TO GET MARRIED his father's consent was wanted, and to obtain this Prince Andrey set off to see his father.
The father received his son's communication with external composure but with inward wrath. He could not comprehend how any one could want to alter his life, to introduce any new element into it, when life was for him so near its end. “If they would only let me live my life out as I want to, and then do as they like!” the old man said to himself. With his son, however, he made use of that diplomacy to which he always had resort in case of gravity. Assuming a calm tone, he went into the whole question judicially.
In the first place, the marriage was not a brilliant one from the point of view of birth, fortune, or distinction. Secondly, Prince Andrey was not in his first youth, and was delicate in health (the old man laid special stress on this), and the girl was very young. Thirdly, there was his son, whom it would be a pity to entrust to a mere girl. “Fourthly, and finally,” said the father, looking ironically at his son, “I beg you to defer the matter for a year; go abroad, and get well; find a German, as you want to do so, for Prince Nikolay, and then, if your love, your passion, your obstinacy—what you choose—are so great, then get married. And that's my last word on the subject; you know, the last …” the old prince concluded, in a tone that showed that nothing would compel him to alter his decision.
Prince Andrey saw clearly that the old man hoped that either his feeling or that of his betrothed would not stand the test of a year or that he, the old prince, would die himself in the course of it, and he decided to act in accordance with his father's wish; to make an offer and to defer the marriage for a year.
Three weeks after his last visit to the Rostovs, Prince Andrey returned to Petersburg.
The day after her conversation with her mother, Natasha spent the whole day expecting Bolkonsky but he did not come. The next day, and the third, it was just the same. Pierre too stayed away, and Natasha, not knowing Prince Andrey had gone away to see his father, did not know how to interpret his absence.
So passed the three weeks. Natasha would not go out anywhere, and wandered like a shadow about the house, idle and listless, wept at night in secret, and did not go in to her mother in the evenings. She was continually flushing and very irritable. It seemed to her that every one knew of her disappointment, was laughing at her, and pitying her. In spite of all the intensity of her inward grief, the wound to her vanity aggravated her misery.
She came in to the countess one day, tried to say something, and all at once burst into tears. Her tears were the tears of an offended child, who does not know why it is being punished. The countess tried to comfort Natasha. At first she listened to her mother's words, but suddenly she interrupted her:
“Stop, mamma, I don't think of him or want to think of him! Why, he kept coming, and he has left off, and he has left off …” Her voice quivered, she almost began to cry, but recovered herself, and went on calmly:
“And I don't want to be married at all. And I'm afraid of him; I have quite, quite got over it now…”
The day after this conversation, Natasha put on the old dress she specially associated with the fun she had often had when wearing it in the mornings, and began from early morning to take up her old manner of life, which she had given up ever since the ball. After morning tea, she went into the big hall, which she particularly liked on account of the loud resonance in it, and began singing her sol-fa exercises. When she had finished the first exercise she stood still in the middle of the room and repeated a single musical phrase which particularly pleased her. She listened with delight, as though it were new to her, to the charm of these notes ringing out, filling the empty space of the great room and dying slowly away, and she felt all at once cheerful. “Why think so much about it; things are nice even as it is,” she said to herself; and she began walking up and down the room, not putting her feet simply down on the resounding parquet, but at each step bending her foot from the heel to the toe (she had on some new shoes she particularly liked), and listening to the regular tap of the heel and creak of the toe with the same pleasure with which she had listened to the sound of her own voice. Passing by the looking-glass, she glanced into it. “Yes, that's me!” the expression of her face seemed to say at the sight of herself. “Well, and very nice too. And I need nobody.”
A footman would have come in to clear away something in the room, but she would not let him come in. She shut the door after him, and continued her promenade about the room. She had come back that morning to her favourite mood of loving herself and being ecstatic over herself. “What a charming creature that Natasha is!” she said again of herself, speaking as some third person, a generic, masculine person.
