first epilogue-第13章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



Pierre。

　　〃When　am　I　to　wear　it？〃　and　Natasha　stuck　it　in　her　coil　of　hair。

〃When　I　take　little　Masha　into　society？　Perhaps　they　will　be

fashionable　again　by　then。　Well；　let's　go　now。〃

　　And　collecting　the　presents　they　went　first　to　the　nursery　and

then　to　the　old　countess'　rooms。

　　The　countess　was　sitting　with　her　companion　Belova；　playing

grand…patience　as　usual；　when　Pierre　and　Natasha　came　into　the　drawing

room　with　parcels　under　their　arms。

　　The　countess　was　now　over　sixty；　was　quite　gray；　and　wore　a　cap　with

a　frill　that　surrounded　her　face。　Her　face　had　shriveled；　her　upper

lip　had　sunk　in；　and　her　eyes　were　dim。

　　After　the　deaths　of　her　son　and　husband　in　such　rapid　succession；

she　felt　herself　a　being　accidentally　forgotten　in　this　world　and　left

without　aim　or　object　for　her　existence。　She　ate；　drank；　slept；　or

kept　awake；　but　did　not　live。　Life　gave　her　no　new　impressions。　She

wanted　nothing　from　life　but　tranquillity；　and　that　tranquillity

only　death　could　give　her。　But　until　death　came　she　had　to　go　on

living；　that　is；　to　use　her　vital　forces。　A　peculiarity　one　sees　in

very　young　children　and　very　old　people　was　particularly　evident　in

her。　Her　life　had　no　external　aims…　only　a　need　to　exercise　her

various　functions　and　inclinations　was　apparent。　She　had　to　eat；

sleep；　think；　speak；　weep；　work；　give　vent　to　her　anger；　and　so　on；

merely　because　she　had　a　stomach；　a　brain；　muscles；　nerves；　and　a

liver。　She　did　these　things　not　under　any　external　impulse　as　people

in　the　full　vigor　of　life　do；　when　behind　the　purpose　for　which　they

strive　that　of　exercising　their　functions　remains　unnoticed。　She

talked　only　because　she　physically　needed　to　exercise　her　tongue　and

lungs。　She　cried　as　a　child　does；　because　her　nose　had　to　be

cleared；　and　so　on。　What　for　people　in　their　full　vigor　is　an　aim

was　for　her　evidently　merely　a　pretext。

　　Thus　in　the　morning…　especially　if　she　had　eaten　anything　rich　the

day　before…　she　felt　a　need　of　being　angry　and　would　choose　as　the

handiest　pretext　Belova's　deafness。

　　She　would　begin　to　say　something　to　her　in　a　low　tone　from　the　other

end　of　the　room。

　　〃It　seems　a　little　warmer　today；　my　dear；〃　she　would　murmur。

　　And　when　Belova　replied：　〃Oh　yes；　they've　come；〃　she　would　mutter

angrily：　〃O　Lord！　How　stupid　and　deaf　she　is！〃

　　Another　pretext　would　be　her　snuff；　which　would　seem　too　dry　or

too　damp　or　not　rubbed　fine　enough。　After　these　fits　of　irritability

her　face　would　grow　yellow；　and　her　maids　knew　by　infallible

symptoms　when　Belova　would　again　be　deaf；　the　snuff　damp；　and　the

countess'　face　yellow。　Just　as　she　needed　to　work　off　her　spleen　so

she　had　sometimes　to　exercise　her　still…existing　faculty　of

thinking…　and　the　pretext　for　that　was　a　game　of　patience。　When　she

needed　to　cry；　the　deceased　count　would　be　the　pretext。　When　she

wanted　to　be　agitated；　Nicholas　and　his　health　would　be　the　pretext；

and　when　she　felt　a　need　to　speak　spitefully；　the　pretext　would　be

Countess　Mary。　When　her　vocal　organs　needed　exercise；　which　was

usually　toward　seven　o'clock　when　she　had　had　an　after…dinner　rest

in　a　darkened　room；　the　pretext　would　be　the　retelling　of　the　same

stories　over　and　over　again　to　the　same　audience。

　　The　old　lady's　condition　was　understood　by　the　whole　household

though　no　one　ever　spoke　of　it；　and　they　all　made　every　possible

effort　to　satisfy　her　needs。　Only　by　a　rare　glance　exchanged　with　a

sad　smile　between　Nicholas；　Pierre；　Natasha；　and　Countess　Mary　was　the

common　understanding　of　her　condition　expressed。

　　But　those　glances　expressed　something　more：　they　said　that　she　had

played　her　part　in　life；　that　what　they　now　saw　was　not　her　whole

self；　that　we　must　all　become　like　her；　and　that　they　were　glad　to

yield　to　her；　to　restrain　themselves　for　this　once　precious　being

formerly　as　full　of　life　as　themselves；　but　now　so　much　to　be

pitied。　〃Memento　mori；〃　said　these　glances。

