Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter V

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Boris had not succeeded in making a wealthy match in Petersburg,so with the same object in view he came to Moscow. There he waveredbetween the two richest heiresses, Julie and Princess Mary. ThoughPrincess Mary despite her plainness seemed to him more attractive thanJulie, he, without knowing why, felt awkward about paying court toher. When they had last met on the old prince's name day, she hadanswered at random all his attempts to talk sentimentally, evidentlynot listening to what he was saying.

　　Julie on the contrary accepted his attentions readily, though in amanner peculiar to herself.

　　She was twenty-seven. After the death of her brothers she had becomevery wealthy. She was by now decidedly plain, but thought herselfnot merely as good-looking as before but even far more attractive. Shewas confirmed in this delusion by the fact that she had become avery wealthy heiress and also by the fact that the older she grewthe less dangerous she became to men, and the more freely they couldassociate with her and avail themselves of her suppers, soirees, andthe animated company that assembled at her house, without incurringany obligation. A man who would have been afraid ten years before ofgoing every day to the house when there was a girl of seventeen there,for fear of compromising her and committing himself, would now goboldly every day and treat her not as a marriageable girl but as asexless acquaintance.

　　That winter the Karagins' house was the most agreeable andhospitable in Moscow. In addition to the formal evening and dinnerparties, a large company, chiefly of men, gathered there every day,supping at midnight and staying till three in the morning. Julie nevermissed a ball, a promenade, or a play. Her dresses were always ofthe latest fashion. But in spite of that she seemed to bedisillusioned about everything and told everyone that she did notbelieve either in friendship or in love, or any of the joys of life,and expected peace only "yonder." She adopted the tone of one whohas suffered a great disappointment, like a girl who has either lostthe man she loved or been cruelly deceived by him. Though nothing ofthe kind had happened to her she was regarded in that light, and hadeven herself come to believe that she had suffered much in life.This melancholy, which did not prevent her amusing herself, did nothinder the young people who came to her house from passing the timepleasantly. Every visitor who came to the house paid his tribute tothe melancholy mood of the hostess, and then amused himself withsociety gossip, dancing, intellectual games, and bouts rimes, whichwere in vogue at the Karagins'. Only a few of these young men, amongthem Boris, entered more deeply into Julie's melancholy, and withthese she had prolonged conversations in private on the vanity ofall worldly things, and to them she showed her albums filled withmournful sketches, maxims, and verses.

　　To Boris, Julie was particularly gracious: she regretted his earlydisillusionment with life, offered him such consolation offriendship as she who had herself suffered so much could render, andshowed him her album. Boris sketched two trees in the album and wrote:"Rustic trees, your dark branches shed gloom and melancholy upon me."

　　On another page he drew a tomb, and wrote:

　　La mort est secourable et la mort est tranquille. Ah! contre les douleurs il n'y a pas d'autre asile.**Death gives relief and death is peaceful.

　　Ah! from suffering there is no other refuge.

　　Julia said this was charming

　　"There is something so enchanting in the smile of melancholy," shesaid to Boris, repeating word for word a passage she had copied from abook. "It is a ray of light in the darkness, a shade between sadnessand despair, showing the possibility of consolation."

　　In reply Boris wrote these lines:

　　Aliment de poison d'une ame trop sensible, Toi, sans qui le bonheur me serait impossible, Tendre melancholie, ah, viens me consoler, Viens calmer les tourments de ma sombre retraite, Et mele une douceur secrete A ces pleurs que je sens couler.**Poisonous nourishment of a too sensitive soul,

　　Thou, without whom happiness would for me be impossible,

　　Tender melancholy, ah, come to console me,

　　Come to calm the torments of my gloomy retreat,

　　And mingle a secret sweetness

　　With these tears that I feel to be flowing.

　　For Boris, Julie played most doleful nocturnes on her harp. Borisread Poor Liza aloud to her, and more than once interrupted thereading because of the emotions that choked him. Meeting at largegatherings Julie and Boris looked on one another as the only souls whounderstood one another in a world of indifferent people.

　　Anna Mikhaylovna, who often visited the Karagins, while playingcards with the mother made careful inquiries as to Julie's dowry(she was to have two estates in Penza and the Nizhegorod forests).Anna Mikhaylovna regarded the refined sadness that united her son tothe wealthy Julie with emotion, and resignation to the Divine will.

