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Book 8 Chapter 18

MARYA DMITRYEVNA coming upon Sonya weeping in the corridor had forced her to confess everything. Snatching up Natasha's letter and reading it, Marya Dmitryevna went in to Natasha, with the letter in her hand.

“Vile girl, shameless hussy!” she said to her. “I won't hear a word!” Pushing aside Natasha, who gazed at her with amazed but tearless eyes, she locked her into the room, and giving orders to her gate porter to admit the persons who would be coming that evening, but not to allow them to pass out again, and giving her grooms orders to show those persons up to her, she seated herself in the drawing-room awaiting the abductors.

When Gavrilo came to announce to Marya Dmitryevna that the persons who had come had run away, she got up frowning, and clasping her hands behind her, walked a long while up and down through her rooms, pondering what she was to do. At midnight she walked towards Natasha's room, feeling the key in her pocket. Sonya was sitting sobbing in the corridor, “Marya Dmitryevna, do, for God's sake, let me go in to her!” she said.

Marya Dmitryevna, making her no reply, opened the door and went in. “Hateful, disgusting, in my house, the nasty hussy, only I'm sorry for her father!” Marya Dmitryevna was thinking, trying to allay her wrath. “Hard as it may be, I will forbid any one to speak of it, and will conceal it from the count.” Marya Dmitryevna walked with resolute steps into the room.

Natasha was lying on the sofa; she had her head hidden in her hands and did not stir. She was lying in exactly the same position in which Marya Dmitryevna had left her.

“You're a nice girl, a very nice girl!” said Marya Dmitryevna. “Encouraging meetings with lovers in my house! There's no use in humbugging. You listen when I speak to you.” Marya Dmitryevna touched her on the arm. “You listen when I speak. You've disgraced yourself like the lowest wench. I don't know what I couldn't do to you, but I feel for your father. I will hide it from him.”

Natasha did not change her position, only her whole body began to writhe with noiseless, convulsive sobs, which choked her. Marya Dmitryevna looked round at Sonya, and sat down on the edge of the sofa beside Natasha.

“It's lucky for him that he escaped me; but I'll get hold of him,” she said in her coarse voice. “Do you hear what I say, eh?” She put her big hand under Natasha's face, and turned it towards her. Both Marya Dmitryevna and Sonya were surprised when they saw Natasha's face. Her eyes were glittering and dry; her lips tightly compressed; her cheeks looked sunken.

“Let me be … what do I … I shall die.…” she articulated, with angry effort, tore herself away from Marya Dmitryevna, and fell back into the same attitude again.

“Natalya! …” said Marya Dmitryevna. “I wish for your good. Lie still; come, lie still like that then, I won't touch you, and listen.… I'm not going to tell you how wrongly you have acted. You know that yourself. But now your father's coming back to-morrow. What am I to tell him? Eh?”

Again Natasha's body heaved with sobs.

“Well, he will hear of it, your brother, your betrothed!”

“I have no betrothed; I have refused him,” cried Natasha.

“That makes no difference,” pursued Marya Dmitryevna. “Well, they hear of it. Do you suppose they will let the matter rest? Suppose he— your father, I know him—if he challenges him to a duel, will that be all right? Eh?”

“Oh, let me be; why did you hinder everything! Why? why? who asked you to?” cried Natasha, getting up from the sofa, and looking vindictively at Marya Dmitryevna.

“But what was it you wanted?” screamed Marya Dmitryevna, getting hot again. “Why, you weren't shut up, were you? Who hindered his coming to the house? Why carry you off, like some gypsy wench? … If he had carried you off, do you suppose they wouldn't have caught him? Your father, or brother, or betrothed? He's a wretch, a scoundrel, that's what he is!”

“He's better than any of you,” cried Natasha, getting up. “If you hadn't meddled … O my God, what does it mean? Sonya, why did you? Go away! …” And she sobbed with a despair with which people only bewail a trouble they feel they have brought on themselves.

Marya Dmitryevna was beginning to speak again; but Natasha cried, “Go away, go away, you all hate me and despise me!” And she flung herself again on the sofa.

Marya Dmitryevna went on for some time longer lecturing Natasha, and urging on her that it must all be kept from the count, that no one would know anything of it if Natasha would only undertake to forget it all, and not to show a sign to any one of anything having happened. Natasha made no answer. She did not sob any more, but she was taken with shivering fits and trembling. Marya Dmitryevna put a pillow under her head, laid two quilts over her, and brought her some lime-flower water with her own hands; but Natasha made no response when she spoke to her.

