第397章

第397章afewintimatefriendswere,asusualonsundays,diningwiththerostovs.

pierrecameearly,hopingtofindthemalone.

pierrehadthatyeargrownsostout,thathewouldhavebeengrotesque,hadnothebeensotall,sobroad-shouldered,andsopowerfullybuiltthathecarriedoffhisbulkyproportionswithevidentease.

puffing,andmutteringsomethingtohimself,hewentupthestairs.hiscoachmandidnotevenaskwhetherheshouldwait.heknewthatwhenthecountwasattherostovs’,itwastillmidnight.therostovs’footmenranwitheagerwelcometotakeoffhiscloak,andtakehisstickandhat.fromthehabitoftheclub,pierrealwayslefthisstickandhatinthevestibule.

thefirstpersonhesawattherostovs’wasnatasha.beforehesawher,whiletakingoffhiscloak,heheardher.shewaspractisinghersolfaexercisesinthehall.heknewshehadgivenupsingingsinceherillness,andsohewassurprisedanddelightedatthesoundofhervoice.heopenedthedoorsoftly,andsawnatasha,inthelilacdressshehadwornattheservice,walkingupanddowntheroomsinging.shehadherbackturnedtohimasheopenedthedoor;butwhensheturnedsharplyroundandsawhisbroad,surprisedface,sheflushedandranquicklyuptohim.

“iwanttotryandsingagain,”shesaid.“it’ssomethingtodo,anyway,”sheaddedasthoughinexcuse.

“quiterighttoo！”

“howgladiamyouhavecome！i’msohappyto-day,”shesaidwiththeoldeagernessthatpierrehadnotseenforsolong.“youknow,nikolenkahasgotthest.george’scross.i’msoproudofhim.”

“ofcourse,isentyoutheannouncement.well,iwon’tinterruptyou,”headded,andwouldhavegoneontothedrawing-room.

natashastoppedhim.

“count,isitwrongofmetosing？”shesaid,blushing,butstillkeepinghereyesfixedinquiringlyonpierre.

“no.…whyshoulditbe？onthecontrary.…butwhydoyouaskme？”

“idon’tknowmyself,”natashaansweredquickly;“butishouldn’tliketodoanythingyouwouldn’tlike.itrustyouineverything.youdon’tknowhowmuchyouaretome,andwhatagreatdealyouhavedoneforme！”…shespokequickly,anddidnotnoticehowpierreflushedatthesewords.“isawinthatannouncement,he,bolkonsky”（sheutteredthewordinarapidwhisper）,“heisinrussia,andinthearmyagain.whatdoyouthink,”shesaidhurriedly,evidentlyinhastetospeakbecauseshewasafraidherstrengthwouldfailher,“willheeverforgiveme？willhenotalwayshaveanevilfeelingforme？whatdoyouthink？whatdoyouthink？”

“ithink…”saidpierre.“hehasnothingtoforgive…ifiwereinhisplace…”fromassociationofideas,pierrewasinstantlycarriedbackinimaginationtothetimewhenhehadcomfortedherbysayingthatifhewerenothimself,butthebestmanintheworldandfree,hewouldbegonhiskneesforherhand,andthesamefeelingofpity,tenderness,andlovetookpossessionofhim,andthesamewordsrosetohislips.butshedidnotgivehimtimetoutterthem.

“yes,you—you,”shesaid,utteringthatwordyouwithenthusiasm,“that’sadifferentmatter.anyonekinder,moregenerousthanyou,ihaveneverknown—noonecouldbe.ifithadnotbeenforyouthen,andnowtoo…idon’tknowwhatwouldhavebecomeofme,because…”tearssuddenlycameintohereyes：sheturnedaway,heldhermusicbeforehereyes,andbeganagainsingingandwalkingupanddowntheroom.

atthatmomentpetyaraninfromthedrawing-room.

petyawasbynowahandsome,rosyladoffifteen,withfullredlips,verylikenatasha.hewasbeingpreparedfortheuniversity,buthadlatelyresolvedinsecretwithhiscomrade,obolensky,togointothehussars.

petyarusheduptohisnamesake,pierre,totalktohimofthisscheme.

hehadedhimtofindoutwhetherhewouldbeacceptedinthehussars.

pierrewalkedaboutthedrawing-room,notheedingpetya.

theboypulledhimbythearmtoattracthisattention.

“come,tellmeaboutmyplan,pyotrkirillitch,formercy’ssake！you’remyonlyhope,”saidpetya.

“ohyes,yourplan.tobeanhussar？i’llspeakaboutit;to-dayi’lltellthemallaboutit.”

“well,mydearfellow,haveyougotthemanifesto？”askedtheoldcount.“mylittlecountesswasattheserviceintherazumovskys’chapel;sheheardthenewprayerthere.veryfineitwas,shetellsme.”

“yes,ihavegotit,”answeredpierre.“thetsarwillbeheretomorrow.…there’stobeanextraordinarymeetingofthenobilityandalevytheysayoftenperthousand.oh,icongratulateyou.”

“yes,yes,thankgod.well,andwhatnewsfromthearmy？”

“oursoldiershaveretreatedagain.theyarebeforesmolensk,theysay,”answeredpierre.

“mercyonus,mercyonus！”saidthecount.“where’sthemanifesto？”

“thetsar’sappeal？ah,yes！”pierrebeganlookingforthepapersinhispockets,andcouldnotfindthem.stillslappinghispockets,hekissedthecountess’shandasshecamein,andlookedrounduneasily,evidentlyexpectingnatasha,whohadleftoffsingingnow,buthadnotcomeintothedrawing-room.“goodheavens,idon’tknowwhereihaveputit,”hesaid.

“tobesure,healwaysmislayseverything,”saidthecountess.

natashacameinwithasoftenedandagitatedfaceandsatdown,lookingmutelyatpierre.assoonasshecameintotheroom,pierre’sface,whichhadbeenovercast,brightened,andwhilestillseekingforthepaper,helookedseveraltimesintentlyather.

“bygod,i’lldriveround,imusthaveforgottenthemathome.ofcourse…”

“why,youwillbelatefordinner.”

“oh！andthecoachmanhasnotwaited.”

butsonyahadgoneintothevestibuletolookforthepapers,andtherefoundtheminpierre’shat,wherehehadcarefullyputthemunderthelining.pierrewouldhavereadthem.

“no,afterdinner,”saidtheoldcount,whowasobviouslylookingforwardtothereadingofthemasagreattreat.