IT was long since Rostov had derived such enjoyment from music as on that day. But as soon as Natasha had finished her barcarolle, the reality forced itself upon his mind again. Saying nothing, he went out, and went down stairs to his own room. A quarter of an hour later, the old prince came in, good-humoured and satisfied from his club. Nikolay heard him come in, and went in to him.
“Well, had a good time?” said Ilya Andreivitch, smiling proudly and joyfully to his son. Nikolay tried to say “Yes,” but could not; he was on the point of sobbing. The count was lighting his pipe, and did not notice his son's condition.
“Ugh, it's inevitable!” thought Nikolay, for the first and last time. And all at once, as though he were asking for the carriage to drive into town, he said to his father in the most casual tone, that made him feel vile to himself:
“Papa, I have come to you on a matter of business I was almost forgetting. I want some money.”
“You don't say so?” said his father, who happened to be in particularly good spirits. “I told you that we shouldn't be having any. Do you want a large sum?”
“Very large,” said Nikolay, flushing and smiling a stupid, careless smile, for which long after he could not forgive himself. “I have lost a little at cards, that is, a good deal, really, a great deal, forty-three thousand.”
“What! To whom? … You're joking!” cried the count, flushing, as old people flush, an apoplectic red over his neck and the back of his head.
“I have promised to pay it to-morrow,” said Nikolay.
“Oh!” … said the count, flinging up his arms; and he dropped helplessly on the sofa.
“It can't be helped! It happens to every one,” said his son in a free and easy tone, while in his heart he was feeling himself a low scoundrel, whose whole life could not atone for his crime. He would have liked to kiss his father's hands, to beg his forgiveness on his knees, while carelessly, rudely even, he was telling him that it happened to every one.
Count Ilya Andreivitch dropped his eyes when he heard those words from his son, and began moving hurriedly, as though looking for something.
“Yes, yes,” he brought out, “it will be difficult, I fear, difficult to raise …happens to every one! yes, it happens to every one …” And the count cast a fleeting glance at his son's face and walked out of the room.… Nikolay had been prepared to face resistance, but he had not expected this.
“Papa! pa … pa!” he cried after him, sobbing; “forgive me!” And clutching at his father's hand, he pressed it to his lips and burst into tears.
While the father and son were having this interview, another, hardly less important, was taking place between the mother and daughter. Natasha, in great excitement, had run in to her mother.
“Mamma! … Mamma!… he has made me …”
“Made you what?”
“He's made, made an offer. Mamma! Mamma!” she kept crying.
The countess could not believe her ears. Denisov had made an offer … to whom? … To this chit of a girl Natasha, who had only just given up playing with dolls, and was still having lessons.
“Natasha, enough of this silliness!” she said, hoping it was a joke.
“Silliness indeed! I am telling you the fact,” said Natasha angrily. “I have come to ask you what to do, and you talk to me of ‘silliness' …”
The countess shrugged her shoulders.
“If it is true that Monsieur Denisov has made you an offer, then tell him he is a fool, that's all.”
“No, he's not a fool,” said Natasha, resentfully and seriously.
“Well, what would you have, then? You are all in love, it seems, nowadays. Oh, well, if you're in love with him, better marry him,” said the countess, laughing angrily, “and God bless you.”
“No, mamma, I'm not in love with him. I suppose I'm not in love with him.”
“Well, then, tell him so.”
“Mamma, are you cross? Don't be cross, darling; it's not my fault, is it?”
“No, but upon my word, my dear, if you like, I will go and tell him so,” said the countess, smiling.
“No, I'll do it myself; only tell me how to say it. Everything comes easy to you,” she added, responding to her smile. “And if you could have seen how he said it to me! I know he did not mean to say it, but said it by accident.”
“Well, any way you must refuse him.”
“No, I mustn't. I feel so sorry for him! He's so nice.”
“Oh, well, accept his proposal, then. High time you were married, I suppose,” said her mother angrily and ironically.
“No, mamma, but I'm so sorry for him. I don't know how to say it.”
“Well, there's no need for you to say anything. I'll speak to him myself,” said the countess, indignant that any one should have dared to treat this little Natasha as grown up.
“No, not on any account; I'll go myself, and you listen at the door,”— and Natasha ran across the drawing-room to the hall, where Denisov, his face in his hands, was still sitting in the same chair at the clavichord. He jumped up at the sound of her light footsteps.
“Natalie,” he said, moving with rapid steps towards her, “decide my fate. It is in your hands!”
“Vassily Dmitritch, I'm so sorry for you! … No, but you are so nice … but it won't do … that … but I shall always love you as I do now.”