“Pretty, a voice, young, and she's in nobody's way, only leave her in peace.” But, however much she might be left in peace, she could not now be at peace, and she felt that immediately.
In the vestibule the hall-door opened; someone was asking, “At home?” and steps were audible. Natasha was looking at herself in the glass, but she did not see herself. She heard sounds in the vestibule. When she saw herself, her face was pale. It was he. She knew it for certain, though she herself caught the sound of his voice at the opened door.
Natasha, pale and panic-stricken, flew into the drawing-room.
“Mamma, Bolkonsky has come,” she said. “Mamma, this is awful, unbearable! … I don't want … to be tortured! What am I to do?”
The countess had not time to answer her before Prince Andrey with a troubled and serious face walked into the drawing-room. As soon as he saw Natasha his face beamed with delight. He kissed the countess's hand and Natasha's, and sat down beside the sofa.
“It's a long while since we have had the pleasure …” the countess was beginning, but Prince Andrey cut her short, answering her implied question, and obviously in haste to say what he had to say.
“I have not been to see you all this time because I have been to see my father; I had to talk over a very important matter with him. I only returned last night,” he said, glancing at Natasha. “I want to have a talk with you, countess,” he added after a moment's silence.
The countess dropped her eyes, sighing heavily.
“I am at your disposal,” she brought out.
Natasha knew she ought to go, but she was unable to do so: something seemed gripping her throat, and, regardless of civility, she stared straight at Prince Andrey with wide-open eyes.
“At once? … This minute? … No, it cannot be!” she was thinking.
He glanced at her again, and that glance convinced her that she was not mistaken. Yes, at once, this very minute her fate was to be decided.
“Run away, Natasha; I will call you,” the countess whispered.
With frightened and imploring eyes Natasha glanced at Prince Andrey and at her mother, and went out.
“I have come, countess, to ask for your daughter's hand,” said Prince Andrey.
The countess's face flushed hotly, but she said nothing.
“Your offer …” the countess began at last, sedately. He sat silent, looking into her face. “Your offer” … (she hesitated in confusion) “is agreeable to us, and … I accept your offer. I am glad of it. And my husband … I hope … but it must rest with herself …”
“I will speak to her, when I have received your consent.…Do you give it me?” said Prince Andrey.
“Yes,” said the countess, and she held out her hand to him, and with mingled feelings of aversion and tenderness she pressed her lips to his forehead as he bent to kiss her hand. Her wish was to love him as a son; but she felt that he was a man alien to her, and that she was afraid of him.
“I am sure my husband will consent,” said the countess; “but your father …”
“My father, whom I have informed of my plans, has made it an express condition that the marriage should not take place for a year. That too, I meant to speak of to you,” said Prince Andrey.
“It is true that Natasha is very young, but—so long as that?”
“It could not be helped,” said Prince Andrey with a sigh.
“I will send her to you,” said the countess, and she went out of the room.
“Lord, have mercy upon us!” she kept repeating as she looked for her daughter.
Sonya told her that Natasha was in her bedroom. She was sitting on her bed, with a pale face and dry eyes; she was gazing at the holy picture, and murmuring something to herself as she rapidly crossed herself. Seeing her mother she leaped up and flew towards her.
“Well, mamma, … well?”
“Go, go to him. He asks your hand,” said the countess, coldly it seemed to Natasha.…“Yes … go …” the mother murmured mournfully and reproachfully with a deep sigh as her daughter ran off.
Natasha could not have said how she reached the drawing-room. As she entered the door and caught sight of him, she stopped short: “Is it possible that this stranger has now become everything to me?” she asked herself, and instantly answered: “Yes, everything: he alone is dearer to me now than everything in the world.” Prince Andrey approached her with downcast eyes.
“I have loved you from the first minute I saw you. Can I hope?”
He glanced at her and was struck by the serious, impassioned look in her face. Her face seemed to say: “Why ask? Why doubt of what you cannot but know? Why talk when no words can express what one feels?”
