First Epilogue: 1813-20 - Chapter XI

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Two months previously when Pierre was already staying with theRostovs he had received a letter from Prince Theodore, asking him tocome to Petersburg to confer on some important questions that werebeing discussed there by a society of which Pierre was one of theprincipal founders.

　　On reading that letter (she always read her husband's letters)Natasha herself suggested that he should go to Petersburg, thoughshe would feel his absence very acutely. She attributed immenseimportance to all her husband's intellectual and abstract intereststhough she did not understand them, and she always dreaded being ahindrance to him in such matters. To Pierre's timid look of inquiryafter reading the letter she replied by asking him to go, but to fix adefinite date for his return. He was given four weeks' leave ofabsence.

　　Ever since that leave of absence had expired, more than afortnight before, Natasha had been in a constant state of alarm,depression, and irritability.

　　Denisov, now a general on the retired list and much dissatisfiedwith the present state of affairs, had arrived during thatfortnight. He looked at Natasha with sorrow and surprise as at a badlikeness of a person once dear. A dull, dejected look, random replies,and talk about the nursery was all he saw and heard from his formerenchantress.

　　Natasha was sad and irritable all that time, especially when hermother, her brother, Sonya, or Countess Mary in their efforts toconsole her tried to excuse Pierre and suggested reasons for his delayin returning.

　　"It's all nonsense, all rubbish- those discussions which lead tonothing and all those idiotic societies!" Natasha declared of the veryaffairs in the immense importance of which she firmly believed.

　　And she would go to the nursery to nurse Petya, her only boy. No oneelse could tell her anything so comforting or so reasonable as thislittle three-month-old creature when he lay at her breast and shewas conscious of the movement of his lips and the snuffling of hislittle nose. That creature said: "You are angry, you are jealous,you would like to pay him out, you are afraid- but here am I! And I amhe..." and that was unanswerable. It was more than true.

　　During that fortnight of anxiety Natasha resorted to the baby forcomfort so often, and fussed over him so much, that she overfed himand he fell ill. She was terrified by his illness, and yet that wasjust what she needed. While attending to him she bore the anxietyabout her husband more easily.

　　She was nursing her boy when the sound of Pierre's sleigh washeard at the front door, and the old nurse- knowing how to pleaseher mistress- entered the room inaudibly but hurriedly and with abeaming face.

　　"Has he come?" Natasha asked quickly in a whisper, afraid to movelest she should rouse the dozing baby.

　　"He's come, ma'am," whispered the nurse.

　　The blood rushed to Natasha's face and her feet involuntarily moved,but she could not jump up and run out. The baby again opened hiseyes and looked at her. "You're here?" he seemed to be saying, andagain lazily smacked his lips.

　　Cautiously withdrawing her breast, Natasha rocked him a little,handed him to the nurse, and went with rapid steps toward the door.But at the door she stopped as if her conscience reproached her forhaving in her joy left the child too soon, and she glanced round.The nurse with raised elbows was lifting the infant over the rail ofhis cot.

　　"Go, ma'am! Don't worry, go!" she whispered, smiling, with thekind of familiarity that grows up between a nurse and her mistress.

　　Natasha ran with light footsteps to the anteroom.

　　Denisov, who had come out of the study into the dancing room withhis pipe, now for the first time recognized the old Natasha. A floodof brilliant, joyful light poured from her transfigured face.

　　"He's come!" she exclaimed as she ran past, and Denisov felt that hetoo was delighted that Pierre, whom he did not much care for, hadreturned.

　　On reaching the vestibule Natasha saw a tall figure in a fur coatunwinding his scarf. "It's he! It's really he! He has come!" shesaid to herself, and rushing at him embraced him, pressed his headto her breast, and then pushed him back and gazed at his ruddy,happy face, covered with hoarfrost. "Yes, it is he, happy andcontented..."

　　Then all at once she remembered the tortures of suspense she hadexperienced for the last fortnight, and the joy that had lit up herface vanished; she frowned and overwhelmed Pierre with a torrent ofreproaches and angry words.

　　"Yes, it's all very well for you. You are pleased, you've had a goodtime.... But what about me? You might at least have shownconsideration for the children. I am nursing and my milk wasspoiled.... Petya was at death's door. But you were enjoying yourself.Yes, enjoying..."

　　Pierre knew he was not to blame, for he could not have comesooner; he knew this outburst was unseemly and would blow over in aminute or two; above all he knew that he himself was bright and happy.He wanted to smile but dared not even think of doing so. He made apiteous, frightened face and bent down.

　　"I could not, on my honor. But how is Petya?"

　　"All right now. Come along! I wonder you're not ashamed! If only youcould see what I was like without you, how I suffered!"

　　"You are well?"

　　"Come, come!" she said, not letting go of his arm. And they wentto their rooms.

　　When Nicholas and his wife came to look for Pierre he was in thenursery holding his baby son, who was again awake, on his huge rightpalm and dandling him. A blissful bright smile was fixed on the baby'sbroad face with its toothless open mouth. The storm was long sinceover and there was bright, joyous sunshine on Natasha's face as shegazed tenderly at her husband and child.

　　"And have you talked everything well over with Prince Theodore?" sheasked.

　　"Yes, capitally."

　　"You see, he holds it up." (She meant the baby's head.) "But howhe did frighten me... You've seen the princess? Is it true she's inlove with that..."

　　"Yes, just fancy..."

　　At that moment Nicholas and Countess Mary came in. Pierre with thebaby on his hand stooped, kissed them, and replied to their inquiries.But in spite of much that was interesting and had to be discussed, thebaby with the little cap on its unsteady head evidently absorbed allhis attention.

　　"How sweet!" said Countess Mary, looking at and playing with thebaby. "Now, Nicholas," she added, turning to her husband, "I can'tunderstand how it is you don't see the charm of these deliciousmarvels."

　　"I don't and can't," replied Nicholas, looking coldly at the baby."A lump of flesh. Come along, Pierre!"

　　"And yet he's such an affectionate father," said Countess Mary,vindicating her husband, "but only after they are a year old or so..."

　　"Now, Pierre nurses them splendidly," said Natasha. "He says hishand is just made for a baby's seat. Just look!"

　　"Only not for this..." Pierre suddenly exclaimed with a laugh, andshifting the baby he gave him to the nurse.