战争与和平(上)-第61部分

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nce：　“My　only　desire　is　to　carry　out　your　wishes；”　she　said；　“if　I　had　to　express　my　own　desire…”
She　had　not　time　to　finish。　The　prince　cut　her　short。　“Very　good；　then！”　he　shouted。　“He　shall　take　you　with　your　dowry；　and　hook　on　Mademoiselle　Bourienne　into　the　bargain。　She’ll　be　his　wife；　while　you…”　The　prince　stopped。　He　noticed　the　effect　of　these　words　on　his　daughter。　She　had　bowed　her　head　and　was　beginning　to　cry。
“Come；　come；　I　was　joking；　I　was　joking；”　he　said。　“Remember　one　thing；　princess；　I　stick　to　my　principles；　that　a　girl　has　a　full　right　to　choose。　And　I　give　you　complete　freedom。　Remember　one　thing；　the　happiness　of　your　life　depends　on　your　decision。　No　need　to　talk　about　me。”
“But　I　don’t　know…father。”
“No　need　for　talking！　He’s　told　to；　and　he’s　ready　to　marry　any　one；　but　you　are　free　to　choose。…　Go　to　your　own　room；　think　it　over；　and　come　to　me　in　an　hour’s　time　and　tell　me　in　his　presence：　yes　or　no。　I　know　you　will　pray　over　it。　Well；　pray　if　you　like。　Only　you’d　do　better　to　think。　You　can　go。”
“Yes　or　no；　yes　or　no；　yes　or　no！”　he　shouted　again　as　the　princess　went　out　of　the　room；　reeling　in　a　sort　of　fog。　Her　fate　was　decided；　and　decided　for　happiness。　But　what　her　father　had　said　about　Mademoiselle　Bourienne；　that　hint　was　horrible。　It　was　not　true；　of　course；　but　still　it　was　horrible；　she　could　not　help　thinking　of　it。　She　walked　straight　forward　through　the　winter　garden；　seeing　and　hearing　nothing；　when　all　of　a　sudden　she　was　roused　by　the　familiar　voice　of　Mademoiselle　Bourienne。　She　lifted　her　eyes；　and　only　two　paces　before　her　she　saw　Anatole　with　his　arms　round　the　Frenchwoman；　whispering　something　to　her。　With　a　terrible　expression　on　his　handsome　face；　Anatole　looked　round　at　Princess　Marya；　and　did　not　for　the　first　second　let　go　the　waist　of　Mademoiselle　Bourienne；　who　had　not　seen　her。
“Who’s　there？　What　do　you　want？　Wait　a　little！”　was　what　Anatole’s　face　expressed。　Princess　Marya　gazed　blankly　at　them。　She　could　not　believe　her　eyes。　At　last　Mademoiselle　Bourienne　shrieked　and　ran　away。　With　a　gay　smile　Anatole　bowed　to　Princess　Marya；　as　though　inviting　her　to　share　his　amusement　at　this　strange　incident；　and　with　a　shrug　of　his　shoulders　he　went　to　the　door　that　led　to　his　apartment。
An　hour　later　Tihon　came　to　summon　Princess　Marya　to　the　old　prince；　and　added　that　Prince　Vassily　was　with　him。　When　Tihon　came　to　her；　Princess　Marya　was　sitting　on　the　sofa　in　her　own　room　holding　in　her　arms　the　weeping　Mademoiselle　Bourienne。　Princess　Marya　was　softly　stroking　her　head。　Her　beautiful　eyes　had　regained　all　their　luminous　peace；　and　were　gazing　with　tender　love　and　commiseration　at　the　pretty　little　face　of　Mademoiselle　Bourienne。
“Oh；　princess；　I　am　ruined　for　ever　in　your　heart；”　Mademoiselle　Bourienne　was　saying。
“Why？　I　love　you　more　than　ever；”　said　Princess　Marya；　“and　I　will　try　to　do　everything　in　my　power　for　your　happiness。”
“But　you　despise　me；　you　who　are　so　pure；　you　will　never　understand　this　frenzy　of　passion。　Ah；　it　is　only　my　poor　mother　…”
“I　understand　everything；”　said　Princess　Marya；　smiling　mournfully。　“Calm　yourself；　my　dear。　I　am　going　to　my　father；”　she　said；　and　she　went　out。