She came nearer to him and stopped. He took her hand and kissed it.
“Do you love me?”
“Yes, yes,” said Natasha, almost angrily it seemed. She drew a deep sigh, and another, her breathing came more and more quickly, and she burst into sobs.
“What is it? What's the matter?”
“Oh, I am so happy,” she answered, smiling through her tears. She bent over closer to him, thought a second, as though wondering whether it were possible, and then kissed him.
Prince Andrey held her hands, looked into her eyes and could find no trace of his former love for her in his heart. Some sudden reaction seemed to have taken place in his soul; there was none of the poetic and mysterious charm of desire left in it; instead of that there was pity for her feminine and childish weakness, terror at her devotion and trustfulness, an irksome, yet sweet, sense of duty, binding him to her for ever. The actual feeling, though not so joyous and poetical as the former feeling, was more serious and deeper.
“Did your mamma tell you that it cannot be for a year?” said Prince Andrey, still gazing into her eyes.
“Can this be I, the baby-girl (as every one used to call me)?” Natasha was thinking. “Can I really be from this minute a wife, on a level with this unknown, charming, intellectual man, who is looked up to even by my father? Can it be true? Can it be true that now there can be no more playing with life, that now I am grown up, that now a responsibility is laid upon me for every word and action? Oh, what did he ask me?”
“No,” she answered, but she had not understood his question.
“Forgive me,” said Prince Andrey, “but you are so young, and I have had so much experience of life. I am afraid for you. You don't know yourself.”
Natasha listened with concentrated attention, trying to take in the meaning of his words; but she did not understand them
“Hard as that year will be to me, delaying my happiness,” continued Prince Andrey, “in that time you will be sure of yourself. I beg you to make me happy in a year, but you are free; our engagement shall be kept a secret, and if you should find out that you do not love me, or if you should come to love …” said Prince Andrey with a forced smile.
“Why do you say that?” Natasha interrupted. “You know that from the very day when you first came to Otradnoe, I have loved you,” she said, firmly persuaded that she was speaking the truth.
“In a year you will learn to know yourself.…”
“A who-ole year!” cried Natasha suddenly, only now grasping that their marriage was to be deferred for a year. “But why a year? … Why a year?…”
Prince Andrey began to explain to her the reasons for this delay. Natasha did not hear him.
“And can't it be helped?” she asked. Prince Andrey made no reply, but his face expressed the impossibility of altering this decision.
“That's awful! Oh, it's awful, awful!” Natasha cried suddenly, and she broke into sobs again. “I shall die if I have to wait a year; it's impossible, it's awful.” She glanced at her lover's face and saw the look of sympathetic pain and perplexity on it.
“No, no, I'll do anything,” she said, suddenly checking her tears; “I'm so happy!”
Her father and mother came into the room and gave the betrothed couple their blessing. From that day Prince Andrey began to visit the Rostovs as Natasha's affianced lover.
