THE HEALTH AND CHARACTER of Prince Nikolay Andreitch Bolkonsky had, during that year, after his son had left him, grown considerably feebler. He became more irritable than ever, and it was Princess Marya who as a rule bore the brunt of his outbursts of causeless fury. He seemed studiously to seek out all the tender spots in her consciousness so as to inflict on her the cruellest wounds possible. Princess Marya had two passions and consequently two joys: her nephew, Nikolushka, and religion; and both were favourite subjects for the old prince's attacks and jeers. Whatever was being spoken of, he would bring the conversation round to the superstitiousness of old maids, or the petting and spoiling of children. “You want to make him” (Nikolushka) “just such another old maid as you are yourself. Prince Andrey wants a son and not an old maid,” he would say. Or addressing Mademoiselle Bourienne he would ask her, before Princess Marya, how she liked our village priests and holy pictures, and make jests about them.…

He was constantly wounding Princess Marya's feelings, but his daughter needed no effort to forgive him. Could he be to blame in anything he did to her, could her father, who as she knew in spite of it all, loved her, be unjust? And indeed what is justice? Princess Marya never gave a thought to that proud word, “justice.” All the complex laws of humanity were summed up for her in one clear and simple law—the law of love and self-sacrifice, laid down by Him who had in His love suffered for humanity, though He was God Himself. What had she to do with the justice or injustice of other people? All she had to do was to suffer and to love; and that she did.

In the winter Prince Andrey had come to Bleak Hills, had been gay, gentle, and affectionate, as Princess Marya had not seen him for years. She felt that something had happened to him, but he said nothing to his sister of his love. Before his departure, Prince Andrey had a long conversation with his father, and Princess Marya noticed that they were ill pleased with each other at parting.

Soon after Prince Andrey had gone, Princess Marya wrote from Bleak Hills to her friend in Petersburg, Julie Karagin, whom Princess Marya had dreamed—as girls always do dream—of marrying to her brother. She was at this time in mourning for the death of a brother, who had been killed in Turkey.

“Sorrow, it seems, is our common lot, my sweet and tender friend Julie.

“Your loss is so terrible that I can only explain it to myself, as a special sign of the grace of God, who in His love for you would chasten you and your incomparable mother.

“Ah, my dear, religion, and religion alone can—I don't say comfort us—but save us from despair. Religion alone can interpret to us what, without its aid, man cannot comprehend: to what end, for what cause, good, elevated beings who are able to find happiness in life, not injuring others, but indispensable to their happiness, are called away to God, while the wicked, the useless, injuring others and a burden to themselves and others, are left living. The first death which I have seen, and which I shall never forget—the death of my dear little sister-in-law—made on me just the same impression. Just as you question destiny, and ask why your noble brother had to die, so did I wonder what reason there was for that angel Liza to die—who had never done the slightest harm to any one, never even had a thought in her heart that was not kind. And yet—do you know, dear friend—five years have passed since then, and even I, with my poor intelligence, begin now to understand clearly why it was needful she should die, and in what way that death was but an expression of the boundless grace of the Creator, all of whose acts, though for the most part we comprehend them not, are but manifestations of His infinite love for His creatures. Perhaps, I often think, she was of too angelic an innocence to have the force to perform all a mother's duties. As a young wife, she was irreproachable; possibly she could not have been equally so as a mother. As it is, not only has she left us, and particularly Prince Andrey, the purest memories and regrets, but there she is in all likelihood receiving a place for which I dare not hope for myself. But not to speak of her alone, that early and terrible death has had the most blessed influence on me and on my brother, in spite of all our grief. At the time, at the moment of our loss, I could not have entertained such thoughts; at that time I should have dismissed them in horror, but now it seems clear and incontestable. I write all this to you, dear friend, simply to convince you of the Gospel truth, which has become a principle of life for me: not one hair of our head falls without His will. And the guiding principle of His will is only His infinite love for us, and so whatever may befall us, all is for our good.

“You ask whether we shall spend next winter in Moscow. In spite of all my desire to see you, I do not expect and do not wish to do so. And you will be surprised to hear that Bonaparte is responsible for this! I will tell you why: my father's health is noticeably weaker, he cannot endure contradiction and is easily irritated. This irritability is, as you are aware, most readily aroused on political subjects. He cannot endure the idea that Bonaparte is treating on equal terms with all the sovereigns of Europe, especially our own, the grandson of the great Catherine! As you know, I take absolutely no interest in politics, but from my father and his conversations with Mihail Ivanovitch, I know all that goes on in the world, and have heard of all the honours conferred on Bonaparte. It seems that Bleak Hills is now the only spot on the terrestrial globe where he is not recognised as a great man—still less as Emperor of France. And my father cannot tolerate this state of things. It seems to me that my father shows a disinclination for the visit to Moscow, chiefly owing to his political views and his foreseeing the difficulties likely to arise from his habit of expressing his opinions freely with no regard for any one. All that he would gain from medical treatment in Moscow, he would lose from the inevitable discussions upon Bonaparte. In any case the matter will very soon be settled.

