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Book 8 Chapter 15

ON RETURNING LATE in the evening, Sonya went into Natasha's room, and to her surprise found her not undressed asleep on the sofa. On the table near her Anatole's letter lay open. Sonya picked up the letter and began to read it.

She read it, and looked at Natasha asleep, seeking in her face some explanation of what she had read and not finding it. Her face was quiet, gentle, and happy. Clutching at her own chest to keep herself from choking, Sonya, pale and shaking with horror and emotion, sat down in a low chair and burst into tears.

“How was it I saw nothing? How can it have gone so far? Can she have ceased loving Prince Andrey? And how could she have let this Kuragin go as far as this? He's a deceiver and a villain, that's clear. What will Nikolenka—dear, noble Nikolenka—do when he hears of it? So that was the meaning of her excited, determined, unnatural face the day before yesterday, and yesterday and to-day,” thought Sonya. “But it's impossible that she can care for him! Most likely she opened the letter not knowing from whom it was. Most likely she feels insulted by it. She's not capable of doing such a thing!”

Sonya dried her tears and went up to Natasha, carefully scrutinising her face again.

“Natasha!” she said, hardly audibly.

Natasha waked up and saw Sonya.

“Ah, you have come back?”

And with the decision and tenderness common at the moment of awakening she embraced her friend. But noticing embarrassment in Sonya's face, her face too expressed embarrassment and suspicion.

“Sonya, you have read the letter?” she said.

“Yes,” said Sonya softly.

Natasha smiled ecstatically.

“No, Sonya, I can't help it!” she said. “I can't keep it secret from you any longer. You know we love each other! … Sonya, darling, he writes … Sonya …”

Sonya gazed with wide-open eyes at Natasha, as though unable to believe her ears.

“But Bolkonsky?” she said.

“O Sonya, oh, if you could only know how happy I am!” said Natasha. “You don't know what love …”

“But, Natasha, you can't mean that all that is over?”

Natasha looked with her big, wide eyes at Sonya as though not understanding her question.

“Are you breaking it off with Prince Andrey then?” said Sonya.

“Oh, you don't understand; don't talk nonsense; listen,” said Natasha, with momentary annoyance.

“No, I can't believe it,” repeated Sonya. “I don't understand it. What, for a whole year you have been loving one man, and all at once … Why, you have only seen him three times. Natasha, I can't believe you, you're joking. In three days to forget everything, and like this …”

“Three days,” said Natasha. “It seems to me as though I had loved him for a hundred years. It seems to me that I have never loved any one before him. You can't understand that. Sonya, stay, sit here.” Natasha hugged and kissed her. “I have been told of its happening, and no doubt you have heard of it too, but it's only now that I have felt such love. It's not what I have felt before. As soon as I saw him, I felt that he was my sovereign and I was his slave, and that I could not help loving him. Yes, his slave! Whatever he bids me, I shall do. You don't understand that. What am I to do? What am I to do, Sonya?” said Natasha, with a blissful and frightened face.

“But only think what you are doing,” said Sonya. “I can't leave it like this. These secret letters … How could you let him go so far as that?” she said, with a horror and aversion she could with difficulty conceal.

“I have told you,” answered Natasha, “that I have no will. How is it you don't understand that? I love him!”

“Then I can't let it go on like this. I shall tell about it,” cried Sonya with a burst of tears.

“What … for God's sake … If you tell, you are my enemy,” said Natasha. “You want to make me miserable, and you want us to be separated…”

On seeing Natasha's alarm, Sonya wept tears of shame and pity for her friend.

“But what has passed between you?” she asked. “What has he said to you? Why doesn't he come to the house?”

Natasha made no answer to her question.

“For God's sake, Sonya, don't tell any one; don't torture me,” Natasha implored her. “Remember that it doesn't do to meddle in such matters. I have told you …”

“But why this secrecy? Why doesn't he come to the house?” Sonya persisted. “Why doesn't he ask for your hand straight out? Prince Andrey, you know, gave you complete liberty, if it really is so; but I can't believe in it. Natasha, have you thought what the secret reasons can be?”

Natasha looked with wondering eyes at Sonya. Evidently it was the first time that question had presented itself to her, and she did not know how to answer it.

“What the reasons are, I don't know. But there must be reasons!”

Sonya sighed and shook her head distrustfully.

“If there were reasons…” she was beginning. But Natasha, divining her doubts, interrupted her in dismay.

“Sonya, you mustn't doubt of him; you mustn't, you mustn't! Do you understand?” she cried.

