THE BIBLICAL TRADITION tells us that the absence of work—idleness—was a condition of the first man's blessedness before the Fall. The love of idleness has remained the same in fallen man; but the curse still lies heavy upon man, and not only because in the sweat of our brow we must eat bread, but because from our moral qualities we are unable to be idle and at peace. A secret voice tells us that we must be to blame for being idle. If a man could find a state in which while being idle he could feel himself to be of use and to be doing his duty, he would have attained to one side of primitive blessedness. And such a state of obligatory and irreproachable idleness is enjoyed by a whole class—the military class. It is in that obligatory and irreproachable idleness that the chief attraction of military service has always consisted, and will always consist.

Nikolay Rostov was enjoying this blessed privilege to the full, as after the year 1807 he remained in the Pavlograd regiment, in command of the squadron that had been Denisov's.

Rostov had become a bluff, good-natured fellow, who would have been thought rather bad form by his old acquaintances in Moscow, though he was loved and respected by his comrades, his subordinates, and his superior officers, and was well content with his life. Of late—in the year 1809—he had found more and more frequently in letters from home complaints on the part of his mother that their pecuniary position was going from bad to worse, and that it was high time for him to come home, to gladden and comfort the hearts of his old parents.

As he read those letters, Nikolay felt a pang of dread at their wanting to drag him out of the surroundings in which, by fencing himself off from all the complexities of existence, he was living so quietly and peacefully. He felt that sooner or later he would have to plunge again into that whirlpool of life, with many difficulties and business to attend to, with the steward's accounts, with quarrels and intrigues, and ties, with society, with Sonya's love and his promise to her. All that was terribly difficult and complicated; and he answered his mother's letters with cold letters in French on the classic model, beginning “Ma chère maman,” and ending: “Votre obéissant fils,” saying nothing of any intention of coming home. In 1810 he received letters from home in which he was told of Natasha's engagement to Bolkonsky, and of the marriage being deferred for a year, because the old prince would not consent to it. This letter chagrined and mortified Nikolay. In the first place, he was sorry to be losing from home Natasha, whom he cared more for than all the rest of the family. Secondly, from his hussar point of view, he regretted not having been at home at the time, as he would have shown this Bolkonsky that it was by no means such an honour to be connected with him, and that if he cared for Natasha he could get on just as well without his crazy old father's consent. For a moment he hesitated whether to ask for leave, so as to see Natasha engaged, but then the man?uvres were just coming on, and thoughts of Sonya, of complications, recurred to him, and again he put it off. But in the spring of the same year he got a letter from his mother, written without his father's knowledge, and that letter decided him. She wrote that if Nikolay did not come and look after things, their whole estate would have to be sold by auction, and they would all be beggars. The count was so weak, put such entire confidence in Mitenka, and was so good-natured, and every one took advantage of him, so that things were going from bad to worse. “I beseech you, for God's sake, to come at once, if you don't want to make me and all your family miserable,” wrote the countess.

That letter produced an effect on Nikolay. He had that common sense of mediocrity which showed him what was his duty.

His duty now was, if not to retire from the army, at least to go home on leave. Why he had to go, he could not have said; but, after his after-dinner nap, he ordered his grey mare to be saddled, a terribly vicious beast that he had not ridden for a long while.

He returned home with his horse in a lather, and told Lavrushka—he had kept on Denisov's old valet—and the comrades who dropped in that evening, that he had applied for leave and was going home. It was strange and difficult for him to believe that he was going away without hearing from the staff whether he had been promoted to be a captain or had received the St. Anne for the last man?uvres (a matter of the greatest interest to him). It was strange to him to think of going away like this without having sold Count Goluhovsky his three roan horses, over which the Polish count was haggling with him. Rostov had taken a bet that he would get two thousand for them. It seemed inconceivable that without him the ball could take place which the hussars were to give in honour of their favourite Polish belle, Madame Pshazdetsky, to outdo the Uhlans, who had given a ball to their favourite belle, Madame Borzhozovsky. Yet he knew he must leave world, where all was well and all was clear, to go where all was nonsensical and complicated. A week later his leave came. His comrades—not only in the regiment, but throughout the whole brigade—gave Rostov a dinner that cost a subscription of fifteen roubles a head. Two bands of musicians played, two choruses sang; Rostov danced the trepak with Major Bazov; the drunken officers tossed him in the air, hugged him, dropped him; the soldiers of the third squadron tossed him once more and shouted hurrah! Then they put Rostov in a sledge and escorted him as far as the first posting-station on his way.