“Well, let her sleep,” said Marya Dmitryevna, as she went out of the room, supposing her to be asleep. But Natasha was not asleep, her wide-open eyes gazed straight before her out of her pale face. All that night Natasha did not sleep, and did not weep, and said not a word to Sonya, who got up several times and went in to her.

Next day, at lunch time, as he had promised, Count Ilya Andreitch arrived from his estate in the environs. He was in very good spirits: he had come to terms with the purchaser, and there was nothing now to detain him in Moscow away from his countess, for whom he was pining. Marya Dmitryevna met him, and told him that Natasha had been very unwell on the previous day, that they had sent for a doctor, and that now she was better. Natasha did not leave her room that morning. With tightly shut, parched lips, and dry, staring eyes, she sat at the window uneasily watching the passers-by along the street, and hurriedly looking round at any one who entered her room. She was obviously expecting news of him, expecting that he would come himself or would write to her.

When the count went in to her, she turned uneasily at the sound of his manly tread, and her face resumed its previous cold and even vindictive expression. She did not even get up to meet him.

“What is it, my angel; are you ill?” asked the count.

Natasha was silent a moment.

“Yes, I am ill,” she answered.

In answer to the count's inquiries why she was depressed and whether anything had happened with her betrothed, she assured him that nothing had, and begged him not to be uneasy. Marya Dmitryevna confirmed Natasha's assurances that nothing had happened. From the pretence of illness, from his daughter's agitated state, and the troubled faces of Sonya and Marya Dmitryevna, the count saw clearly that something had happened in his absence. But it was so terrible to him to believe that anything disgraceful had happened to his beloved daughter, and he so prized his own cheerful serenity, that he avoided inquiries and tried to assure himself that it was nothing very out of the way, and only grieved that her indisposition would delay their return to the country.


玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜碰见泪痕满面的索尼娅待在走廊里,她迫使她坦白地说出全部实况。玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜截获了娜塔莎的便条并在看完之后拿着便条去找娜塔莎。

“坏东西,不知羞耻的女人,”她对她说,“什么话我也不愿意听啊!”她推开用惊奇而冷漠的眼神凝视她的娜塔莎,把她锁起来,吩咐管院子的人让那些在今天晚上前来串门的人进入家门,但不准许他们出去,又吩咐仆人把他们带到她面前来,然后她就在客厅里坐下,等待那些拐骗妇女的人。

当加夫里洛走来禀告玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜,说那几个前来串门的人都溜走了,她才蹙起额角,站起来,把手抄在背后,踱来踱去,在屋里踱了很久,缜密地思考她该怎么办。在深夜十一点多钟,她用手摸摸口袋里的钥匙,就到娜塔莎房里去了。索尼娅坐在走廊里嚎啕大哭。

“玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜,看在上帝份上,让我进去看她吧!”她说。玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜没有回答她的话,打开房门,走进去了。“卑劣、下流……在我家中,有个坏姑娘……只是可怜她的父亲啊!”玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜力图息怒,心中想道。“无论有多大碍难,我仍然叮咛大家不要开腔,瞒着伯爵。”亚丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜迈着坚定的脚步走进房里去。娜塔莎用手蒙着头,一动不动地躺在沙发上。她躺的那个姿势还和玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜离开她身边时一样。“好,很好呀!”玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜说。“约一个情人在我家里幽会!用不着装假。我对你说话,你听下去。”玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜碰碰她的手。“我对你说话,你听下去。你这个最次的丫头,你丢了自己的脸。我原想整你一下子,可是我怜悯你父亲。我瞒着他。”娜塔莎没有改变姿势,但因抽搐时啜泣而使她浑身颤抖,哭泣得接不上气来。玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜回头望望索尼娅,然后便在娜塔莎身旁的沙发上坐下。

“他从我这儿逃走了,算他运气好,不过我能够把他找到,”她用粗嗓门说,“是不是听见我说话?”她把那只大手伸进娜塔莎的脸底下,使她转过身来。玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜和索尼娅看见娜塔莎的面孔都感到惊奇。她的眼睛闪闪发亮,显得冷淡,嘴唇痛起来,两颊塌陷了。

“不要管我……不要妨碍我……我……就要死去……”她说道,恼恨地从玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜手中挣脱出来,做出原来的姿势躺下去。

“娜塔莉娅!……”玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜说,“我惟愿你好。你继续躺着,就这么躺着,我决不碰你,你听着……我并不想说你有什么过错。你自己晓得。不过,眼看你父亲明天就会来,我对他说些什么呢?啊?”

