First Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter IX

by Leo Tolstoy

　　It was the eve of St. Nicholas, the fifth of December, 1820. Natashahad been staying at her brother's with her husband and childrensince early autumn. Pierre had gone to Petersburg on business of hisown for three weeks as he said, but had remained there nearly sevenweeks and was expected back every minute.

　　Besides the Bezukhov family, Nicholas' old friend the retiredGeneral Vasili Dmitrich Denisov was staying with the Rostovs thisfifth of December.

　　On the sixth, which was his name day when the house would be full ofvisitors, Nicholas knew he would have to exchange his Tartar tunic fora tail coat, and put on narrow boots with pointed toes, and drive tothe new church he had built, and then receive visitors who wouldcome to congratulate him, offer them refreshments, and talk aboutthe elections of the nobility; but he considered himself entitled tospend the eve of that day in his usual way. He examined thebailiff's accounts of the village in Ryazan which belonged to hiswife's nephew, wrote two business letters, and walked over to thegranaries, cattle yards and stables before dinner. Having takenprecautions against the general drunkenness to be expected on themorrow because it was a great saint's day, he returned to dinner,and without having time for a private talk with his wife sat down atthe long table laid for twenty persons, at which the whole householdhad assembled. At that table were his mother, his mother's old ladycompanion Belova, his wife, their three children with theirgoverness and tutor, his wife's nephew with his tutor, Sonya, Denisov,Natasha, her three children, their governess, and old MichaelIvanovich, the late prince's architect, who was living on inretirement at Bald Hills.

　　Countess Mary sat at the other end of the table. When her husbandtook his place she concluded, from the rapid manner in which aftertaking up his table napkin he pushed back the tumbler and wineglassstanding before him, that he was out of humor, as was sometimes thecase when he came in to dinner straight from the farm- especiallybefore the soup. Countess Mary well knew that mood of his, and whenshe herself was in a good frame of mind quietly waited till he had hadhis soup and then began to talk to him and make him admit that therewas no cause for his ill-humor. But today she quite forgot that andwas hurt that he should be angry with her without any reason, andshe felt unhappy. She asked him where he had been. He replied. Sheagain inquired whether everything was going well on the farm. Herunnatural tone made him wince unpleasantly and he replied hastily.

　　"Then I'm not mistaken," thought Countess Mary. "Why is he crosswith me?" She concluded from his tone that he was vexed with her andwished to end the conversation. She knew her remarks soundedunnatural, but could not refrain from asking some more questions.

　　Thanks to Denisov the conversation at table soon became generaland lively, and she did not talk to her husband. When they left thetable and went as usual to thank the old countess, Countess Maryheld out her hand and kissed her husband, and asked him why he wasangry with her.

　　"You always have such strange fancies! I didn't even think ofbeing angry," he replied.

　　But the word always seemed to her to imply: "Yes, I am angry but Iwon't tell you why."

　　Nicholas and his wife lived together so happily that even Sonyaand the old countess, who felt jealous and would have liked them todisagree, could find nothing to reproach them with; but even theyhad their moments of antagonism. Occasionally, and it was alwaysjust after they had been happiest together, they suddenly had afeeling of estrangement and hostility, which occurred mostfrequently during Countess Mary's pregnancies, and this was such atime.

　　"Well, messieurs et mesdames," said Nicholas loudly and withapparent cheerfulness (it seemed to Countess Mary that he did it onpurpose to vex her), "I have been on my feet since six this morning.Tomorrow I shall have to suffer, so today I'll go and rest."

　　And without a word to his wife he went to the little sitting roomand lay down on the sofa.

　　"That's always the way," thought Countess Mary. "He talks toeveryone except me. I see... I see that I am repulsive to him,especially when I am in this condition." She looked down at herexpanded figure and in the glass at her pale, sallow, emaciated facein which her eyes now looked larger than ever.

　　And everything annoyed her- Denisov's shouting and laughter,Natasha's talk, and especially a quick glance Sonya gave her.

　　Sonya was always the first excuse Countess Mary found for feelingirritated.

　　Having sat awhile with her visitors without understanding anythingof what they were saying, she softly left the room and went to thenursery.

　　The children were playing at "going to Moscow" in a carriage made ofchairs and invited her to go with them. She sat down and played withthem a little, but the thought of her husband and his unreasonablecrossness worried her. She got up and, walking on tiptoe withdifficulty, went to the small sitting room.

　　"Perhaps he is not asleep; I'll have an explanation with him," shesaid to herself. Little Andrew, her eldest boy, imitating hismother, followed her on tiptoe. She not notice him.

　　"Mary, dear, I think he is asleep- he was so tired," said Sonya,meeting her in the large sitting room (it seemed to Countess Mary thatshe crossed her path everywhere). "Andrew may wake him."

