战争与和平(上)-第243章

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stakably　what　it　was　that　was　of　most　interest　to　her　in　her　father’s　illness。　She　waked　up；　listened　to　what　was　passing　through　the　door；　and　catching　the　sound　of　his　muttering；　she　told　herself　with　a　sigh　that　there　was　no　change。
“But　what　should　there　be？　What　did　I　hope　for？　I　hope　for　his　death；”　she　cried；　with　inward　loathing　of　herself。
She　washed；　dressed；　said　her　prayers；　and　went　out　on　to　the　steps。　At　the　entrance　the　carriages　in　which　their　luggage　was　packed　were　standing　without　horses。
The　morning　was　warm　and　grey。　Princess　Marya　lingered　on　the　steps；　still　horrified　at　her　own　spiritual　infamy；　and　trying　to　get　her　ideas　into　shape　before　going　in　to　see　him。
The　doctor　came　downstairs　and　out　to　her。
“He　is　a　little　better　to…day；”　said　the　doctor。　“I　was　looking　for　you。　One　can　make　out　a　little　of　what　he　says。　His　head　is　clearer。　Come　in。　He　is　asking　for　you…”
Princess　Marya’s　heart　beat　so　violently　at　this　news　that　she　turned　pale　and　leaned　against　the　door　to　keep　from　falling。　To　see　him；　to　talk　to　him；　to　be　under　his　eyes　now；　when　all　her　soul　was　filled　with　these　fearful；　sinful　imaginings　was　full　of　an　agonising　joy　and　terror　for　her。
“Let　us　go　in；”　said　the　doctor。
Princess　Marya　went　in　to　her　father；　and　went　up　to　his　bedside。　He　was　lying　raised　high　on　his　back；　his　little　bony　hands；　covered　with　knotted　purple　veins；　were　laid　on　the　quilt；　his　left　eye　was　gazing　straight　before　him；　while　the　right　eye　was　distorted；　and　his　lips　and　eyebrows　were　motionless。　He　looked　so　thin；　so　small；　and　pitiable。　His　face　looked　withered　up　or　melted　away；　his　features　all　seemed　smaller。　Princess　Marya　went　up　and　kissed　his　hand。　His　left　hand　clasped　her　hand　in　a　way　that　showed　he　had　long　been　wanting　her。　He　twitched　her　hand；　and　his　eyebrows　and　lips　quivered　angrily。
She　looked　at　him　in　dismay；　trying　to　fathom　what　he　wanted　of　her。　When　she　changed　her　position　so　that　his　left　eye　could　see　her；　he　seemed　satisfied；　and　for　several　seconds　kept　his　eye　fixed　on　her。　Then　his　lips　and　tongue　twitched；　sounds　came；　and　he　tried　to　speak；　looking　with　imploring　timidity　at　her；　evidently　afraid　she　would　not　understand　him。
Princess　Marya　strained　every　faculty　of　attention　as　she　gazed　at　him。　The　comic　effort　with　which　he　strove　to　make　his　tongue　work　made　Princess　Marya　drop　her　eyes；　and　she　had　much　ado　to　stifle　the　sobs　that　rose　in　her　throat。　He　was　saying　something；　several　times　repeating　his　words。　Princess　Marya　could　not　understand　them；　but　she　tried　to　guess　what　he　was　saying；　and　repeated　interrogatively　the　words　she　supposed　him　to　be　uttering。
“O　…　o　…　aye　…　aye　…！”　he　repeated　several　time。　It　was　impossible　to　interpret　these　sounds。　The　doctor　thought　he　had　guessed　it；　and　asked：
“The　princess　is　afraid？”
He　shook　his　head；　and　again　repeated　the　same　sounds。
“The　soul；　the　soul　is　in　pain！”　Princess　Marya　guessed。　He　grunted　affirmatively；　took　her　hand；　and　began　pressing　it　to　different　parts　of　his　breast　as　though　seeking　the　right　place　for　it。
“Always　thinking！—about　you　…　thinking　…！”　he　articulated；　far　more　intelligibly　than　before　now　that　he　felt　sure　of　being　understood。　Princess　Marya　pressed　her　head　against　his　arm；　trying　to　hide　her　sobs　and　tears。
He　passed　his　hand　over　her　hair。
“I　called　for　you　all　night　…”　he　articulated。
“If　I　had　only　known　…”　she　said；　through　her　tears。　“I　was　afraid　to　come　in。”
He　pressed　her　hand。
“Weren’t　you　asleep？”
“No；　I　couldn’t　sleep；”　said　Princess　Marya；　shaking　her　head。
Unconsciously　imitating　her　father；　she　tried　to　speak　more　by　signs；　as　he　spoke；　as　though　she；　too；　had　a　difficulty　in　articulating。
“Darling！”　…　or　“dear　one！”　…　Princess　Marya　could　not　distinguish　the　word；　but　from　the　expression　of　his　eyes　she　had　no　doubt　what　was　said　was　a　word　of　caressing　tenderness　such　as　he　had　never　used　to　her　before。　“Why　didn’t　you　come？”
“And　I　was　wishing；　wishing　for　his　death！”　thought　Princess　Marya。
He　paused。