When　the　princess　went　in；　Prince　Vassily　was　sitting　with　one　leg　crossed　high　over　the　other；　and　a　snuff…box　in　his　hand。　There　was　a　smile　of　emotion　on　his　face；　and　he　looked　as　though　moved　to　such　an　extreme　point　that　he　could　but　regret　and　smile　at　his　own　sensibility。　He　took　a　hasty　pinch　of　snuff。
“Ah；　my　dear；　my　dear！”　he　said；　getting　up　and　taking　her　by　both　hands。　He　heaved　a　sigh；　and　went　on：　“My　son’s　fate　is　in　your　hands。　Decide；　my　good　dear；　sweet　Marie；　whom　I　have　always　loved　like　a　daughter。”　He　drew　back。　There　was　a　real　tear　in　his　eye。
“Fr　…　ffr　…”　snorted　the　old　prince。　“The　prince　in　his　protégé’s　…　his　son’s　name　makes　you　a　proposal。　Are　you　willing　or　not　to　be　the　wife　of　Prince　Anatole　Kuragin？　You　say：　yes　or　no；”　he　shouted；　“and　then　I　reserve　for　myself　the　right　to　express　my　opinion。　Yes；　my　opinion；　and　nothing　but　my　opinion；”　added　the　old　prince；　to　Prince　Vassily　in　response　to　his　supplicating　expression；　“Yes　or　no！”
“My　wish；　mon　père；　is　never　to　leave　you；　never　to　divide　my　life　from　yours。　I　do　not　wish　to　marry；”　she　said　resolutely；　glancing　with　her　beautiful　eyes　at　Prince　Vassily　and　at　her　father。
“Nonsense；　fiddlesticks！　Nonsense；　nonsense！”　shouted　the　old　prince；　frowning。　He　took　his　daughter’s　hand；　drew　her　towards　him　and　did　not　kiss　her；　but　bending　over；　touched　her　forehead　with　his；　and　wrung　the　hand　he　held　so　violently　that　she　winced　and　uttered　a　cry。　Prince　Vassily　got　up。
“My　dear；　let　me　tell　you　that　this　is　a　moment　I　shall　never　forget；　never；　but；　dear；　will　you　not　give　us　a　little　hope　of　touching　so　kind　and　generous　a　heart。　Say　that　perhaps。…　The　future　is　so　wide。…　Say：　perhaps。”
“Prince；　what　I　have　said　is　all　that　is　in　my　heart。　I　thank　you　for　the　honour　you　do　me；　but　I　shall　never　be　your　son’s　wife。”
“Well；　then　it’s　all　over；　my　dear　fellow。　Very　glad　to　have　seen　you；　very　glad　to　have　seen　you。　Go　to　your　room；　princess；　go　along　now；”　said　the　old　prince。　“Very；　very　glad　to　have　seen　you；”　he　repeated；　embracing　Prince　Vassily。
“My　vocation　is　a　different　one；”　Princess　Marya　was　thinking　to　herself；　“my　vocation　is　to　be　happy　in　the　happiness　of　others；　in　the　happiness　of　love　and　self…sacrifice。　And　at　any　cost　I　will　make　poor　Amélie　happy。　She　loves　him　so　passionately。　She　is　so　passionately　penitent。　I　will　do　everything　to　bring　about　their　marriage。　If　he　is　not　rich　I　will　give　her　means；　I　will　beg　my　father；　I　will　beg　Andrey。　I　shall　be　so　happy　when　she　is　his　wife。　She　is　so　unhappy；　a　stranger；　solitary　and　helpless！　And；　my　God；　how　passionately　she　must　love　him　to　be　able　to　forget　herself　so。　Perhaps　I　might　have　done　the　same！…”　thought　Princess　Marya。


Chapter　6
IT　was　a　long　while　since　the　Rostovs　had　had　news　of　their　Nikolushka。　But　in　the　middle　of　the　winter　a　letter　was　handed　to　Count　Rostov；　on　the　envelope　of　which　he　recognised　his　son’s　handwriting。　On　receiving　the　letter　the　count；　in　alarm　and　in　haste；　ran　on　tiptoe　to　his　room；　trying　to　escape　notice；　shut　himself　in　and　read　the　letter。　Anna　Mihalovna　had　learned　（as　she　always　did　learn　all　that　passed　in　the　house）　that　he　had　received　a　letter；　and　treading　softly；　she　went　in　to　the　count　and　found　him　with　the　letter　in　his　hand；　sobbing　and　laughing　at　once。　Anna　Mihalovna；　though　her　fortunes　had　been　looking　up；　was　still　an　inmate　of　the　Rostov　household。
“My　dear　friend？”　Anna　Mihalovna　brought　out　in　a　voice　of　melancholy　inquiry；　equally　ready　for　sympathy　in　any　direction。　The　count　sobbed　more　violently
