战争与和平(上)-第18部分

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“That’s　how　they　used　to　dance　in　our　day；　ma　chère；　said　the　count。
“Bravo；　Daniel　Cooper！”　said　Marya　Dmitryevna；　tucking　up　her　sleeves　and　drawing　a　deep；　prolonged　breath。


Chapter　18
WHILE　IN　THE　ROSTOVS’　HALL　they　were　dancing　the　sixth　anglaise；　while　the　weary　orchestra　played　wrong　notes；　and　the　tired　footmen　and　cooks　were　getting　the　supper；　Count　Bezuhov　had　just　had　his　sixth　stroke。　The　doctors　declared　that　there　was　no　hope　of　recovery；　the　sick　man　received　absolution　and　the　sacrament　while　unconscious。　Preparations　were　being　made　for　administering　extreme　unction；　and　the　house　was　full　of　the　bustle　and　thrill　of　suspense　usual　at　such　moments。　Outside　the　house　undertakers　were　crowding　beyond　the　gates；　trying　to　escape　the　notice　of　the　carriages　that　drove　up；　but　eagerly　anticipating　a　good　order　for　the　count’s　funeral。　The　governor　of　Moscow；　who　had　been　constantly　sending　his　adjutants　to　inquire　after　the　count’s　condition；　came　himself　that　evening　to　say　good…bye　to　the　renowned　grandee　of　Catherine’s　court；　Count　Bezuhov。
The　magnificent　reception…room　was　full。　Every　one　stood　up　respectfully　when　the　governor；　after　being　half　an　hour　alone　with　the　sick　man；　came　out　of　the　sick…room。　Bestowing　scanty　recognition　on　the　bows　with　which　he　was　received；　he　tried　to　escape　as　quickly　as　possible　from　the　gaze　of　the　doctors；　ecclesiastical　personages；　and　relations。　Prince　Vassily；　who　had　grown　paler　and　thinner　during　the　last　few　days；　escorted　the　governor　out；　and　softly　repeated　something　to　him　several　times　over。
After　seeing　the　governor；　Prince　Vassily　sat　down　on　a　chair　in　the　hall　alone；　crossing　one　leg　high　over　the　other；　leaning　his　elbow　on　his　knee；　and　covering　his　eyes　with　his　hand。　After　sitting　so　for　some　time　he　got　up；　and　with　steps　more　hurried　than　his　wont；　he　crossed　the　long　corridor；　looking　round　him　with　frightened　eyes；　and　went　to　the　back　part　of　the　house　to　the　apartments　of　the　eldest　princess。
The　persons　he　had　left　in　the　dimly　lighted　reception…room；　next　to　the　sick…room；　talked　in　broken　whispers　among　themselves；　pausing；　and　looking　round　with　eyes　full　of　suspense　and　inquiry　whenever　the　door　that　led　into　the　dying　man’s　room　creaked　as　some　one　went　in　or　came　out。
“Man’s　limitation；”　said　a　little　man；　an　ecclesiastic　of　some　sort；　to　a　lady；　who　was　sitting　near　him　listening　na？vely　to　his　words—“his　limitation　is　fixed；　there　is　no　overstepping　it。”
“I　wonder　if　it　won’t　be　late　for　extreme　unction？”　inquired　the　lady；　using　his　clerical　title；　and　apparently　having　no　opinion　of　her　own　on　the　matter。
“It　is　a　great　mystery；　ma’am；”　answered　the　clerk；　passing　his　hands　over　his　bald　head；　on　which　lay　a　few　tresses　of　carefully　combed；　half　grey　hair。
“Who　was　that？　was　it　the　governor　himself？”　they　were　asking　at　the　other　end　of　the　room。　“What　a　young…looking　man！”
“And　he’s　over　sixty！。　…　What；　do　they　say；　the　count　does　not　know　any　one？　Do　they　mean　to　give　extreme　unction？”
“I　knew　a　man　who　received　extreme　unction　seven　times。”
The　second　princess　came　out　of　the　sick…room　with　tearful　eyes；　and　sat　down　beside　Doctor　Lorrain；　who　was　sitting　in　a　graceful　pose　under　the　portrait　of　Catherine；　with　his　elbow　on　the　table。
