Book One: 1805 - Chapter VIII

by Leo Tolstoy

　　The friends were silent. Neither cared to begin talking. Pierrecontinually glanced at Prince Andrew; Prince Andrew rubbed hisforehead with his small hand.

　　"Let us go and have supper," he said with a sigh, going to the door.

　　They entered the elegant, newly decorated, and luxurious diningroom. Everything from the table napkins to the silver, china, andglass bore that imprint of newness found in the households of thenewly married. Halfway through supper Prince Andrew leaned hiselbows on the table and, with a look of nervous agitation such asPierre had never before seen on his face, began to talk- as one whohas long had something on his mind and suddenly determines to speakout.

　　"Never, never marry, my dear fellow! That's my advice: never marrytill you can say to yourself that you have done all you are capableof, and until you have ceased to love the woman of your choice andhave seen her plainly as she is, or else you will make a cruel andirrevocable mistake. Marry when you are old and good for nothing- orall that is good and noble in you will be lost. It will all bewasted on trifles. Yes! Yes! Yes! Don't look at me with such surprise.If you marry expecting anything from yourself in the future, youwill feel at every step that for you all is ended, all is closedexcept the drawing room, where you will be ranged side by side witha court lackey and an idiot!... But what's the good?..." and hewaved his arm.

　　Pierre took off his spectacles, which made his face seem differentand the good-natured expression still more apparent, and gazed athis friend in amazement.

　　"My wife," continued Prince Andrew, "is an excellent woman, one ofthose rare women with whom a man's honor is safe; but, O God, whatwould I not give now to be unmarried! You are the first and only oneto whom I mention this, because I like you."

　　As he said this Prince Andrew was less than ever like that Bolkonskiwho had lolled in Anna Pavlovna's easy chairs and with half-closedeyes had uttered French phrases between his teeth. Every muscle of histhin face was now quivering with nervous excitement; his eyes, inwhich the fire of life had seemed extinguished, now flashed withbrilliant light. It was evident that the more lifeless he seemed atordinary times, the more impassioned he became in these moments ofalmost morbid irritation.

　　"You don't understand why I say this," he continued, "but it isthe whole story of life. You talk of Bonaparte and his career," saidhe (though Pierre had not mentioned Bonaparte), "but Bonaparte when heworked went step by step toward his goal. He was free, he hadnothing but his aim to consider, and he reached it. But tie yourselfup with a woman and, like a chained convict, you lose all freedom! Andall you have of hope and strength merely weighs you down andtorments you with regret. Drawing rooms, gossip, balls, vanity, andtriviality- these are the enchanted circle I cannot escape from. Iam now going to the war, the greatest war there ever was, and I knownothing and am fit for nothing. I am very amiable and have a causticwit," continued Prince Andrew, "and at Anna Pavlovna's they listento me. And that stupid set without whom my wife cannot exist, andthose women... If you only knew what those society women are, andwomen in general! My father is right. Selfish, vain, stupid, trivialin everything- that's what women are when you see them in their truecolors! When you meet them in society it seems as if there weresomething in them, but there's nothing, nothing, nothing! No, don'tmarry, my dear fellow; don't marry!" concluded Prince Andrew.

　　"It seems funny to me," said Pierre, "that you, you shouldconsider yourself incapable and your life a spoiled life. You haveeverything before you, everything. And you..."

　　He did not finish his sentence, but his tone showed how highly hethought of his friend and how much he expected of him in the future.

　　"How can he talk like that?" thought Pierre. He considered hisfriend a model of perfection because Prince Andrew possessed in thehighest degree just the very qualities Pierre lacked, and whichmight be best described as strength of will. Pierre was alwaysastonished at Prince Andrew's calm manner of treating everybody, hisextraordinary memory, his extensive reading (he had read everything,knew everything, and had an opinion about everything), but above allat his capacity for work and study. And if Pierre was often struckby Andrew's lack of capacity for philosophical meditation (to which hehimself was particularly addicted), he regarded even this not as adefect but as a sign of strength.

　　Even in the best, most friendly and simplest relations of life,praise and commendation are essential, just as grease is necessaryto wheels that they may run smoothly.

　　"My part is played out," said Prince Andrew. "What's the use oftalking about me? Let us talk about you," he added after a silence,smiling at his reassuring thoughts.

　　That smile was immediately reflected on Pierre's face.

　　"But what is there to say about me?" said Pierre, his facerelaxing into a careless, merry smile. "What am I? An illegitimateson!" He suddenly blushed crimson, and it was plain that he had made agreat effort to say this. "Without a name and without means... Andit really..." But he did not say what "it really" was. "For thepresent I am free and am all right. Only I haven't the least idea whatI am to do; I wanted to consult you seriously."

　　Prince Andrew looked kindly at him, yet his glance- friendly andaffectionate as it was- expressed a sense of his own superiority.

　　"I am fond of you, especially as you are the one live man amongour whole set. Yes, you're all right! Choose what you will; it's allthe same. You'll be all right anywhere. But look here: give upvisiting those Kuragins and leading that sort of life. It suits you sobadly- all this debauchery, dissipation, and the rest of it!"

　　"What would you have, my dear fellow?" answered Pierre, shrugginghis shoulders. "Women, my dear fellow; women!"

　　"I don't understand it," replied Prince Andrew. "Women who are commeil faut, that's a different matter; but the Kuragins' set of women,'women and wine' I don't understand!"

　　Pierre was staying at Prince Vasili Kuragin's and sharing thedissipated life of his son Anatole, the son whom they were planning toreform by marrying him to Prince Andrew's sister.

　　"Do you know?" said Pierre, as if suddenly struck by a happythought, "seriously, I have long been thinking of it.... Leadingsuch a life I can't decide or think properly about anything. One'shead aches, and one spends all one's money. He asked me for tonight,but I won't go."

　　"You give me your word of honor not to go?"

　　"On my honor!"