“Does he love you?”

“Does he love me?” repeated Natasha, with a smile of compassion for her friend's dullness of comprehension. “Why, you have read his letter, haven't you? You've seen him.”

“But if he is a dishonourable man?”

“He! … a dishonourable man? If only you knew!” said Natasha.

“If he is an honourable man, he ought either to explain his intentions, or to give up seeing you; and if you won't do that, I will do it. I'll write to him. I'll tell papa,” said Sonya resolutely.

“But I can't live without him!” cried Natasha.

“Natasha, I don't understand you. And what are you saying? Think of your father, of Nikolenka.”

“I don't care for any one, I don't love any one but him. How dare you say he's dishonourable! Don't you know that I love him?” cried Natasha. “Sonya, go away; I don't want to quarrel with you; go away, for God's sake, go away; you see how wretched I am,” cried Natasha angrily, in a voice of repressed irritation and despair. Sonya burst into sobs and ran out of the room.

Natasha went to the table, and without a moment's reflection wrote that answer to Princess Marya, which she had been unable to write all the morning. In her letter she told Princess Marya briefly that all misunderstandings between them were at an end, as taking advantage of the generosity of Prince Andrey, who had at parting given her full liberty, she begged her to forget everything and forgive if she had been in fault in any way, but she could not be his wife. It all seemed to her so easy, so simple, and so clear at that moment.

The Rostovs were to return to the country on Friday, but on Wednesday the count went with the intending purchaser to his estate near Moscow.

On the day the count left, Sonya and Natasha were invited to a big dinner-party at Julie Karagin's, and Marya Dmitryevna took them. At that dinner Natasha met Anatole again, and Sonya noticed that Natasha said something to him, trying not to be overheard, and was all through the dinner more excited than before. When they got home, Natasha was the first to enter upon the conversation with Sonya that her friend was expecting.

“Well, Sonya, you said all sorts of silly things about him,” Natasha began in a meek voice, the voice in which children speak when they want to be praised for being good. “I have had it all out with him to-day.”

“Well, what did he say? Well? Come, what did he say? Natasha, I'm so glad you're not angry with me. Tell me everything, all the truth. What did he say?”

Natasha sank into thought.

“O Sonya, if you knew him as I do! He said … He asked me what promise I had given Bolkonsky. He was so glad that I was free to refuse him.”

Sonya sighed dejectedly.

“But you haven't refused Bolkonsky, have you?” she said.

“Oh, perhaps I have refused him! Perhaps it's all at an end with Bolkonsky. Why do you think so ill of me?”

“I don't think anything, only I don't understand this.…”

“Wait a little, Sonya, you will understand it all. You will see the sort of man he is. Don't think ill of me, or of him.”

“I don't think ill of any one; I like every one and am sorry for every one. But what am I to do?”

Sonya would not let herself be won over by the affectionate tone Natasha took with her. The softer and the more ingratiating Natasha's face became, the more serious and stern became the face of Sonya.

“Natasha,” she said, “you asked me not to speak to you, and I haven't spoken; now you have begun yourself. Natasha, I don't trust him. Why this secrecy?”

“Again, again!” interrupted Natasha.

“Natasha, I am afraid for you.”

“What is there to be afraid of?”

“I am afraid you will be ruined,” said Sonya resolutely, herself horrified at what she was saying.

Natasha's face expressed anger again.

“Then I will be ruined, I will; I'll hasten to my ruin. It's not your business. It's not you, but I, will suffer for it. Leave me alone, leave me alone. I hate you!”

“Natasha!” Sonya appealed to her in dismay.

“I hate you, I hate you! And you're my enemy for ever!”

Natasha ran out of the room.

Natasha avoided Sonya and did not speak to her again. With the same expression of agitated wonder and guilt she wandered about the rooms, taking up first one occupation and then another, and throwing them aside again at once.

Hard as it was for Sonya, she kept watch over her friend and never let her out of her sight.

On the day before that fixed for the count's return, Sonya noticed that Natasha sat all the morning at the drawing-room window, as though expecting something, and that she made a sign to an officer who passed by, whom Sonya took to be Anatole.

Sonya began watching her friend even more attentively, and she noticed that all dinner-time and in the evening Natasha was in a strange and unnatural state, unlike herself. She made irrelevant replies to questions asked her, began sentences and did not finish them, and laughed at everything.

