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Book 8 Chapter 8

THAT EVENING the Rostovs went to the opera, for which Marya Dmitryevna had obtained them a box.

Natasha had no wish to go, but it was impossible to refuse after Marya Dmitryevna's kindness, especially as it had been arranged expressly for her. When she was dressed and waiting for her father in the big hall, she looked at herself in the big looking-glass, and saw that she was looking pretty, very pretty. She felt even sadder, but it was a sweet and tender sadness.

“My God, if he were only here, I wouldn't have any stupid shyness of something as I used to, but in quite a new way, simply, I would embrace him, press close to him, force him to look at me with those scrutinising, inquisitive eyes, with which he used so often to look at me, and then I would make him laugh, as he used to laugh then; and his eyes—how I see those eyes!” thought Natasha. “And what does it matter to me about his father and sister; I love no one but him, him, him, with that face and those eyes, with his smile, manly, and yet childlike.… No, better not think of him, not think, forget, utterly forget him for the time. I can't bear this suspense; I shall sob in a minute,” and she turned away from the looking-glass, making an effort not to weep. “And how can Sonya love Nikolenka so quietly, so calmly, and wait so long and so patiently!” she wondered, looking at Sonya, who came in, dressed for the theatre with a fan in her hand. “No, she's utterly different. I can't.”

Natasha at that moment felt so softened and moved that to love and know that she was loved was not enough for her: she wanted now, now at once to embrace the man she loved, and to speak and hear from him the words of love, of which her heart was full. When she was in the carriage sitting beside her father and pensively watching the lights of the street lamps flitting by the frozen window, she felt even sadder and more in love, and forgot with whom and where she was going. The Rostovs' carriage fell into the line of carriages, and drove up to the theatre, its wheels crunching slowly over the snow. Natasha and Sonya skipped hurriedly out holding up their dresses; the count stepped out supported by the footmen, and all three walked to the corridor for the boxes in the stream of ladies and gentlemen going in and people selling programmes. They could hear the music already through the closed doors.

“Natasha, your hair …” whispered Sonya. The box-opener deferentially and hurriedly slipped before the ladies and opened the door of the box. The music became more distinctly audible at the door, and they saw the brightly lighted rows of boxes, with the bare arms and shoulders of the ladies, and the stalls below, noisy, and gay with uniforms. A lady entering the next box looked round at Natasha with an envious, feminine glance. The curtain had not yet risen and they were playing the overture. Natasha smoothing down her skirt went in with Sonya and sat down looking round at the brightly lighted tiers of boxes facing them. The sensation she had not experienced for a long while—that hundreds of eyes were looking at her bare arms and neck—suddenly came upon her both pleasantly and unpleasantly, calling up a whole swarm of memories, desires, and emotions connected with that sensation.

The two strikingly pretty girls, Natasha and Sonya, with Count Ilya Andreitch, who had not been seen for a long while in Moscow, attracted general attention. Moreover, every one had heard vaguely of Natasha's engagement to Prince Andrey, knew that the Rostovs had been living in the country ever since, and looked with curiosity at the girl who was to make one of the best matches in Russia.

Natasha had, so every one told her, grown prettier in the country; and that evening, owing to her excited condition, she was particularly pretty. She made a striking impression of fulness of life and beauty, together with indifference to everything around her. Her black eyes gazed at the crowd, seeking out no one, while her slender arm, bare to above the elbow, leaned on the velvet edge of the box, and her hand, holding the programme, clasped and unclasped in time to the music with obvious unconsciousness.

“Look, there's Alenina,” said Sonya, “with her mother, isn't it?”

“Heavens, Mihail Kirillitch is really stouter than ever,” said the old count.

“Look! our Anna Mihalovna in such a cap!”

“The Karagins, Julie, and Boris with them. One can see at once they are engaged.”

“Drubetskoy has made his offer! To be sure, I heard so to-day,” said Shinshin, coming into the Rostovs' box.

Natasha looked in the direction her father was looking in and saw Julie with diamonds on her thick, red neck (Natasha knew it was powdered), sitting with a blissful face beside her mother.

Behind them could be seen the handsome, well-brushed head of Boris, with a smile inclining his ear towards Julie's mouth. He looked from under his brows at the Rostovs, and said something, smiling, to his betrothed.