Denisov bent over her, and she heard strange sounds that she did not understand. She kissed his tangled curly black head. At that moment they heard the hurried rustle of the countess's skirts. She came up to them.
“Vassily Dmitritch, I thank you for the honour you do us,” said the countess, in an embarrassed voice, which sounded severe to Denisov, “but my daughter is so young, and I should have thought that as my son's friend you would have come first to me. In that case you would not have forced me to make this refusal.”
“Countess! …” said Denisov, with downcast eyes and a guilty face; he tried to say more, and stammered.
Natasha could not see him in such a piteous plight without emotion. She began to whimper loudly.
“Countess, I have acted wrongly,” Denisov went on in a breaking voice, “but believe me, I so adore your daughter and all your family that I'd give my life twice over …” He looked at the countess and noticed her stern face.… “Well, good-bye, countess,” he said, kissing her hand, and without glancing at Natasha he walked with rapid and resolute steps out of the room.
Next day Rostov saw Denisov off, as he was unwilling to remain another day in Moscow. All his Moscow friends gave him a farewell entertainment at the Gypsies', and he had no recollection of how they got him into his sledge, or of the first three stations he passed.
After Denisov's departure Rostov spent another fortnight in Moscow, waiting for the money to pay his debt, which the count was unable to raise all at once. He hardly left the house, and spent most of his time in the young girls' room.
Sonya was more affectionate and devoted to him then ever. She seemed to want to show him that his loss at cards was an exploit for which she loved him more than ever. But now Nikolay regarded himself as unworthy of her.
He copied music for the girls, and wrote verses in their albums, and after at last sending off all the forty-three thousand roubles, and receiving Dolohov's receipt for it, he left Moscow towards the end of November without taking leave of any of his acquaintances, and overtook his regiment, which was already in Poland.
罗斯托夫许久都没有像今日这样享受音乐的这种乐趣。但当娜塔莎一唱完船夫曲，他又想起了现实生活。他一言不发，便走出门，下楼回到自己房里去了。一刻钟之后，老伯爵怀着快乐和满意的心情从俱乐部回来了。尼古拉听到他回来，便去看他。
“怎么样，快活了一阵吧？”伊利亚·安德烈伊奇说，他对儿子很高兴地、骄傲地微笑。尼古拉想说一声“是的”，但是说不出口，几乎要痛哭起来。伯爵抽抽烟斗闲呆着，没有看出儿子的神态。
