Book Eight: 1811-12 - Chapter XXII

by Leo Tolstoy

　　That same evening Pierre went to the Rostovs' to fulfill thecommission entrusted to him. Natasha was in bed, the count at theClub, and Pierre, after giving the letters to Sonya, went to MaryaDmitrievna who was interested to know how Prince Andrew had takenthe news. Ten minutes later Sonya came to Marya Dmitrievna.

　　"Natasha insists on seeing Count Peter Kirilovich," said she.

　　"But how? Are we to take him up to her? The room there has notbeen tidied up."

　　"No, she has dressed and gone into the drawing room," said Sonya.

　　Marya Dmitrievna only shrugged her shoulders.

　　"When will her mother come? She has worried me to death! Now mind,don't tell her everything!" said she to Pierre. "One hasn't theheart to scold her, she is so much to be pitied, so much to bepitied."

　　Natasha was standing in the middle of the drawing room, emaciated,with a pale set face, but not at all shamefaced as Pierre expectedto find her. When he appeared at the door she grew flurried, evidentlyundecided whether to go to meet him or to wait till he came up.

　　Pierre hastened to her. He thought she would give him her hand asusual; but she, stepping up to him, stopped, breathing heavily, herarms hanging lifelessly just in the pose she used to stand in when shewent to the middle of the ballroom to sing, but with quite a differentexpression of face.

　　"Peter Kirilovich," she began rapidly, "Prince Bolkonski was yourfriend- is your friend," she corrected herself. (It seemed to her thateverything that had once been must now be different.) "He told me onceto apply to you..."

　　Pierre sniffed as he looked at her, but did not speak. Till thenhe had reproached her in his heart and tried to despise her, but henow felt so sorry for her that there was no room in his soul forreproach.

　　"He is here now: tell him... to for... forgive me!" She stoppedand breathed still more quickly, but did not shed tears.

　　"Yes... I will tell him," answered Pierre; "but..."

　　He did not know what to say.

　　Natasha was evidently dismayed at the thought of what he might thinkshe had meant.

　　"No, I know all is over," she said hurriedly. "No, that can neverbe. I'm only tormented by the wrong I have done him. Tell him onlythat I beg him to forgive, forgive, forgive me for everything...."

　　She trembled all over and sat down on a chair.

　　A sense of pity he had never before known overflowed Pierre's heart.

　　"I will tell him, I will tell him everything once more," saidPierre. "But... I should like to know one thing...."

　　"Know what?" Natasha's eyes asked.

　　"I should like to know, did you love..." Pierre did not know howto refer to Anatole and flushed at the thought of him- "did you lovethat bad man?"

　　"Don't call him bad!" said Natasha. "But I don't know, don't know atall...."

　　She began to cry and a still greater sense of pity, tenderness,and love welled up in Pierre. He felt the tears trickle under hisspectacles and hoped they would not be noticed.

　　"We won't speak of it any more, my dear," said Pierre, and hisgentle, cordial tone suddenly seemed very strange to Natasha.

　　"We won't speak of it, my dear- I'll tell him everything; but onething I beg of you, consider me your friend and if you want help,advice, or simply to open your heart to someone- not now, but whenyour mind is clearer think of me!" He took her hand and kissed it."I shall be happy if it's in my power..."

　　Pierre grew confused.

　　"Don't speak to me like that. I am not worth it!" exclaimedNatasha and turned to leave the room, but Pierre held her hand.

　　He knew he had something more to say to her. But when he said ithe was amazed at his own words.

　　"Stop, stop! You have your whole life before you," said he to her.

　　"Before me? No! All is over for me," she replied with shame andself-abasement.

　　"All over?" he repeated. "If I were not myself, but the handsomest,cleverest, and best man in the world, and were free, I would thismoment ask on my knees for your hand and your love!"

　　For the first time for many days Natasha wept tears of gratitude andtenderness, and glancing at Pierre she went out of the room.

　　Pierre too when she had gone almost ran into the anteroom,restraining tears of tenderness and joy that choked him, and withoutfinding the sleeves of his fur cloak threw it on and got into hissleigh.

　　"Where to now, your excellency?" asked the coachman.

　　"Where to?" Pierre asked himself. "Where can I go now? Surely not tothe Club or to pay calls?" All men seemed so pitiful, so poor, incomparison with this feeling of tenderness and love he experienced: incomparison with that softened, grateful, last look she had given himthrough her tears.

　　"Home!" said Pierre, and despite twenty-two degrees of frostFahrenheit he threw open the bearskin cloak from his broad chest andinhaled the air with joy.

　　It was clear and frosty. Above the dirty, ill-lit streets, above theblack roofs, stretched the dark starry sky. Only looking up at the skydid Pierre cease to feel how sordid and humiliating were all mundanethings compared with the heights to which his soul had just beenraised. At the entrance to the Arbat Square an immense expanse of darkstarry sky presented itself to his eyes. Almost in the center of it,above the Prechistenka Boulevard, surrounded and sprinkled on allsides by stars but distinguished from them all by its nearness tothe earth, its white light, and its long uplifted tail, shone theenormous and brilliant comet of 18l2- the comet which was said toportend all kinds of woes and the end of the world. In Pierre,however, that comet with its long luminous tail aroused no feelingof fear. On the contrary he gazed joyfully, his eyes moist with tears,at this bright comet which, having traveled in its orbit withinconceivable velocity through immeasurable space, seemed suddenly-like an arrow piercing the earth- to remain fixed in a chosen spot,vigorously holding its tail erect, shining and displaying its whitelight amid countless other scintillating stars. It seemed to Pierrethat this comet fully responded to what was passing in his ownsoftened and uplifted soul, now blossoming into a new life.