“They are talking about us, about me and himself!” thought Natasha. “And he is, most likely, soothing his fiancée's jealousy of me; they needn't worry themselves! If only they knew how little they matter to me, any one of them.”

Behind the engaged couple sat Anna Mihalovna in a green cap, with a face happy, in honour of the festive occasion, and devoutly resigned to the will of God. Their box was full of that atmosphere of an engaged couple—which Natasha knew so well and liked so much. She turned away; and suddenly all that had been humiliating in her morning visit came back to her mind.

“What right has he not to want to receive me into his family? Ah, better not think about it, not think till he comes back!” she said to herself, and began to look about at the faces, known and unknown, in the stalls.

In the front of the stalls, in the very centre, leaning back against the rail stood Dolohov, in a Persian dress, with his huge shock of curly hair combed upwards. He stood in the most conspicuous place in the theatre, well aware that he was attracting the attention of the whole audience, and as much at his ease as though he had been alone in his room. The most brilliant young men in Moscow were all thronging about him, and he was obviously the leading figure among them.

Count Ilya Andreitch, laughing, nudged the blushing Sonya, pointing out her former admirer.

“Did you recognise him?” he asked. “And where has he dropped from?” said he, turning to Shinshin. “I thought he had disappeared somewhere?”

“He did disappear,” answered Shinshin. “He was in the Caucasus, and he ran away from there, and they say he has been acting as minister to some reigning prince in Persia, and there killed the Shah's brother. Well, all the Moscow ladies are wild about him! ‘Dolohov the Persian,' that's what does it! Nowadays there's nothing can be done without Dolohov; they do homage to him, invite you to meet him, as if he were a sturgeon,” said Shinshin. “Dolohov and Anatole Kuragin have taken all the ladies' hearts by storm.”

A tall, handsome woman with a mass of hair and very naked, plump, white arms and shoulders, and a double row of big pearls round her throat, walked into the next box, and was a long while settling into her place and rustling her thick silk gown.

Natasha unconsciously examined that neck and the shoulders, the pearls, the coiffure of this lady, and admired the beauty of the shoulders and the pearls. While Natasha was scrutinising her a second time, the lady looked round, and meeting the eyes of Count Ilya Andreitch, she nodded and smiled to him. It was the Countess Bezuhov, Pierre's wife. The count, who knew every one in society, bent over and entered into conversation with her.

“Have you been here long?” he began. “I'm coming; I'm coming to kiss your hand. I have come to town on business and brought my girls with me. They say Semyonovna's acting is superb,” the count went on. “Count Pyotr Kirillovitch never forgot us. Is he here?”

“Yes, he meant to come,” said Ellen, looking intently at Natasha.

Count Ilya Andreitch sat down again in his place.

“Handsome, isn't she?” he whispered to Natasha.

“Exquisite!” said Natasha. “One might well fall in love with her!”

At that moment they heard the last chords of the overture, and the tapping of the conductor's stick. Late comers hurried to their seats in the stalls, and the curtain rose.

As soon as the curtain rose, a hush fell on the boxes and stalls, and all the men, old and young, in their frock coats or uniforms, all the women with precious stones on their bare flesh concentrated all their attention with eager curiosity on the stage. Natasha too began to look at it.


玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜弄到了戏票,这天晚上罗斯托夫家里人乘车去看歌剧了。

娜塔莎不想去看歌剧,但是玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜对她分外热情,因此,她不能推辞。当她穿好衣服,走到大厅里去等候父亲时,她照了一下大镜子,看见自己长得标致,十分标致,这更使她感到忧愁,然而这种忧愁与爱的甜蜜和钟情混和在一起了。

“我的天啊,假如此刻他在这里,我决不会像过去那样,蠢头蠢脑,畏缩不前,而是按照新的方式,大大方方地拥抱他,偎依在他怀中,叫他用那双常常看我的探索的、好奇的眼睛来看我,然后叫他笑出声来,像过去那样笑出声来,他那双可爱的眼睛——我是怎样地看他那双眼睛啊!”娜塔莎想道。“我与他父亲和他妹妹有什么关系呢,我只爱他一个人,爱他,爱他,爱他的面庞和一双眼睛,爱他那男性的、天真的微笑,……不过,这时候最好不去想他,不想他,把他忘记,完全忘掉。我经受不了这种等待的煎熬,我立刻要大哭一场。”于是她从镜子旁边走开,克制住自己,不要哭出声来。

“索尼娅怎么能够这样稳定地、这样放心地爱尼古连卡,这样长久地、耐心地等待!”她想了想,望着那个也穿好衣裳、手里拿着折扇走进来的索尼娅,“不,她完全不同。我不能!”