“Our home life goes on in its old way, except for the absence of my brother Andrey. As I wrote to you before, he has greatly changed of late. It is only of late, during this year that he seems to have quite recovered from the shock of his loss. He has become again just as I knew him as a child, good-natured, affectionate, with a heart such as I know in no one else. He feels now, it seems to me, that life is not over for him. But, together with this moral change, he has become very weak physically. He is thinner than ever and more nervous. I feel anxious about him and glad that he is taking this tour abroad, which the doctors prescribed long ago. I hope that it will cure him. You write to me that he is spoken of in Petersburg as one of the most capable, cultivated, and intellectual young men. Forgive me for the pride of family—I never doubted it. The good he did here to every one—from his peasants to the local nobility—is incalculable. When he went to Petersburg he was received as he deserved. I wonder at the way reports fly from Petersburg to Moscow, and especially such groundless ones as the rumour you wrote to me about, of my brother's supposed engagement to the little Rostov girl. I don't imagine that Andrey will ever marry any one at all, and certainly not her. And I will tell you why. In the first place, I know that though he rarely speaks of his late wife, the grief of his loss has penetrated too deeply into his heart for him ever to be ready to give her a successor, and our little angel a step-mother. Secondly, because, as far as I can ascertain, that girl is not one of the kind of women who could attract my brother Andrey. I do not believe that Andrey has chosen her for his wife; and I will frankly confess, I should not wish for such a thing. But how I have been running on; I am finishing my second sheet. Farewell, my sweet friend; and may God keep you in His holy and mighty care. My dear companion, Mademoiselle Bourienne, sends you kisses.

在儿子走后的一年之内，老公爵尼古拉·安德烈耶维奇·博尔孔斯基的身体很弱了，意志力也衰退了。他已经变得比从前更易于激动，多半在公爵小姐玛丽亚身上发泄他那无缘无故的怒火。他仿佛极力挑剔她的各种弱点，尽量残酷地从精神上折磨她。公爵小姐玛丽亚有两种癖好，因而也就有两种欢乐：侄子尼古卢什卡和宗教，二者都是老公爵所喜爱的、用以进攻和嘲笑的题材。无论说什么，他总把话题归结为老处女的迷信和子女的娇生惯养。“你想把他（尼古卢什卡）变成像你这样的老处女，白费心机；安德烈公爵所需要的是儿子，而不是处女。”他说。或者在他和布里安小姐打交道时，他一面在公爵小姐玛丽亚面前问她，她可喜欢我们的神甫和神像，他一面开玩笑……

他不断地、无情地侮辱公爵小姐玛丽亚，为了原谅他，他女儿甚至不能克制自己了。他难道会得罪女儿吗？难道她的父亲（她毕竟知道，他是喜爱她的）会不公平吗？而且什么是公平呢？公爵小姐从来都没有想到这个值得骄傲的词儿：“公平”。对她来说，人类所有的复杂的法则，可集中为一个简而明的法则，即是博爱和自我牺牲的法则，也就是那个怀有博爱之心为全人类而备受苦难的上帝本身传授给我们的法则。他人的公平或不公平与她何干呢？她自己应当蒙受苦难，热爱他人，而且她也这样做了。

冬天安德烈公爵常到童山来，他很快活而温和，公爵小姐玛丽亚很久都没有看见他这副模样了。她预感到他发生了什么事情，但他对公爵小姐玛丽亚没有谈到任何爱情问题。安德烈公爵在动身前和父亲交谈，谈了很久，公爵小姐玛丽亚注意到他们俩个人在他动身前彼此都表示不满。

安德烈公爵走后不久，公爵小姐玛丽亚在童山给彼得堡的朋友朱莉·卡拉金娜写了一封信，公爵小姐玛丽亚和姑娘们一样，平常也怀着那种幻想，即是希望朱莉·卡拉金娜嫁给她哥哥，这时候她的朋友正在为捐躯于土耳其的哥哥服丧。

