战争与和平(上)-第330章

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The　carriage…door　was　opened。　On　the　left　was　water—a　broad　river；　on　the　right；　entrance　steps。　At　the　entrance　were　people；　servants；　and　a　rosy…faced　girl　with　a　thick　coil　of　black　hair；　who　smiled　at　her　in　an　unpleasantly　affected　way；　as　it　seemed　to　Princess　Marya　（it　was　Sonya）。　The　princess　ran　up　the　steps；　the　girl；　smiling　affectedly；　said；　“This　way！　this　way！”　and　the　princess　found　herself　in　the　vestibule；　facing　an　elderly　woman　of　an　Oriental　type　of　face；　who　came　rapidly　to　meet　her；　looking　moved。　It　was　the　countess。　She　embraced　Princess　Marya　and　proceeded　to　kiss　her。
“My　child；”　she　said；　“I　love　you；　and　have　known　you　a　long　while。”
In　spite　of　her　emotion；　Princess　Marya　knew　it　was　the　countess；　and　that　she　must　say　something　to　her。　Not　knowing　how　she　did　it；　she　uttered　some　polite　French　phrases　in　the　tone　in　which　she　had　been　addressed；　and　asked；　“How　is　he？”
“The　doctor　says　there　is　no　danger；”　said　the　countess；　but　as　she　said　it　she　sighed；　and　turned　her　eyes　upwards；　and　this　gesture　contradicted　her　words。
“Where　is　he？　Can　I　see　him；　can　I？”　asked　the　princess。
“In　a　minute；　in　a　minute；　my　dear。　Is　this　his　son？”　she　said；　turning　to　Nikolushka；　who　came　in　with　Dessalle。　“We　shall　find　room　for　every　one；　the　house　is　large。　Oh；　what　a　charming　boy！”
The　countess　led　the　princess　into　the　drawing…room。　Sonya　began　to　converse　with　Mademoiselle　Bourienne。　The　countess　caressed　the　child。　The　old　count　came　into　the　room　to　welcome　the　princess。　He　was　extraordinarily　changed　since　Princess　Marya　had　seen　him　last。　Then　he　had　been　a　jaunty；　gay；　self…confident　old　gentleman；　now　he　seemed　a　pitiful；　bewildered　creature。　As　he　talked　to　the　princess；　he　was　continually　looking　about　him；　as　though　asking　every　one　if　he　were　doing　the　right　thing。　After　the　destruction　of　Moscow　and　the　loss　of　his　property；　driven　out　of　his　accustomed　rut；　he　had　visibly　lost　the　sense　of　his　own　importance；　and　felt　that　there　was　no　place　for　him　in　life。
In　spite　of　her　one　desire　to　see　her　brother　without　loss　of　time；　and　her　vexation　that　at　that　moment；　when　all　she　wanted　was　to　see　him；　they　should　entertain　her　conventionally　with　praises　of　her　nephew；　the　princess　observed　all　that　was　passing　around　her；　and　felt　it　inevitable　for　the　time　to　fall　in　with　the　new　order　of　things　into　which　she　had　entered。　She　knew　that　all　this　was　inevitable；　and　it　was　hard　for　her；　but　she　felt　no　grudge　against　them　for　it。
“This　is　my　niece；”　said　the　countess；　presenting　Sonya；　“you　do　not　know　her；　princess？”
Princess　Marya　turned　to　her；　and　trying　to　smother　the　feeling　of　hostility　that　rose　up　within　her　at　the　sight　of　this　girl；　she　kissed　her。　But　she　felt　painfully　how　out　of　keeping　was　the　mood　of　every　one　around　her　with　what　was　filling　her　own　breast。
“Where　is　he？”　she　asked　once　more；　addressing　them　all。
“He　is　downstairs；　Natasha　is　with　him；”　answered　Sonya；　flushing。　“We　have　sent　to　ask。　You　are　tired；　I　expect；　princess？”
Tears　of　vexation　came　into　Princess　Marya’s　eyes。　She　turned　away　and　was　about　to　ask　the　countess　again　where　she　could　see　him；　when　she　heard　at　the　door　light；　eager　steps　that　sounded　to　her　full　of　gaiety。　She　looked　round　and　saw；　almost　running　in；　Natasha　—　that　Natasha　whom　she　had　so　disliked　when　they　met　long　before　in　Moscow。
But　Princess　Marya　had　hardly　glanced　at　Natasha’s　face　before　she　understood　that　here　was　one　who　sincerely　shared　her　grief；　and　was　therefore　her　friend。　She　flew　to　meet　her；　and　embracing　her；　burst　into　tears　on　her　shoulder。
As　soon　as　Natasha；　sitting　by　Prince　Andrey’s　bedside；　heard　of　Princess　Marya’s　arrival；　she　went　softly　out　of　the　room　with　those　swift　steps　that　to　Princess　Marya　sounded　so　light…hearted；　and　ran　to　see　her。
As　she　ran　into　the　room；　her　agitated　face　wore　one　expression　—　an　expression　of　love；　of　boundless　love　for　him；　for　her；　for　all　that　was　near　to　the　man　she　loved　—　an　expression　of　pity；　of　suffering　for　others；　and　of　passionate　desire　to　give　herself　up　entirely　to　helping　them。　It　was　clear　that　at　that　moment　there　was　not　one　thought　of　self；　of　her　own　relation　to　him；　in　Natasha’s　heart。
