战争与和平(上)-第152章

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s　man　continued；　“extraordinarily　clever；　charming　and　then　pretty；　extraordinarily　pretty；　graceful。　She　swims；　rides　capitally；　and　a　voice！—a　marvellous　voice；　one　may　say！”　She　hummed　her　favourite　musical　phrase　from　an　opera　of　Cherubini；　flung　herself　into　bed；　laughed　with　delight　at　the　thought　that　she　would　soon　be　asleep；　called　to　Dunyasha　to　blow　out　the　candle；　and　before　Dunyasha　had　left　her　room　she　had　already　passed　into　another　still　happier　world　of　dreams；　where　everything　was　as　easy　and　as　beautiful　as　in　reality；　and　was　only　better　because　it　was　all　different。
Next　day　the　countess　sent　for　Boris；　and　talked　to　him；　and　from　that　day　he　gave　up　visiting　at　the　Rostovs’。


Chapter　14
ON　THE　31ST　of　December；　on　the　eve　of　the　new　year　1810；　a　ball　was　given　by　a　grand　personage　who　had　been　a　star　of　the　court　of　Catherine。　The　Tsar　and　the　diplomatic　corps　were　to　be　present　at　this　ball。
The　well…known　mansion　of　this　grandee　in　the　English　Embankment　was　illuminated　by　innumerable　lights。　The　police　were　standing　at　the　lighted　entry；　laid　with　red　baize；　and　not　merely　policemen；　but　a　police　commander　was　at　the　entrance；　and　dozens　of　officers　of　the　police。　Carriages　kept　driving　away；　and　fresh　ones　kept　driving　up；　with　grooms　in　red　livery　and　grooms　in　plumed　hats。　From　the　carriages　emerged　men　wearing　uniforms；　stars；　and　ribbons；　while　ladies　in　satin　and　ermine　stepped　carefully　out　on　the　carriage　steps；　that　were　let　down　with　a　bang；　and　then　walked　hurriedly　and　noiselessly　over　the　baize　of　the　entry。
Almost　every　time　a　new　carriage　drove　up；　a　whisper　ran　through　the　crowd　and　hats　were　taken　off。　“The　Emperor？…No；　a　minister…prince…ambassador…Don’t　you　see　the　plumes？…”　was　audible　in　the　crowd。　One　person；　better　dressed　than　the　rest；　seemed　to　know　every　one；　and　mentioned　by　name　all　the　most　celebrated　personages　of　the　day。
A　third　of　the　guests　had　already　arrived　at　this　ball；　while　the　Rostovs；　who　were　to　be　present　at　it；　were　still　engaged　in　hurried　preparations。
Many　had　been　the　discussions　and　the　preparations　for　that　ball　in　the　Rostov　family；　many　the　fears　that　an　invitation　might　not　arrive；　that　the　dresses　would　not　be　ready；　and　that　everything　would　not　be　arranged　as　it　ought　to　be。
The　Rostovs　were　to　be　accompanied　by　Marya　Ignatyevna　Peronsky；　a　friend　and　relation　of　the　countess；　a　thin　and　yellow　maid…of…honour　of　the　old　court；　who　was　acting　as　a　guide　to　the　provincial　Rostovs　in　the　higher　circles　of　Petersburg　society。
At　ten　o’clock　the　Rostovs　were　to　drive　to　Tavritchesky　Garden　to　call　for　the　maid…of…honour。　Meantime　it　was　five　minutes　to　ten；　and　the　young　ladies　were　not　yet　dressed。
Natasha　was　going　to　her　first　great　ball。　She　had　got　up　at　eight　o’clock　that　morning；　and　had　spent　the　whole　day　in　feverish　agitation　and　activity。　All　her　energies　had　since　morning　been　directed　to　the　one　aim　of　getting　herself；　her　mother；　and　Sonya　as　well　dressed　as　possible。　Sonya　and　her　mother　put　themselves　entirely　in　her　hands。　The　countess　was　to　wear　a　dark　red　velvet　dress；　the　two　girls　white　tulle　dresses　over　pink　silk　slips；　and　roses　on　their　bodices。　They　were　to　wear　their　hair　à　la　grecque。
All　the　essentials　were　ready。　Feet；　arms；　necks；　and　ears　had　been　washed；　scented；　and　powdered　with　peculiar　care　in　readiness　for　the　ball。　Openwork　silk　stockings　and　white　satin　shoes　with　ribbons　had　been　put　on。　The　hairdressing　was　almost　accomplished。　Sonya　was　finishing　dressing；　so　was　the　countess；　but　Natasha；　who　had　been　busily　looking　after　every　one；　was　behindhand。　She　was　still　sitting　before　the　looking…glass　with　a　peignoir　thrown　over　her　thin　shoulders。　Sonya；　already　dressed；　stood　in　the　middle　of　the　room；　and　was　trying　to　fasten　in　a　last　ribbon；　hurting　her　little　finger　as　she　pressed　the　pin　with　a　scrooping　sound　into　the　silk。
