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Book 6 Chapter 16

THERE was a sudden stir, the crowd began talking, rushed forward, then moved apart again, and down the space left open through it, the Tsar walked to the strains of the band, which struck up at once. Behind him walked the host and hostess. The Tsar walked in rapidly, bowing to right and to left, as though trying to hurry over the first moments of greeting. The musicians played the polonaise in vogue at the time on account of the words set to it. The words began: “Alexander, Elisaveta, our hearts ye ravish quite.” The Tsar went into the drawing-room, the crowd made a dash for the door; several persons ran hurriedly to the door and back with excited faces. The crowd made another rush back, away from the drawing-room door at which the Tsar appeared in conversation with the hostess. A young man, looking distraught, pounced down on the ladies and begged them to move aside. Several, with faces that betrayed a total oblivion of all the rules of decorum, squeezed forward, to the destruction of their dresses. The men began approaching the ladies, and couples were formed for the polonaise.

There was a general movement of retreat, and the Tsar, smiling, came out of the drawing-room door, leading out the lady of the house, and not keeping time to the music. He was followed by the host with Marya Antonovna Narishkin; then came ambassadors, ministers, and various generals, whose names Madame Peronsky never tired of reciting. More than half the ladies had partners, and were taking part, or preparing to take part, in the polonaise.

Natasha felt that she would be left with her mother and Sonya in that minority of the ladies who were crowded back against the wall, and not invited to dance the polonaise. She stood, her thin arms hanging at her sides, and her scarcely outlined bosom heaving regularly. She held her breath, and gazed before her with shining, frightened eyes, with an expression of equal readiness for the utmost bliss or the utmost misery. She took no interest in the Tsar, nor in all the great people Madame Peronsky was pointing out; her mind was filled by one thought: “Is it possible no one will come up to me? Is it possible that I shall not dance among the foremost? Is it possible I shall not be noticed by all these men, who now don't even seem to see me, but if they look at me, look with an expression as though they would say: ‘Ah! that's not she, so it's no use looking'?” “No, it cannot be!” she thought. “They must know how I long to dance, how well I dance, and how they would enjoy dancing with me.”

The strains of the polonaise, which had already lasted some time, were beginning to sound like a melancholy reminiscence in the ears of Natasha. She wanted to cry. Madame Peronsky had left them. The count was at the other end of the ballroom, the countess, Sonya, and she stood in that crowd of strangers as lonely as in a forest, of no interest, of no use to any one. Prince Andrey with a lady passed close by them, obviously not recognising them. The handsome Anatole said something smiling to the lady on his arm, and he glanced at Natasha's face as one looks at a wall. Boris passed by them, twice, and each time turned away. Berg and his wife, who were not dancing, came towards them.

This family meeting here, in a ballroom, seemed a humiliating thing to Natasha, as though there were nowhere else for family talk but here at a ball. She did not listen, and did not look at Vera, who said something to her about her own green dress.

At last the Tsar stood still beside the last of his partners (he had danced with three), the music ceased. An anxious-looking adjutant ran up to the Rostovs, begging them to move a little further back, though they were already close to the wall, and from the orchestra came the circumspect, precise, seductively, stately rhythm of the waltz. The Tsar glanced with a smile down the ballroom. A moment passed; no one had yet begun. An adjutant, who was a steward, went up to Countess Bezuhov and asked her to dance. Smiling, she raised her hand and laid it on the adjutant's shoulder without looking at him. The adjutant-steward, a master of his art, grasped his partner firmly, and with confident deliberation and smoothness broke with her into the first gallop round the edge of the circle, then at the corner of the ballroom caught his partner's left hand, turned her; and through the quickening strains of the music nothing could be heard but the regular jingle of the spurs on the adjutant's rapid, practised feet, and at every third beat the swish of his partner's flying velvet skirt as she whirled round.

Natasha looked at them, and was ready to cry that it was not she dancing that first round of the waltz.

Prince Andrey, in his white uniform of a cavalry colonel, wearing stockings and dancing-shoes, stood looking eager and lively, in the front of the ring not far from the Rostovs. Baron Firhoff was talking to him of the proposed first sitting of the State Council to be held next day. From his intimacy with Speransky, and the part he was taking in the labours of the legislative commission, Prince Andrey was in a position to give authoritative information in regard to that sitting, about which the most diverse rumours were current. But he did not hear what Firhoff was saying to him, and looked from the Tsar to the gentlemen preparing to dance, who had not yet stepped out into the ring.

Prince Andrey was watching these gentlemen, who were timid in the presence of the Tsar, and the ladies, who were dying to be asked to dance.

Pierre went up to Prince Andrey and took him by the arm.

“You always dance. Here is my protégée, the younger Rostov girl, ask her,” he said.

“Where?” asked Bolkonsky. “I beg your pardon,” he said, turning to the baron, “we will finish this conversation in another place, but at a ball one must dance.” He went forward in the direction indicated by Pierre. Natasha's despairing, tremulous face broke upon Prince Andrey. He recognised her, guessed her feelings, saw that it was her debut, remembered what she had said at the window, and with an expression of pleasure on his face he approached Countess Rostov.