“Very　fine；”　said　the　doctor　in　reply　to　a　question　about　the　weather；　“very　fine；　princess；　and　besides；　at　Moscow；　one　might　suppose　oneself　in　the　country。”
“Might　one　not？”　said　the　princess；　sighing。　“So　may　he　have　something　to　drink？”　Lorrain　thought　a　moment。
“He　has　taken　his　medicine？”
“Yes。”
The　doctor　looked　at　his　memoranda。
“Take　a　glass　of　boiled　water　and　put　in　a　pinch”　（he　showed　with　his　delicate　fingers　what　was　meant　by　a　pinch）　“of　cream　of　tartar。”
“There　has　never　been　a　case；”　said　the　German　doctor　to　the　adjutant；　speaking　broken　Russian；　“of　recovery　after　having　a　third　stroke。”
“And　what　a　vigorous　man　he　was！”　said　the　adjutant。　“And　to　whom　will　his　great　wealth　go？”　he　added　in　a　whisper。
“Candidates　will　be　found；”　the　German　replied；　smiling。　Every　one　looked　round　again　at　the　door；　it　creaked；　and　the　second　princess　having　made　the　drink　according　to　Lorrain’s　direction；　carried　it　into　the　sick…room。　The　German　doctor　went　up　to　Lorrain。
“Can　it　drag　on　till　to…morrow　morning？”　asked　the　German；　with　a　vile　French　accent。
Lorrain；　with　compressed　lips　and　a　stern　face；　moved　his　finger　before　his　nose　to　express　a　negative。
“To…night；　not　later；”　he　said　softly；　and　with　a　decorous　smile　of　satisfaction　at　being　able　to　understand　and　to　express　the　exact　position　of　the　sick　man；　he　walked　away。
Meanwhile　Prince　Vassily　had　opened　the　door　of　the　princess’s　room。
It　was　half　dark　in　the　room；　there　were　only　two　lamps　burning　before　the　holy　pictures；　and　there　was　a　sweet　perfume　of　incense　and　flowers。　The　whole　room　was　furnished　with　miniature　furniture；　little　sideboards；　small　bookcases；　and　small　tables。　Behind　a　screen　could　be　seen　the　white　coverings　of　a　high　feather…bed。　A　little　dog　barked。
“Ah；　is　that　you；　mon　cousin？”
She　got　up　and　smoothed　her　hair；　which　was　always；　even　now；　so　extraordinarily　smooth　that　it　seemed　as　though　made　out　of　one　piece　with　her　head　and　covered　with　varnish。
“Has　anything　happened？”　she　asked。　“I　am　in　continual　dread。”
“Nothing；　everything　is　unchanged。　I　have　only　come　to　have　a　little　talk　with　you；　Katish；　about　business；”　said　the　prince；　sitting　down　wearily　in　the　low　chair　from　which　she　had　just　risen。　“How　warm　it　is　here；　though；”　he　said。　“Come；　sit　here；　let　us　talk。”
“I　wondered　whether　anything　had　happened；”　said　the　princess；　and　with　her　stonily　severe　expression　unchanged；　she　sat　down　opposite　the　prince；　preparing　herself　to　listen。　“I　have　been　trying　to　get　some　sleep；　mon　cousin；　but　I　can’t。”
“Well；　my　dear？”　said　Prince　Vassily；　taking　the　princess’s　hand；　and　bending　it　downwards　as　his　habit　was。
It　was　plain　that　this　“well？”　referred　to　much　that　they　both　comprehended　without　mentioning　it　in　words。
The　princess；　with　her　spare；　upright　figure；　so　disproportionately　long　in　the　body；　looked　straight　at　the　prince　with　no　sign　of　emotion　in　her　prominent　grey　eyes。　She　shook　her　head；　and　sighing　looked　towards　the　holy　pictures。　Her　gesture　might　have　been　interpreted　as　an　expression　of　grief　and　devotion；　or　as　an　expression　of　weariness　and　the　hope　of　a　speedy　release。　Prince　Vassily　took　it　as　an　expression　of　weariness。
“And　do　you　suppose　it’s　any　easier　for　me？”　he　said。　“I　am　as　worn　out　as　a　post　horse。　I　must　have　a　little　talk　with　you；　Katish；　and　a　very　serious　one。”