“唉，不可避免的事啊！”尼古拉头一回，也是最后一回这样想。突然他用那漫不经心的口气对父亲说话，那口气使他自己显得卑鄙，仿佛是他向父亲要一辆轻便马车进城走一趟似的。
“爸爸，我有事情来找您。我险些儿忘记了。我要用钱。”
“原来是这么一回事，”父亲怀着特别愉快的心情说，“我对你说过，钱不够用的。要很多钱吗？”
“要很多钱，”尼古拉面红耳赤，流露出愚蠢的、漫不经心的微笑，说道，他对自己的这种微笑，后来长久地都不能宽恕，“我赌博输了一点钱，即是说，甚至可以说，输了很多，很多，四万三千卢布。”
“什么？输给谁？……你开玩笑！”伯爵大声喊道，忽然像老年人那样，中风似地涨红了脖子和后脑勺。
“我答应明天付款。”尼古拉说。
“真的吗？……”老伯爵说，摊开两手，软弱无力地坐到沙发上。
“究竟要怎么办啊！谁不会发生这种事。”儿子用放肆的、大胆的口气说，而他心里却认为自己是个一辈子也不能赎罪的坏蛋、下流人。他很想吻吻父亲的手，跪下来请求他原谅，但他却用漫不经心的、甚至粗鲁的口气说，谁都会发生这种事。
“是的，是的，”他说道，“很难，我怕很难搞到这笔钱……谁都是遇到这种事！是的，谁都会遇到这种事……”伯爵于是向儿子脸上匆匆一瞥，他从房里走出去了……尼古拉准备受责备，但他心中决不会料到有这种事。
“爸爸！爸……爸！”他在父亲背后痛哭流涕，大声喊道，“饶了我吧！”他一把抓住父亲的手，用他的嘴唇紧紧地亲吻，大哭起来。
当父亲和儿子正在详谈的时候，母亲和女儿也在说明一件同样重要的事情。娜塔莎很紧张地跑到母亲面前。
“妈妈！……妈妈！……他向我求……”
“求什么？”
“求，求婚，妈妈！妈妈！”她大声喊道。
伯爵夫人不相信自己的耳朵。杰尼索夫求婚了。向谁求婚？向这个小姑娘娜塔莎求婚，她在不久前还玩洋娃娃，而现在尚在学习课程呢。
“娜塔莎，够了，甭说蠢话了！”她说道，仍然希望，这只是开玩笑罢了。
“你看，哪里是说蠢话！我跟您说正经话，”娜塔莎气氛地说，“我来问问，该怎么办，可是您对我说：‘一派胡言'
……”
伯爵夫人耸耸肩膀。
“如果杰尼索夫先生向你求婚是真有其事，那么你就对他说，他是个傻瓜，也就算了。”
“不，他不是傻瓜。”娜塔莎抱怨地、严肃地说。
“好，那你想要怎么样？你们今天真的在恋爱。好，你爱上他了，那么你就嫁给他吧，”伯爵夫人生气地发笑，开口说，“上帝保佑吧！”
“不，妈妈，我没有爱上他，也许并没有爱上。”
“好，那你就这样告诉他。”
“妈妈，您在生气吗？您不要生气，亲爱的，我到底有什么过失呢？”
“不，我的亲人，没有什么，是不是？若是你愿意，我就去说给他听。”伯爵夫人面露微笑地说。
“不，我自己去说，只请您教教我吧。您心里总是觉得轻松，”娜塔莎回答她的笑容时补充地说，“如果您知道他对我怎样说就好了！我原来就晓得，他不愿意提起这件事，不过他是无意中提出来的。”
“嗯，还是应当拒绝他。”
“不，不应当。我太怜悯他啊！他多么可爱。”
“嗯，那你就接受求婚吧，而且也该嫁人了。”母亲气忿地、嘲笑地说。
“不，妈妈，我太怜悯他了。我不晓得要怎样对他说。”
“你用不着说，我亲自去说。”伯爵夫人说，她感到愤慨地是，有人竟敢把这个小小的娜塔莎当大人看待。
“不，您决不要去，我自己去，您就在门边听吧。”娜塔莎穿过客厅向大厅跑去，杰尼索夫用手捂住脸，还坐在击弦古钢琴旁边的那张椅子上。他听见她那轻盈的步履声便一跃而起。
“娜塔莎，”他脚步飞快地朝她跟前走去时说道，“您决定我的命运吧。您已经掌握它了！”
“瓦西里·德米特里奇，我太怜悯您啊！……不，不过，您是个好人……可是不应当……这样……我将会永远疼爱您的。”
杰尼索夫朝她手边弯下腰来，她于是听到那古怪的、她听不懂的声音。她吻了吻他那黑发卷曲而蓬乱的头。这时可以听见伯爵夫人仓促地摆动连衣裙时发出的沙沙响声。她走到他们跟前。
“瓦西里·德米特里奇，我感谢您的垂爱，”伯爵夫人用困窘不安的，但杰尼索夫听来觉得严肃的声音说道，“可是我女儿太年轻了，我以为，您是我儿子的朋友，您得首先跟我讲讲。那您在这种场合下就不会使我非拒绝您不可了。”
“伯爵夫人……”杰尼索夫开了腔，低垂着眼睛，流露出愧悔的神情，心里还想吐出什么话，但是讷讷不出于口。
娜塔莎不能心平气和地望见他那副惨样子。她开始大声地哽咽起来。
“伯爵夫人，我得罪您了，”杰尼索夫用若断若续的嗓音继续说下去，“不过您知道，我非常喜爱您的女儿和你们全家人，为了……我宁可献出两次生命。”他瞧瞧伯爵夫人，看出她那副严肃的面孔……“伯爵夫人，好，再见吧。”他说，吻吻她的手，没有瞧娜塔莎一眼，便迈开飞快的、坚定的脚步从房里走出去了。
次日，罗斯托夫送走了杰尼索夫，因为他不愿在莫斯科多呆一天了。杰尼索夫的莫斯科的朋友们都在茨冈人那里为他饯行，他简直记不得，人们怎样把他送上雪橇，怎样驶过了头三站驿道。
杰尼索夫离开后，罗斯托夫等着要钱，可是老伯爵不能一下子收到这笔钱，于是罗斯托夫在莫斯科又待了两个礼拜，足不出户，多半是呆在小姐们房里。
索尼娅对他比以前更温柔、更忠诚了。显然她是想向他表明，他赌博输钱，这件事是至为伟大的英勇行为，为此她如今更爱他了。但是尼古拉却认为他自己配不上她了。
他在小姑娘们的纪念册上写满了诗和乐谱，在终于寄出四万三千卢布。并且接到多洛霍夫的收条后，未与任何熟人辞行，便在十一月底启程去赶上业已抵达波兰的兵团。
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