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Book 6 Chapter 15

NATASHA had not had a free moment all that day, and had not once had time to think of what lay before her.

In the damp, chill air, in the closeness and half dark of the swaying carriage, she pictured to herself for the first time what was in store for her there, at the ball, in the brightly lighted halls—music, flowers, dancing, the Tsar, all the brilliant young people of Petersburg. The prospect before her was so splendid that she could not even believe that it would come to pass: so incongruous it seemed with the chilliness, darkness, and closeness of the carriage. She could only grasp all that awaited her when, walking over the red cloth, she went into the vestibule, took off her cloak, and walked beside Sonya in front of her mother between the flowers up the lighted staircase. Only then she remembered how she must behave at a ball, and tried to assume the majestic manner that she considered indispensable for a girl at a ball. But luckily she felt that there was a mist before her eyes; she could see nothing clearly, her pulse beat a hundred times a minute, and the blood throbbed at her heart. She was unable to assume the manner that would have made her absurd; and moved on, thrilling with excitement, and trying with all her might simply to conceal it. And it was just in this mood that she looked her best. In front and behind them walked guests dressed in similar ball-dresses and conversing in similarly subdued tones. The looking-glasses on the stair-cases reflected ladies in white, blue, and pink dresses, with diamonds and pearls on their bare arms and necks.

Natasha looked into the looking-glasses and could not distinguish herself from the rest. All was mingled into one brilliant procession. At the entrance into the first room, the regular hum of voices, footsteps, greetings, deafened Natasha; the light and brilliance dazzled her still more. The host and hostess who had been already standing at the door for half an hour, saying exactly the same words to every guest on arrival, Charmé de vous voir, gave the same greeting to the Rostovs and Madame Peronsky. The two young girls in their white dresses, with roses alike in their black hair, made curtsies just alike, but unconsciously the hostess's eyes rested longer on the slender figure of Natasha. She looked at her, and smiled at her a smile that was something more than the smile of welcome she had for all. Looking at her, the hostess was reminded perhaps of her golden days of girlhood, gone never to return, of her own first ball. The host too followed Natasha with his eyes, and asked the count which of the girls was his daughter.

“Charming!” he said, kissing his own finger-tips.

In the ballroom, guests stood crowding about the entry in expectation of the Tsar. The countess took up her position in the front row of this crowd. Natasha heard and felt that several voices were asking who she was, that many pairs of eyes were fixed on her. She knew that she was making a good impression on those who noticed her, and this observation calmed her somewhat.

“There are some like ourselves, and some not as good,” she thought.

Madame Peronsky was pointing out to the countess the most distinguished persons at the ball.

“That is the Dutch ambassador, do you see, the grey-haired man,” Madame Peronsky was saying, indicating an old man with a profusion of silver-grey curls, who was surrounded by ladies laughing at some story he was telling. “And here she comes, the queen of Petersburg society, Countess Bezuhov,” she said, pointing to Ellen who had just come in.

“How lovely! She's quite equal to Marya Antonovna. Look how attentive all the men are to her, young and old alike. She's both lovely and clever.… They say Prince So-and-So is wild about her. And you see these two, though they are not good-looking, they are even more run after.”

She pointed out a lady who was crossing the room accompanied by a very ugly daughter.

“That's the heiress of a million,” said Madame Peronsky. “And, look, here come her suitors.…That's Countess Bezuhov's brother, Anatole Kuragin,” she said, pointing to a handsome officer in the Horse Guards, who passed by them looking from the height of his lifted head over the ladies to something beyond them. “He is handsome, isn't he? They say he is to be married to that heiress. And your cousin, Drubetskoy, is very attentive to her too. They say she has millions. Oh, that's the French ambassador himself,” she said in answer to the countess's inquiry as to the identity of Caulaincourt. “Just look, he's like some monarch. But yet they're nice, the French are very nice. No people more charming in society. Ah, here she is! Yes, still lovelier than any one, our Marya Antonovna! And how simply dressed! Exquisite!”

“And that stout fellow in spectacles is a universal freemason,” said Madame Peronsky, indicating Bezuhov. “Set him beside his wife: he's a motley fool!”

