Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter XIV

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Morning came with its cares and bustle. Everyone got up and began tomove about and talk, dressmakers came again. Marya Dmitrievnaappeared, and they were called to breakfast. Natasha kept lookinguneasily at everybody with wide-open eyes, as if wishing tointercept every glance directed toward her, and tried to appear thesame as usual.

　　After breakfast, which was her best time, Marya Dmitrievna satdown in her armchair and called Natasha and the count to her.

　　"Well, friends, I have now thought the whole matter over and this ismy advice," she began. "Yesterday, as you know, I went to see PrinceBolkonski. Well, I had a talk with him.... He took it into his head tobegin shouting, but I am not one to be shouted down. I said what I hadto say!"

　　"Well, and he?" asked the count.

　　"He? He's crazy... he did not want to listen. But what's the useof talking? As it is we have worn the poor girl out," said MaryaDmitrievna. "My advice to you is finish your business and go back hometo Otradnoe... and wait there."

　　"Oh, no!" exclaimed Natasha.

　　"Yes, go back," said Marya Dmitrievna, "and wait there. If yourbetrothed comes here now- there will be no avoiding a quarrel; butalone with the old man he will talk things over and then come on toyou."

　　Count Rostov approved of this suggestion, appreciating itsreasonableness. If the old man came round it would be all the betterto visit him in Moscow or at Bald Hills later on; and if not, thewedding, against his wishes, could only be arranged at Otradnoe.

　　"That is perfectly true. And I am sorry I went to see him and tookher," said the old count.

　　"No, why be sorry? Being here, you had to pay your respects. Butif he won't- that's his affair," said Marya Dmitrievna, looking forsomething in her reticule. "Besides, the trousseau is ready, sothere is nothing to wait for; and what is not ready I'll send afteryou. Though I don't like letting you go, it is the best way. So go,with God's blessing!"

　　Having found what she was looking for in the reticule she handedit to Natasha. It was a letter from Princess Mary.

　　"She has written to you. How she torments herself, poor thing! She'safraid you might think that she does not like you."

　　"But she doesn't like me," said Natasha.

　　"Don't talk nonsense!" cried Marya Dmitrievna.

　　"I shan't believe anyone, I know she doesn't like me," repliedNatasha boldly as she took the letter, and her face expressed a coldand angry resolution that caused Marya Dmitrievna to look at hermore intently and to frown.

　　"Don't answer like that, my good girl!" she said. "What I say istrue! Write an answer!" Natasha did not reply and went to her own roomto read Princess Mary's letter.

　　Princess Mary wrote that she was in despair at themisunderstanding that had occurred between them. Whatever her father'sfeelings might be, she begged Natasha to believe that she could nothelp loving her as the one chosen by her brother, for whosehappiness she was ready to sacrifice everything.

　　"Do not think, however," she wrote, "that my father isill-disposed toward you. He is an invalid and an old man who must beforgiven; but he is good and magnanimous and will love her who makeshis son happy." Princess Mary went on to ask Natasha to fix a timewhen she could see her again.

　　After reading the letter Natasha sat down at the writing table toanswer it. "Dear Princess," she wrote in French quickly andmechanically, and then paused. What more could she write after allthat had happened the evening before? "Yes, yes! All that hashappened, and now all is changed," she thought as she sat with theletter she had begun before her. "Must I break off with him? Must Ireally? That's awful... and to escape from these dreadful thoughts shewent to Sonya and began sorting patterns with her.

　　After dinner Natasha went to her room and again took up PrincessMary's letter. "Can it be that it is all over?" she thought. "Can itbe that all this has happened so quickly and has destroyed all thatwent before?" She recalled her love for Prince Andrew in all itsformer strength, and at the same time felt that she loved Kuragin. Shevividly pictured herself as Prince Andrew's wife, and the scenes ofhappiness with him she had so often repeated in her imagination, andat the same time, aglow with excitement, recalled every detail ofyesterday's interview with Anatole.

　　"Why could that not be as well?" she sometimes asked herself incomplete bewilderment. "Only so could I be completely happy; but now Ihave to choose, and I can't be happy without either of them. Only,"she thought, "to tell Prince Andrew what has happened or to hide itfrom him are both equally impossible. But with that one nothing isspoiled. But am I really to abandon forever the joy of Prince Andrew'slove, in which I have lived so long?"

　　"Please, Miss!" whispered a maid entering the room with a mysteriousair. "A man told me to give you this-" and she handed Natasha aletter.

　　"Only, for Christ's sake..." the girl went on, as Natasha, withoutthinking, mechanically broke the seal and read a love letter fromAnatole, of which, without taking in a word, she understood onlythat it was a letter from him- from the man she loved. Yes, sheloved him, or else how could that have happened which had happened?And how could she have a love letter from him in her hand?

　　With trembling hands Natasha held that passionate love letterwhich Dolokhov had composed for Anatole, and as she read it shefound in it an echo of all that she herself imagined she was feeling.

　　"Since yesterday evening my fate has been sealed; to be loved by youor to die. There is no other way for me," the letter began. Then hewent on to say that he knew her parents would not give her to him- forthis there were secret reasons he could reveal only to her- but thatif she loved him she need only say the word yes, and no human powercould hinder their bliss. Love would conquer all. He would steal heraway and carry her off to the ends of the earth.

　　"Yes, yes! I love him!" thought Natasha, reading the letter forthe twentieth time and finding some peculiarly deep meaning in eachword of it.

　　That evening Marya Dmitrievna was going to the Akharovs' andproposed to take the girls with her. Natasha, pleading a headache,remained at home.