Princess　Marya　with　her　delicate　intuition　saw　all　that　in　the　first　glance　at　Natasha’s　face；　and　with　mournful　relief　wept　on　her　shoulder。
“Come；　let　us　go　to　him；　Marie；”　said　Natasha；　drawing　her　away　into　the　next　room。
Princess　Marya　lifted　up　her　head；　dried　her　eyes；　and　turned　to　Natasha。　She　felt　that　from　her　she　would　learn　all；　would　understand　all。　“How　…”　she　was　beginning；　but　stopped　short。　She　felt　that　no　question　nor　answer　could　be　put　into　words。　Natasha’s　face　and　eyes　would　be　sure　to　tell　her　all　more　clearly　and　more　profoundly。
Natasha　looked　at　her；　but　seemed　to　be　in　dread　and　in　doubt　whether　to　say　or　not　to　say　all　she　knew；　she　seemed　to　feel　that　before　those　luminous　eyes；　piercing　to　the　very　bottom　of　her　heart；　it　was　impossible　not　to　tell　the　whole；　whole　truth　as　she　saw　it。　Natasha’s　lip　suddenly　twitched；　ugly　creases　came　round　her　mouth；　and　she　broke　into　sobs；　hiding　her　face　in　her　hands。
Princess　Marya　knew　everything。
But　still　she　could　not　give　up　hope；　and　asked　in　words；　though　she　put　no　faith　in　them：
“But　how　is　his　wound？　What　is　his　condition　altogether？”
“You　…　you　will　see　that；”　was　all　Natasha　could　say。
They　sat　a　little　while　below；　near　his　room；　to　control　their　tears　and　go　in　to　him　with　calm　faces。
“How　has　the　whole　illness　gone？　Has　he　been　worse　for　long？　When　did　this　happen？”　Princess　Marya　asked。
Natasha　told　her　that　at　first　there　had　been　danger　from　inflammation　and　the　great　pain；　but　that　that　had　passed　away　at　Troitsa；　and　the　doctor　had　only　been　afraid　of　one　thing　—　gangrene。　But　the　risk　of　that；　too；　was　almost　over。　When　they　reached　Yaroslavl；　the　wound　had　begun　to　suppurate　（Natasha　knew　all　about　suppuration　and　all　the　rest　of　it）；　and　the　doctor　had　said　that　the　suppuration　might　follow　the　regular　course。　Fever　had　set　in。　The　doctor　had　said　this　fever　was　not　so　serious。　“But　two　days　ago；”　Natasha　began；　“all　of　a　sudden　this　change　came　…”　She　struggled　with　her　sobs。　“I　don’t　know　why；　but　you　will　see　the　change　in　him。”
“He　is　weaker？　thinner？　…”　queried　the　princess。
“No；　not　that；　but　worse。　You　will　see。　O　Marie；　he　is　too　good；　he　cannot；　he　cannot　live；　because　…”


Chapter　15
WHEN　NATASHA　opened　the　door　with　her　practised　hands；　letting　her　pass　in　before　her；　Princess　Marya　felt　the　sobs　rising　in　her　throat。　However　much　she　prepared　herself；　however　much　she　tried　to　compose　herself；　she　knew　that　she　would　not　be　able　to　see　him　without　tears：
She　understood　what　Natasha　had　meant　by　the　words：　two　days　ago　this　change　came。　She　interpreted　it　as　meaning　that　he　had　suddenly　grown　softer；　and　that　that　softening；　that　tenderness；　was　the　sign　of　death。　As　she　approached　the　door；　she　saw　already　in　her　imagination　that　face　of　the　little　Andryusha；　as　she　had　known　it　in　childhood；　tender；　gentle；　softened；　as　it　was　so　rarely；　and　as　it　affected　her　so　strongly。　She　felt　sure　he　would　say　soft；　tender　words　to　her　like　those　her　father　had　uttered　on　his　deathbed；　and　that　she　would　not　be　able　to　bear　it；　and　would　break　into　sobs　at　them。　But　sooner　or　later；　it　must　be；　and　she　went　into　the　room。　Her　sobs　seemed　rising　higher　and　higher　in　her　throat　as　with　her　short…sighted　eyes　she　distinguished　his　figure　more　and　more　clearly；　and　now　she　saw　his　face　and　met　his　eyes。
He　was　lying　on　a　couch；　propped　up　with　cushions；　in　a　squirrel…lined　dressing…gown。　He　was　thin　and　pale。　One　thin；　transparently　white　hand　held　a　handkerchief；　with　the　other　he　was　softly　fingering　the　delicate　moustache　that　had　grown　long。　His　eyes　gazed　at　them　as　they　came　in。
On　seeing　his　face　and　meeting　his　eyes；　Princess　Marya　at　once　slackened　the　rapidity　of　her　step　and　felt　the　tears　dried　up　and　the　sobs　checked。　As　she　caught　the　expression　of　his　face　and　eyes；　she　felt　suddenly　shy　and　guilty。
“But　how　am　I　in　fault？”　she　asked　herself。　“In　being　alive　and　thinking　of　th