战争与和平(上)-第365章

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lounge　in　her　room；　made　her　drink　and　eat；　and　without　pause　talked　to　her；　talked　because　her　tender；　loving　voice　was　the　only　thing　that　soothed　the　countess。
The　wound　in　the　mother’s　heart　could　never　be　healed。　Petya’s　death　had　torn　away　half　of　her　life。　When　the　news　of　Petya’s　death　reached　her；　she　was　a　fresh…looking；　vigorous　woman　of　fifty；　a　month　later　she　came　out　of　her　room　an　old　woman；　half　dead　and　with　no　more　interest　in　life。　But　the　wound　that　half　killed　the　countess；　that　fresh　wound；　brought　Natasha　back　to　life。
A　spiritual　wound　that　comes　from　a　rending　of　the　spirit　is　like　a　physical　wound；　and　after　it　has　healed　externally；　and　the　torn　edges　are　scarred　over；　yet；　strange　to　say；　like　a　deep　physical　injury；　it　only　heals　inwardly　by　the　force　of　life　pushing　up　from　within。
So　Natasha’s　wound　healed。　She　believed　that　her　life　was　over。　But　suddenly　her　love　for　her　mother　showed　her　that　the　essence　of　her　life—love—was　still　alive　within　her。　Love　was　awakened；　and　life　waked　with　it。
The　last　days　of　Prince　Andrey　had　been　a　close　bond　between　Natasha　and　Princess　Marya。　This　fresh　trouble　brought　them　even　closer　together。　Princess　Marya　put　off　her　departure；　and　for　the　last　three　weeks　she　had　been　looking　after　Natasha；　as　though　she　were　a　sick　child。　Those　weeks　spent　by　Natasha　in　her　mother’s　room　had　completely　broken　down　her　health。
One　day　Princess　Marya　noticed　that　Natasha　was　shivering　with　a　feverish　chill；　and　brought　her　away　to　her　own　room；　and　tucked　her　up　in　bed　in　the　middle　of　the　day。　Natasha　lay　down；　but　when　Princess　Marya；　having　let　down　the　blinds；　was　about　to　leave　the　room；　Natasha　called　her　to　her。
“I’m　not　sleepy；　Marie；　stay　with　me。”
“You　are　tired；　try　and　go　to　sleep。”
“No；　no。　Why　did　you　bring　me　away？　She　will　ask　for　me。”
“She　is　much　better。　She　was　talking　much　more　like　herself　to…day；”　said　Princess　Marya。
Natasha　lay　on　the　bed；　and　in　the　half…dark　room　she　tried　to　make　out　Princess　Marya’s　face。
“Is　she　like　him？”　Natasha　wondered。　“Yes；　like　and　unlike。　But　she　is　original；　different；　a　quite　new；　unknown　person。　And　she　likes　me。　What　is　there　in　her　heart？　Everything　good。　But　what　is　it　like？　What　are　her　thoughts　like？　How　does　she　look　on　me？　Yes；　she　is　nice！”
“Masha；”　she　said；　shyly　drawing　her　hand　towards　her。　“Masha；　you　mustn’t　think　I’m　horrid。　No？　Masha；　darling！　How　I　love　you！　Let　us　be　quite；　quite　friends。”　And　embracing　her；　Natasha　fell　to　kissing　her　hands　and　face。
Princess　Marya　was　abashed　and　overjoyed　at　this　demonstration　of　feeling。
From　that　day　there　sprang　up　between　Princess　Marya　and　Natasha　one　of　those　tender　and　passionate　friendships　which　can　only　exist　between　women。　They　were　continually　kissing　each　other　and　saying　tender　things　to　one　another；　and　they　spent　the　greater　part　of　their　time　together。　If　one　went　away；　the　other　was　uneasy　and　hastened　to　join　her。　They　felt　more　harmony　together　with　each　other　than　apart；　each　with　herself。　There　sprang　up　between　them　a　feeling　stronger　than　friendship；　that　was　the　feeling　of　life　being　only　possible　in　each　other’s　company。
Sometimes　they　did　not　speak　for　hours　together。　Sometimes；　as　they　lay　in　their　beds；　they　would　begin　to　talk；　and　talked　till　morning。　They　talked；　for　the　most　part；　of　their　own　remote　past。　Princess　Marya　told　her　of　her　childhood；　of　her　mother；　of　her　father；　of　her　dreams。　And　Natasha；　who　had　in　the　past　turned　away　with　calm　acceptance　of　her　non…comprehension　of　that　life　of　devotion　and　resignation；　of　the　idealism　of　Christian　self…sacrifice；　grew　to　love　Princess　Marya’s　past；　and　to　understand　that　side　of　life　of　which　she　had　had　no　conception　before。　She　had　no　thought　of　imitating　that　resignation　and　self…sacrifice　in　her　own　life；　because　she　was　accustomed　to　look　for　other　joys　in　life；　but　she　understood　and　loved　in　another　that　virtue　that　had　been　till　now　beyond　her　ken。　Princess　Marya；　too；　as　she　listened　to　Natasha’s　stories　of　her　childhood　and　early　girlhood；　had　a　glimpse　of　a　side　of　life　she　had　known　nothing　of；　of　faith　in　life　and　in　the　enjoyment　of　life。
