Book One: 1805 - Chapter XX

by Leo Tolstoy

　　The card tables were drawn out, sets made up for boston, and thecount's visitors settled themselves, some in the two drawing rooms,some in the sitting room, some in the library.

　　The count, holding his cards fanwise, kept himself with difficultyfrom dropping into his usual after-dinner nap, and laughed ateverything. The young people, at the countess' instigation, gatheredround the clavichord and harp. Julie by general request playedfirst. After she had played a little air with variations on theharp, she joined the other young ladies in begging Natasha andNicholas, who were noted for their musical talent, to singsomething. Natasha, who was treated as though she were grown up, wasevidently very proud of this but at the same time felt shy.

　　"What shall we sing?" she said.

　　"'The Brook,'" suggested Nicholas.

　　"Well, then,let's be quick. Boris, come here," said Natasha. "Butwhere is Sonya?"

　　She looked round and seeing that her friend was not in the roomran to look for her.

　　Running into Sonya's room and not finding her there, Natasha ranto the nursery, but Sonya was not there either. Natasha concluded thatshe must be on the chest in the passage. The chest in the passagewas the place of mourning for the younger female generation in theRostov household. And there in fact was Sonya lying face downward onNurse's dirty feather bed on the top of the chest, crumpling her gauzypink dress under her, hiding her face with her slender fingers, andsobbing so convulsively that her bare little shoulders shook.Natasha's face, which had been so radiantly happy all that saint'sday, suddenly changed: her eyes became fixed, and then a shiver passeddown her broad neck and the corners of her mouth drooped.

　　"Sonya! What is it? What is the matter?... Oo... Oo... Oo...!" AndNatasha's large mouth widened, making her look quite ugly, and shebegan to wail like a baby without knowing why, except that Sonya wascrying. Sonya tried to lift her head to answer but could not, andhid her face still deeper in the bed. Natasha wept, sitting on theblue-striped feather bed and hugging her friend. With an effortSonya sat up and began wiping her eyes and explaining.

　　"Nicholas is going away in a week's time, his... papers... havecome... he told me himself... but still I should not cry," and sheshowed a paper she held in her hand- with the verses Nicholas hadwritten, "still, I should not cry, but you can't... no one canunderstand... what a soul he has!"

　　And she began to cry again because he had such a noble soul.

　　"It's all very well for you... I am not envious... I love you andBoris also," she went on, gaining a little strength; "he is nice...there are no difficulties in your way.... But Nicholas is my cousin...one would have to... the Metropolitan himself... and even then itcan't be done. And besides, if she tells Mamma" (Sonya looked upon thecountess as her mother and called her so) "that I am spoilingNicholas' career and am heartless and ungrateful, while truly... Godis my witness," and she made the sign of the cross, "I love her somuch, and all of you, only Vera... And what for? What have I done toher? I am so grateful to you that I would willingly sacrificeeverything, only I have nothing...."

　　Sonya could not continue, and again hid her face in her hands and inthe feather bed. Natasha began consoling her, but her face showed thatshe understood all the gravity of her friend's trouble.

　　"Sonya," she suddenly exclaimed, as if she had guessed the truereason of her friend's sorrow, "I'm sure Vera has said something toyou since dinner? Hasn't she?"

　　"Yes, these verses Nicholas wrote himself and I copied someothers, and she found them on my table and said she'd show them toMamma, and that I was ungrateful, and that Mamma would never allow himto marry me, but that he'll marry Julie. You see how he's been withher all day... Natasha, what have I done to deserve it?..."

　　And again she began to sob, more bitterly than before. Natashalifted her up, hugged her, and, smiling through her tears, begancomforting her.

　　"Sonya, don't believe her, darling! Don't believe her! Do youremember how we and Nicholas, all three of us, talked in the sittingroom after supper? Why, we settled how everything was to be. I don'tquite remember how, but don't you remember that it could all bearranged and how nice it all was? There's Uncle Shinshin's brother hasmarried his first cousin. And we are only second cousins, you know.And Boris says it is quite possible. You know I have told him allabout it. And he is so clever and so good!" said Natasha. "Don't youcry, Sonya, dear love, darling Sonya!" and she kissed her and laughed."Vera's spiteful; never mind her! And all will come right and shewon't say anything to Mamma. Nicholas will tell her himself, and hedoesn't care at all for Julie."

　　Natasha kissed her on the hair.

　　Sonya sat up. The little kitten brightened, its eyes shone, and itseemed ready to lift its tail, jump down on its soft paws, and beginplaying with the ball of worsted as a kitten should.

　　"Do you think so?... Really? Truly?" she said, quickly smoothing herfrock and hair.

　　"Really, truly!" answered Natasha, pushing in a crisp lock thathad strayed from under her friend's plaits.

　　Both laughed.

　　"Well, let's go and sing 'The Brook.'"

　　"Come along!"

　　"Do you know, that fat Pierre who sat opposite me is so funny!" saidNatasha, stopping suddenly. "I feel so happy!"

　　And she set off at a run along the passage.

