战争与和平(上)-第376章

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The　princess　rose　swiftly　to　meet　him；　and　held　out　her　hand。
“Yes；”　she　said；　scrutinising　his　altered　face；　after　he　had　kissed　her　hand；　“so　this　is　how　we　meet　again。　He　often　talked　of　you　at　the　last；”　she　said；　turning　her　eyes　from　Pierre　to　the　companion　with　a　sort　of　bashfulness　that　struck　him。
“I　was　so　glad　to　hear　of　your　safety。　It　was　the　only　piece　of　good　news　we　had　had　for　a　long　time。”
Again　the　princess　glanced　still　more　uneasily　at　the　companion；　and　would　have　spoken；　but　Pierre　interrupted　her。
“Only　imagine；　I　knew　nothing　about　him；”　he　said。　“I　believed　he　had　been　killed。　All　I　have　heard　has　been　through　others；　at　third…hand。　I　only　know　that　he　fell　in　with　the　Rostovs。…　What　a　strange　stroke　of　destiny！”
Pierre　talked　rapidly；　eagerly。　He　glanced　once　at　the　companion’s　face；　saw　attentively　friendly；　inquiring　eyes　fixed　upon　him；　and　as　often　happens；　while　talking；　he　vaguely　felt　that　this　lady…companion　in　the　black　dress　was　a　good；　kind；　friendly　creature；　who　need　be　no　hindrance　to　his　talking　freely　to　Princess　Marya。
But　as　he　uttered　the　last　words　about　the　Rostovs；　the　embarrassment　in　Princess　Marya’s　face　became　even　more　marked。　Again　her　eyes　shifted　from　Pierre’s　face　to　the　face　of　the　lady　in　the　black　dress；　and　she　said：
“You　don’t　recognise　her？”
Pierre　glanced　once　more　at　the　pale；　thin　face　of　her　companion；　with　its　black　eyes　and　strange　mouth。　Something　very　near　to　him；　long　forgotten；　and　more　than　sweet；　gazed　at　him　out　of　those　intent　eyes。
“But　no；　it　cannot　be；”　he　thought。　“That　stern；　thin；　pale　face　that　looks　so　much　older？　It　cannot　be　she。　It　is　only　a　reminder　of　it。”
But　at　that　moment　Princess　Marya　said；　“Natasha！”
And　the　face　with　the　intent　eyes—painfully；　with　effort；　like　a　rusty　door　opening—smiled；　and　through　that　opened　door　there　floated　to　Pierre　a　sudden；　overwhelming　rush　of　long…forgotten　bliss；　of　which；　especially　now；　he　had　no　thought。　It　breathed　upon　him；　overwhelmed　him；　and　swallowed　him　up　entirely。　When　she　smiled；　there　could　be　no　doubt。　It　was　Natasha；　and　he　loved　her。
In　that　first　minute　Pierre　unwittingly　betrayed　to　her　and　to　Princess　Marya；　and　most　of　all　to　himself；　the　secret　of　which　he　had　been　himself　unaware。　He　flushed　joyfully；　and　with　agonising　distress。　He　tried　to　conceal　his　emotion。　But　the　more　he　tried　to　conceal　it；　the　more　clearly—more　clearly　than　if　he　had　uttered　the　most　definite　words—he　betrayed　to　himself；　and　to　her；　and　to　Princess　Marya；　that　he　loved　her。
“No；　it　is　nothing；　it’s　the　sudden　surprise；”　Pierre　thought。　But　as　soon　as　he　tried　to　go　on　with　the　conversation　with　Princess　Marya；　he　glanced　again　at　Natasha；　and　a　still　deeper　flush　spread　over　his　face；　and　a　still　more　violent　wave　of　rapture　and　terror　flooded　his　heart。　He　stammered　in　his　speech；　and　stopped　short　in　the　middle　of　a　sentence。
Pierre　had　not　noticed　Natasha　because　he　had　never　expected　to　see　her　here；　but　he　had　not　recognised　her　because　the　change　that　had　taken　place　in　her　since　he　had　seen　her　was　immense。　She　had　grown　thin　and　pale。　But　it　was　not　that　that　made　her　unrecognisable。　No　one　could　have　recognised　her　at　the　moment　when　he　entered；　because　when　he　first　glanced　at　her　there　was　no　trace　of　a　smile　in　the　eyes　that　in　old　days　had　always　beamed　with　a　suppressed　smile　of　the　joy　of　life。　They　were　intent；　kindly　eyes；　full　of　mournful　inquiry；　and　nothing　more。
Pierre’s　embarrassment　was　not　reflected　in　a　corresponding　embarrassment　in　Natasha；　but　only　in　a　look　of　pleasure；　that　faintly　lighted　up　her　whole　face。


Chapter　16
“SHE　has　come　to　stay　with　me；”　said　Princess　Marya。　“The　count　and　the　countess　will　be　here　in　a　few　days。　The　countess　is　in　a　terrible　state。　But　Natasha　herself　had　to　see　the　doctors。　They　made　her　come　away　with　me。”
“Yes。　Is　there　a　family　without　its　own　sorrow？”　said　Pierre；　turning　to　Natasha。　“You　know　it　happened　the　very　day　we　were　rescued。　I　saw　him。　What　a　splendid　boy　he　was！”