　　Only　the　really　heartless；　the　stupid　ones　of　that　household；　and

the　little　children　failed　to　understand　this　and　avoided　her。

EP1｜CH13

　　CHAPTER　XIII



　　When　Pierre　and　his　wife　entered　the　drawing　room　the　countess　was

in　one　of　her　customary　states　in　which　she　needed　the　mental　exertion

of　playing　patience；　and　so…　though　by　force　of　habit　she　greeted

him　with　the　words　she　always　used　when　Pierre　or　her　son　returned

after　an　absence：　〃High　time；　my　dear；　high　time！　We　were　all　weary　of

waiting　for　you。　Well；　thank　God！〃　and　received　her　presents　with

another　customary　remark：　〃It's　not　the　gift　that's　precious；　my　dear；

but　that　you　give　it　to　me；　an　old　woman。。。〃…　yet　it　was　evident

that　she　was　not　pleased　by　Pierre's　arrival　at　that　moment　when　it

diverted　her　attention　from　the　unfinished　game。

　　She　finished　her　game　of　patience　and　only　then　examined　the

presents。　They　consisted　of　a　box　for　cards；　of　splendid

workmanship；　a　bright…blue　Sevres　tea　cup　with　shepherdesses

depicted　on　it　and　with　a　lid；　and　a　gold　snuffbox　with　the　count's

portrait　on　the　lid　which　Pierre　had　had　done　by　a　miniaturist　in

Petersburg。　The　countess　had　long　wished　for　such　a　box；　but　as　she

did　not　want　to　cry　just　then　she　glanced　indifferently　at　the

portrait　and　gave　her　attention　chiefly　to　the　box　for　cards。

　　〃Thank　you；　my　dear；　you　have　cheered　me　up；〃　said　she　as　she　always

did。　〃But　best　of　all　you　have　brought　yourself　back…　for　I　never

saw　anything　like　it；　you　ought　to　give　your　wife　a　scolding！　What　are


we　to　do　with　her？　She　is　like　a　mad　woman　when　you　are　away。

Doesn't　see　anything；　doesn't　remember　anything；〃　she　went　on；

repeating　her　usual　phrases。　〃Look；　Anna　Timofeevna；〃　she　added　to　her

companion；　〃see　what　a　box　for　cards　my　son　has　brought　us！〃

　　Belova　admired　the　presents　and　was　delighted　with　her　dress

material。

　　Though　Pierre；　Natasha；　Nicholas；　Countess　Mary；　and　Denisov　had

much　to　talk　about　that　they　could　not　discuss　before　the　old

countess…　not　that　anything　was　hidden　from　her；　but　because　she　had

dropped　so　far　behindhand　in　many　things　that　had　they　begun　to

converse　in　her　presence　they　would　have　had　to　answer　inopportune

questions　and　to　repeat　what　they　had　already　told　her　many　times：

that　so…and…so　was　dead　and　so…and…so　was　married；　which　she　would

again　be　unable　to　remember…　yet　they　sat　at　tea　round　the　samovar

in　the　drawing　room　from　habit；　and　Pierre　answered　the　countess'

questions　as　to　whether　Prince　Vasili　had　aged　and　whether　Countess

Mary　Alexeevna　had　sent　greetings　and　still　thought　of　them；　and　other

matters　that　interested　no　one　and　to　which　she　herself　was

indifferent。

　　Conversation　of　this　kind；　interesting　to　no　one　yet　unavoidable；

continued　all　through　teatime。　All　the　grown…up　members　of　the

family　were　assembled　near　the　round　tea　table　at　which　Sonya　presided

beside　the　samovar。　The　children　with　their　tutors　and　governesses　had

had　tea　and　their　voices　were　audible　from　the　next　room。　At　tea　all

sat　in　their　accustomed　places：　Nicholas　beside　the　stove　at　a　small

table　where　his　tea　was　handed　to　him；　Milka；　the　old　gray　borzoi

bitch　（daughter　of　the　first　Milka）；　with　a　quite　gray　face　and

large　black　eyes　that　seemed　more　prominent　than　ever；　lay　on　the

armchair　beside　him；　Denisov；　whose　curly　hair；　mustache；　and　whiskers

had　turned　half　gray；　sat　beside　countess　Mary　with　his　general's

tunic　unbuttoned；　Pierre　sat　between　his　wife　and　the　old　countess。　He

spoke　of　what　he　knew　might　interest　the　old　lady　and　that　she　could

understand。　He　told　her　of　external　social　events　and　of　the　people

who　had　formed　the　circle　of　her　contemporaries　and　had　once　been　a

real；　living；　and　distinct　group；　but　who　were　now　for　the　most　part

scattered　about　the　world　and　like　herself　were　garnering　the　last

ears　of　the　harvests　they　had　sown　in　earlier　years。　But　to　the　old

countess　those　contemporaries　of　hers　seemed　to　be　the　only　serious

and　real　society。　Natasha　saw