结婚之事必须取得父亲的同意，为此安德烈公爵遂于翌日去看他父亲。
父亲表面上显得很镇静，然而他的内心充满愤恨，他带着这样的神态接待了儿子，听取了他的禀告。在他的生命行将结束的时候，任何人打算改变他的生活并在生活中引进任何新的东西，他都认为这是没法理解的。“不过，要让我合乎心愿地活到老死吧，往后你们想怎么办，就怎么办吧。”老头子对自己说。但是他和儿子打交道，他还是耍了那套他在紧急情况下所耍的外交手腕。他扯着一副镇静的腔调，全面考虑这个问题。
其一，在身世、财产和名位方面，这门婚事并非美满的。其二，安德烈公爵已经过了中年，身体孱弱（老头子对这一点特别加以强调），而她却很年轻。其三，他不忍心把儿子许配给这个小丫头。其四，即是最后一点，父亲讥讽地望着儿子时说，“请你将这门婚事延缓一年，去外国走走，疗养一个时期，给尼古拉公爵寻求一位德籍家庭教师，这原来也就符合你的心意。然后，如果爱情、情欲、执拗脾气，真是大得很，你就娶亲吧。这是我的最后的叮嘱，记住，最后的……”公爵结束讲话时所用的口吻表示，无论什么事物也不能强迫他改变自己的决定。
安德烈公爵清楚地看到，老头子指望，他的感情或者他将来的未婚妻的感情经不起一年的考验，或者他本人——老公爵在此以前去世，他于是决意履行父亲的遗志：求婚之后将婚期延缓一年。
安德烈公爵在罗斯托夫家中呆了最后一晚以后过了三个礼拜便回到彼得堡。
翌日，娜塔莎向她母亲说了心里话以后，整天等候博尔孔斯基，可是他没有来。第二天，第三天依旧如此，不见人影。皮埃尔也没有来，因为娜塔莎不知道安德烈公爵到他父亲那里去了，所以她没法说明他不赴约的原因。
这样过了三个礼拜。娜塔莎不想到任何地方去，就像个幽灵似的，她觉得闲散无聊，闷闷不乐，在几间房屋里面走来走去，晚间她背着大家，悄悄地哭个不停，也不到母亲那里去了。她时常脸红，心里很激动。她仿佛觉得，大家都晓待她的失望，笑她，怜悯她。她内心的痛苦十分剧烈，兼以徒慕虚荣，备受痛苦，也就加深了她的不幸。
有一回她到伯爵夫人那里来，想对她说些什么，但忽然哭起来了。她两眼流泪，就像一个备受委屈而不知道为什么遭到惩罚的小孩那样流泪。
伯爵夫人开始安慰娜塔莎。开头，娜塔莎倾听母亲说话，突然她把她的话打断了：
“妈妈，别再讲了，我连想也没有想，我不愿意想啊！偶然来了一趟，就不再来，就不再来了……”
她的声音颤栗起来，险些儿要哭出声来，但又恢复了常态，心平气和地继续说下去：
“我根本不想嫁人。我害怕他，现在我完全、完全安心了……”
在这次谈话后的第二天，娜塔莎穿了一件旧连衣裙，她特别爱穿这件连衣裙，是因为每逢早晨它会给她带来欢乐，从这天早晨起，她又开始采用自从上次舞会后已经中断的原有的生活方式。她喝够了茶，就走进一间她特别喜欢的很聚音的大厅，她在这里开始做视唱练习。练完第一课之后，她在大厅的正中间停下来，把她特别喜欢的短句重唱一遍。她的歌声悠扬婉转，洋溢着整个大厅的空间，慢慢地消失，她愉快地倾听悦耳的音调（仿佛出乎她所意料），她忽然心旷神怡。
“为什么想得太多，本来就很好嘛。”她对自己说，开始在大厅里走来走去，在音响清晰的镶木地板上，她不是迈着普通的脚步，而是每走一步都把重心由脚跟换到脚尖上（她穿着一双她喜欢的新皮鞋），就像倾听自己的歌声那样，她愉快地倾听有节奏的脚跟跺地时发出的咚咚声和脚尖磨擦时发出的吱吱嘎嘎声。她从镜台旁边经过时，照了一下镜子，“瞧，她就是我！”在她看见自己时，她的脸部表情仿佛这样说。“啊，也还不错。我还不需要任何人。”