Prince　Vassily　paused。　and　his　cheeks　began　twitching　nervously；　first　on　one　side；　then　on　the　other；　giving　his　face　an　unpleasant　expression　such　as　was　never　seen　on　his　countenance　when　he　was　in　drawing…rooms。　His　eyes；　too；　were　different　from　usual：　at　one　moment　they　stared　with　a　sort　of　insolent　jocoseness；　at　the　next　they　looked　round　furtively。
The　princess；　pulling　her　dog　on　her　lap　with　her　thin；　dry　hands；　gazed　intently　at　the　eyes　of　Prince　Vassily；　but　it　was　evident　that　she　would　not　break　the　silence；　if　she　had　to　sit　silent　till　morning。
“You　see；　my　dear　princess　and　cousin；　Katerina　Semyonovna；”　pursued　Prince　Vassily；　obviously　with　some　inner　conflict　bracing　himself　to　go　on　with　what　he　wanted　to　say；　“at　such　moments　as　the　present；　one　has　to　think　of　everything。　One　must　think　of　the　future；　of　you　…　I　care　for　all　of　you　as　if　you　were　my　own　children；　you　know　that。”
The　princess　looked　at　him　with　the　same　dull　immovable　gaze。
“Finally；　we　have　to　think　of　my　family　too；”　continued　Prince　Vassily；　angrily　pushing　away　a　little　table　and　not　looking　at　her：　“you　know；　Katish；　that　you　three　Mamontov　sisters　and　my　wife；—we　are　the　only　direct　heirs　of　the　count。　I　know；　I　know　how　painful　it　is　for　you　to　speak　and　think　of　such　things。　And　it’s　as　hard　for　me；　but；　my　dear；　I　am　a　man　over　fifty；　I　must　be　ready　for　anything。　Do　you　know　that　I　have　sent　for　Pierre；　and　that　the　count；　pointing　straight　at　his　portrait；　has　asked　for　him？”
Prince　Vassily　looked　inquiringly　at　the　princess；　but　he　could　not　make　out　whether　she　was　considering　what　he　had　said；　or　was　simply　staring　at　him。
“I　pray　to　God　for　one　thing　only　continually；　mon　cousin；”　she　replied；　“that　He　may　have　mercy　upon　him；　and　allow　his　noble　soul　to　leave　this　…”
“Yes；　quite　so；”　Prince　Vassily　continued　impatiently；　rubbing　his　bald　head　and　again　wrathfully　moving　the　table　towards　him　that　he　had　just　moved　away；　“but　in　fact　…　in　fact　the　point　is；　as　you　are　yourself　aware；　that　last　winter　the　count　made　a　will　by　which；　passing　over　his　direct　heirs　and　us；　he　bequeathed　all　his　property　to　Pierre。”
“He　may　have　made　ever　so　many　wills！”　the　princess　said　placidly；　“but　he　can’t　leave　it　to　Pierre。　Pierre　is　illegitimate。”
“Ma　chère；”　said　Prince　Vassily　suddenly；　pushing　the　table　against　him；　growing　more　earnest　and　beginning　to　speak　more　rapidly：　“but　what　if　a　letter　has　been　written　to　the　Emperor；　and　the　count　has　petitioned　him　to　legitimise　Pierre？　You　understand；　that　the　count’s　services　would　make　his　petition　carry　weight　…”
The　princess　smiled；　as　people　smile　who　believe　that　they　know　much　more　about　the　subject　than　those　with　whom　they　are　talking。
“I　can　say　more；”　Prince　Vassily　went　on；　clasping　her　hand；　“that　letter　has　been　written；　though　it　has　not　been　sent　off；　and　the　Emperor　has　heard　about　it。　The　question　only　is　whether　it　has　been　destroyed　or　not。　If　not；　as　soon　as　all　is　over；”　Prince　Vassily　sighed；　giving　her　thereby　to　understand　what　he　meant　precisely　by　the　words　“all　is　over；”　“and　they　open　the　count’s　papers；　the　will　with　the　letter　will　be　given　to　the　Emperor；　and　his　petition　will　certainly　be　granted。　Pierre；　as　the　legitimate　son；　will　receive　everything。”
“What　about　our　share？”　the　princess　inquired；　smiling　ironically　as　though　anything　but　that　might　happen。
“Why；　my　poor　Katish；　it　is　as　clear　as　daylight。　He　will　then　be　the　only　legal　heir　of　all；　and　you　won’t　r