战争与和平(上)-第164章

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do　we　know　that　for　ourselves。　Christ；　the　Son　of　God；　came　down　upon　earth　and　told　us　that　this　life　is　but　for　a　moment；　is　but　a　probation；　yet　we　still　cling　to　it　and　think　to　find　happiness　in　it。　“How　is　it　no　one　has　realised　that？”　Princess　Marya　wondered。　“No　one　but　these　despised　people　of　God　who；　with　wallets　over　their　shoulders；　come　to　me　by　the　back　stairs；　afraid　of　the　prince　catching　sight　of　them；　and　not　from　fear　of　ill…usage；　but　from　fear　of　tempting　him　to　sin。　To　leave　home　and　country；　give　up　all　thoughts　of　worldly　blessings；　and　clinging　to　nothing；　to　wander　from　place　to　place　in　a　home…spun　smock　under　a　different　name；　doing　people　no　harm；　but　praying　for　them；　praying　equally　for　those　who　drive　them　away　and　those　who　succour　them：　higher　than　that　truth　and　that　life　there　is　no　truth　and　no　life！”
There　was　one　Pilgrim…woman；　Fedosyushka；　a　quiet；　little　woman　of　about　fifty；　marked　by　smallpox；　who　had　been　wandering　for　over　thirty　years　barefooted　and　wearing　chains。　Princess　Marya　was　particularly　fond　of　her。　One　day　when　sitting　in　a　dark　room；　by　the　light　only　of　the　lamp　before　the　holy　picture；　Fedosyushka　told　her　about　her　life。　Princess　Marya　felt　all　at　once　so　strongly　that　Fedosyushka　was　the　one　person　who　had　found　the　right　way　of　life；　that　she　resolved　to　go　on　a　pilgrimage　herself。　When　Fedosyushka　had　gone　to　bed　Princess　Marya　pondered　a　long　while　over　it；　and　at　last　made　up　her　mind　that—however　strange　it　might　be—she　must　go　on　a　pilgrimage。　She　confided　her　intention　to　no　one　but　a　monk；　Father　Akinfy；　and　this　priest　approved　of　her　project。　On　the　pretence　of　getting　presents　for　pilgrim　women；　Princess　Marya　had　prepared　for　herself　the　complete　outfit　of　a　pilgrim—a　smock；　plaited　shoes；　a　full…skirted　coat；　and　a　black　kerchief。　Often　she　went　to　her　secret　wardrobe；　where　she　kept　them；　and　stood　in　uncertainty　whether　the　time　to　carry　out　her　plan　had　come　or　not。
Often　as　she　listened　to　the　pilgrims’　tales；　their　simple　phrases—that　had　become　mechanical　to　them；　but　were　to　her　ears　full　of　the　deepest　significance—worked　upon　her　till　she　was　several　times　ready　to　throw　up　everything　and　run　away　from　home。　In　imagination　she　already　saw　herself　with　Fedosyushka　in　a　coarse　smock；　trudging　along　the　dusty　road　with　her　wallet　and　her　staff；　going　on　her　pilgrimage；　free　from　envy；　free　from　earthly　love；　free　from　all　desires；　from　one　saint　to　another；　and　at　last　thither　where　there　is　neither　sorrow　nor　sighing；　but　everlasting　joy　and　blessedness。
“I　shall　come　to　one　place。　I　shall　pray　there；　and　before　I　have　time　to　grow　used　to　it；　to　love　it；　I　shall　go　on　further。　And　I　shall　go　on　till　my　legs　give　way　under　me　and　I　lie　down　and　die　somewhere；　and　reach　at　last　that　quiet；　eternal　haven；　where　is　neither　sorrow　nor　sighing！…”　thought　Princess　Marya。
But　then　at　the　sight　of　her　father；　and　still　more　of　little　Nikolushka；　she　wavered　in　her　resolution；　wept　in　secret；　and　felt　that　she　was　a　sinner；　that　she　loved　her　father　and　her　nephew　more　than　God。


Part　Seven
Chapter　1
THE　BIBLICAL　TRADITION　tells　us　that　the　absence　of　work—idleness—was　a　condition　of　the　first　man’s　blessedness　before　the　Fall。　The　love　of　idleness　has　remained　the　same　in　fallen　man；　but　the　curse　still　lies　heavy　upon　man；　and　not　only　because　in　the　sweat　of　our　brow　we　must　eat　bread；　but　because　from　our　moral　qualities　we　are　unable　to　be　idle　and　at　peace。　A　secret　voice　tells　us　that　we　must　be　to　blame　for　being　idle。　If　a　man　could　find　a　state　in　which　while　being　idle　he　could　feel　himself　to　be　of　use　and　to　be　doing　his　duty；　he　would　have　attained　to　one　side　of　primitive　blessedness。　And　such　a　state　of　obligatory　and　irreproachable　idleness　is　enjoyed　by　a　whole　class—the　military　class。　It　is　in　that　obligatory　and　irreproachable　idleness　that　the　chief　attraction　of　military　service　has　always　consisted；　and　will　always　consist。
Nikolay　Rostov　was　enjoying　this　blessed　privilege　to　the　full；　as　after　the　year　1807　he　remained　in　the　Pavlograd　regiment；　in　command　of　the　squadron　that　had　been　Denisov’s。
