；　and　every　one　who　had　business　relations　with　him；　and　always　at　the　thought　of　enemies　who　hated　her　she　thought　of　Anatole；　who　had　done　her　so　cruel　an　injury；　and　though　he　had　not　hated　her；　she　prayed　gladly　for　him；　as　an　enemy。　It　was　only　at　her　prayers　that　she　felt　able　to　think　calmly　and　clearly　either　of　Prince　Andrey　or　of　Anatole；　with　a　sense　that　her　feelings　for　them　were　as　nothing　compared　with　her　feeling　of　worship　and　awe　of　God。　When　they　prayed　for　the　Imperial　family　and　the　Synod；　she　bowed　and　crossed　herself　more　devoutly　than　ever；　telling　herself　that　if　she　did　not　comprehend；　she　could　not　doubt；　and　anyway　loved　the　Holy　Synod　and　prayed　for　it。
When　the　litany　was　over；　the　deacon　crossed　his　stole　over　his　breast　and　pronounced：
“Ourselves　and　our　life　we　offer　up　to　Christ　the　Lord！”
“Ourselves　we　offer　up　to　God；”　Natasha　repeated　in　her　heart。　“My　God；　I　give　myself　unto　Thy　keeping！”　she　thought。　“I　ask　for　nothing；　I　desire　nothing；　teach　me　how　to　act；　how　to　do　Thy　will！　Yes；　take　me；　take　me　to　Thee！”　Natasha　said；　with　devout　impatience　in　her　heart。　She　did　not　cross　herself；　but　stood　with　her　thin　arms　hanging　down；　as　though　in　expectation　every　moment　that　an　unseen　force　would　come　and　carry　her　off　and　rescue　her　from　herself；　from　her　regrets　and　desires　and　remorse　and　hopes　and　sins。
Several　times　during　the　service　the　countess　looked　round　at　her　daughter’s　devout　face　and　shining　eyes；　and　prayed　to　God　to　help　her。
To　the　general　surprise；　in　the　middle　of　the　service；　which　Natasha　knew　so　well；　the　deacon　brought　forward　the　little　bench；　from　which　they　repeated　the　prayers；　kneeling；　on　Trinity　Day；　and　set　it　before　the　sanctuary　doors。　The　priest　advanced　in　his　lilac　velvet　calotte；　threw　back　his　hair；　and；　with　an　effort；