“Thanks　…　to　you　…　child；　dear　one！　for　all；　for　all　…　forgive　…　thanks！　…　forgive！　…　thanks！　…”　And　tears　flowed　from　his　eyes。　“Call　Andryusha；”　he　said　suddenly；　and　a　look　of　childish　and　deprecating　misgiving　came　into　his　face　at　the　question。　He　seemed　to　be　himself　aware　that　his　question　had　no　meaning。　So　at　least　it　seemed　to　Princess　Marya。
“I　have　had　a　letter　from　him；”　answered　Princess　Marya。
He　looked　at　her　with　timid　wonder。
“Where　is　he？”
“He　is　with　the　army；　father；　at　Smolensk。”
He　was　silent　for　a　long　while；　closing　his　eyes。　Then；　as　though　to　answer　his　doubts；　and　to　assert　that　now　he　understood　it　all　and　remembered；　he　nodded　his　head　and　opened　his　eyes。
“Yes；”　he　said；　softly　and　distinctly。　“Russia　is　lost！　They　have　lost　her！”
And　again　he　broke　into　sobs；　and　tears　flowed　from　his　eyes。　Princess　Marya　could　restrain　herself　no　more；　and　wept　too　as　she　looked　at　his　face。
He　closed　his　eyes　again。　His　sobs　ceased。　He　pointed　to　his　eyes；　and　Tihon；　understanding　him；　wiped　away　his　tears。
Then　he　opened　his　eyes；　and　said　something；　which；　for　a　long　while；　no　one　could　understand；　and　at　last　Tihon　understood　and　interpreted。
Princess　Marya　looked　for　the　drift　of　his　words　in　the　direction　in　which　he　had　been　speaking　a　minute　before。　She　supposed　he　was　speaking　of　Russia；　then　of　Prince　Andrey；　of　herself；　of　his　grandson；　then　of　his　own　death。　And　this　was　just　why　she　could　not　understand　his　words。
“Put　on　your　white　dress。　I　like　it；”　he　had　said。
When　she　understood　those　words　Princess　Marya　sobbed　louder　than　ever；　and　the　doctor；　taking　her　on　his　arm；　led　her　out　of　the　room　on　to　the　terrace；　trying　to　persuade　her　to　calm　herself；　and　to　devote　herself　to　preparations　for　the　journey。　After　Princess　Marya　had　left　the　prince；　he　began　talking　again　of　his　son；　of　the　war；　of　the　Tsar；　twitched　his　eyebrows　angrily；　began　to　raise　his　hoarse　voice；　and　was　seized　by　a　second　and　final　stroke。
Princess　Marya　stayed　on　the　terrace。　The　day　had　become　brilliantly　fine；　sunny；　and　warm。　She　could　grasp　nothing；　could　think　of　nothing；　and　feel　nothing　but　her　passionate　love　for　her　father；　of　which　it　seemed　to　her　that　she　had　not　been　aware　till　that　minute。　She　ran　out　into　the　garden；　and　ran　sobbing　towards　the　pond　along　the　paths　planted　with　young　lime…trees　by　Prince　Andrey。
“Yes　…　I　…　I　…　I　longed　for　his　death！　Yes；　I　wanted　it　soon　to　be　over　…　I　wanted　to　be　at　peace　…　And　what　will　become　of　me？　What　use　will　peace　be　to　me　when　he　is　gone？”　Princess　Marya　muttered　aloud；　walking　with　rapid　steps　through　the　garden；　and　pressing　her　hands　to　her　bosom；　which　heaved　with　convulsive　sobs。　Going　round　the　garden　in　a　circle；　which　brought　her　back　again　to　the　house；　she　saw　coming　towards　her　Mademoiselle　Bourienne　（who　was　remaining　at　Bogutcharovo；　preferring　not　to　move　away）；　and　with　her　an　unknown　gentleman。　It　was　the　district　marshal；　who　had　come　to　call　on　the　princess；　to　urge　upon　her　the　necessity　of　her　immediate　departure。　Princess　Marya　listened　and　did　not　take　in　what　he　said。　She　took　him　into　the　house；　offered　him　lunch；　and　sat　down　with　him。　Then　asking　him　to　excuse　her；　she　went　to　the　old　prince’s　door。　The　doctor　came　out　with　a　perturbed　face　and　told　her　she　could　not　go　in。
“Go　away；　princess；　go　away！”
Princess　Marya　went　out　again　into　the　garden；　and　by　the　pond　at　the　bottom　of　the　hill　she　sat　down　on　the　grass；　in　a　place　where　no　one　could　see　her。　She　could　not　have　said　how　long　she　was　there。　A　woman’s　footsteps　running　along　the　path　made　her　look　round。　She　got　up　and　saw　Dunyasha；　her　maid；　evidently　running　to　look　for　her；　stop　short；　as　though　in　alarm；　on　seeing　her　mistress。
“Come；　please；　princess　…　the　prince　…”　said　Dunyasha；　in　a　breaking　voice。
“I’m　coming；　I’m　coming！”　the　princess　cried　hurriedly；　not　letting　Dunyasha　have　time　to　say　what　she　meant　to；　and　trying　to　avoid　seeing　her；　she　ran　into　the　house。
“Princess；　it　is　God’s　will！　You　must　be　prepared　for　the　worst；”　said　the　marshal；　meeting　her　at　the　door　into　the　h