Rostov　had　become　a　bluff；　good…natured　fellow；　who　would　have　been　thought　rather　bad　form　by　his　old　acquaintances　in　Moscow；　though　he　was　loved　and　respected　by　his　comrades；　his　subordinates；　and　his　superior　officers；　and　was　well　content　with　his　life。　Of　late—in　the　year　1809—he　had　found　more　and　more　frequently　in　letters　from　home　complaints　on　the　part　of　his　mother　that　their　pecuniary　position　was　going　from　bad　to　worse；　and　that　it　was　high　time　for　him　to　come　home；　to　gladden　and　comfort　the　hearts　of　his　old　parents。
As　he　read　those　letters；　Nikolay　felt　a　pang　of　dread　at　their　wanting　to　drag　him　out　of　the　surroundings　in　which；　by　fencing　himself　off　from　all　the　complexities　of　existence；　he　was　living　so　quietly　and　peacefully。　He　felt　that　sooner　or　later　he　would　have　to　plunge　again　into　that　whirlpool　of　life；　with　many　difficulties　and　business　to　attend　to；　with　the　steward’s　accounts；　with　quarrels　and　intrigues；　and　ties；　with　society；　with　Sonya’s　love　and　his　promise　to　her。　All　that　was　terribly　difficult　and　complicated；　and　he　answered　his　mother’s　letters　with　cold　letters　in　French　on　the　classic　model；　beginning　“Ma　chère　maman；”　and　ending：　“Votre　obéissant　fils；”　saying　nothing　of　any　intention　of　coming　home。　In　1810　he　received　letters　from　home　in　which　he　was　told　of　Natasha’s　engagement　to　Bolkonsky；　and　of　the　marriage　being　deferred　for　a　year；　because　the　old　prince　would　not　consent　to　it。　This　letter　chagrined　and　mortified　Nikolay。　In　the　first　place；　he　was　sorry　to　be　losing　from　home　Natasha；　whom　he　cared　more　for　than　all　the　rest　of　the　family。　Secondly；　from　his　hussar　point　of　view；　he　regretted　not　having　been　at　home　at　the　time；　as　he　would　have　shown　this　Bolkonsky　that　it　was　by　no　means　such　an　honour　to　be　connected　with　him；　and　that　if　he　cared　for　Natasha　he　could　get　on　just　as　well　without　his　crazy　old　father’s　consent。　For　a　moment　he　hesitated　whether　to　ask　for　leave；　so　as　to　see　Natasha　engaged；　but　then　the　man？uvres　were　just　coming　on；　and　thoughts　of　Sonya；　of　complications；　recurred　to　him；　and　again　he　put　it　off。　But　in　the　spring　of　the　same　year　he　got　a　letter　from　his　mother；　written　without　his　father’s　knowledge；　and　that　letter　decided　him。　She　wrote　that　if　Nikolay　did　not　come　and　look　after　things；　their　whole　estate　would　have　to　be　sold　by　auction；　and　they　would　all　be　beggars。　The　count　was　so　weak；　put　such　entire　confidence　in　Mitenka；　and　was　so　good…natured；　and　every　one　took　advantage　of　him；　so　that　things　were　going　from　bad　to　worse。　“I　beseech　you；　for　God’s　sake；　to　come　at　once；　if　you　don’t　want　to　make　me　and　all　your　family　miserable；”　wrote　the　countess。
That　letter　produced　an　effect　on　Nikolay。　He　had　that　common　sense　of　mediocrity　which　showed　him　what　was　his　duty。
His　duty　now　was；　if　not　to　retire　from　the　army；　at　least　to　go　home　on　leave。　Why　he　had　to　go；　he　could　not　have　said；　but；　after　his　after…dinner　nap；　he　ordered　his　grey　mare　to　be　saddled；　a　terribly　vicious　beast　that　he　had　not　ridden　for　a　long　while。
He　returned　home　with　his　horse　in　a　lather；　and　told　Lavrushka—he　had　kept　on　Denisov’s　old　valet—and　the　comrades　who　dropped　in　that　evening；　that　he　had　applied　for　leave　and　was　going　home。　It　was　strange　and　difficult　for　him　to　believe　that　he　was　going　away　without　hearing　from　the　staff　whether　he　had　been　promoted　to　be　a　captain　or　had　received　the　St。　Anne　for　the　last　man？uvres　（a　matter　of　the　greatest　interest　to　him）。　It　was　strange　to　him　to　think　of　going　away　like　this　without　having　sold　Count　Goluhovsky　his　three　roan　horses；　over　which　the　Polish　count　was　haggling　with　him。　Rostov　had　taken　a　bet　that　he　would　get　two　thousand　for　them。　It　seemed　inconceivable　that　without　him　the　ball　could　take　place　which　the　hussars　were　to　give　in　honour　of　their　favourite　Polish　belle；　Madame　Pshazdetsky；　to　outdo　the　Uhlans；　who　had　given　a　ball　to　their　favourite　belle；　Madame　Borzhozovsky。　Yet　he　knew　he　must　leave　world；　where　all　was　we