战争与和平(上)-第175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！


s。　Natasha　came　into　the　room；　went　up　to　Sonya；　looked　at　what　she　was　doing；　then　went　up　to　her　mother　and　stood　there　mutely。
“Why　are　you　wandering　about　like　an　unquiet　spirit？”　said　her　mother。　“What　do　you　want？”
“I　want　him…I　want　him　at　once；　this　minute；”　said　Natasha；　with　a　gleam　in　her　eyes　and　no　smile　on　her　lips。　The　countess　raised　her　head　and　looked　intently　at　her　daughter。
“Don’t　look　at　me；　mamma；　don’t　look　at　me　like　that；　I　shall　cry　in　a　minute。”
“Sit　down；　come　and　sit　by　me；”　said　the　countess。
“Mamma；　I　want　him。　Why　should　I　be　wasting　time　like　this；　Mamma？”…Her　voice　broke；　tears　gushed　into　her　eyes；　and　to　hide　them；　she　turned　quickly　and　went　out　of　the　room。　She　went　into　the　divan…room；　stood　there；　thought　a　moment　and　went　to　the　maids’　room。　There　an　old　maid…servant　was　scolding　a　young　girl　who　had　run　in　breathless　from　the　cold　outside。
“Give　over　playing；”　said　the　old　woman；　“there　is　a　time　for　everything。”
“Let　her　off；　Kondratyevna；”　said　Natasha。　“Run　along；　Mavrusha；　run　along。”
And　after　releasing　Mavrusha；　Natasha　crossed　the　big　hall　and　went　to　the　vestibule。　An　old　footman　and　two　young　ones　were　playing　cards。　They　broke　off　and　rose　at　the　entrance　of　their　young　mistress。　“What　am　I　to　do　with　them？”　Natasha　wondered。
“Yes；　Nikita；　go　out；　please…Where　am　I　to　send　him？…Yes；　go　to　the　yard　and　bring　me　a　cock；　please；　and　you；　Misha；　bring　me　some　oats。”
“Just　a　few　oats；　if　you　please？”　said　Misha；　with　cheerful　readiness。
“Run　along；　make　haste；”　the　old　man　urged　him。
“Fyodor；　you　get　me　some　chalk。”
As　she　passed　the　buffet　she　ordered　the　samovar；　though　it　was　not　the　right　time　for　it。
The　buffet…waiter；　Foka；　was　the　most　ill…tempered　person　in　the　house。　Natasha　liked　to　try　her　power　over　him。　He　did　not　believe　in　her　order；　and　went　to　inquire　if　it　were　really　wanted。
“Ah；　you’re　a　nice　young　lady！”　said　Foka；　pretending　to　frown　at　Natasha。
No　one　in　the　house　sent　people　on　errands　and　gave　the　servants　so　much　work　as　Natasha。　She　could　not　see　people　without　wanting　to　send　them　for　something。　She　seemed　to　be　trying　to　see　whether　one　of　them　would　not　be　cross　or　sulky　with　her；　but　no　one’s　orders　were　so　readily　obeyed　by　the　servants　as　Natasha’s。　“What　am　I　to　do？　Where　am　I　to　go？”　Natasha　wondered；　strolling　slowly　along　the　corridor。
“Nastasya　Ivanovna；　what　will　my　children　be？”　she　asked　the　buffoon；　who　came　towards　her　in　his　woman’s　jacket。
“Fleas；　and　dragon…flies；　and　grasshoppers；”　answered　the　buffoon。
“My　God！　my　God！　always　the　same。　Oh；　where　am　I　to　go？　What　am　I　to　do　with　myself？”　And　she　ran　rapidly　upstairs；　tapping　with　her　shoes；　to　see　Vogel　and　his　wife；　who　had　rooms　on　the　top　floor。　The　two　governesses　were　sitting　with　the　Vogels　and　on　the　table　were　plates　of　raisins；　walnuts；　and　almonds。　The　governesses　were　discussing　the　question　which　was　the　cheaper　town　to　live　in；　Moscow　or　Odessa。　Natasha　sat　down；　listened　to　their　talk　with　a　serious　and　dreamy　face；　and　got　up。　“The　island　Madagascar；”　she　said。　“Mada…ga…scar；”　she　repeated；　articulating　each　syllable　distinctly；　and　making　no　reply　to　Madame　Schoss’s　inquiry　into　her　meaning；　she　went　out　of　the　room。
Petya；　her　brother；　was　upstairs　too。　He　was　engaged　with　his　tutor　making　fireworks　to　let　off　that　night。
“Petya！　Petya！”　she　shouted　to　him；　“carry　me　downstairs。”　Petya　ran　to　her　and　offered　her　his　back；　and　he　pranced　along　with　her。　“No；　enough。　The　island　Madagascar；”　she　repeated；　and　jumping　off　his　back　she　went　downstairs。
Having　as　it　were　reviewed　her　kingdom；　tried　her　power；　and　made　sure　that　all　were　submissive；　but　yet　that　she　was　dull；　Natasha　went　into　the　big　hall；　took　up　the　guitar；　and　sat　down　with　it　in　a　dark　corner　behind　a　bookcase。　She　began　fingering　the　strings　in　the　bass；　picking　out　a　phrase　she　recalled　from　an　opera　she　had　heard　in　Petersburg　with　Prince　Andrey。　For　other　listeners　the　sounds　that　came　from　her　guitar　would　have　had　no　sort　of　meaning；　but　these　sounds　called　up　in　her　imagination　a　whole　series　of　reminiscences。　She　sat　behind　the　bookcase　with　her　eyes　fixed　on　a　streak　of　light　that　fell　from　the　crack　in　the　pantry　door；　and　listened　to　herself　and　recalled　the　past。　She　was　in　the　mood　for　brooding　over　memories。