For the first half of the journey, from Krementchug to Kiev, all Rostov's thoughts—as is apt to be the case with travellers—turned to what he had left behind—to his squadron. But after being jolted over the first half of the journey, he had begun to forget his three roans and his quartermaster, Dozhoyveyky, and was beginning to wonder uneasily what he should find on reaching Otradnoe. The nearer he got, the more intense, far more intense, were his thoughts of home (as though moral feeling were subject to the law of acceleration in inverse ratio with the square of the distance). At the station nearest to Otradnoe he gave the sledge-driver a tip of three roubles, and ran breathless up the steps of his home, like a boy.

After the excitement of the first meeting, and the strange feeling of disappointment after his expectations—the feeling that “it's just the same; why was I in such a hurry?”—Nikolay began to settle down in his old world of home. His father and mother were just the same, only a little older. All that was new in them was a certain uneasiness and at times a difference of opinion, which he had never seen between them before, and soon learned to be due to the difficulties of their position.

Sonya was now nearly twenty. She would grow no prettier now; there was no promise in her of more to come; but what she had was enough. She was brimming over with love and happiness as soon as Nikolay came home, and this girl's faithful, steadfast love for him gladdened his heart. Petya and Natasha surprised Nikolay more than all the rest. Petya was a big, handsome lad of thirteen, whose voice was already cracking; he was full of gaiety and clever pranks. Nikolay did not get over his wonder at Natasha for a long while, and laughed as he looked at her.

“You're utterly different,” he told her.

“How? Uglier?”

“No, quite the contrary; but what dignity! A real princess!” he whispered to her.

“Yes, yes, yes,” cried Natasha gleefully.

Natasha told him all the story of Prince Andrey's lovemaking, of his visit to Otradnoe, and showed him his last letter.

“Well, are you glad?” asked Natasha. “I'm so at peace and happy now.”

“Very glad,” answered Nikolay. “He's a splendid fellow. Are you very much in love, then?”

“How shall I say?” answered Natasha. “I was in love with Boris, with our teacher, with Denisov; but this is utterly different. I feel calm, settled. I know there is no one better than he in the world, and so I am calm now and content. It's utterly different from anything before…”

Nikolay expressed his dissatisfaction at the marriage being put off for a year. But Natasha fell on him with exasperation, proving to him that no other course was possible, that it would be a horrid thing to enter a family against the father's will, and that she would not consent to it herself.

“You don't understand at all, at all,” she kept saying.

Nikolay paused a moment, and then said he agreed with her.

Her brother often wondered as he looked at her. It seemed quite incredible that she was a girl in love and parted from her betrothed lover. She was even-tempered, serene, and quite as light-hearted as ever. This made Nikolay wonder, and look on the engagement to Bolkonsky rather sceptically. He could not believe that her fate was by now sealed, especially as he had never seen her with Prince Andrey. It still seemed to him that there was something not real in this proposed marriage.

“Why this delay? Why were they not formally betrothed?” he thought.

Once in talking to his mother about his sister, he found to his surprise, and partly to his satisfaction, that at the bottom of her heart his mother sometimes regarded the marriage as sceptically as he did.

“Here, you see, he writes,” she said, showing her son a letter from Prince Andrey with that latent feeling of grudge which mothers always have in regard to their daughter's happiness in marriage, “he writes that he won't be coming before December. What can it be that keeps him? Illness, no doubt! His health is very weak. Don't tell Natasha. Don't make a mistake, because she seems in good spirits; it's the last she has of her girlhood, and I know how she is when she gets his letters. Still, God grant, all may be well yet,” she always concluded: “he's a splendid fellow.”

圣经上的传说指出，不劳动——无所事事是第一个人①在堕落之前享受无上幸福的条件。在堕落的人身上仍旧有游手好闲的恶习。但是，最厉害的惩罚却压在人类身上，这不仅因为，我们必须辛勤地劳动去挣到自己的糊口之食，而且因为，就道德品质而言，我们决不能游手好闲而又心安理得。怀在心里的声音说：我们无所事事势必有罪。如果人类能够到达一种境地，他无所事事，竟能觉得自己于人有益，而且又在履行天职，那末，他就发现了原始时代的无上幸福的一面。整个阶层——军人阶层享有这种天经地义的、不受指责的闲逸的社会地位。这种天经地义的、不受指责的闲逸，过去是，将来也是服兵股的主要诱惑力。