“亲爱的、温柔的朋友朱莉，悲恸看来是我们共同的厄运。

您的损失是如此骇人，以致我只能向我自己说明，这是上帝的特殊恩赐，他因为爱您而想考验您和您的优秀的母亲。啊，我的朋友，宗教，唯独宗教，不用说，才能安慰我们，使我们摆脱失望的境地，唯独宗教能够向我们说明人类在缺乏宗教帮助下所无法理解的问题；为何目的、为何缘由那些善良、高尚、善于在生活中寻找幸福、不仅不伤害任何人，而且是对他人的幸福不可缺少的人竟会应召去见上帝，而那些恶毒的，毫无用处的危害份子，或者那些成为自己和他人的累赘的人却幸存于世。我所看见的永志不忘的第一个人的死亡——我那亲爱的嫂嫂的死亡给我造成了这种印象。如同您也问到人的命运那样，您那最优秀的哥哥为什么应当捐躯，我也同样地问到，丽莎非但没有危害他人，而且她的心灵中除了美好的思想而外，从来没有任何邪念，为何这个安琪儿竟会死去呢。我的朋友，这是怎么回事？你瞧，从那时起，已经度过五年了，我只凭我这微不足道的智慧就已经开始明白，她为何应当死去，这种死只是创世主的无限仁慈的表现，他的所作所为虽然我们多半不了解，但是这只是他对自己的造物的无限仁爱的表现而已。也许我常常这样想，她过分纯洁无瑕，宛如安琪儿，以致她无力承担母亲的义务。她这个年轻的妻子是无疵可剔的，她也许不能做个这样的母亲。而且目前她所遗留给我们的，特别是遗留给安德烈公爵的只有纯粹的怜惜和怀念。她在阴间里大概会获得我们不敢替自己希冀的那种地位。可是无须乎只论及她一个人，这种可怕的夭折尽管令人悲恸欲绝，但是这对我和对我哥哥都有极其良好的影响。那时候，在遭受损失的时刻，我脑海中不可能出现这个念头，那时候我怀着恐惧的心理撇开了这个念头，但是现在这个问题非常明显，而且无容置疑了。此刻我把这一切写给您看，我的朋友，只是为了使您相信那作为我的生活准则的福音书中的真理：如果上帝不同意，就连一根头发也不会从我们头上掉下来。而上帝的意志所依据的只是对我们的无限的仁爱，因此我们无论发生什么事，一切都是为了我们的福利。您问我们是不是在莫斯科度过来冬？虽然我有和您会面的愿望，但是我不想也不希望这样做。您会感到惊奇的是，波拿巴成了碍事的原因。这就是因为：我父亲的身体已明显地衰弱：他不能忍受反对的意见，渐渐地变得易于激怒。您知道这种激怒情绪多半是针对政治问题。一想到波拿巴竟与欧洲所有国君并驾齐驱，尤其是与我们的国君——

伟大的叶卡挞琳娜的孙子并驾齐驱，他就不能忍受了！您知道，我对政治问题完全不关心，但是从我父亲的话语中，从他和米哈伊尔·伊万诺维奇的谈话中我得知世界上发生的一切大事，特别是知道人们对波拿巴致以敬意，仿佛在整个地球上只有童山不仅不承认波拿巴是个伟人，更不承认他是法国皇帝。我父亲不能忍受这等事。我仿佛觉得，我父亲所以预见到必将发生冲突，主要是由于他自己对政治问题的观点，也由于他那不论对谁都无拘无束地发表意见的风格，因此他不乐于提及前赴莫斯科的事情。由于不可避免的有关波拿巴的争论，他将会丧失他所取得的一切疗效。不管怎样，这件事一定能够很快解决。我们的家庭生活，除了安德烈哥哥不在家而外，仍然照旧。正如我在信中所写的那样，他近来有了很大的变化。在经受痛苦之后，他的精神面貌直至今年才完全复元。他变得像我小时候熟悉的那个样子了：和善、温柔，有一副无与匹比的金不换的心肠。我好像觉得，他明白，对他来说生命还没有终结。但是随着这种精神上的变化，他的体力很虚弱。他变得比从前更瘦了，神经更过敏了。我替他担心，但又感到高兴，他毕竟遵照医生们很久以前的嘱咐，出国去了。我希望出国治疗能使他复元。您要写信告诉我，彼得堡对他这个积极活动的很有学问而且聪明的年轻人有些什么言论。请您宽恕我这个亲属的自尊心，我对这一点从来没有生过疑心。

他在这里对自己的农夫以至贵族，对人人所做的善事真是数不胜数。他到彼得堡以后，他所获得的只是他理应获得的一切。我感到奇怪的是，彼得堡的谣言老是传到莫斯科来，特别是一些不可信的谣言，正如您在信中写到的那样，其中包括一则有关我哥哥和娇小的罗斯托娃结婚的谣言。我不认为安德烈会同某人结婚，尤其是同她结婚。这就是因为：第一，我知道，尽管他很少谈到已故的妻子，但是这种损失造成的悲痛在他心中根深蒂固了，以致他拿不定主意再娶，也不敢给我们的小天使找个继母。第二，据我所知，这个姑娘并不属于安德烈公爵所喜欢的女人之列，我不认为安德烈公爵会把她选为妻子，我坦率地说，我不希望他这样做。不过我聊得太久了，快要写完第二张纸了。再见，我亲爱的朋友，愿上帝把您置于自己神圣的、强而有力的保护之下。我亲爱的女友，布里安小姐，吻您。

玛丽。”