战争与和平(上)-第331章

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“But　how　am　I　in　fault？”　she　asked　herself。　“In　being　alive　and　thinking　of　the　living　while　I！　…”　his　cold；　stern　eyes　seemed　to　answer。
In　the　profound；　not　outward…　but　inward…looking　gaze　there　was　something　almost　like　hostility　as　he　deliberately　scanned　his　sister　and　Natasha。　He　kissed　his　sister’s　hand；　while　she　kissed　his；　as　their　habit　was。
“How　are　you；　Marie；　how　did　you　manage　to　get　here？”　he　said；　in　a　voice　as　even　and　as　aloof　as　the　look　in　his　eyes。　If　he　had　uttered　a　shriek　of　despair；　that　shriek　would　have　been　to　Princess　Marya　less　awful　than　the　sound　of　his　voice。
“And　you　have　brought　Nikolushka？”　he　said；　as　evenly　and　deliberately；　with　an　evident　effort　to　recollect　things。
“How　are　you　now？”　said　Princess　Marya；　wondering　herself　at　what　she　was　saying。
“That；　my　dear；　you　must　ask　the　doctor；”　he　said；　and　evidently　making　another　effort　to　be　affectionate；　he　said　with　his　lips　only　（it　was　obvious　he　was　not　thinking　of　what　he　was　saying）：
“Thank　you；　my　dear；　for　coming。”
Princess　Marya　pressed　his　hand。　He　gave　a　hardly　perceptible　frown　at　the　pressure　of　her　hand。　She　was　silent；　and　she　did　not　know　what　to　say。　She　understood　the　change　that　had　come　over　him　two　days　ago。　In　his　words；　in　his　tone；　above　all　in　his　eyes—those　cold；　almost　antagonistic　eyes—could　be　felt　that　aloofness　from　all　things　earthly　that　is　so　fearful　to　a　living　man。　It　was　evidently　with　difficulty　that　he　understood　anything　living；　but　yet　it　seemed　that　he　did　not　understand　what　was　living；　not　because　he　had　lost　the　power　of　understanding；　but　because　he　understood　something　else　that　the　living　did　not　and　could　not　understand；　and　that　entirely　absorbed　him。
“Yes；　see　how　strangely　fate　has　brought　us　together　again；”　he　said；　breaking　the　silence；　and　pointing　to　Natasha。　“She　is　nursing　me。”
Princess　Marya　heard　him；　and　could　not　understand　what　he　was　saying。　He；　Prince　Andrey；　with　his　delicate；　tender　intuition；　how　could　he　say　that　before　the　girl　whom　he　loved；　and　who　loved　him！　If　he　had　any　thought　of　living；　he　could　not　have　said　that　in　that　slightingly　cold　tone。　If　he　had　not　known　he　was　going　to　die；　how　could　he　have　failed　to　feel　for　her；　how　could　he　speak　like　that　before　her！　There　could　be　but　one　explanation　of　it—that　was；　that　it　was　all　of　no　moment　to　him　now；　and　of　no　moment　because　something　else；　more　important；　had　been　revealed　to　him。
The　conversation　was　frigid　and　disconnected；　and　broke　off　at　every　moment。
“Marie　came　by　Ryazan；”　said　Natasha。
Prince　Andrey　did　not　notice　that　she　called　his　sister　Marie。　And　Natasha；　calling　her　by　that　name　before　him；　for　the　first　time　became　aware　of　it　herself。
“Well？”　said　he。
“She　was　told　that　Moscow　had　been　burnt　to　the　ground；　all　of　it　entirely。　That　it　looks　as　though　…”
Natasha　stopped。　It　was　impossible　to　talk。　He　was　obviously　making　an　effort　to　listen；　and　yet　he　could　not。
“Yes；　it’s　burnt；　they　say；”　he　said。　“That’s　a　great　pity；”　and　he　gazed　straight　before　him；　his　fingers　straying　heedlessly　about　his　moustache。
“And　so　you　met　Count　Nikolay；　Marie？”　said　Prince　Andrey；　suddenly；　evidently　trying　to　say　something　to　please　them。　“He　wrote　here　what　a　great　liking　he　took　to　you；”　he　went　on；　simply　and　calmly；　plainly　unable　to　grasp　all　the　complex　significance　his　words　had　for　living　people。　“If　you　liked　him；　too；　it　would　be　a　very　good　thing　…　for　you　to　get　married；”　he　added；　rather　more　quickly；　apparently　pleased　at　finding　at　last　the　words　he　had　been　seeking。　Princess　Marya　heard　his　words；　but　they　had　no　significance　for　her　except　as　showing　how　terribly　far　away　he　was　now　from　everything　living。
“Why　talk　of　me？”　she　said　calmly；　and　glanced　at　Natasha。　Natasha；　feeling　her　eyes　on　her；　did　not　look　at　her。　Again　all　of　them　were　silent。
“Andrey；　would　you　…”　Princess　Marya　said　suddenly　in　a　shaky　voice；　“would　you　like　to　see　Nikolushka？　He　is　always　talking　of　you。”