After tea Sonya saw the maid timidly waiting for her to pass at Natasha's door. She let her go in, and listening at the door, found out that another letter had been given her. And all at once it was clear to Sonya that Natasha had some dreadful plan for that evening. Sonya knocked at her door. Natasha would not let her in.

“She is going to run away with him!” thought Sonya. “She is capable of anything. There was something particularly piteous and determined in her face to-day. She cried as she said good-bye to uncle,” Sonya remembered. “Yes, it's certain, she's going to run away with him; but what am I to do?” wondered Sonya, recalling now all the signs that so clearly betokened some dreadful resolution on Natasha's part. “The count is not here. What am I to do? Write to Kuragin, demanding an explanation from him? But who is to make him answer? Write to Pierre, as Prince Andrey asked me to do in case of trouble? … But perhaps she really has refused Bolkonsky (she sent off a letter to Princess Marya yesterday). Uncle is not here.”

To tell Marya Dmitryevna, who had such faith in Natasha, seemed to Sonya a fearful step to take.

“But one way or another,” thought Sonya, standing in the dark corridor, “now or never the time has come for me to show that I am mindful of all the benefits I have received from their family and that I love Nikolay. No, if I have to go three nights together without sleep; I won't leave this corridor, and I will prevent her passing by force, and not let disgrace come upon their family,” she thought.


深夜,索尼娅回来之后便走进娜塔莎的住房,使她感到惊奇的是,她发现她没有脱下衣裳,便在沙发上睡着了。阿纳托利的一封打开的信放在她身旁的桌上,索尼娅拿起这封信,就读起来。

她一面读信,一面细看睡着的娜塔莎,在她脸上寻找可资说明她在读完信后产生的感想,可是她一无所获。面部表情是安详的、温和的、幸福的。索尼娅面色苍白,因为害怕和激动而颤栗,于是紧紧地抓住胸口,在那安乐椅上坐下,哭出了眼泪。

“怎么我竟然看不出什么?这件事怎么会搞得过火?难道她不爱安德烈公爵了吗?她怎么能够容许库拉金这样做呢?他是一个骗子手和歹徒,这是十分明显的。如果尼古拉知道这件事,他会怎么样?可爱的、高尚的尼古拉会怎么样?她的面部表情在前日、昨日和今日都很激动、坚定、很不自然,原来竟是这么回事,”索尼娅想道,“但是她不可能爱他呀!大概她不知道是谁写的信便拆封了。大概她感到受侮辱。她不会做出这种事啊!”

索尼娅揩干眼泪,走到娜塔莎跟前,又仔细地瞧她的面庞。

“娜塔莎!”她说道,勉强听得见她的语声。

娜塔莎睡醒了,看见索尼娅。

“啊,你回来了?”

她显露出她在睡醒之后常有的坚定而温和的神情拥抱女朋友。但在索尼娅脸上发觉困惑不安的表情之后,娜塔莎脸上也表现出困窘和怀疑的样子。

“索尼娅,你看了信么?”她说。

“看了。”索尼娅低声地说。

娜塔莎脸上流露出一丝喜悦的微笑。

“索尼娅,不,我再也不能瞒住你了!”她说,“我再也不能瞒着你了。你知道,我们相亲相爱啊!……索尼娅,我亲爱的,是他写的信……索尼娅……”

索尼娅好像不相信自己的耳朵,睁大眼睛注视着娜塔莎。

“博尔孔斯基呢?”她说。

“哎呀,索尼娅,哎呀,如果你知道我多么幸福,那才好啊!”娜塔莎说,“你不晓得什么叫做爱情……”

“不过,娜塔莎,难道那一切都完结了吗?”

娜塔莎瞪大眼睛望着索尼娅,仿佛不明白她在问什么。

“怎么,你会拒绝安德烈公爵吗?”索尼娅说。

“哎呀,你什么都不明白,你甭说蠢话,你听着。”娜塔莎怀着瞬息间的懊恼的心情说。

“不,我不能相信这件事,”索尼娅重复地说。“我不明白。你怎么在一整年内爱着一个人,但又忽然……要知道你只见过他三次。娜塔莎,我不相信你,你乱搞男女关系。三天之内把这一切统统忘掉……”

“三天呀,”娜塔莎说,“我仿佛觉得我爱他一百年了。我觉得在爱他之前我从来没有爱过任何人。你不能明白这一点。索尼娅,等一等,坐到这里来。”娜塔莎搂抱她,吻吻她。

“有人告诉我,这是常有的事情,你也许耳有所闻,但是我现在才体会到了这种爱情。这与从前截然不同。我刚一看见他,我就觉得他是我的主宰,我是他的奴隶,我不能不爱他。是啊,我是个奴隶!他有什么吩咐,我一定照办。你不了解这一点。我究竟怎么办呢?我究竟怎么办,索尼娅?”娜塔莎脸上流露着幸福而惊恐的神色说道。