　　"You are always charming and melancholy, my dear Julie," she said tothe daughter. "Boris says his soul finds repose at your house. Hehas suffered so many disappointments and is so sensitive," said she tothe mother. "Ah, my dear, I can't tell you how fond I have grown ofJulie latterly," she said to her son. "But who could help lovingher? She is an angelic being! Ah, Boris, Boris!"- she paused. "And howI pity her mother," she went on; "today she showed me her accounts andletters from Penza (they have enormous estates there), and she, poorthing, has no one to help her, and they do cheat her so!"

　　Boris smiled almost imperceptibly while listening to his mother.He laughed blandly at her naive diplomacy but listened to what she hadto say, and sometimes questioned her carefully about the Penza andNizhegorod estates.

　　Julie had long been expecting a proposal from her melancholyadorer and was ready to accept it; but some secret feeling ofrepulsion for her, for her passionate desire to get married, for herartificiality, and a feeling of horror at renouncing the possibilityof real love still restrained Boris. His leave was expiring. Hespent every day and whole days at the Karagins', and every day onthinking the matter over told himself that he would proposetomorrow. But in Julie's presence, looking at her red face and chin(nearly always powdered), her moist eyes, and her expression ofcontinual readiness to pass at once from melancholy to an unnaturalrapture of married bliss, Boris could not utter the decisive words,though in imagination he had long regarded himself as the possessor ofthose Penza and Nizhegorod estates and had apportioned the use ofthe income from them. Julie saw Boris' indecision, and sometimes thethought occurred to her that she was repulsive to him, but herfeminine self-deception immediately supplied her with consolation, andshe told herself that he was only shy from love. Her melancholy,however, began to turn to irritability, and not long before Boris'departure she formed a definite plan of action. Just as Boris' leaveof absence was expiring, Anatole Kuragin made his appearance inMoscow, and of course in the Karagins' drawing room, and Julie,suddenly abandoning her melancholy, became cheerful and very attentiveto Kuragin.

　　"My dear," said Anna Mikhaylovna to her son, "I know from a reliablesource that Prince Vasili has sent his son to Moscow to get himmarried to Julie. I am so fond of Julie that I should be sorry forher. What do you think of it, my dear?"

　　The idea of being made a fool of and of having thrown away thatwhole month of arduous melancholy service to Julie, and of seeingall the revenue from the Penza estates which he had already mentallyapportioned and put to proper use fall into the hands of another,and especially into the hands of that idiot Anatole, pained Boris.He drove to the Karagins' with the firm intention of proposing.Julie met him in a gay, careless manner, spoke casually of how she hadenjoyed yesterday's ball, and asked when he was leaving. ThoughBoris had come intentionally to speak of his love and thereforemeant to be tender, he began speaking irritably of feminineinconstancy, of how easily women can turn from sadness to joy, and howtheir moods depend solely on who happens to be paying court to them.Julie was offended and replied that it was true that a woman needsvariety, and the same thing over and over again would weary anyone.

　　"Then I should advise you..." Boris began, wishing to sting her; butat that instant the galling thought occurred to him that he might haveto leave Moscow without having accomplished his aim, and have vainlywasted his efforts- which was a thing he never allowed to happen.

　　He checked himself in the middle of the sentence, lowered his eyesto avoid seeing her unpleasantly irritated and irresolute face, andsaid:

　　"I did not come here at all to quarrel with you. On the contrary..."

　　He glanced at her to make sure that he might go on. Her irritabilityhad suddenly quite vanished, and her anxious, imploring eyes werefixed on him with greedy expectation. "I can always arrange so asnot to see her often," thought Boris. "The affair has been begun andmust be finished!" He blushed hotly, raised his eyes to hers, andsaid:

　　"You know my feelings for you!"

　　There was no need to say more: Julie's face shone with triumph andself-satisfaction; but she forced Boris to say all that is said onsuch occasions- that he loved her and had never loved any otherwoman more than her. She knew that for the Penza estates andNizhegorod forests she could demand this, and she received what shedemanded.

　　The affianced couple, no longer alluding to trees that shed gloomand melancholy upon them, planned the arrangements of a splendid housein Petersburg, paid calls, and prepared everything for a brilliantwedding.