For　the　first　time　Prince　Andrey　smiled　a　faintly　perceptible　smile；　but　Princess　Marya；　who　knew　his　face　so　well；　saw　with　horror　that　it　was　a　smile　not　of　joy；　not　of　tenderness　for　his　son；　but　of　quiet；　gentle　irony　at　his　sister’s　trying　what　she　believed　to　be　the　last　resource　for　rousing　him　to　feeling。
“Yes；　I　shall　be　very　glad　to　see　Nikolushka。　Is　he　quite　well？”
When　they　brought　in　little　Nikolushka；　who　gazed　in　dismay　at　his　father；　but　did　not　cry；　because　nobody　else　was　crying；　Prince　Andrey　kissed　him；　and　obviously　did　not　know　what　to　say　to　him。
When　they　had　taken　the　child　away；　Princess　Marya　went　up　to　her　brother　once　more；　kissed　him；　and　unable　to　control　herself　any　longer；　began　to　weep。
He　looked　at　her　intently。
“You　weep　for　Nikolushka？”　he　asked。
Princess　Marya　nodded　through　her　tears。
“Marie；　you　know　the　Gos　…”　he　began；　but　suddenly　paused。
“What　do　you　say？”
“Nothing。　You　mustn’t　weep　here；”　he　said；　looking　at　her　with　the　same　cold　eyes。
When　Princess　Marya　wept　he　knew　that　she　was　weeping　that　Nikolushka　would　be　left　without　a　father。　With　a　great　effort　he　tried　to　come　back　again　to　life；　and　to　put　himself　at　their　point　of　view。
“Yes；　it　must　seem　sad　to　them；”　he　thought。　“But　how　simple　it　is！”
“　‘They　sow　not；　neither　do　they　reap；　but　your　Father　feedeth　them；’　”　he　said　to　himself；　and　he　wanted　to　say　it　to　his　sister。　But　no；　they　would　understand　it　in　their　own　way；　they　would　not　understand！　What　they　cannot　understand　is　that　these　feelings　that　they　set　store　by—all　our　feelings；　all　these　thoughts；　which　seem　of　so　much　importance　to　us—that　they　are　all　not　wanted！　We　cannot　understand　each　other！”　and　he　was　silent。
Prince　Andrey’s　little　son　was　seven　years　old。　He　could　hardly　read—he　knew　nothing。　He　passed　through　much　after　that　day；　gaining　knowledge；　observation；　experience。　But　if　he　had　possessed　at　that　time　all　the　mental　faculties　he　acquired　afterwards；　he　could　not　have　had　a　truer；　a　deeper　comprehension　of　all　the　significance　of　the　scene　he　saw　passing　between　his　father；　Princess　Marya；　and　Natasha　than　he　had　now。　He　understood　it　all；　and　without　weeping；　went　out　of　the　room；　in　silence　went　up　to　Natasha；　who　had　followed　him　out；　glanced　shyly　at　her　with　his　beautiful；　dreamy　eyes：　his　uplifted；　rosy　upper　lip　quivered；　he　leaned　his　head　against　her；　and　burst　into　tears。
From　that　day　he　avoided　Dessalle；　avoided　the　countess；　who　would　have　petted　him；　and　either　sat　alone；　or　shyly　joined　Princess　Marya　and　Natasha；　whom　he　seemed　to　love　even　more　than　his　aunt；　and　bestowed　shy　and　gentle　caresses　upon　them。
When　Princess　Marya　left　her　brother’s　side；　she　fully　understood　all　that　Natasha’s　face　had　told　her。　She　spoke　no　more　to　Natasha　of　hope　of　saving　his　life。　She　took　turns　with　her　by　his　bedside；　and　she　shed　no　more　tears；　but　prayed　without　ceasing；　turning　in　spirit　to　the　Eternal　and　Unfathomable　whose　presence　was　palpable　now；　hovering　over　the　dying　man。


Chapter　16
PRINCE　ANDREY　did　not　only　know　that　he　would　die；　but　felt　indeed　that　he　was　dying；　that　he　was　already　half…dead。　He　experienced　a　sense　of　aloofness　from　everything　earthly；　and　a　strange　and　joyous　lightness　in　his　being。　Neither　impatient；　nor　troubled；　he　lay　awaiting　what　was　before　him。…　The　menacing；　the　eternal；　the　unknown；　and　remote；　the　presence　of　which　he　had　never　ceased　to　feel　during　the　whole　course　of　his　life；　was　now　close　to　him；　and—from　that　strange　lightness　of　being；　that　he　experienced—almost　comprehensible　and　palpable。
In　the　past　he　had　dreaded　the　end。　Twice　he　had　experienced　that　terribly　agonising　feeling　of　the　dread　of　death；　of　the　end；　and　now　he　had　ceased　to　understand　it。
The　first　time　he　had　experienced　that　feeling　when　the　grenade　was　rotating　before　him；　and　he　looked　at　the　stubble；　at　the　bushes；　at　the　sky；　and　knew　that　death　was　facing　him。　When　he　had　come　to　himself　after　his　wound；　and　instantly；　as　though　set　free　from　the　cramping　bondage　of　life；　there　had　sprung　up　in　his　soul　that　flower　of　love；　eternal；　free；　not　dependent　on　this　life；　he　had　no　more　fear；　and　no