　　Countess Mary looked round, saw little Andrew following her, feltthat Sonya was right, and for that very reason flushed and withevident difficulty refrained from saying something harsh. She madeno reply, but to avoid obeying Sonya beckoned to Andrew to followher quietly and went to the door. Sonya went away by another door.From the room in which Nicholas was sleeping came the sound of hiseven breathing, every slightest tone of which was familiar to hiswife. As she listened to it she saw before her his smooth handsomeforehead, his mustache, and his whole face, as she had so often seenit in the stillness of the night when he slept. Nicholas suddenlymoved and cleared his throat. And at that moment little Andrew shoutedfrom outside the door: "Papa! Mamma's standing here!" Countess Maryturned pale with fright and made signs to the boy. He grew silent, andquiet ensued for a moment, terrible to Countess Mary. She knew howNicholas disliked being waked. Then through the door she heardNicholas clearing his throat again and stirring, and his voice saidcrossly:

　　"I can't get a moment's peace.... Mary, is that you? Why did youbring him here?"

　　"I only came in to look and did not notice... forgive me..."

　　Nicholas coughed and said no more. Countess Mary moved away from thedoor and took the boy back to the nursery. Five minutes later littleblack-eyed three-year-old Natasha, her father's pet, having learnedfrom her brother that Papa was asleep and Mamma was in the sittingroom, ran to her father unobserved by her mother. The dark-eyed littlegirl boldly opened the creaking door, went up to the sofa withenergetic steps of her sturdy little legs, and having examined theposition of her father, who was asleep with his back to her, rose ontiptoe and kissed the hand which lay under his head. Nicholas turnedwith a tender smile on his face.

　　"Natasha, Natasha!" came Countess Mary's frightened whisper from thedoor. "Papa wants to sleep."

　　"No, Mamma, he doesn't want to sleep," said little Natasha withconviction. "He's laughing."

　　Nicholas lowered his legs, rose, and took his daughter in his arms.

　　"Come in, Mary," he said to his wife.

　　She went in and sat down by her husband.

　　"I did not notice him following me," she said timidly. "I justlooked in."

　　Holding his little girl with one arm, Nicholas glanced at his wifeand, seeing her guilty expression, put his other arm around her andkissed her hair.

　　"May I kiss Mamma?" he asked Natasha.

　　Natasha smiled bashfully.

　　"Again!" she commanded, pointing with a peremptory gesture to thespot where Nicholas had placed the kiss.

　　"I don't know why you think I am cross," said Nicholas, replyingto the question he knew was in his wife's mind.

　　"You have no idea how unhappy, how lonely, I feel when you arelike that. It always seems to me... "

　　"Mary, don't talk nonsense. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" hesaid gaily.

　　"It seems to be that you can't love me, that I am so plain...always... and now... in this cond..."

　　"Oh, how absurd you are! It is not beauty that endears, it's lovethat makes us see beauty. It is only Malvinas and women of that kindwho are loved for their beauty. But do I love my wife? I don't loveher, but... I don't know how to put it. Without you, or when somethingcomes between us like this, I seem lost and can't do anything. Nowdo I love my finger? I don't love it, but just try to cut it off!

　　"I'm not like that myself, but I understand. So you're not angrywith me?"

　　"Awfully angry!" he said, smiling and getting up. And smoothinghis hair he began to pace the room.

　　"Do you know, Mary, what I've been thinking?" he began,immediately thinking aloud in his wife's presence now that they hadmade it up.

　　He did not ask if she was ready to listen to him. He did not care. Athought had occurred to him and so it belonged to her also. And hetold her of his intention to persuade Pierre to stay with them tillspring.

　　Countess Mary listened till he had finished, made some remark, andin her turn began thinking aloud. Her thoughts were about thechildren.

　　"You can see the woman in her already," she said in French, pointingto little Natasha. "You reproach us women with being illogical. Hereis our logic. I say: 'Papa wants to sleep!' but she says, 'No, he'slaughing.' And she was right," said Countess Mary with a happy smile.

　　"Yes, yes." And Nicholas, taking his little daughter in his stronghand, lifted her high, placed her on his shoulder, held her by thelegs, and paced the room with her. There was an expression of carefreehappiness on the faces of both father and daughter.

　　"But you know you may be unfair. You are too fond of this one,"his wife whispered in French.

　　"Yes, but what am I to do?... I try not to show..."

　　At that moment they heard the sound of the door pulley and footstepsin the hall and anteroom, as if someone had arrived.

　　"Somebody has come."

　　"I am sure it is Pierre. I will go and see," said Countess Maryand left the room.

　　In her absence Nicholas allowed himself to give his littledaughter a gallop round the room. Out of breath, he took thelaughing child quickly from his shoulder and pressed her to his heart.His capers reminded him of dancing, and looking at the child's roundhappy little face he thought of what she would be like when he wasan old man, taking her into society and dancing the mazurka with heras his old father had danced Daniel Cooper with his daughter.

　　"It is he, it is he, Nicholas!" said Countess Mary, re-enteringthe room a few minutes later. "Now our Natasha has come to life. Youshould have seen her ecstasy, and how he caught it for having stayedaway so long. Well, come along now, quick, quick! It's time you twowere parted," she added, looking smilingly at the little girl whoclung to her father.

　　Nicholas went out holding the child by the hand.

　　Countess Mary remained in the sitting room.

　　"I should never, never have believed that one could be so happy,"she whispered to herself. A smile lit up her face but at the same timeshe sighed, and her deep eyes expressed a quiet sadness as thoughshe felt, through her happiness, that there is another sort ofhappiness unattainable in this life and of which she involuntarilythought at that instant.