“Permit me to introduce you to my daughter,” said the countess, reddening.

“I have the pleasure of her acquaintance already, if the countess remembers me,” said Prince Andrey, with a low and courteous bow, which seemed a direct contradiction to Madame Peronsky's remarks about his rudeness. He went up to Natasha, and raised his hand to put it round her waist before he had fully uttered the invitation to dance. He proposed a waltz to her. The tremulous expression of Natasha's face, ready for despair or for ecstasy, brightened at once into a happy, grateful, childlike smile.

“I have been a long while waiting for you,” that alarmed and happy young girl seemed to say to him in the smile that peeped out through the starting tears as she raised her hand to Prince Andrey's shoulder. They were the second couple that walked forward into the ring.

Prince Andrey was one of the best dancers of his day. Natasha danced exquisitely. Her little feet in their satin dancing-shoes performed their task lightly and independently of her, and her face beamed with a rapture of happiness.

Her bare neck and arms were thin, and not beautiful compared with Ellen's shoulders. Her shoulders were thin, her bosom undefined, her arms were slender. But Ellen was, as it were, covered with the hard varnish of those thousands of eyes that had scanned her person, while Natasha seemed like a young girl stripped for the first time, who would have been greatly ashamed if she had not been assured by every one that it must be so.

Prince Andrey loved dancing. He was anxious to escape as quickly as he could from the political and intellectual conversations into which every one tried to draw him, and anxious too to break through that burdensome barrier of constraint arising from the presence of the Tsar; so he made haste to dance, and chose Natasha for a partner because Pierre pointed her out to him, and because she was the first pretty girl who caught his eyes. But he had no sooner put his arm round that slender, supple waist, and felt her stirring so close to him, and smiling so close to him, than the intoxication of her beauty flew to his head. He felt full of life and youth again as, drawing a deep breath, he brought her to a standstill and began to watch the other couples.


忽然间一切都乱腾起来,人群中一片喧哗,开始向前移动,又闪到两边,让出一条路来,国王在奏乐声中,从分成两行的人群中间走进来。男女主人跟在他身后。国王走得很快,时而向左右两旁的人们点头致意,仿佛力图尽快地回避这最初会见的时刻。乐师们奏着当时以歌词闻名于世的波兰舞曲。歌词开头的一句是:“亚历山大、伊丽莎白,你们令我们叹服。”国王走进了客厅,一群人拥向门口,有几个人变了脸色,急急忙忙地冲过去,又退回来。人群又从客厅门口向后猛退,国王与女主人谈话,在客厅里露面。有个年轻人现出心慌意乱的样子,威逼女士们,要她们让开。有一些女士露出了她们完全忘记上流社会规章的神态,她们在破坏自己的衣服,你推我挤,向前冲去。男人们开始走到女士们跟前,两人一排地站好,就要跳波兰舞了。

大家闪到一边,让出一条路来,国王面露微笑,搀着这个女主人的手,没有合着音乐的节拍,步出了客厅。男主人和玛丽亚·安东诺夫娜·纳雷什金娜跟在他后面,公使们、大臣们、各个兵种的将军们尾随于其后,佩龙斯卡娅不停地说出他们的名字。半数以上的女士都有舞伴,一个个走出来,或者准备跳波兰舞。娜塔莎感到,她和母亲、索尼娅都被挤到墙边上,仍然呆在那些未被邀请跳波兰舞的一小部分女士中间。她站在那个地方,低垂着自己一双纤细的手,她那稍微隆起的胸脯均匀地起伏,她几乎屏住呼吸,一对吃惊的闪闪发光的眼睛注视着前方,她那表情意味着她对最大的欣悦或极度的悲哀在精神上都有所准备。无论是国王,还是佩龙斯卡娅指给她看的所有的要人,都不能使她发生兴趣,她心里想到的只有一件事:难道没有一个人会走到我跟前来,难道我不能在第一批舞伴之中跳舞,难道所有这些男人都不会注意到我,仿佛他们现在没有看见我,即令他们在看我,他们的神态也仿佛在说:“啊!这不是她,用不着去看她。不对,这不可能啊!”她想道,“他们都应当知道,我很想跳舞,我跳得最好,他们和我一块跳舞是会感到快活的。”

演奏了相当久的波兰舞曲听起来显得忧悒,在娜塔莎的耳鼓中回荡,它所留下的只是回忆而已。她很想哭出声来。佩龙斯卡娅从他们身边走开。伯爵正呆在大厅的另一头,伯爵夫人、索尼娅和她单独地站在陌生的人群中,犹如置身于森林之中,谁也不对她们发生兴趣,谁也不需要她们。安德烈公爵和某个女士从她们身边经过,显然没有把她们认出来。美男子阿纳托利微露笑容,对他自己身旁的舞伴谈着什么话,他朝娜塔莎的面孔瞟了一眼,那目光看来就像有人在望着墙壁似的。鲍里斯接连两次从她们身边经过,他每次都要把脸转过去,不理睬她们,不去跳舞的贝格偕同妻子走到她们面前来了。