Sonya　crossed　the　hall；　and　went　into　the　pantry　with　a　glass　in　her　hand。　Natasha　glanced　at　her　through　the　crack　in　the　pantry　door；　and　it　seemed　to　her　that　she　remembered　the　light　falling　through　the　crack　in　the　pantry　door；　and　Sonya　passing　with　the　glass　in　just　the　same　way。　“Yes；　and　it　was　exactly　the　same　in　every　detail；”　thought　Natasha。
“Sonya；　what　is　this？”　called　Natasha；　twanging　the　thick　cord　with　her　fingers。
“Oh；　are　you　there？”　said　Sonya　starting；　and　she　came　up　and　listened。　“I　don’t　know。　A　storm？”　she　said　timidly；　afraid　of　being　wrong。
“Why；　she　started　in　just　the　same　way；　and　came　up　and　smiled　the　same　timid　smile　when　it　all　happened　before；”　thought　Natasha；　“and　just　in　the　same　way；　too。…I　thought　there　was　something　wanting　in　her。”
“No；　it’s　the　chorus　from　the　‘Water　Carrier；’　listen。”　And　Natasha　hummed　the　air　of　the　chorus；　so　that　Sonya　might　catch　it。　“Where　were　you　going？”　asked　Natasha。
“To　change　the　water　in　my　glass。　I　am　just　finishing　colouring　the　design。”
“You　always　find　something　to　do；　but　I　can’t；　you　know；”　said　Natasha。　“And　where’s　Nikolenka？”
“I　think　he’s　asleep。”
“Sonya；　do　go　and　wake　him；”　said　Natasha。　“Tell　him　I　want　him　to　sing　with　me。”
She　sat　a　little　longer；　pondering　on　what　was　the　meaning　of　its　all　having　happened　before；　and　not　solving　that　question；　and　not　in　the　least　chagrined　at　being　unable　to　do　so；　she　passed　again　in　her　imagination　to　the　time　when　she　was　with　him；　and　he　gazed　at　her　with　eyes　of　love。
“Oh；　if　he　would　come　quickly！　I’m　so　afraid　it　will　never　come！　And　worst　of　all；　I’m　getting　older；　that’s　the　thing。　There　won’t　be　in　me　what　there　is　in　me　now。　Perhaps　he　is　coming　to…day；　will　be　here　immediately。　Perhaps　he　has　come；　and　is　sitting　there　in　the　drawing…room。　Perhaps　he　did　come　yesterday；　and　I　have　forgotten。”　She　got　up；　put　down　her　guitar；　and　went　into　the　parlour。　All　their　domestic　circle；　tutors；　governesses；　and　guests　were　sitting　at　the　tea…table。　The　servants　were　standing　round　the　table。　But　Prince　Andrey　was　not　there；　and　the　same　old　life　was　still　going　on。
“Here　she　is；”　said　the　count；　seeing　Natasha　coming　in。　“Come；　sit　by　me。”　But　Natasha　stayed　by　her　mother；　looking　about　her　as　though　seeking　for　something。
“Mamma！”　she　said。　“Give　me　him；　give　me　him；　mamma；　quickly；　quickly；”　and　again　she　could　hardly　suppress　her　sobs。　She　sat　down　to　the　table　and　listened　to　the　talk　of　the　elders　and　Nikolay；　who　had　come　in　to　tea。　“My　God；　my　God；　the　same　people；　the　same　talk；　papa　holding　his　cup；　and　blowing　it　just　the　same　as　always；”　thought　Natasha；　feeling　with　horror　an　aversion　rising　up　in　her　for　all　her　family；　because　they　were　always　the　same。
After　tea　Nikolay；　Sonya；　and　Natasha　went　into　the　divan…room　to　their　favourite　corner；　where　their　most　intimate　talks　always　began。


Chapter　10
“DOES　IT　HAPPEN　to　you；”　said　Natasha　to　her　brother；　when　they　were　settled　in　the　divan…room；　“to　feel　that　nothing　will　ever　happen—nothing；　that　all　that　is　good　is　past？　And　it’s　not　exactly　a　bored　feeling；　but　melancholy？”
“I　should　think　so！”　said　he。　“It　has　sometimes　happened　to　me　that　when　everything’s　all　right；　and　every　one’s　cheerful；　it　suddenly　strikes　one　that　one’s　sick　of　it　all；　and　all　must　die。　Once　in　the　regiment　when　I　did　not　go　to　some　merrymaking；　and　there　the　music　was　playing…and　I　felt　all　at　once　so　dreary…”
“Oh；　I　know　that　feeling；　I　know　it；　I　know　it；”　Natasha　assented；　“even　when　I　was　quite　little；　I　used　to　have　that　feeling。　Do　you　remember；　once　I　was　punished　for　eating　some　plums；　and　you　were　all　dancing；　and　I　sat　in　the　schoolroom　sobbing。　I　shall　never　forget　it；　I　felt　sad　and　sorry　for　every　one；　sorry　for　myself；　and　for　every—ever