Book Twelve: 1812 - Chapter XV

by Leo Tolstoy

　　When Natasha opened Prince Andrew's door with a familiar movementand let Princess Mary pass into the room before her, the princess feltthe sobs in her throat. Hard as she had tried to prepare herself,and now tried to remain tranquil, she knew that she would be unable tolook at him without tears.

　　The princess understood what Natasha had meant by the words: "twodays ago this suddenly happened." She understood those words to meanthat he had suddenly softened and that this softening and gentlenesswere signs of approaching death. As she stepped to the door shealready saw in imagination Andrew's face as she remembered it inchildhood, a gentle, mild, sympathetic face which he had rarely shown,and which therefore affected her very strongly. She was sure hewould speak soft, tender words to her such as her father had utteredbefore his death, and that she would not be able to bear it andwould burst into sobs in his presence. Yet sooner or later it had tobe, and she went in. The sobs rose higher and higher in her throatas she more and more clearly distinguished his form and hershortsighted eyes tried to make out his features, and then she saw hisface and met his gaze.

　　He was lying in a squirrel-fur dressing gown on a divan,surrounded by pillows. He was thin and pale. In one thin,translucently white hand he held a handkerchief, while with theother he stroked the delicate mustache he had grown, moving hisfingers slowly. His eyes gazed at them as they entered.

　　On seeing his face and meeting his eyes Princess Mary's pacesuddenly slackened, she felt her tears dry up and her sobs ceased. Shesuddenly felt guilty and grew timid on catching the expression ofhis face and eyes.

　　"But in what am I to blame?" she asked herself. And his cold,stern look replied: "Because you are alive and thinking of the living,while I..."

　　In the deep the deep gaze that seemed to look not outwards butinwards there was an almost hostile expression as he slowly regardedhis sister and Natasha.

　　He kissed his sister, holding her hand in his as was their wont.

　　"How are you, Mary? How did you manage to get here?" said he in avoice as calm and aloof as his look.

　　Had he screamed in agony, that scream would not have struck suchhorror into Princess Mary's heart as the tone of his voice.

　　"And have you brought little Nicholas?" he asked in the same slow,quiet manner and with an obvious effort to remember.

　　"How are you now?" said Princess Mary, herself surprised at what shewas saying.

　　"That, my dear, you must ask the doctor," he replied, and againmaking an evident effort to be affectionate, he said with his lipsonly (his words clearly did not correspond to his thoughts):

　　"Merci, chere amie, d'etre venue."*

　　*"Thank you for coming, my dear."

　　Princess Mary pressed his hand. The pressure made him wince justperceptibly. He was silent, and she did not know what to say. Shenow understood what had happened to him two days before. In his words,his tone, and especially in that calm, almost antagonistic lookcould be felt an estrangement from everything belonging to this world,terrible in one who is alive. Evidently only with an effort did heunderstand anything living; but it was obvious that he failed tounderstand, not because he lacked the power to do so but because heunderstood something else- something the living did not and couldnot understand- and which wholly occupied his mind.

　　"There, you see how strangely fate has brought us together," saidhe, breaking the silence and pointing to Natasha. "She looks afterme all the time."

　　Princess Mary heard him and did not understand how he could say sucha thing. He, the sensitive, tender Prince Andrew, how could he saythat, before her whom he loved and who loved him? Had he expected tolive he could not have said those words in that offensively cold tone.If he had not known that he was dying, how could he have failed topity her and how could he speak like that in her presence? The onlyexplanation was that he was indifferent, because something else,much more important, had been revealed to him.

　　The conversation was cold and disconnected and continually brokeoff.

　　"Mary came by way of Ryazan," said Natasha.

　　Prince Andrew did not notice that she called his sister Mary, andonly after calling her so in his presence did Natasha notice itherself.

　　"Really?" he asked.

　　"They told her that all Moscow has been burned down, and that..."

　　Natasha stopped. It was impossible to talk. It was plain that he wasmaking an effort to listen, but could not do so.

　　"Yes, they say it's burned," he said. "It's a great pity," and hegazed straight before him, absently stroking his mustache with hisfingers.

　　"And so you have met Count Nicholas, Mary?" Prince Andrew suddenlysaid, evidently wishing to speak pleasantly to them. "He wrote herethat he took a great liking to you," he went on simply and calmly,evidently unable to understand all the complex significance hiswords had for living people. "If you liked him too, it would be a goodthing for you to get married," he added rather more quickly, as ifpleased at having found words he had long been seeking.

　　Princess Mary heard his words but they had no meaning for her,except as a proof of how far away he now was from everything living.

　　"Why talk of me?" she said quietly and glanced at Natasha.

　　Natasha, who felt her glance, did not look at her. All three wereagain silent.

　　"Andrew, would you like..." Princess Mary suddenly said in atrembling voice, "would you like to see little Nicholas? He isalways talking about you!"

　　Prince Andrew smiled just perceptibly and for the first time, butPrincess Mary, who knew his face so well, saw with horror that hedid not smile with pleasure or affection for his son, but withquiet, gentle irony because he thought she was trying what shebelieved to be the last means of arousing him.

　　"Yes, I shall be very glad to see him. Is he quite well?"

　　When little Nicholas was brought into Prince Andrew's room he lookedat his father with frightened eyes, but did not cry, because no oneelse was crying. Prince Andrew kissed him and evidently did not knowwhat to say to him.

　　When Nicholas had been led away, Princess Mary again went up toher brother, kissed him, and unable to restrain her tears any longerbegan to cry.

　　He looked at her attentively.

　　"Is it about Nicholas?" he asked.

　　Princess Mary nodded her head, weeping.

　　"Mary, you know the Gosp..." but he broke off.

　　"What did you say?"

　　"Nothing. You mustn't cry here," he said, looking at her with thesame cold expression.

　　When Princess Mary began to cry, he understood that she was cryingat the thought that little Nicholas would be left without a father.With a great effort he tried to return to life and to see thingsfrom their point of view.

　　"Yes, to them it must seem sad!" he thought. "But how simple it is.

　　"The fowls of the air sow not, neither do they reap, yet your Fatherfeedeth them," he said to himself and wished to say to PrincessMary; "but no, they will take it their own way, they won't understand!They can't understand that all those feelings they prize so- all ourfeelings, all those ideas that seem so important to us, areunnecessary. We cannot understand one another," and he remainedsilent.

　　Prince Andrew's little son was seven. He could scarcely read, andknew nothing. After that day he lived through many things, gainingknowledge, observation, and experience, but had he possessed all thefaculties he afterwards acquired, he could not have had a better ormore profound understanding of the meaning of the scene he hadwitnessed between his father, Mary, and Natasha, than he had then.He understood it completely, and, leaving the room without crying,went silently up to Natasha who had come out with him and looked shylyat her with his beautiful, thoughtful eyes, then his uplifted, rosyupper lip trembled and leaning his head against her he began to cry.

　　After that he avoided Dessalles and the countess who caressed himand either sat alone or came timidly to Princess Mary, or to Natashaof whom he seemed even fonder than of his aunt, and clung to themquietly and shyly.

　　When Princess Mary had left Prince Andrew she fully understoodwhat Natasha's face had told her. She did not speak any more toNatasha of hopes of saving his life. She took turns with her besidehis sofa, and did not cry any more, but prayed continually, turning insoul to that Eternal and Unfathomable, whose presence above thedying man was now so evident.