Swinging his stout frame, Pierre slouched through the crowd, nodding to right and to left, as casually and good-naturedly as though he were walking through a crowd in a market. He made his way through the crowd unmistakably looking for some one.

Natasha looked with joy at the familiar face of Pierre, the motley fool, as Madame Peronsky called him, and knew that it was they, and she in particular, of whom Pierre was in search in the crowd. Pierre had promised her to be at the ball and to find her partners. But before reaching them, Pierre came to a standstill beside a very handsome, dark man of medium height in a white uniform, who was standing in a window talking to a tall man wearing stars and a ribbon.

Natasha at once recognised the handsome young man in the white uniform; it was Bolkonsky, who seemed to her to have grown much younger, happier, and better looking.

“There's some one else we know, Bolkonsky, do you see, mamma?” said Natasha, pointing out Prince Andrey. “Do you remember he stayed a night at home, at Otradnoe?”

“Oh, do you know him?” said Madame Peronsky. “I can't bear him. Every one is crazy over him. And his conceit! it's beyond all bounds! He takes after his worthy papa! And he's hand in glove now with Speransky, making out some sort of plans for reform. Just look how he behaves with ladies! She's speaking to him, and he has turned his back on her,” she said, pointing to him. “I would soon send him about his business if he were to treat me like those ladies.”


从这天大清早起娜塔莎就未曾有一分钟的空闲,一次也未曾想到她将要面临的景况。

在潮湿的寒冷的空气中,在那颠簸的四轮轿式马车的拥挤和半明半暗中,她第一次深刻地想象到,在那舞会上,在灯光明亮的大厅中什么在等待着她:音乐、鲜花、舞蹈、国王、全彼得堡的杰出的青年。等待着她的前景是如此美丽,连她自己都不相信,是否真有这种事:盖因此事与寒冷、四轮轿式马车的拥挤和昏暗的印象极不相称。只是当她从台阶上的红呢地毯走过,进入外室,脱下皮袄,在母亲前面和索尼娅并排登上其间布满鲜花的灯光辉煌的梯梯的时候,她才明了等待着她的一切。只是在那时她才想起她在舞会场中应有怎样的举止,并且极力地摆出一副她认为一位女郎在舞会上必须具备的庄重的姿态。但是幸而她感到,她快要眼花缭乱,竟然把什么都看得模模糊糊,每分钟她的脉搏跳了一百次,血液突突地涌上她心头。她不能摆出一副使她变得滑稽可笑的恣态,她于是继续走着,激动得愣住了,只有竭尽全力地掩饰激动的心情。这是一种对她最适合的姿态。客人们在她们前前后后走进来,也同样轻言细语地交谈,也同样穿着舞会服装。楼梯上的几面壁镜映出了女士们的身影,她们身穿白色、天蓝色和玫瑰色的连衣裙,那裸露的手臂和脖子上戴着一颗颗钻石和珍珠。

娜塔莎照镜子,在映像中分不清自己和别人。这一切混合成五光十色的队列。在头一个大厅的入口,人们的不疾不徐的语声、嘈杂的脚步声和欢呼声把娜塔莎震得发聋,璀璨的华灯和衣饰的闪光,更加使她两眼昏花。男女主人在入口的门旁站了半个钟头,对各位来客都道出一句同样的话:“chanrmé de vous voir”①,同样地欢迎罗斯托夫一家人和佩龙斯卡娅。

两个小女孩穿着白色连衣裙,在那乌黑的头发上戴着同样的玫瑰花,行了个同样的屈膝礼,但是女主人禁不住把她的视线更久地停留在苗条的娜塔莎身上。她朝她瞥了一眼,赐予她以女主人的微笑,另外赐予她以特殊的微笑。女主人注视着她,大概想起了她的一去不复返的黄金似的少女时代以及她的第一次舞会。男主人也用目光伴随着娜塔莎,问问伯爵哪个是他的女儿?

“charmante!”②他吻吻自己的指尖之后说了这句话。

①法语:我们看见你们,非常、非常高兴。

②法语:非常可爱!