①指亚当。

尼古拉·罗斯托夫饱尝到了这种无上幸福的滋味，一八○七年以后，他继续在保罗格勒兵团服役，他已经接替杰尼索夫，指挥一个骑兵连了。

罗斯托夫已变成一个粗野的老好人了，莫斯科的熟人一致认为他的风度有点mauvais　genre①，但是他却受到同事、部属和首长的爱护和尊敬，而且他对自己的生活感到很满意。迩近，于一八○九年，他常在家信中发现母亲连迭的怨言，她说家境每况愈下，他应当回家，使年老的双亲能够得到欢乐和慰藉。

尼古拉在读家信的时候，他心里感到一种恐怖。害怕家里人会把他从避开日常生活的混乱局面而生活在安静的环境中撵出去。他感觉到他迟早又要陷入生活的漩涡，那里是一片混乱，有许多事情要加以改进，管家人的帐目、争吵、阴谋诡计、人情关系、交际、索尼娅的爱情、求婚者的诺言。这一切极为繁难而又紊乱不堪，所以他总用他那冷淡的模仿古典书信的旧格调给母亲回信：开头写的是“Ma　chère　maAman，”②末尾写的是“votre　obéissant　fiis，”③可是，他打算何时回家，他却矢口不谈。一八一○年，他接到几封双亲的来信，告知他有关娜塔莎和博尔孔斯基订婚的事情，因为老公爵不同意，所以婚礼要在一年后举行。这封信使尼古拉十分痛心，感到受了侮辱。第一，家里缺少了他最喜欢的娜塔莎使他觉得惋惜；第二，他从骠骑兵的观点出发，他心里感到遗憾的是，他们订婚时他不在面前，如果他在他们面前，他就会向这个博尔孔斯基表明，他和他结亲根本不是什么荣耀的事情，如果他爱娜塔莎，纵然未经乖戾的父亲许可，也是可以结婚的。他踌躇片刻，是不是要请个假回去看看未婚妻娜塔莎，但是这时候眼看就要举行大演习，他脑海中想到索尼娅，想到乱七八糟的事情，于是又延期了。可是就在那年的春天，他接到母亲瞒着伯爵写的一封信，这封信劝他立即回家去。她在信中写道，如果尼古拉不回去办理事情，那末整个产业都要拍卖，大家就得讨饭了。伯爵很衰弱，什么都信赖米坚卡，他太善良了，结果人人哄骗他，什么都搞得越来越糟。“看在上帝份上，我要向你恳求，如果你不愿意使我和全家人遭到不幸，你就马上回来吧。”伯爵夫人写道。

这封信对尼古拉发挥了作用。因为他有平凡人的健全理智，所以这也就能使他明白，应该怎样办。

①法语：风度有点不雅致。

②法语：亲爱的妈妈。

③法语：您的恭顺的儿子。

目前他应该启程回家，假如不退伍，也得请个假。为什么应当启程回家，他并不知道；午餐后睡了一觉，他吩咐给他备上灰色的马尔斯（战神），这是一匹许久没有骑过的、野性未驯的烈马，他骑着这匹累得满身大汗的壮马回家的时候，向拉夫鲁什卡（杰尼索夫的仆役还留在罗斯托夫身边）和几个晚上来访的同事宣称，他要告假回家。无论他想起来这是多么烦难和奇怪：在他还没有从司令部打听到他是否被提升为骑兵大尉（这是他特别想知道的事），或者在近来举行的大演习中他是否获得安娜勋章的时候，他居然回家去了，无论他觉得这是多么奇怪：在他还没有把三匹黑鬃黄褐色的烈马卖给讨价还价的戈卢霍夫斯基伯爵的时候（罗斯托夫打赌时说要拿到两千卢布才把这三匹烈马卖出去），他居然回家去了；无论他感到这是多么不可理解：为了使那些替波兰小姐博尔若佐夫斯卡娅举办舞会的枪骑兵为难，骠骑兵们也要为波兰小姐普沙杰茨卡娅举办一次舞会，而他竟要回家去，就不能参加这次舞会了，——他晓得他要从这个晴朗的美好的世界到那个荒谬绝伦的杂乱无章的地方去。一星期以后，他请准假了。不仅全团的骠骑兵同事，而且全旅的骠骑兵同事，每人都乐捐十五卢布给罗斯托夫举办一次舞宴，宴会上两个乐队奏乐，两个合唱队唱歌。罗斯托夫和巴索夫少校跳了一顿特列帕克舞；喝得烂醉的军官们把罗斯托夫抱起来往上抛，拥抱他，然后放下来；第三骑兵连的士兵们又一次地把他抱起来往上抛并且高呼乌拉！然后他们便把罗斯托夫放在雪橇上，把他送到头一站。