娜塔莎觉得这一家人在这个舞会上团聚是一件令人屈辱的事,仿佛除了舞会之外,这家人就没有别的地方可以谈话似的。薇拉不知为什么向她谈到自己穿的绿色连衣裙,娜塔莎不听她说话,也不愿望她。

国王终于在他的最后一个舞伴(他和三个舞伴一同跳过舞)身旁停步,停止奏乐了,一个颇为操心的副官跑着碰上了罗斯托夫一家人,虽然他们都站在墙脚边,但是这个副官还请他们再让开一点,这时合唱团奏起了清晰的从容的引人入胜的富于节奏的华尔兹舞曲。国王微露笑容,看了看大厅。过了一分钟,还没有人走出来。主持舞会的副官走到伯爵夫人别祖霍娃跟前,请她跳舞。她含着微笑抬起一只手,还没有打量副官,就把一只手搁在他的肩膀上。主持舞会的副官是个内行,他紧紧地搂抱舞伴,十分自信地、不慌不忙地、富于节奏地带着他的舞伴先在圆形舞池边上滑行,后在大厅的角落,他托起舞伴的左手,转了一个弯,音乐的节奏愈益加快了。透过这一片乐音,可以听见副官那双又快又灵活的脚不时地碰着马刺,发出富于节奏的叮当的响声;每隔三拍旋转一次,旋转时,舞伴的丝绒连衣裙有如冒出的火焰,不停地飘动。娜塔莎眼巴巴地望着她们,她因为不能跳这一轮华尔兹舞,几乎要哭出声来。

安德烈公爵穿着白色(骑兵式)的上校军服,长袜和矮靿皮鞋,兴致勃勃,心地快活,站在离罗斯托夫一家人不远的舞池的前排。菲尔霍夫男爵跟他谈到预定于明日举行的国务院首次会议。安德烈公爵和斯佩兰斯基的关系密切,并且参与立法委员会的工作,可以提供明日举行的会议的可靠情极,关于这次会议已有各种传闻。但是菲尔霍夫对他说的话他不愿听,他时而望望国王,时而望望那些打算跳又不敢走进圆形舞池的男舞伴们。

安德烈公爵观察这些在国王面前胆怯的男女舞伴,他们一想到被人邀请就愣住了。

皮埃尔走到安德烈公爵面前,一把抓住他的手。

“您是经常跳舞的。这里有我的保护人,罗斯托娃她还很年轻,去邀请她吧。”他说。

“在哪里?”博尔孔斯基问道,“请原谅,”他把脸转向男爵时说道:“我们将在别的地方来结束这次谈话,不过现在要跳舞。”他向皮埃尔指给他看的方向往前走。娜塔莎的绝望的、显得心悸的面孔已经引起安德烈公爵瞩目。他认出她了,猜透了她的心思,懂得她是个初出茅庐的新手,他想起她在窗台上的谈话,便带着愉快的面部表情走到伯爵夫人罗斯托娃跟前。

“请让我介绍您和我女儿认识一下。”伯爵夫人满面通红地说。

“既然伯爵夫人还记得我,把您女儿介绍给我认识,我觉得荣幸,”安德烈公爵说完这句话,毕恭毕敬地走到娜塔莎跟前,深深地鞠躬,这一鞠躬礼与佩龙斯卡娅说他行为粗野的评语截然不同,当他还没有把邀请她跳舞的话说完,他便抬起一只手搂抱她的腰身,他请她跳一轮华尔兹舞。娜塔莎那副对绝望或喜悦均有所准备的显得心悸的面部表情起了变化,幸福、感激、稚气的微笑使她容光焕发。

“我老早就在等你。”这个惊恐的幸运的少女在抬起一只手搭在安德烈公爵肩上的时候,用她那快要含泪的笑容,好像这么说。他们是走进圆形舞池的第二对舞伴。安德烈公爵是当代的优秀舞蹈家之一。娜塔莎也跳得很出色。她那双穿着缎子制的矮靿舞鞋的小脚,急促而轻盈地、无拘无束地转动,她的脸部焕发出幸福的欣赏的光辉。她那裸露的脖子和手臂又瘦又难看。与那海伦的肩头相比,她的肩头太瘦削了,她那胸脯还没有明显地隆起,手臂太纤细,然而千百条视线从海伦身上滑过,她那肌肤宛如涂了一层油漆,而娜塔莎仿佛是个初次袒胸露臂的少女,如果不使她相信袒胸露臂是很有必要的话,她就会感到难乎为情的。

安德烈公爵喜欢跳舞,人们往往找他谈论政治问题和内容深奥的问题,他想快点儿摆脱这些谈话,而且想快点打破由于国王驾临而形成的使他苦闷的窘境,他去跳舞了,挑选娜塔莎,因为皮埃尔把她指给他看了,又因为她是落入他的眼帘的第一个美女,但是他一抱起这个苗条的灵活的身躯,她就在他身边转动起来,她就在他身边微微一笑,她那迷人的酒力冲到他头上;当他喘一口气,把她放开,停下来开始看人跳舞的时候,他觉得自己精力充沛,已经变得年轻了。



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