Natasha　looked　at　him；　and；　in　answer　to　his　words；　her　eyes　only　opened　wider　and　grew　brighter。
“What　can　one　say；　or　think；　to　give　comfort？”　said　Pierre。　“Nothing。　Why　had　he　to　die；　such　a　noble　boy；　so　full　of　life？”
“Yes；　in　these　days　it　would　be　hard　to　live　without　faith　…”　said　Princess　Marya。
“Yes；　yes。　That　is　true；　indeed；”　Pierre　put　in　hurriedly。
“How　so？”　Natasha　asked；　looking　intently　into　Pierre’s　eyes。
“How　so？”　said　Princess　Marya。　“Why；　only　the　thought　of　what　awaits　…”
Natasha；　not　heeding　Princess　Marya’s　words；　looked　again　inquiringly　at　Pierre。
“And　because；”　Pierre　went　on；　“only　one　who　believes　that　there　is　a　God　guiding　our　lives　can　bear　such　a　loss　as　hers；　and　…　yours；”　said　Pierre。
Natasha　opened　her　mouth；　as　though　she　would　say　something；　but　she　suddenly　stopped。
Pierre　made　haste　to　turn　away　from　her；　and　to　address　Princess　Marya　again　with　a　question　about　the　last　days　of　his　friend’s　life。　Pierre’s　embarrassment　had　by　now　almost　disappeared；　but　at　the　same　time　he　felt　that　all　his　former　freedom　had　vanished　too。　He　felt　that　there　was　now　a　judge　criticising　every　word；　every　action　of　his；　a　judge　whose　verdict　was　of　greater　consequence　to　him　than　the　verdict　of　all　the　people　in　the　world。　As　he　talked　now　he　was　considering　the　impression　his　words　were　making　on　Natasha　as　he　uttered　them。　He　did　not　intentionally　say　what　might　please　her；　but　whatever　he　said；　he　looked　at　himself　from　her　point　of　view。
With　the　unwillingness　usual　in　such　cases；　Princess　Marya　began　telling　Pierre　of　the　position　in　which　she　had　found　her　brother。　But　Pierre’s　questions；　his　eagerly　restless　glance；　his　face　quivering　with　emotion；　gradually　induced　her　to　go　into　details　which　she　shrank；　for　her　own　sake；　from　recalling　to　her　imagination。
“Yes；　yes；　…”　said　Pierre；　bending　forward　over　Princess　Marya；　and　eagerly　drinking　in　her　words。　“Yes；　yes。　So　he　found　peace？　He　was　softened？　He　was　always　striving　with　his　whole　soul　for　one　thing　only：　to　be　entirely　good；　so　that　he　could　not　dread　death。　The　defects　that　were　in　him—if　he　had　any—did　not　come　from　himself。　So　he　was　softened？”　he　said。
“What　a　happy　thing　that　he　saw　you　again；”　he　said　to　Natasha；　turning　suddenly　to　her；　and　looking　at　her　with　eyes　full　of　tears。
Natasha’s　face　quivered。　She　frowned；　and　for　an　instant　dropped　her　eyes。　For　a　moment　she　hesitated　whether　to　speak　or　not　to　speak。
“Yes；　it　was　a　great　happiness；”　she　said　in　a　low；　deep　voice；　“for　me　it　was　certainly　a　great　happiness。”　She　paused。　“And　he　…　he　…　he　told　me　he　was　longing　for　it　the　very　moment　I　went　in　to　him　…”　Natasha’s　voice　broke。　She　flushed；　squeezed　her　hands　against　her　knees　and　suddenly；　with　an　evident　effort　to　control　herself；　she　lifted　her　head　and　began　speaking　rapidly：
“We　knew　nothing　about　it　when　we　were　leaving　Moscow。　I　did　not　dare　ask　about　him。　And　all　at　once　Sonya　told　me　he　was　with　us。　I　could　think　of　nothing；　I　had　no　conception　in　what　state　he　was；　all　I　wanted　was　to　see　him—to　be　with　him；”　she　said；　trembling　and　breathless。　And　not　letting　them　interrupt　her；　she　told　all　that　she　had　never　spoken　of　to　any　one　before；　all　she　had　gone　through　in　those　three　weeks　of　their　journey　and　their　stay　in　Yaroslavl。
Pierre　heard　her　with　parted　lips　and　eyes　full　of　tears　fastened　upon　her。　As　he　listened　to　her；　he　was　not　thinking　of　Prince　Andrey；　nor　of　death；　nor　of　what　she　was　saying。　He　heard　her　voice　and　only　pitied　her　for　the　anguish　she　was　feeling　now　in　telling　him。
The　princess；　frowning　in　the　effort　to　restrain　her　tears；　sat　by　Natasha’s　side　and　heard　for　the　first　time　the　story　of　those　last　days　of　her　brother’s　and　Natasha’s　love。
To　speak　of　that　agonising　and　joyous　time　was　evidently　necessary　to　Natasha。
She　talked　on；　mingling　up　the　most　insignificant　details　with　the　most　secret　feelings　of　her　heart；　and　it　seemed　as　though　she　could　never　finish。　Several　times　she　said　the　same　thing　twice。
Dessalle’s　voice　was　heard　at　the　door　asking　whether　Nikolushka　might　come　in　to　say　good…nig