“Not　like　that；　Sonya；　not　like　that！”　said　Natasha；　turning　her　head；　and　clutching　her　hair　in　both　hands；　as　the　maid　arranging　it　was　not　quick　enough　in　letting　it　go。　“The　ribbon　mustn’t　go　like　that；　come　here。”　Sonya　squatted　down。　Natasha　pinned　the　ribbon　in　her　own　way。
“Really；　miss；　you　mustn’t　do　so；”　said　the　maid；　holding　Natasha’s　hair。
“Oh；　my　goodness！　Afterwards！　There；　that’s　right；　Sonya。”
“Will　you　soon　be　ready？”　they　heard　the　countess’s　voice。　“It　will　be　ten　in　a　minute。”
“Immediately；　immediately。…　And　are　you　ready；　mamma？”
“Only　my　cap　to　fasten　on。”
“Don’t　do　it　without　me；”　shouted　Natasha；　“you　don’t　know　how　to！”
“But　it’s　ten　o’clock　already。”
It　had　been　arranged　to　be　at　the　ball　at　half…past　ten；　and　Natasha　still　had　to　dress；　and　they　had　to　drive　to　Tavritchesky　Garden。
When　her　coiffure　was　finished；　Natasha；　in　her　mother’s　dressing…jacket　and　a　short　petticoat　under　which　her　dancing…shoes　could　be　seen；　ran　up　to　Sonya；　looked　her　over；　and　then　ran　to　her　mother。　Turning　her　head　round；　she　pinned　on　her　cap；　and　hurriedly　kissing　her　grey　hair；　ran　back　to　the　maids　who　were　shortening　her　skirt。
All　attention　was　now　centred　on　Natasha’s　skirt；　which　was　too　long。　Two　maids　were　running　it　up　round　the　edge；　hurriedly　biting　off　the　threads。　A　third　one；　with　pins　in　her　teeth　and　lips；　was　running　from　the　countess　to　Sonya；　a　fourth　was　holding　up　the　whole　tulle　dress　in　her　arms。
“Mavrushka；　quicker；　darling！”
“Give　me　that　thimble；　miss。”
“Will　you　be　quick？”　said　the　count　from　outside　the　door；　coming　in。　“Here　are　your　smelling…salts。　Madame　Peronsky　must　be　tired　of　waiting。”
“Ready；　miss；”　said　the　maid；　lifting　up　the　shortened　tulle　skirt　on　two　fingers；　blowing　something　off　it；　and　giving　it　a　shake　to　show　her　appreciation　of　the　transparency　and　purity　of　what　she　had　in　her　hands。
Natasha　began　putting　on　the　dress。
“In　a　minute；　in　a　minute；　don’t　come　in；　papa；”　she　shouted　to　her　father　at　the　door；　from　under　the　tulle　of　the　dress　that　concealed　all　her　face。　Sonya　slammed　the　door。　A　minute　later　the　count　was　admitted。　He　was　wearing　a　blue　frock　coat；　stockings；　and　dancing…shoes；　and　was　perfumed　and　pomaded。
“Ah；　papa；　how　nice　you　look；　lovely！”　said　Natasha；　standing　in　the　middle　of　the　room；　stroking　out　the　folds　of　her　tulle。
“If　you　please；　miss；　if　you　please…”　said　a　maid；　pulling　up　the　skirt　and　turning　the　pins　from　one　corner　of　her　mouth　to　the　other　with　her　tongue。
“Say　what　you　like！”　cried　Sonya；　with　despair　in　her　voice；　as　she　gazed　at　Natasha’s　skirt；　“say　what　you　like！—it’s　too　long　still！”
Natasha　walked　a　little　further　off　to　look　at　herself　in　the　pierglass。　The　skirt　was　too　long。
“My　goodness；　madam；　it’s　not　a　bit　too　long；”　said　Mavrushka；　creeping　along　the　floor　on　her　knees　after　her　young　lady。
“Well；　if　it’s　long；　we’ll　tack　it　up；　in　one　minute；　we’ll　tack　it　up；”　said　Dunyasha；　a　resolute　character。　And　taking　a　needle　out　of　the　kerchief　on　her　bosom　she　set　to　work　again　on　the　floor。
At　that　moment　the　countess　in　her　cap　and　velvet　gown　walked　shyly　with　soft　steps　into　the　room。
“Oo…oo！　my　beauty！”　cried　the　count。　“She　looks　nicer　than　any　of　you！”…He　would　have　embraced　her；　but；　flushing；　she　drew　back　to　avoid　being　crumpled。
“Mamma；　the　cap　should　be　more　on　one　side；”　said　Natasha。　“I’ll　pin　it　fresh；”　and　she　darted　forward。　The　maids　turning　up　her　skirt；　not　prepared　for　her　hasty　movement；　tore　off　a　piece　of　the　tulle。
“Oh；　mercy！　What　was　that？　Really　it’s　not　my　fault…”
“It’s　all　right；　I’ll　run　it　up；　it　won’t　show；”　said　Dunyasha。
“My　beauty；　my　queen！”　said　the　old　nurse　coming　in　at　the　doorway。　“And　Sonyushka；　too；　ah；　the　beauties！…”
At　a　quarter　past　ten　they　were　at　last　seated　in　their　carriage　and　driving　off。　But　they　still　had　to　drive　to　Tavritchesky　Garden
Madame　Peronsky　was　ready　and　waiting。　In　spite　of　her　age　and　ugliness；　just　the　same　process　had　been　going　on　with　her　as　with　the　Rostovs；　not　with　flurry；　for　with　her　it　was　a　matter　of　routine。　Her　elderly　and　unprepossessing　person　had　been　also　washed　and　scented　and　powdered；　she　had　washed　as　carefully　behind　her　ears；　and　like　the　Rostovs