一些客人站在大厅中,有时挤在入口的门边,等候国王的驾临。伯爵夫人就在这群人的前排坐下来。娜塔莎听见而且感觉到,有几个人开口打听她,端详着她。她明白,那些注意她的人,心里是爱慕她的,这种观察使她得到一点安慰。“有一些人和我们一样,也有一些人没有我们这样好。”她想了想。

佩龙斯卡娅在伯爵夫人面前说出了参加舞会的那些最有威望的人士的名字。

“这就是荷兰公使,您看见吗?白发老人,”佩龙斯卡娅一面说,一面指着那个长满银白色鬈发的小老头,一群太太围着他,他不知怎的逗得她们都发笑。

“她是彼得堡的皇后,伯爵夫人别祖霍娃。”她指着走进来的海伦说。

“多么漂亮!她不逊色于玛丽亚·安诺夫娜①,您看,老老少少都死乞白赖地追求她。既漂亮,又聪明,据说,亲王……因为爱她而神魂颠倒。而这两位,虽然不漂亮,可是纠缠她们的人更多。”

①亚历山大一世的情妇,素以美丽迷人而著称。


她指了指那个随带着很丑陋的女儿穿过大厅的太太。

“这是一个有百万卢布作嫁妆的及笄的姑娘,”佩龙斯卡娅说,“您瞧,这些人是求婚的男子。”

“他是别祖霍娃的哥哥,阿纳托利·库拉金。”她用手指着一个美男子——近卫重骑兵团军官时说,这名军官从她们身边经过,高昂着头,把视线越过太太小姐们,向什么地方观望。“他多么漂亮,不是吗?据说,有人要他娶这个有钱的女人。还有您的表兄德鲁别茨科伊也死乞白赖地追求她。据说,有几百万卢布作嫁妆。”“可不是,这就是法国公使本人。”当伯爵夫人询问科兰库尔是何许人时,她答道。“您瞧,他像个沙皇。法国人毕竟是可爱的,很可爱的。在交际场合没有人比他们更可爱哩。这就是她!不过我们的玛丽亚·安东诺夫娜还是最漂亮的!她穿得多么朴素。漂亮极了!”

“而这个戴眼镜的大胖子,是世界共济会会员,”佩龙斯卡娅指着别祖霍夫时说,“把他搁在他老婆旁边,真像个打诨的小丑!”

皮埃尔移动他那很胖的身体,摇摇晃晃地走路,推开人群,漫不经心地温和地向左右两旁的人们点头,就像从集上的人群中挤过去似的。他穿过人群向前走去,看来他是在寻找什么人。

娜塔莎怀着喜悦的心情望着那个她所熟悉的、被佩龙斯卡娅称为打诨的小丑的皮埃尔的面孔。她晓得皮埃尔在人群中寻找他们,特别是寻找她。皮埃尔答应她来出席舞会并且给她介绍一名舞伴。

可是别祖霍夫还没有走到她们面前,就在一个穿着白色制服的、身材不高的长得漂亮的黑发男子身旁停步了,此人站在窗口正和一个身材魁梧的佩戴勋章和绦带的男人谈话。娜塔莎立刻认出这个身材不高、穿着白色制服的青年,这就是那个她觉得好像变得很年轻、很快活、很漂亮的博尔孔斯基。

“您瞧,又有一个熟人,博尔孔斯基,您看见么?妈妈,”娜塔莎指着安德烈公爵时这样说,“您总记得,他在奥特拉德诺耶我们家里歇宿过一宵。”

“啊,我们认识他吗?”佩龙斯卡娅说,“我不能容忍他。Il fait à présent la pluie et le beau temps①,骄傲得太过份了!他步上了他父亲的后尘,和斯佩兰斯基搭上了关系,在草拟什么方案。您瞧,他怎样对待太太们啊!她跟他说话,可是他扭过脸去,不再理睬,”她指着他说。“如果他像对待这些太太那样对待我,我就会把他骂得狗血淋头。”

①法语:现在大家都为他而神魂颠倒。



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