“Nikolushka　…　letter　…　wounded　…　he　would　…　my　dear　…　wounded　…　my　darling　boy　…　the　little　countess　…　promoted　…　thank　God　…　how　are　we　to　tell　the　little　countess？”
Anna　Mihalovna　sat　down　by　his　side；　with　her　own　handkerchief　wiped　the　tears　from　his　eyes　and　from　the　letter；　then　dried　her　own　tears；　read　the　letter；　soothed　the　count；　and　decided　that　before　dinner　and　before　tea　she　would　prepare　the　countess；　and　after　tea；　with　God’s　help；　tell　her　all。　During　dinner　Anna　Mihalovna　talked　of　the　rumours　from　the　war；　of　dear　Nikolay；　inquired　twice　when　his　last　letter　had　been　received；　though　she　knew　perfectly　well；　and　observed　that　they　might　well　be　getting　a　letter　from　him　to…day。　Every　time　that　the　countess　began　to　be　uneasy　under　these　hints　and　looked　in　trepidation　from　the　count　to　Anna　Mihalovna；　the　latter　turned　the　conversation　in　the　most　unnoticeable　way　to　insignificant　subjects。　Natasha；　who　was　of　all　the　family　the　one　most　gifted　with　the　faculty　of　catching　the　shades　of　intonations；　of　glances；　and　expressions；　had　been　on　the　alert　from　the　beginning　of　dinner；　and　was　certain　that　there　was　some　secret　between　her　father　and　Anna　Mihalovna；　and　that　it　had　something　to　do　with　her　brother；　and　that　Anna　Mihalovna　was　paving　the　way　for　it。　Natasha　knew　how　easily　upset　her　mother　was　by　any　references　to　news　from　Nikolushka；　and　in　spite　of　all　her　recklessness　she　did　not　venture　at　dinner　to　ask　a　question。　But　she　was　too　much　excited　to　eat　any　dinner　and　kept　wriggling　about　on　her　chair；　regardless　of　the　protests　of　her　governess。　After　dinner　she　rushed　headlong　to　overtake　Anna　Mihalovna；　and　in　the　divan…room　dashed　at　her　and　flung　herself　on　her　neck：　“Auntie；　darling；　do　tell　me　what　it　is。”
“Nothing；　my　dear。”
“No；　darling；　sweet；　precious　peach；　I　won’t　leave　off；　I　know　you　know　something。”
Anna　Mihalovna　shook　her　head。　“You　are　sharp；　my　child！”　she　said。
“A　letter　from　Nikolinka？　I’m　sure　of　it！”　cried　Natasha；　reading　an　affirmative　answer　on　the　face　of　Anna　Mihalovna。
“But；　for　God’s　sake；　be　more　careful；　you　know　what　a　shock　it　may　be　to　your　mamma。”
“I　will　be；　I　will；　but　tell　me　about　it。　You　won’t？　Well；　then；　I’ll　run　and　tell　her　this　minute。”
Anna　Mihalovna　gave　Natasha　a　brief　account　of　what　was　in　the　letter；　on　condition　that　she　would　not　tell　a　soul。
“On　my　word　of　honour；”　said　Natasha；　crossing　herself；　“I　won’t　tell　any　one；”　and　she　ran　at　once　to　Sonya。　“Nikolinka　…　wounded　…　a　letter　…”　she　proclaimed　in　gleeful　triumph
“Nikolinka！”　was　all　Sonya　could　articulate；　instantly　turning　white。　Natasha　seeing　the　effect　of　the　news　of　her　brother’s　wound　on　Sonya；　for　the　first　time　felt　the　painful　aspect　of　the　news。
She　rushed　at　Sonya；　hugged　her；　and　began　to　cry。　“A　little　wounded；　but　promoted　to　be　an　officer；　he’s　all　right　now；　he　writes　himself；”　she　said　through　her　tears。
“One　can　see　all　you　women　are　regular　cry…babies；”　said　Petya；　striding　with　resolute　steps　up　and　down　the　room；　“I’m　very　glad；　really　very　glad；　that　my　brother　has　distinguished　himself　so。　You　all　start　blubbering！　you　don’t　understand　anything　about　it。”　Natasha　smiled　through　her　tears。
“You　haven’t　read　the　letter？”　asked　Sonya
“No；　but　she　told　me　it　was　all　over；　and　that　he’s　an　officer　now　…”
“Thank　God；”　said　Sonya；　c