　　Sonya, shaking off some down which clung to her and tucking away theverses in the bosom of her dress close to her bony little chest, ranafter Natasha down the passage into the sitting room with flushed faceand light, joyous steps. At the visitors' request the young peoplesang the quartette, "The Brook," with which everyone was delighted.Then Nicholas sang a song he had just learned:

　　At nighttime in the moon's fair glow How sweet, as fancies wander free, To feel that in this world there's one Who still is thinking but of thee! That while her fingers touch the harp Wafting sweet music music the lea, It is for thee thus swells her heart, Sighing its message out to thee... A day or two, then bliss unspoilt, But oh! till then I cannot live!...He had not finished the last verse before the young people beganto get ready to dance in the large hall, and the sound of the feet andthe coughing of the musicians were heard from the gallery.

　　Pierre was sitting in the drawing-room where Shinshin had engagedhim, as a man recently returned from abroad, in a politicalconversation in which several others joined but which bored Pierre.When the music began Natasha came in and walking straight up to Pierresaid, laughing and blushing:

　　"Mamma told me to ask you to join the dancers."

　　"I am afraid of mixing the figures," Pierre replied; "but if youwill be my teacher..." And lowering his big arm he offered it to theslender little girl.

　　While the couples were arranging themselves and the musicians tuningup, Pierre sat down with his little partner. Natasha was perfectlyhappy; she was dancing with a grown-up man, who had been abroad. Shewas sitting in a conspicuous place and talking to him like agrown-up lady. She had a fan in her hand that one of the ladies hadgiven her to hold. Assuming quite the pose of a society woman(heaven knows when and where she had learned it) she talked with herpartner, fanning herself and smiling over the fan.

　　"Dear, dear! Just look at her!" exclaimed the countess as shecrossed the ballroom, pointing to Natasha.

　　Natasha blushed and laughed.

　　"Well, really, Mamma! Why should you? What is there to besurprised at?"

　　In the midst of the third ecossaise there was a clatter of chairsbeing pushed back in the sitting room where the count and MaryaDmitrievna had been playing cards with the majority of the moredistinguished and older visitors. They now, stretching themselvesafter sitting so long, and replacing their purses and pocketbooks,entered the ballroom. First came Marya Dmitrievna and the count,both with merry countenances. The count, with playful ceremonysomewhat in ballet style, offered his bent arm to Marya Dmitrievna. Hedrew himself up, a smile of debonair gallantry lit up his face andas soon as the last figure of the ecossaise was ended, he clappedhis hands to the musicians and shouted up to their gallery, addressingthe first violin:

　　"Semen! Do you know the Daniel Cooper?"

　　This was the count's favorite dance, which he had danced in hisyouth. (Strictly speaking, Daniel Cooper was one figure of theanglaise.)

　　"Look at Papa!" shouted Natasha to the whole company, and quiteforgetting that she was dancing with a grown-up partner she bent hercurly head to her knees and made the whole room ring with herlaughter.

　　And indeed everybody in the room looked with a smile of pleasureat the jovial old gentleman, who standing beside his tall and stoutpartner, Marya Dmitrievna, curved his arms, beat time, straightenedhis shoulders, turned out his toes, tapped gently with his foot,and, by a smile that broadened his round face more and more,prepared the onlookers for what was to follow. As soon as theprovocatively gay strains of Daniel Cooper (somewhat resemblingthose of a merry peasant dance) began to sound, all the doorways ofthe ballroom were suddenly filled by the domestic serfs- the men onone side and the women on the other- who with beaming faces had cometo see their master making merry.

　　"Just look at the master! A regular eagle he is!" loudly remarkedthe nurse, as she stood in one of the doorways.

　　The count danced well and knew it. But his partner could not and didnot want to dance well. Her enormous figure stood erect, herpowerful arms hanging down (she had handed her reticule to thecountess), and only her stern but handsome face really joined in thedance. What was expressed by the whole of the count's plump figure, inMarya Dmitrievna found expression only in her more and more beamingface and quivering nose. But if the count, getting more and moreinto the swing of it, charmed the spectators by the unexpectednessof his adroit maneuvers and the agility with which he capered about onhis light feet, Marya Dmitrievna produced no less impression by slightexertions- the least effort to move her shoulders or bend her armswhen turning, or stamp her foot- which everyone appreciated in view ofher size and habitual severity. The dance grew livelier andlivelier. The other couples could not attract a moment's attentionto their own evolutions and did not even try to do so. All werewatching the count and Marya Dmitrievna. Natasha kept pulling everyoneby sleeve or dress, urging them to "look at Papa!" though as it wasthey never took their eyes off the couple. In the intervals of thedance the count, breathing deeply, waved and shouted to themusicians to play faster. Faster, faster, and faster; lightly, morelightly, and yet more lightly whirled the count, flying round MaryaDmitrievna, now on his toes, now on his heels; until, turning hispartner round to her seat, he executed the final pas, raising his softfoot backwards, bowing his perspiring head, smiling and making awide sweep with his arm, amid a thunder of applause and laughter ledby Natasha. Both partners stood still, breathing heavily and wipingtheir faces with their cambric handkerchiefs.

　　"That's how we used to dance in our time, ma chere," said the count.

　　"That was a Daniel Cooper!" exclaimed Marya Dmitrievna, tucking upher sleeves and puffing heavily.