这时娜塔莎觉得自己是如此和善和温柔,她的爱没有得到满足,很少体会到她在爱别人,她现在必需、即刻必需拥抱她心爱的男人,而且把她充满内心的情话说出来,她也听他倾诉爱慕之情。当她在四轮轿式马车上坐在父亲身旁行驶、若有所思地望着冰冻的窗户上闪烁的灯光的时候,她觉得自己愈益钟情、愈益忧愁,她已经忘怀,她同谁一道向何行驶。罗斯托夫家的四轮轿式马车碰到了车队,车轮在雪地上缓缓地移动,发出吱吱的响声,驶近戏院门口了。娜塔莎和索尼娅撩起连衣裙,急忙从马车上跳下来,伯爵在几个仆役搀扶下走出来了,他们三个人便从走进戏院的太太、男人和卖广告的人中间步入厢座的走廊。从虚掩着的门后传来一片乐音。

“Nathalie,vos cheveux.”①索尼娅低声地说。剧场引座员恭恭敬敬地、急急忙忙地在女士们前面悄悄溜过,打开包厢门。门里的乐音听来更清晰。一排排坐着裸露肩头和臂膀的女士们的、灯光明亮的包厢闪现出来,池座中,男士的服装发出沙沙的响声,在灯光照耀下,引人瞩目。一位走进毗邻的厢座的女士用那女性的妒嫉的目光瞥了娜塔莎一眼。舞台上还没有开幕,奏起了歌剧序曲。娜塔莎弄平连衣裙,和索尼娅一同走过去,坐下来,一面环视对面的一排排灯光明亮的包厢。一种她许久未曾体验的感觉——几百双眼睛端详她那裸露的手臂和颈项的感觉,忽然支配住她心中喜悦、又不喜悦,勾起了一连串和这种感觉有关的回顾、欲望与激动。

①法语:娜塔莎,你的头发。


两位姿色出众的少女——娜塔莎和索尼娅以及在莫斯科久未露面的伯爵伊利亚·安德烈伊奇吸引大家的注意。除此而外,大家模糊地知道娜塔莎和安德烈公爵的婚约,大家知道自那时以来罗斯托夫一家人住在乡下,而且大家带着好奇的目光观察俄国最优秀的未婚夫之一的未婚妻。

大家都对娜塔莎说,在乡下她变得比以前好看多了,这天晚上,因为她心情激动,所以就显得格外漂亮。她那充沛的活力和美丽的容貌,再加上对周围一切事物的漠不关心,这就令人感到震惊了。她那双乌黑的眼睛观看着一大群人,但却不寻找任何人,她那裸露到肘弯以上的纤细的手臂支撑在天鹅绒的厢座的边缘上,显然配合着序曲的拍节,不自觉地一开一合,把那张歌剧广告揉成一团了。

“你看,这就是阿列宁娜,”索尼娅说,“好像她和母亲在一起啊!”

“我的老天爷!米哈伊尔·基里雷奇长得更胖了!”老伯爵说。

“你们看,我们的安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜戴着一顶直筒高女帽啊!”