仆人想走进来，收拾起大厅里的东西，可是她不放他进来，她又随手把门关上，继续踱方步。这天早上她又重新处在自我欣赏的状态：她喜爱自己，称赞自己。“这个娜塔莎多么俊俏啊！”她又用第三人称阳性的口吻谈论自己，“她长得漂亮，非常年轻，有一副银铃般的嗓子，她不会妨碍任何人，不过也别打扰她。”但是，尽管大家不去打扰她，她还是不能平静，而且她心中马上意识到这一点。
接待室的大门敞开了，有个人问道：“在家吗？”接着传来了什么人的脚步声。娜塔莎在照镜子，但是她看不见镜子里的自己。她倾听接待室里的响声。当她看见镜中的自己时，她的脸色显得很苍白。就是他。虽然她从关着的门里勉强地听见他的语声，但是她仍然确切地知道是他。
娜塔莎脸色苍白，惊惶失措，她跑进客厅里去。
“妈妈，博尔孔斯基来了！”她说，“妈妈，这很可怕，这很讨厌！我不想……折磨自己！我究竟怎么办呢？……”
伯爵夫人还来不及回答她的话，安德烈公爵就显露出忐忑不安的异常、严肃的样子走进了客厅。他一看见娜塔莎，就喜笑颜开。他吻吻伯爵夫人和娜塔莎的手，在长沙发旁边坐下。……
“我们很久都没有机会……”伯爵夫人刚开始说话，可是安德烈公爵打断她的话，当他回答她的问话时，显然，他急着要说出他要说的话。
“这些时日我没有登门拜访，因为我到父亲那里去了，我需要和他商谈一件非常重要的事情。昨天深夜我才回来。”他望了娜塔莎一眼，说道，“我需要和您商谈一件事，伯爵夫人。”
他沉默片刻后，补充地说。
伯爵夫人沉重地喘口气，垂下了眼睛。
“我愿意为您效劳。”她说。
娜塔莎知道她应当走开，但是她没法这样做，好像有什么东西使她的喉咙憋闷得透不过气来，于是她毫无拘束地睁开眼睛，直勾勾地瞅着安德烈公爵。
“现在吗？就在这一瞬间！……不，不可能！”她想道。
他又瞥了她一眼，这一瞥使她相信，她没有搞错，“对，现在，就是在这一瞬间要决定她的命运。”
“娜塔莎，你去吧，我会叫你。”伯爵夫人用耳语说。
娜塔莎用那惊惶失措的央求的目光望了望安德烈公爵和母亲，就走出去了。
“伯爵夫人，我来向您女儿求婚。”安德烈公爵说。
伯爵夫人满面通红，她没有说出什么话。
“您的求婚……”伯爵夫人老成持重地开始说。他瞧着她的眼睛，默不作声。“您的求婚……（她觉得不好意思）我们都感到高兴，而且……我接受您的提婚，我觉得高兴。我丈夫也……我希望……不过，这将取决于她自己……”
“当我得到您的同意的时候，我就告诉她……您同意我的求婚吗？”安德烈公爵说道。
“同意，”伯爵夫人说，向他伸出手来，当他在她的手边弯下腰来的时候，她怀着既疏远而又温和的混合感情吻吻他的额头。她希望像爱儿子那样爱他，但是她感到，他是个外人，她认为可怕的人。
“我相信我的丈夫是会同意的，”伯爵夫人说，“但是令尊……”
“我把我的计划告诉我父亲，可是他将婚期延缓一年作为同意结婚的必要条件。我想把这件事说给您听。”安德烈公爵说道。
“的确，娜塔莎还很年轻，但是——时间这样长啊！”
“如不这样，就不行。”安德烈公爵叹口气说。
“我把她送到您这里来。”伯爵夫人说了这句话便从房里走出来。
“天哪，饶了我们吧，”她在寻找女儿时反复地说。索尼娅说，娜塔莎在卧室里。娜塔莎脸色苍白，坐在自己床上，用那冷淡的目光注视着神像，她飞快地画十字，低声地说着什么。她看见母亲，一跃而起，投入了她的怀抱。
“妈妈，怎么啦？……怎么啦？”
“你去吧，到他那里去吧。他向你求婚，”娜塔莎觉得，伯爵夫人冷淡地讲了这些话。……“你去吧……你去吧，”母亲流露出忧郁的责备的神色在那跑开的女儿身后说，她沉重地叹口气。