They　still　refrained　from　talking　of　him；　that　they　might　not；　as　seemed　to　them；　desecrate　the　exalted　feeling　in　their　hearts；　but　this　reticence　led　them；　though　they　would　not　have　believed　it；　into　gradually　forgetting　him。
Natasha　had　grown　thin　and　pale；　and　was　physically　so　weak　that　every　one　was　continually　talking　about　her　health；　and　she　was　glad　it　was　so。　Yet　sometimes　she　was　suddenly　seized；　not　simply　by　a　dread　of　death；　but　by　a　dread　of　sickness；　of　ill…health；　of　losing　her　good　looks；　and　sometimes　she　unconsciously　examined　her　bare　arm；　marvelling　at　its　thinness；　or　peeped　in　the　looking…glass　in　the　morning　at　her　pinched　face；　and　was　touched　by　its　piteous　look。　It　seemed　to　her　that　this　was　as　it　should　be；　and　yet　she　felt　afraid　and　mournful　at　it。
One　day　she　ran　upstairs　quickly；　and　was　painfully　short　of　breath。　Immediately　she　made　some　pretext　for　going　down　again；　and　ran　upstairs　again；　to　try　her　strength　and　put　herself　to　the　test。
Another　day　she　called　Dunyasha；　and　her　voice　broke。　She　called　her　once　more；　though　she　heard　her　coming—called　her　in　the　deep　chest　voice　with　which　she　used　to　sing；　and　listened　to　the　sound。
She　knew　it　not；　and　would　not　have　believed　it　yet　though　the　layer　of　mould　under　which　she　fancied　that　her　soul　was　buried　seemed　unbroken；　the　delicate；　tender；　young　blades　of　grass　were　already　pushing　through　it；　and　were　destined　to　take　root；　and　so　to　hide　the　grief　that　had　crushed　her　under　their　living　shoots　that　it　would　soon　be　unseen　and　forgotten。　The　wound　was　healing　from　within。
Towards　the　end　of　January　Princess　Marya　set　off　for　Moscow；　and　the　count　insisted　on　Natasha　going　with　her　to　consult　the　doctors。


Chapter　4
AFTER　THE　ENGAGEMENT　at　Vyazma；　where　Kutuzov　could　not　restrain　his　troops　in　their　desire　to　break　through；　to　cut　off　and　all　the　rest　of　it；　the　further　march　of　the　flying　French；　and　of　the　Russians　flying　after　them；　continued　as　far　as　Krasnoe　without　a　battle。　The　flight　was　so　rapid　that　the　Russian　army　racing　after　the　French　could　not　catch　them　up；　the　horses　of　the　cavalry　and　artillery　broke　down；　and　information　as　to　the　movements　of　the　French　was　always　very　uncertain。
The　Russian　soldiers　were　so　exhausted　by　this　unbroken　march　at　the　rate　of　forty　versts　a　day　that　they　were　unable　to　quicken　their　pace。
To　form　an　idea　of　the　degree　of　exhaustion　of　the　Russian　army；　one　need　only　grasp　clearly　what　is　meant　by　the　fact　that　while　losing　no　more　than　five　thousand　killed　and　wounded；　and　not　a　hundred　prisoners；　the　Russian　army；　which　had　left　Tarutino　a　hundred　thousand　strong；　numbered　only　fifty　thousand　on　reaching　Krasnoe。
The　rapidity　of　the　Russian　pursuit　had　as　disintegrating　an　effect　on　the　Russian　army　as　the　flight　of　the　French　had　on　their　army。　The　only　difference　was　that　the　Russian　army　moved　at　its　own　will；　free　from　the　menace　of　annihilation　that　hung　over　the　French；　and　that　the　sick　and　stragglers　of　the　French　were　left　in　the　hands　of　their　enemy；　while　Russian　stragglers　were　at　home　among　their　own　people。　The　chief　cause　of　the　wasting　of　Napoleon’s　army　was　the　rapidity　of　its　movements；　and　an　indubitable　proof　of　that　is　to　be　seen　in　the　corresponding　dwindling　of　the　Russian　army。
Just　as　at　Tarutino　and　at　Vyazma；　all　Kutuzov’s　energies　were　directed　to　preventing—so　far　as　it　lay　in　his　power—any　arrest　of　the　fatal　flight　of　the　French　from　being　checked　（as　the　Russian　generals　in　Petersburg；　and　also　in　the　army；　wished　it　to　be）。　He　did　all　he　could　to　urge　on　the　flight　of　the　French；　and　to　slacken　the　speed　of　his　own　army。
In　addition　to　the　exhaustion　of　the　men；　and　the　immense　losses　due　to　the　rapidity　of　their　movements；　Kutuzov　saw　another　reason　for　slackening　the　pace；　and　not　being　in　a　hurry。　The　object　of　the　Russian　army　was　the　pursuit　of　the　French。　The　route　of　the　French　was　uncertain；　and　therefore　the　more　closely　our　soldiers　followed　the　heels　of　the　French；　the　greater　the