Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter XIII

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Count Rostov took the girls to Countess Bezukhova's. There were agood many people there, but nearly all strangers to Natasha. CountRostov was displeased to see that the company consisted almostentirely of men and women known for the freedom of their conduct.Mademoiselle George was standing in a corner of the drawing roomsurrounded by young men. There were several Frenchmen present, amongthem Metivier who from the time Helene reached Moscow had been anintimate in her house. The count decided not to sit down to cards orlet his girls out of his sight and to get away as soon as MademoiselleGeorge's performance was over.

　　Anatole was at the door, evidently on the lookout for the Rostovs.Immediately after greeting the count he went up to Natasha andfollowed her. As soon as she saw him she was seized by the samefeeling she had had at the opera- gratified vanity at his admirationof her and fear at the absence of a moral barrier between them.

　　Helene welcomed Natasha delightedly and was loud in admiration ofher beauty and her dress. Soon after their arrival Mademoiselle Georgewent out of the room to change her costume. In the drawing room peoplebegan arranging the chairs and taking their seats. Anatole moved achair for Natasha and was about to sit down beside her, but the count,who never lost sight of her, took the seat himself. Anatole sat downbehind her.

　　Mademoiselle George, with her bare, fat, dimpled arms, and a redshawl draped over one shoulder, came into the space left vacant forher, and assumed an unnatural pose. Enthusiastic whispering wasaudible.

　　Mademoiselle George looked sternly and gloomily at the audienceand began reciting some French verses describing her guilty love forher son. In some places she raised her voice, in others she whispered,lifting her head triumphantly; sometimes she paused and uttered hoarsesounds, rolling her eyes.

　　"Adorable! divine! delicious!" was heard from every side.

　　Natasha looked at the fat actress, but neither saw nor heard norunderstood anything of what went on before her. She only feltherself again completely borne away into this strange senseless world-so remote from her old world- a world in which it was impossible toknow what was good or bad, reasonable or senseless. Behind her satAnatole, and conscious of his proximity she experienced a frightenedsense of expectancy.

　　After the first monologue the whole company rose and surroundedMademoiselle George, expressing their enthusiasm.

　　"How beautiful she is!" Natasha remarked to her father who hadalso risen and was moving through the crowd toward the actress.

　　"I don't think so when I look at you!" said Anatole, followingNatasha. He said this at a moment when she alone could hear him."You are enchanting... from the moment I saw you I have neverceased..."

　　"Come, come, Natasha!" said the count, as he turned back for hisdaughter. "How beautiful she is!" Natasha without saying anythingstepped up to her father and looked at him with surprised inquiringeyes.

　　After giving several recitations, Mademoiselle George left, andCountess Bezukhova asked her visitors into the ballroom.

　　The count wished to go home, but Helene entreated him not to spoilher improvised ball, and the Rostovs stayed on. Anatole askedNatasha for a valse and as they danced he pressed her waist and handand told her she was bewitching and that he loved her. During theecossaise, which she also danced with him, Anatole said nothing whenthey happened to be by themselves, but merely gazed at her. Natashalifted her frightened eyes to him, but there was such confidenttenderness in his affectionate look and smile that she could not,whilst looking at him, say what she had to say. She lowered her eyes.

　　"Don't say such things to me. I am betrothed and love another,"she said rapidly.... She glanced at him.

　　Anatole was not upset or pained by what she had said.

　　"Don't speak to me of that! What can I do?" said he. "I tell you Iam madly, madly, in love with you! Is it my fault that you areenchanting?... It's our turn to begin."

　　Natasha, animated and excited, looked about her with wide-openfrightened eyes and seemed merrier than usual. She understood hardlyanything that went on that evening. They danced the ecossaise andthe Grossvater. Her father asked her to come home, but she begged toremain. Wherever she went and whomever she was speaking to, she felthis eyes upon her. Later on she recalled how she had asked herfather to let her go to the dressing room to rearrange her dress, thatHelene had followed her and spoken laughingly of her brother's love,and that she again met Anatole in the little sitting room. Helenehad disappeared leaving them alone, and Anatole had taken her hand andsaid in a tender voice:

　　"I cannot come to visit you but is it possible that I shall neversee you? I love you madly. Can I never...?" and, blocking her path, hebrought his face close to hers.

　　His large, glittering, masculine eyes were so close to hers that shesaw nothing but them.

　　"Natalie?" he whispered inquiringly while she felt her hands beingpainfully pressed. "Natalie?"

　　"I don't understand. I have nothing to say," her eyes replied.

　　Burning lips were pressed to hers, and at the same instant shefelt herself released, and Helene's footsteps and the rustle of herdress were heard in the room. Natasha looked round at her, and then,red and trembling, threw a frightened look of inquiry at Anatole andmoved toward the door.

　　"One word, just one, for God's sake!" cried Anatole.

　　She paused. She so wanted a word from him that would explain toher what had happened and to which she could find no answer.

　　"Natalie, just a word, only one!" he kept repeating, evidently notknowing what to say and he repeated it till Helene came up to them.

　　Helene returned with Natasha to the drawing room. The Rostovs wentaway without staying for supper.

　　After reaching home Natasha did not sleep all night. She wastormented by the insoluble question whether she loved Anatole orPrince Andrew. She loved Prince Andrew- she remembered distinctlyhow deeply she loved him. But she also loved Anatole, of that therewas no doubt. "Else how could all this have happened?" thought she."If, after that, I could return his smile when saying good-by, if Iwas able to let it come to that, it means that I loved him from thefirst. It means that he is kind, noble, and splendid, and I couldnot help loving him. What am I to do if I love him and the other onetoo?" she asked herself, unable to find an answer to these terriblequestions.