如同常有的情形那样，从克列缅丘格到基辅的道路已经走了一半，罗斯托夫的思想仍旧停留在后头，停留在骑兵连队中，但是走了一半以上的路程之后，他忘了那三匹黑鬃黄褐色的烈马，忘了他的骑兵司务长，忘了叫做博尔若佐夫斯卡娅的小姐，他开始不安地问他自己，在奥特拉德诺耶将会发现什么，怎样去发现它。他越驶近家门，思家的感情就越强烈，比以前强烈多了（好像精神上的自觉也服从于引力与距离平方成反比的定律），在奥特拉德诺耶前面的终点站上，给了马车夫三卢布酒钱，他像孩儿一般，气喘呼呼地跑上住宅的台阶。

与他期待的情形相比较，在迎接的狂欢之后，产生了一种奇怪的不满情绪，（一切依然如故，我何若急着回家呀！）在这之后，尼古拉开始习惯于他们家中原有的生活。父亲和母亲还是那个样子，不过他们变老了一些。他们和以前不同的地方只是有几分焦急不安，有时候不和，这是以前没有的事情，尼古拉很快就知道，这都是由于境况不景气所造成的。索尼娅已经十九岁出头了。她再也不会变得更好看，她只能是这个样子，不会有什么更多的转变；就算是这样，也就很够了。自从尼古拉回来以后，索尼娅完全陶醉在幸福和爱情之中，这个少女那忠实的、坚定不移的爱情，真使他心旷神怡。使尼古拉感到惊奇的莫过于彼佳和娜塔莎。彼佳是个十三岁的大男孩，嗓子也变了，长得挺好看，心情愉快，有头脑，可是太顽皮了。娜塔莎的样子使尼古拉惊讶了很久，他一面端详着她，一面发笑。

“完全不是那个样子。”他说。

“干嘛，我变得丑了一点么？”

“恰恰相反，不过架子太大了。公爵夫人啊！”他用耳语对她说。

“对，对，对。”娜塔莎愉快地说。

娜塔莎把她和安德烈公爵的爱情关系和他到达奥特拉德诺耶的情况讲给他听，把他最近写的一封信拿给他看。

“怎么，你感到高兴吗？”娜塔莎问道。“我现在非常平静，非常幸福。”

“我很高兴，”尼古拉回答，“他是个挺好的人。怎么，你很钟情吗？”

“怎么对你说呢，”娜塔莎回答，“我爱过鲍里斯，爱过教师，爱过杰尼索夫，但是这种爱情根本不算一回事。我很稳重而且坚定。我知道，比他更好的人是没有的，所以我现在感到很平静而且舒适。完全不是原先那个样子……”

尼古拉向娜塔莎表明，他对推迟婚期一年很不满意，但是娜塔莎凶狠地冲她哥哥骂起来，她向他证明只有这样做才行，违背父亲的意旨，走进他们的家庭是很愚蠢的，她本人也愿意将婚期延缓一年。

“你根本，根本不了解，”她说。尼古拉不开腔了，他对她的看法表示同意。

哥哥望她的时候，常常觉得很惊讶。她根本不像一个远离夫婚夫的钟情的未婚妻。她还和以前一样平和、恬静和快活。这就使得尼古拉感到惊讶，甚至使他对博尔孔斯基的凭媒娶亲持有不信任的看法。他不相信，她的命已经注定，尤其是没有看见安德烈公爵和她相处的情形。他总觉得这门拟议中的婚事有欠妥的地方。

“为什么延期？为什么不订婚呢？”他想道。有一次他和母亲谈起妹妹的事情，他觉得惊奇，而且有点儿高兴，他发现母亲有时候在灵魂深处对这门婚事也持有不信任的看法。

“你看，他是这样写的。”她把安德烈公爵的信拿给儿子看时说道，她怀着隐藏在心里的恶意，做母亲的对女儿未来的幸福的夫妇生活往往怀有这种嫉妒的感情；他写道，“他在十二月以前不能回家。究竟是什么事情妨碍他呢？想必是疾病？他的身体很虚弱。你不要说给娜塔莎听。你甭看她心里高高兴兴，她快要度过少女时代的末期了，但是我知道，每逢她接到他的来信的时候，她的心绪是怎样的。不过，上帝保佑，事事都会称心如意的。”她每次都说这么一句收尾的话，“他是个最优秀的人。”