娜塔莎不记得她是怎样走进客厅的。她走进门来看见他以后就停步了。“难道这个陌生人现在变成了我的一切了？”她问她自己，随即回答：“对，他是一切。对我来说，在这个世界上只有他一人才是最宝贵的。”安德烈公爵垂下眼帘，走到她跟前。
“我自从初次看见您的那个瞬间，就爱上您了。我能够抱有希望吗？”
他望望她。她那庄重而热情的面部表情使他大吃一惊。她的面容仿佛在说：“为什么要问？为什么怀疑那不能不知道的事情？为什么倾诉你那非言语所能形容的感情。”
她向他近旁走去，停步了。他紧紧握住她的手，吻了吻它。
“您爱我吗？”
“爱，爱。”娜塔莎懊恼似地说，她大声地喘了口气，接着又喘了口气，喘气的频率越来越大，忽然嚎啕大哭起来。
“您哭什么呢？是怎么回事？”
“啊，我很幸福。”她回答，透过泪水流露出微笑，她俯下身来偎依着他，思忖了一会，好像在问问自己，是不是可以这样做，然后吻了他一下。
安德烈公爵握着她的一双手，注视着她的眼睛，他在自己心灵中没有发现从前他对她的爱情。忽然他心中有什么东西起了变化：从前那种富有诗意的神秘的情欲的诱惑不复存在了，只存有他对她那女性的、童稚的软弱的怜惜，对她的忠诚和信任的畏惧心理和由于他和她的永久结合而引起的沉重的愉快的责任感。虽然如今的感情不像从前那样明朗和富有诗意，但却显得更加严肃、更加强烈了。
“妈妈有没有告诉您，婚期不能不推迟一年？”安德烈公爵不停地望着她的眼睛时说道。
“难道这就是我，那个小丫头（大家都在这样议论我），”娜塔莎想道，“难道我从现在这一瞬间起就是妻子，和这个陌生的、可爱的、聪颖的、就连我父亲也敬重的人平起平坐了吗？难道这是千真万确的吗？现在已经不能把生活当儿戏，现在我已经是个大卜，现在我真要对我的一切言行负责，难道这都是真实的吗？是的，他向我问了什么？”
“没有。”她回答，但她不明白他所问的是什么。
“请您原谅我，”安德烈公爵说道，“但是您这样年轻，而我一生饱经风霜。我替您担心。您没有自知之明。”
娜塔莎全神贯注地听他说话，极力地领会他的话语的涵义，可是她还听不懂。
“无论这一年我怎样艰难，不能不推迟我的幸福生活，”安德烈公爵继续说，“在这个时期您得信赖您自己。我请您在一年以后给予我幸福，但是您现在可以自由自在，我们的订婚保守秘密，如果您确实认为您不爱我，或者您爱了……”安德烈公爵含着不自然的微笑说道。
“您干嘛这样说呢？”娜塔莎打断他的话。“您知道自从您首次来到奥特拉德诺耶的那天起，我就爱上您了。”她说，坚信她说的是实话。
“在一年之内您将会认识自己的……”
“整——整一年！”娜塔莎突然说，现在她才明了，婚期要推迟一年。“可是干嘛要推迟一年？干嘛要推迟一年？……”安德烈公爵开始向她说明推迟的原因，娜塔莎不听他的话。
“不这样就不行吗？”她问道。安德烈公爵一言未答，但是他脸上流露出不能改变决定的表情。
“这太可怕了！不行，太可怕了，太可怕了！”娜塔莎忽然开口说，后来又嚎啕大哭起来。“等待一年，真要我的命，这是不行的，这太可怕了。”她望望她的未婚夫的脸，望见他脸上流露着怜悯和困窘的表情。
“不，不，我把什么都办妥，”她忽然忍住了眼泪，说道，“我非常幸福啊！”
父亲和母亲都走进房里来，为未婚夫和夫婚妻祝福。
安德烈公爵从这天起以未婚夫身份常到罗斯托夫家里来串门。
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