战争与和平(上)-第100章

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Rostov　laughed　so　loudly　and　merrily　that　Denisov　in　his　room　felt　envious；　and　Natasha　could　not　help　laughing　with　him。
“No；　isn’t　it　all　right？”　she　kept　saying。
“Oh；　quite。　So　you　don’t　want　to　marry　Boris　now？”
Natasha　got　hot。
“I　don’t　want　to　marry　any　one。　I’ll　tell　him　so　myself　when　I　see　him。”
“Oh；　will　you？”　said　Rostov。
“But　that’s　all　nonsense；”　Natasha　prattled　on。　“And；　I　say；　is　Denisov　nice？”　she　asked。
“Yes；　he’s　nice。”
“Well；　good…bye；　go　and　dress。　Is　he　a　dreadful　person　—　Denisov？”
“How；　dreadful？”　asked　Nikolay。　“No；　Vaska’s　jolly。”
“You　call　him　Vaska？　…　that’s　funny。　Well；　is　he　very　nice？”
“Very　nice。”
“Make　haste　and　come　to　tea；　then。　We　are　all　going　to　have　it　together。”
And　Natasha　rose　on　to　her　toes　and　stepped　out　of　the　room；　as　dancers　do；　but　smiling　as　only　happy　girls　of　fifteen　can　smile。　Rostov　reddened　on　meeting　Sonya　in　the　drawing…room。　He　did　not　know　how　to　behave　with　her。　Yesterday　they　had　kissed　in　the　first　moment　of　joy　at　meeting；　but　to…day　they　felt　that　out　of　the　question。　He　felt　that　every　one；　his　mother　and　his　sisters；　were　looking　inquiringly　at　him；　and　wondering　how　he　would　behave　with　her。　He　kissed　her　hand；　and　called　her　you　and　Sonya。　But　their　eyes　when　they　met　spoke　more　fondly　and　kissed　tenderly。　Her　eyes　asked　his　forgiveness　for　having　dared；　by　Natasha’s　mediation；　to　remind　him　of　his　promise；　and　thanked　him　for　his　love。　His　eyes　thanked　her　for　offering　him　his　freedom；　and　told　her　that　whether　so；　or　otherwise；　he　should　never　cease　to　love　her；　because　it　was　impossible　not　to　love　her。
“How　queer　it　is；　though；”　said　Vera；　selecting　a　moment　of　general　silence；　“that　Sonya　and　Nikolenka　meet　now　and　speak　like　strangers。”
Vera’s　observation　was　true；　as　were　all　her　observations；　but　like　most　of　her　observations　it　made　every　one　uncomfortable—not　Sonya；　Nikolay；　and　Natasha　only　crimsoned；　the　countess；　too；　who　was　afraid　of　her　son’s　love　for　Sonya　as　a　possible　obstacle　to　his　making　a　brilliant　marriage；　blushed　like　a　girl。
To　Rostov’s　surprise；　Denisov　in　his　new　uniform；　pomaded　and　perfumed；　was　quite　as　dashing　a　figure　in　a　drawing…room　as　on　the　field　of　battle；　and　was　polite　to　the　ladies　and　gentlemen　as　Rostov　had　never　expected　to　see　him。


Chapter　2
ON　HIS　RETURN　to　Moscow　from　the　army；　Nikolay　Rostov　was　received　by　his　family　as　a　hero；　as　the　best　of　sons；　their　idolised　Nikolenka；　by　his　relations；　as　a　charming；　agreeable；　and　polite　young　man；　by　his　acquaintances　as　a　handsome　lieutenant　of　hussars；　a　good　dancer；　and　one　of　the　best　matches　in　Moscow。
All　Moscow　was　acquainted　with　the　Rostovs；　the　old　count　had　plenty　of　money　that　year；　because　all　his　estates　had　been　mortgaged；　and　so　Nikolenka；　who　kept　his　own　racehorse；　and　wore　the　most　fashionable　riding…breeches　of　a　special　cut；　unlike　any　yet　seen　in　Moscow；　and　the　most　fashionable　boots；　with　extremely　pointed　toes；　and　little　silver　spurs；　was　able　to　pass　his　time　very　agreeably。　After　the　first　brief　interval　of　adapting　himself　to　the　old　conditions　of　life；　Rostov　felt　very　happy　at　being　home　again。　He　felt　that　he　had　grown　up　and　become　a　man。　His　despair　at　failing　in　a　Scripture　examination；　his　borrowing　money　from　Gavrilo　for　his　sledge…drivers；　his　stolen　kisses　with　Sonya—all　that　he　looked　back　upon　as　childishness　from　which　he　was　now　immeasurably　remote。　Now　he　was　a　lieutenant　of　hussars　with　a　silver…braided　jacket；　and　a　soldier’s　cross　of　St。　George；　he　had　a　horse　in　training　for　a　race；　and　kept　company　with　well…known　racing　men；　elderly　and　respected　persons。　He　had　struck　up　an　acquaintance　too；　with　a　lady　living　in　a　boulevard；　whom　he　used　to　visit　in　the　evening。　He　led　the　mazurka　at　the　Arharovs’　balls；　talked　to　Field…Marshal　Kamensky　about　the　war；　and　used　familiar　forms　of　address　to　a　colonel　of　forty；　to　whom　he　had　been　introduced　by　Denisov。