“不过,你考虑考虑,你干的是什么事,”索尼娅说,“这种事情我不能置之不理。这些秘密的情书……你怎么能够容许他干这种事?”她怀有恐惧和她那难以隐藏的厌恶心情说。

“我对你说过,”娜塔莎回答,“我六神无主,你不明白这一点,我爱他!”

“我决不会容许他干这种事,我讲给人家听。”索尼娅突然喊了一声,泪水夺眶而出。

“你怎么,就看在上帝份上……如果你要讲出去,你就是我的敌人,”娜塔莎说,“你是想叫我倒霉,你希望促使我俩分离。”

索尼娅看见娜塔莎这种恐怖的样子,不禁为女友流出了羞耻和怜悯的眼泪。

“你们之间发生了什么事?”她问道,“他对你说过什么话?

为什么他不到家里来呢?”

娜塔莎没有回答她问的话。

“索尼娅,看在上帝份上,不要告诉任何人,别使我难受,”娜塔莎央求。“你记住,不能干预这件事。我向你坦诚地说出来了……”

“但是为什么要保守这些秘密呢?为什么他不到家里来呢?”索尼娅问道,“为什么他不直截了当地向你求婚呢?既然真是这么回事,安德烈公爵岂不给了你充分的自由?可是我不相信这种事情。娜塔莎,你总想到了,可能会有什么潜在的原因?”

娜塔莎用她那惊奇的目光望着索尼娅,看来,这个问题头一次在她自己头脑中浮现出来,她不知道应该怎样回答。

“我不知道有什么原因,不过其中总有原因吧!”

索尼娅叹了一口气,不信任地摇摇头。

“如果有什么原因……”她开始说。但是娜塔莎猜想到她的疑惑的心情,于是惶恐地打断她的话。

“索尼娅,不能怀疑他,不能,不能,你明白吗?”她喊道。

“他是不是爱你呢?”

“他爱我吗?”娜塔莎重说一遍,对女友头脑不灵活流露出怜惜的微笑。“你不是看过信吗?你见过他吗?

“如果他不是高尚的人呢?”

“他!……不高尚的人吗?但愿你能了解他!”娜塔莎说。

“如果他是个高尚的人,他就应该表明自己的意图,或者不再和你见面;如果你不想这么办,我就来代办,我给他写信,我告诉爸爸。”索尼娅斩钉截铁地说。

“可是没有他我不能生活下去!”娜塔莎喊道。

“娜塔莎,我不了解你。你说什么呀!你想想父亲,想想尼古拉。”

“我不需要任何人,除开他之外我不爱任何人。你怎么敢说他不高尚呢?难道你还不知道我爱他吗?”娜塔莎喊道。

“索尼娅,走开,我不想跟你争吵,看在上帝份上,走开,你走开,你知道我感到难受。”娜塔莎用那持重、恼怒而绝望的嗓音愤愤地喊道。索尼娅抽噎着痛哭起来,从房间里跑出去了。

娜塔莎走到桌前,毫不犹豫地给公爵小姐玛丽亚写回信,花了整个早晨她也没有写完这封信。在这封信上她给公爵小姐玛丽亚简略地写到,她们之间的误会已经化除了,多蒙安德烈公爵宽厚待人,他在外出时赐与她自由,如果在她面前犯有过错,就请她原宥,不要把这一切记在心上;但是她不能做他的妻子。在这一瞬息之间她仿佛觉得这一切都是如此简单、明了,易如反掌。

礼拜五,罗斯托夫家里人要到乡下去,礼拜三伯爵和买主一道到他的莫斯科近郊的田庄去了。

伯爵启程的那天,索尼娅和娜塔莎应邀前往卡拉金家出席盛大宴会,玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜用一辆马车伴送她们去了。在这次宴会上娜塔莎又遇见阿纳托利,索尼娅发现,娜塔莎跟他说了什么话,她想不让别人听见,而在饮宴之时她显得比以前更加激动了。当她们回家之后,她首先和索尼娅谈起话来,想消除误会,这正是她的女友索尼娅所期待的。

“索尼娅,你评论他时讲了种种蠢话,”娜塔莎用温和的声调开始说,那声调就像孩子们想得到夸赏时常用的声调一样,“今天我要跟他作一番解释。”

“喂,怎么样?他到底说了什么?娜塔莎,你不会生我的气,我感到非常高兴。你把全部实话说给我听。他到底说了什么?”