娜塔莎又哭得浑身颤抖起来了。

“啊,他会知道,你哥哥,啊,未婚夫都会知道的!”

“我没有未婚夫,我已经拒绝他了。”娜塔莎说。

“反正一样,”玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜继续说,“万一他们知道了,他们会这样罢休吗?要知道,他——你父亲,我是知道他的,如果别人要求与他决斗,那样妥当吗?啊?”

“唉,你们不要管我,你们为什么样样事都要干扰!为什么?为什么?是谁请你们来着?”娜塔莎喊道,她从沙发上欠起身子,愤恨地盯着玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜。

“你究竟想要怎么样?”玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜又大发脾气,意外地提高嗓门喊道。“是不是有人把你关在房间里?有人阻扰他走到家里来吗?为什么要像拐骗茨冈女郎那样来拐骗你呢?……唔,即使他把你偷偷地带走了,你就会以为人家找不到他吗?你父亲,或者你哥哥,或者未婚夫都能找到他?他是个坏蛋,恶棍,就是这么一回事!”

“他比你们大家都更好,”娜塔莎欠起身子,忽然喊道。

“如果你们不干扰……哎呀,我的天!这是怎么一回事,这是怎么一回事!索尼娅,为什么呀?走开吧!……”她失望地嚎啕大哭,那些觉得自己是悲痛的根源的人才会如此失望地痛哭。玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜本来又要开口说话了,但是娜塔莎喊叫起来:“都走开吧,都走开吧,你们仇视我,蔑视我吧!”她又急忙倒在沙发上。

玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜还继续规劝娜塔莎,并且向暗示,要把这一切瞒着伯爵;只要娜塔莎保证忘记这一切,在任何人面前对发生的事情不露声色,那么就没有人会知道任何情况。娜塔莎没有回答。她不再嚎啕大哭,但是她觉得周身发冷,冷得打战。玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜给她垫上一个枕头,盖上两床棉被,还亲自给她拿来菩提树花,但是娜塔莎没有应声回答。

“喂,让她睡吧,”玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜说道,她以为她睡着了,便离开她的住房。但是娜塔莎没有入睡,她瞪大那苍白脸上的一双凝滞不动的眼睛正视前方。娜塔莎彻夜没有睡觉,没有啜泣,也不和索尼娅说话,索尼娅起来好几回,走到她跟前。

第二天,正如伊利亚·安德烈伊奇伯爵答应的那样,快用早膳的时候,他从莫斯科近郊领地回来了。他非常快活,他和买主的这笔生意已经谈妥了,此时没有什么事使他要在莫斯科滞留,离开他所想念的伯爵夫人去过别离生活。玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜迎接他,并且对他说,娜塔莎昨天觉得很不舒服,派人去延请大夫,现在好些了。这天早上娜塔莎没有从房里走出来。她瘪着干裂的嘴唇,睁开一对哭干眼泪的、滞然不动的眼睛,坐在窗口,焦急不安地注视街上的过往行人,慌张地回头望着向她房里走来的人。显然她正在等待他的消息,等待他亲自驱车前来,或者给她写封信。

当伯爵向她走来的时候,她听见他那男人的步履声,于是就激动不安地转过身来,她的脸上带着从前那样冷漠的、甚至是凶恶的表情。她甚至没有站立起来迎接他。

“怎么,我的安琪儿,病了么?”伯爵问道。

娜塔莎沉默片刻。

“是的,我病了。”她回答。

伯爵焦虑不安地问到,为什么她这样沮丧,是不是她的未婚夫出了什么事,她叫伯爵相信没有发生什么事,并且请他放下心来。玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜向伯爵证实了娜塔莎劝他相信的话,她说没有发生什么事。伯爵从女儿的假病、她的心绪欠佳、并从索尼娅和玛丽亚·德米特里耶夫娜的腼腆的面部表情,清楚地看出,他不在家的时候想必出了什么事,但他觉得可怕的是,他心里想到他所喜爱的女儿发生了什么可耻的事,但他很喜欢保持平静的愉快的心绪,他于是回避诘问,尽量使自己相信,没有发生什么特殊的事情,只不过使他感到遗憾的是,他的女儿的身体欠适,他们下乡的行期就要推迟了。



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