His　passion　for　the　Tsar　flagged　a　little　in　Moscow；　as　he　did　not　see　him；　and　had　no　chance　of　seeing　him　all　that　time。　But　still　he　often　used　to　talk　about　the　Emperor　and　his　love　for　him；　always　with　a　suggestion　in　his　tone　that　he　was　not　saying　all　that　there　was　in　his　feeling　for　the　Emperor；　something　that　every　one　could　not　understand；　and　with　his　whole　heart　he　shared　the　general　feeling　in　Moscow　of　adoration　for　the　Emperor　Alexander　Pavlovitch；　who　was　spoken　of　at　that　time　in　Moscow　by　the　designation　of　the　“angel　incarnate。”
During　this　brief　stay　in　Moscow；　before　his　return　to　the　army；　Rostov　did　not　come　nearer　to　Sonya；　but　on　the　contrary　drifted　further　away　from　her。　She　was　very　pretty　and　charming；　and　it　was　obvious　that　she　was　passionately　in　love　with　him。　But　he　was　at　that　stage　of　youth　when　there　seems　so　much　to　do；　that　one　has　not　time　to　pay　attention　to　love；　and　a　young　man　dreads　being　bound；　and　prizes　his　liberty；　which　he　wants　for　so　much　else。　When　he　thought　about　Sonya　during　this　stay　at　Moscow；　he　said　to　himself：　“Ah！　there　are　many；　many　more　like　her　to　come；　and　there　are　many　of　them　somewhere　now；　though　I　don’t　know　them　yet。　There’s　plenty　of　time　before　me　to　think　about　love　when　I　want　to；　but　I　have　not　the　time　now。”　Moreover；　it　seemed　to　him　that　feminine　society　was　somewhat　beneath　his　manly　dignity。　He　went　to　balls；　and　into　ladies’　society　with　an　affection　of　doing　so　against　his　will。　Races；　the　English　club；　carousals　with　Denisov；　and　the　nocturnal　visits　that　followed—all　that　was　different；　all　that　was　the　correct　thing　for　a　dashing　young　hussar。
At　the　beginning　of　March　the　old　count；　Ilya　Andreivitch　Rostov；　was　very　busily　engaged　in　arranging　a　dinner　at　the　English　Club；　to　be　given　in　honour　of　Prince　Bagration。
The　count；　in　his　dressing…gown；　was　continually　walking　up　and　down　in　the　big　hall；　seeing　the　club　manager；　the　celebrated　Feoktista；　and　the　head　cook；　and　giving　them　instructions　relative　to　asparagus；　fresh　cucumbers；　strawberries；　veal；　and　fish；　for　Prince　Bagration’s　dinner。　From　the　day　of　its　foundation；　the　count　had　been　a　member　of　the　club；　and　was　its　steward。　He　had　been　entrusted　with　the　organisation　of　the　banquet　to　Bagration　by　the　club；　because　it　would　have　been　hard　to　find　any　one　so　well　able　to　organise　a　banquet　on　a　large　and　hospitable　scale；　and　still　more　hard　to　find　any　one　so　able　and　willing　to　advance　his　own　money；　if　funds　were　needed；　for　the　organisation　of　the　fête。　The　cook　and　the　club　manager　listened　to　the　count’s　orders　with　good…humoured　faces；　because　they　knew　that　with　no　one　better　than　with　him　could　one　make　a　handsome　profit　out　of　a　dinner　costing　several　thousands。
“Well；　then；　mind　there　are　scallops；　scallops　in　pie…crust；　you　know。”
“Cold　entrées；　I　suppose—three？　…”　questioned　the　cook。
The　count　pondered。
“Couldn’t　do　with　less；　three　…　mayonnaise；　one；”　he　said；　crooking　his　finger。
“Then　it’s　your　excellency’s　order　to　take　the　big　sturgeons？”　asked　the　manager。
“Yes；　it　can’t　be　helped；　we　must　take　them；　if　they　won’t　knock　the　price　down。　Ah；　mercy　on　us；　I　was　forgetting。　Of　course　we　must　have　another　entrée　on　the　table。　Ah；　good　heavens！”　he　clutched　at　his　head。　“And　who’s　going　to　get　me　the　flowers？　Mitenka！　Hey；　Mitenka！　You　gallop；　Mitenka；”　he　said　to　the　steward　who　came　in　at　his　call；　“you　gallop　off　to　the　Podmoskovny　estate”　（the　count’s　property　in　the　environs　of　Moscow）；　“and　tell　Maksimka　the　gardener　to　set　the　serfs　to　work　to　get　decorations　from　the　greenhouses。　Tell　him　everything　from　his　conservatories　is　to　be　brought　here；　and　is　to　be　packed　in　felt。　And　that　I’m　to　have　two　hundred　pots　here　by　Friday。”
After　giving　further　and　yet　further　directions　of　all　sorts；　he　was　just　going　off　to　the　countess　to　rest　from　his　labours；　but　he　recollected　something　else；　turned　back　himself；　brought　the　cook　and　manager　back；　and　began　giving　orders　again。　They　heard　in　the　doorway　a　light；　manly　tread　and　a　jingling　of　spurs；　and　the　young　count　came　in；　handsome　and　rosy；　with　his　darkening　moustache；　visibly　sleeker　and　in　better　trim　for　his　easy　life　in　Moscow。
“Ah；