“卡拉金家里的人、朱莉、鲍里斯和他们待在一起。现在可以看见夫婚夫妇了。”

“德鲁别茨科伊求婚了!可不是,今天我打听到了。”申申走进罗斯托夫之家的包厢时说道。

娜塔莎朝父亲看的那个方向看了看,看见了朱莉,她那粗壮而发红的颈上挂着一串珍珠(娜塔莎知道她脖子上扑满了香粉),现出幸福的样子坐在母亲身旁。

在她们后面可以看见头发梳得又平又光的鲍里斯的好看的头,他脸上露出微笑,侧着耳朵靠近朱莉的嘴。他皱起眉头望着罗斯托夫家里的人,笑嘻嘻地对未婚妻说了什么话。

“他们谈话我们,谈论我和他呢!”娜塔莎思忖了片刻,“他想必是在安慰未婚妻,使她忘记对我的忌妒。无缘无故地惴惴不安啊!我与他们之中的任何人都毫无关系,如果心中有数就行了。”

安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜戴着一顶绿色的直筒高女帽坐在后面,她脸上流露着忠于上帝意旨的显得幸福而愉快的表情。他们的包厢里洋溢着一种未婚夫妇互相依恋的气氛,这就是娜塔莎所熟悉而且喜爱的气氛。她转过身来,蓦地回想起早晨拜会时蒙受的种种屈辱。

“他有什么权利不愿意接纳我这个亲属呢?唉,最好不去考虑这件事,在他尚未抵达之前不去考虑它!”她自言自语地说,开始打量着池座里她所熟悉的和不熟悉的面孔。多洛霍夫站在池座前面的正中间,背倚着池座栏杆,他那蓬松浓密的卷发向上梳平,穿着一套波斯服装。他站在戏院中众目睽睽的地方,心里知道他吸引着整个大厅的观众的注意,他自由自在,就像站在自己房间里一样。莫斯科的最杰出的青年聚集在他周围,看来他在他们之中,占有主导地位。

伯爵伊利亚·安德烈伊奇露出笑意,向她指着她从前的崇拜得,轻轻地推一下脸红的索尼娅。

“你认得吗?”他问道,“不知他是从哪里突然来了?”伯爵把脸转向申申说,“他不是去过什么地方吗?”

“去过,”申申回答,“去过高加索,可是从那里溜走了,据说,在波斯某个享有世袭统治权的公爵那里当大臣,在那里杀了波斯王的一个老弟,唔,莫斯科的女士们简直发疯了!Dolochoff le Persan①,就是这么样的。我们现在说起话来离不开多洛霍夫,大伙儿用他来发誓,提起他,仿佛尝到鲟鱼肉似的,”申申说。“多洛霍夫和阿纳托利·库拉金,把我们的女士们搞得发疯了。”

①法语:波斯人多洛霍夫。


一个身材高大的长得漂亮的太太走进了邻近的厢座,她留着一根大辫子,裸露出雪白而丰满的肩头和颈项,她颈上戴着两串大珍珠,她那厚厚的丝绸连衣裙发出沙沙的响声,她好久才在位上坐得舒服些。

娜塔莎情不自禁地细瞧她的颈项、肩头、珍珠和发式,欣赏她的肩膀与珍珠之美。当娜塔莎第二次打量这个太太的时候,太太回头望望,她和伯爵伊利亚·安德烈伊奇的目光相遇了,她向他点点头,微微一笑。她就是叫做别祖霍娃的伯爵夫人——皮埃尔的妻子。认识上流社会中一切人的伊利亚·安德烈伊奇把身子探过去和她谈话。

“伯爵夫人,到了很久吧?”他说,“我准来拜访,我准来拜访,吻吻您的手。我到这里来办些事情,还把两个女儿带来了。据说谢苗诺娃的演技非常出色,”伊利亚·安德烈伊奇说,“彼得·基里洛维奇伯爵从来没有忘记我们。他在这里吗?”

“在这里,他想顺路来看您。”海伦说并且仔细地瞧瞧娜塔莎。

伊利亚·安德烈伊奇伯爵又在原来的位子上坐下来。

“漂亮,是不是?”他用耳语对娜塔莎说。

“好极啦!”娜塔莎说,“真教人不能不钟情!”这时分可以听见歌剧序曲最后的和音,乐长的指挥棒敲响了,几个姗姗来迟的男人走进池座里入座,戏台上揭幕了。

戏台上刚刚开幕,包厢和池座已经鸦雀无声,所有的男人,有老有少,或穿制服,或穿燕尾服,所有的女人在那裸露的身上戴着各式各样的宝石,他们怀着贪婪的好奇心把全部注意力集中在戏台上。娜塔莎也在看戏。



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