娜塔莎沉吟起来。

“哎呀,索尼娅,你如果像我这样了解他,那就好了!他说了……他问我是怎样答应博尔孔斯基的。当他知道拒绝博尔孔斯基这件事以我为转移时,他感到非常高兴。”

索尼娅忧愁地叹了一口气。

“可是你还没有拒绝博尔孔斯基呀?”她说。

“也许,我拒绝他了!也许,我和博尔孔斯基的婚事全完蛋了。为什么你把我想得这样糟呢?”

“我什么也没有想,只是不明白这一点……”

“索尼娅,等一等,你什么都会弄明白。你会知道他是个怎样的人。你不要把我,也不要把他想得这样糟。”

“我对任何人都不会往坏的地方想,我喜爱一切人,怜悯一切人。可是我到底应该怎么办呢?”

娜塔莎和索尼娅说话时所用的温柔的声调未能迫使索尼娅退让。娜塔莎的面部表情愈益温柔而谄媚,索尼娅的面部表情就愈益严肃而庄重。

“娜塔莎,”她说,“你请求我不能跟你说话,我就不说话,现在你本人开始说话了。娜塔莎,我不相信他。为什么要保守秘密?”

“又是这一套,又是这一套!”娜塔莎打断她的话。

“娜塔莎,我替你担心。”

“要担心什么?”

“我担心你会毁灭你自己。”她所说的话使索尼娅自己也心惊胆战,她于是果断地说。

娜塔莎脸上又流露着愤恨的表情。

“我毁灭、毁灭,尽快地毁灭自己。与您无关。不是您,而是我遭殃。不要管,不要管我。我仇恨你。”

“娜塔莎!”索尼娅惊惶失措地呼唤。

“我仇恨你,我仇恨你!你永远是我的敌人!”

娜塔莎从房里跑出去了。

娜塔莎不再和索尼娅说话,避开她了。她仍然带着激动、惊讶和应受谴责的表情在屋里走来走去,时而干这种活儿,时而干那种活儿,可是马上又丢下不干了。

不管这使索尼娅怎样难过,但是她仍然目不转睛地盯着她的女朋友。

在伯爵应该回家的前一天,索尼娅发现,娜塔莎整个早上都坐在客厅的窗口,好像在等待什么,她对从门前驶过的军人做个什么手势,索尼娅把他当作阿纳托利。

索尼娅开始更加仔细地观察自己的女友,她发觉,娜塔莎在用午膳的时候和晚上处于奇怪的不正常的精神状态中(她对人家向她提出的问题回答得牛头不对马嘴,在开始说话之后又不把话说完,无论对什么都流露笑意)。

饮茶之后,索尼娅望见那个在娜塔莎门房守候的畏葸葸的女仆。她让她进去,在门边窃听之后,她知道又有一封信递给她了。

索尼娅忽然明白,娜塔莎今晚有个可怕的行动计划。索尼娅敲敲她的房门。娜塔莎不让她进去。

“她要跟他逃走啊!”索尼娅想道,“她什么事都能干出来。现在她脸上不知为什么流露着特别可怜而又坚决的表情。”索尼娅想到,她和舅舅告别时大哭起来。“她要和他逃走,是啊,这是毫无疑问的,可是我怎么办呢?”索尼娅想道,她心里现在还记得,那种种迹象明显地表示为什么娜塔莎竟有这样一种可怕的打算。“伯爵不在家。我怎么办呢?给库拉金写封信,要他表明态度吗?但是谁吩咐他写回信呢?写信给皮埃尔,就像安德烈公爵遇到不幸的事情时求助于她那样?……”但是也许她真的拒绝了博尔孔斯基(昨天她给公爵小姐玛丽亚寄出一封信)。舅父不在家。

玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜如此相信娜塔莎,把这桩事说给她听,使索尼娅感到可怕。

“但是不管怎样,”索尼娅站在昏暗的走廊里,想道,“要么马上就抓住这个机会,要么干脆不管它,不过我得表明,我还记得他们一家人对我的恩典,我爱尼古拉,不行,即令是三夜不睡,我也不从走廊里出去,要拼命拦住,不让她走,不让他们一家人丢脸。”她这样想。



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