Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter II

by Leo Tolstoy

　　At the beginning of winter Prince Nicholas Bolkonski and hisdaughter moved to Moscow. At that time enthusiasm for the EmperorAlexander's regime had weakened and a patriotic and anti-Frenchtendency prevailed there, and this, together with his past and hisintellect and his originality, at once made Prince NicholasBolkonski an object of particular respect to the Moscovites and thecenter of the Moscow opposition to the government.

　　The prince had aged very much that year. He showed marked signs ofsenility by a tendency to fall asleep, forgetfulness of quite recentevents, remembrance of remote ones, and the childish vanity with whichhe accepted the role of head of the Moscow opposition. In spite ofthis the old man inspired in all his visitors alike a feeling ofrespectful veneration- especially of an evening when he came in to teain his old-fashioned coat and powdered wig and, aroused by anyone,told his abrupt stories of the past, or uttered yet more abrupt andscathing criticisms of the present. For them all, that old-fashionedhouse with its gigantic mirrors, pre-Revolution furniture, powderedfootmen, and the stern shrewd old man (himself a relic of the pastcentury) with his gentle daughter and the pretty Frenchwoman whowere reverently devoted to him presented a majestic and agreeablespectacle. But the visitors did not reflect that besides the couple ofhours during which they saw their host, there were also twenty-twohours in the day during which the private and intimate life of thehouse continued.

　　Latterly that private life had become very trying for Princess Mary.There in Moscow she was deprived of her greatest pleasures- talks withthe pilgrims and the solitude which refreshed her at Bald Hills- andshe had none of the advantages and pleasures of city life. She did notgo out into society; everyone knew that her father would not let hergo anywhere without him, and his failing health prevented his goingout himself, so that she was not invited to dinners and eveningparties. She had quite abandoned the hope of getting married. Shesaw the coldness and malevolence with which the old prince receivedand dismissed the young men, possible suitors, who sometimesappeared at their house. She had no friends: during this visit toMoscow she had been disappointed in the two who had been nearest toher. Mademoiselle Bourienne, with whom she had never been able to bequite frank, had now become unpleasant to her, and for various reasonsPrincess Mary avoided her. Julie, with whom she had corresponded forthe last five years, was in Moscow, but proved to be quite alien toher when they met. Just then Julie, who by the death of her brothershad become one of the richest heiresses in Moscow, was in the fullwhirl of society pleasures. She was surrounded by young men who, shefancied, had suddenly learned to appreciate her worth. Julie was atthat stage in the life of a society woman when she feels that her lastchance of marrying has come and that her fate must be decided now ornever. On Thursdays Princess Mary remembered with a mournful smilethat she now had no one to write to, since Julie- whose presencegave her no pleasure was here and they met every week. Like the oldemigre who declined to marry the lady with whom he had spent hisevenings for years, she regretted Julie's presence and having no oneto write to. In Moscow Princess Mary had no one to talk to, no oneto whom to confide her sorrow, and much sorrow fell to her lot justthen. The time for Prince Andrew's return and marriage wasapproaching, but his request to her to prepare his father for it hadnot been carried out; in fact, it seemed as if matters were quitehopeless, for at every mention of the young Countess Rostova the oldprince (who apart from that was usually in a bad temper) lostcontrol of himself. Another lately added sorrow arose from the lessonsshe gave her six year-old nephew. To her consternation she detected inherself in relation to little Nicholas some symptoms of her father'sirritability. However often she told herself that she must not getirritable when teaching her nephew, almost every time that, pointer inhand, she sat down to show him the French alphabet, she so longed topour her own knowledge quickly and easily into the child- who wasalready afraid that Auntie might at any moment get angry- that athis slightest inattention she trembled, became flustered and heated,raised her voice, and sometimes pulled him by the arm and put him inthe corner. Having put him in the corner she would herself begin tocry over her cruel, evil nature, and little Nicholas, following herexample, would sob, and without permission would leave his corner,come to her, pull her wet hands from her face, and comfort her. Butwhat distressed the princess most of all was her father'sirritability, which was always directed against her and had of lateamounted to cruelty. Had he forced her to prostrate herself to theground all night, had he beaten her or made her fetch wood or water,it would never have entered her mind to think her position hard; butthis loving despot- the more cruel because he loved her and for thatreason tormented himself and her- knew how not merely to hurt andhumiliate her deliberately, but to show her that she was always toblame for everything. Of late he had exhibited a new trait thattormented Princess Mary more than anything else; this was hisever-increasing intimacy with Mademoiselle Bourienne. The idea that atthe first moment of receiving the news of his son's intentions hadoccurred to him in jest- that if Andrew got married he himself wouldmarry Bourienne- had evidently pleased him, and latterly he hadpersistently, and as it seemed to Princess Mary merely to offendher, shown special endearments to the companion and expressed hisdissatisfaction with his daughter by demonstrations of love ofBourienne.

　　One day in Moscow in Princess Mary's presence (she thought herfather did it purposely when she was there) the old prince kissedMademoiselle Bourienne's hand and, drawing her to him, embraced heraffectionately. Princess Mary flushed and ran out of the room. A fewminutes later Mademoiselle Bourienne came into Princess Mary's roomsmiling and making cheerful remarks in her agreeable voice. PrincessMary hastily wiped away her tears, went resolutely up toMademoiselle Bourienne, and evidently unconscious of what she wasdoing began shouting in angry haste at the Frenchwoman, her voicebreaking: "It's horrible, vile, inhuman, to take advantage of theweakness..." She did not finish. "Leave my room," she exclaimed, andburst into sobs.

　　Next day the prince did not say a word to his daughter, but shenoticed that at dinner he gave orders that Mademoiselle Bourienneshould be served first. After dinner, when the footman handed coffeeand from habit began with the princess, the prince suddenly grewfurious, threw his stick at Philip, and instantly gave instructions tohave him conscripted for the army.

　　"He doesn't obey... I said it twice... and he doesn't obey! She isthe first person in this house; she's my best friend," cried theprince. "And if you allow yourself," he screamed in a fury, addressingPrincess Mary for the first time, "to forget yourself again before heras you dared to do yesterday, I will show you who is master in thishouse. Go! Don't let me set eyes on you; beg her pardon!"

　　Princess Mary asked Mademoiselle Bourienne's pardon, and also herfather's pardon for herself and for Philip the footman, who had beggedfor her intervention.

　　At such moments something like a pride of sacrifice gathered inher soul. And suddenly that father whom she had judged would lookfor his spectacles in her presence, fumbling near them and notseeing them, or would forget something that had just occurred, or takea false step with his failing legs and turn to see if anyone hadnoticed his feebleness, or, worst of all, at dinner when there were novisitors to excite him would suddenly fall asleep, letting hisnapkin drop and his shaking head sink over his plate. "He is old andfeeble, and I dare to condemn him!" she thought at such moments,with a feeling of revulsion against herself.