Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter XIX

by Leo Tolstoy

　　From the day his wife arrived in Moscow Pierre had been intending togo away somewhere, so as not to be near her. Soon after the Rostovscame to Moscow the effect Natasha had on him made him hasten tocarry out his intention. He went to Tver to see Joseph Alexeevich'swidow, who had long since promised to hand over to him some papersof her deceased husband's.

　　When he returned to Moscow Pierre was handed a letter from MaryaDmitrievna asking him to come and see her on a matter of greatimportance relating to Andrew Bolkonski and his betrothed. Pierrehad been avoiding Natasha because it seemed to him that his feelingfor her was stronger than a married man's should be for his friend'sfiancee. Yet some fate constantly threw them together.

　　"What can have happened? And what can they want with me?" thought heas he dressed to go to Marya Dmitrievna's. "If only Prince Andrewwould hurry up and come and marry her!" thought he on his way to thehouse.

　　On the Tverskoy Boulevard a familiar voice called to him.

　　"Pierre! Been back long?" someone shouted. Pierre raised his head.In a sleigh drawn by two gray trotting-horses that were bespatteringthe dashboard with snow, Anatole and his constant companion Makarindashed past. Anatole was sitting upright in the classic pose ofmilitary dandies, the lower part of his face hidden by his beavercollar and his head slightly bent. His face was fresh and rosy, hiswhite-plumed hat, tilted to one side, disclosed his curled and pomadedhair besprinkled with powdery snow.

　　"Yes, indeed, that's a true sage," thought Pierre. "He seesnothing beyond the pleasure of the moment, nothing troubles him and sohe is always cheerful, satisfied, and serene. What wouldn't I giveto be like him!" he thought enviously.

　　In Marya Dmitrievna's anteroom the footman who helped him off withhis fur coat said that the mistress asked him to come to her bedroom.

　　When he opened the ballroom door Pierre saw Natasha sitting at thewindow, with a thin, pale, and spiteful face. She glanced round athim, frowned, and left the room with an expression of cold dignity.

　　"What has happened?" asked Pierre, entering Marya Dmitrievna's room.

　　"Fine doings!" answered Dmitrievna. "For fifty-eight years have Ilived in this world and never known anything so disgraceful!"

　　And having put him on his honor not to repeat anything she told him,Marya Dmitrievna informed him that Natasha had refused Prince Andrewwithout her parents' knowledge and that the cause of this wasAnatole Kuragin into whose society Pierre's wife had thrown her andwith whom Natasha had tried to elope during her father's absence, inorder to be married secretly.

　　Pierre raised his shoulders and listened open-mouthed to what wastold him, scarcely able to believe his own ears. That PrinceAndrew's deeply loved affianced wife- the same Natasha Rostova whoused to be so charming- should give up Bolkonski for that fool Anatolewho was already secretly married (as Pierre knew), and should be so inlove with him as to agree to run away with him, was something Pierrecould not conceive and could not imagine.

　　He could not reconcile the charming impression he had of Natasha,whom he had known from a child, with this new conception of herbaseness, folly, and cruelty. He thought of his wife. "They are allalike!" he said to himself, reflecting that he was not the only manunfortunate enough to be tied to a bad woman. But still he pitiedPrince Andrew to the point of tears and sympathized with his woundedpride, and the more he pitied his friend the more did he think withcontempt and even with disgust of that Natasha who had just passed himin the ballroom with such a look of cold dignity. He did not know thatNatasha's soul was overflowing with despair, shame, and humiliation,and that it was not her fault that her face happened to assume anexpression of calm dignity and severity.

　　"But how get married?" said Pierre, in answer to Marya Dmitrievna."He could not marry- he is married!"

　　"Things get worse from hour to hour!" ejaculated Marya Dmitrievna."A nice youth! What a scoundrel! And she's expecting him- expectinghim since yesterday. She must be told! Then at least she won't go onexpecting him."

　　After hearing the details of Anatole's marriage from Pierre, andgiving vent to her anger against Anatole in words of abuse, MaryaDmitrievna told Pierre why she had sent for him. She was afraid thatthe count or Bolkonski, who might arrive at any moment, if they knewof this affair (which she hoped to hide from them) might challengeAnatole to a duel, and she therefore asked Pierre to tell hisbrother-in-law in her name to leave Moscow and not dare to let her seteyes on him again. Pierre- only now realizing the danger to the oldcount, Nicholas, and Prince Andrew- promised to do as she wished.Having briefly and exactly explained her wishes to him, she let him goto the drawing room.

　　"Mind, the count knows nothing. Behave as if you know nothingeither," she said. "And I will go and tell her it is no useexpecting him! And stay to dinner if you care to!" she called afterPierre.

　　Pierre met the old count, who seemed nervous and upset. That morningNatasha had told him that she had rejected Bolkonski.

　　"Troubles, troubles, my dear fellow!" he said to Pierre. "Whattroubles one has with these girls without their mother! I do so regrethaving come here.... I will be frank with you. Have you heard shehas broken off her engagement without consulting anybody? It's truethis engagement never was much to my liking. Of course he is anexcellent man, but still, with his father's disapproval theywouldn't have been happy, and Natasha won't lack suitors. Still, ithas been going on so long, and to take such a step without father's ormother's consent! And now she's ill, and God knows what! It's hard,Count, hard to manage daughters in their mother's absence...."

　　Pierre saw that the count was much upset and tried to change thesubject, but the count returned to his troubles.

　　Sonya entered the room with an agitated face.

　　"Natasha is not quite well; she's in her room and would like tosee you. Marya Dmitrievna is with her and she too asks you to come."

　　"Yes, you are a great friend of Bolkonski's, no doubt she wants tosend him a message," said the count. "Oh dear! Oh dear! How happy itall was!"

　　And clutching the spare gray locks on his temples the count left theroom.

　　When Marya Dmitrievna told Natasha that Anatole was married, Natashadid not wish to believe it and insisted on having it confirmed byPierre himself. Sonya told Pierre this as she led him along thecorridor to Natasha's room.

　　Natasha, pale and stern, was sitting beside Marya Dmitrievna, andher eyes, glittering feverishly, met Pierre with a questioning lookthe moment he entered. She did not smile or nod, but only gazedfixedly at him, and her look asked only one thing: was he a friend, orlike the others an enemy in regard to Anatole? As for Pierre, heevidently did not exist for her.

　　"He knows all about it," said Marya Dmitrievna pointing to Pierreand addressing Natasha. "Let him tell you whether I have told thetruth."

　　Natasha looked from one to the other as a hunted and woundedanimal looks at the approaching dogs and sportsmen.

　　"Natalya Ilynichna," Pierre began, dropping his eyes with afeeling of pity for her and loathing for the thing he had to do,"whether it is true or not should make no difference to you,because..."

　　"Then it is not true that he's married!"

　　"Yes, it is true."

　　"Has he been married long?" she asked. "On your honor?..."

　　Pierre gave his word of honor.

　　"Is he still here?" she asked, quickly.

　　"Yes, I have just seen him."

　　She was evidently unable to speak and made a sign with her handsthat they should leave her alone.