PRINCESS MARYA was not in Moscow and out of danger as Prince Andrey supposed.

After Alpatitch's return from Smolensk, the old prince seemed as though he had suddenly waked out of a sleep. He gave orders for the militiamen to assemble out of the villages, and to be armed; and wrote a letter to the commander-in-chief, in which he informed him of his intention to remain at Bleak Hills to the last and to defend himself, leaving it to his discretion to take steps or not for the defence of Bleak Hills, where he said one of the oldest Russian generals would be taken prisoner or die. He announced to his household that he should remain at Bleak Hills.

But though resolved himself to remain, the prince made arrangements for sending the princess with Dessalle and the little prince to Bogutcharovo, and from there on to Moscow. Frightened at her father's feverish, sleepless energy, following on his previous apathy, Princess Marya could not bring herself to leave him alone, and for the first time in her life ventured not to obey him. She refused to go, and a fearful tempest of wrath burst upon her. The prince reminded her of every previous instance of injustice to her. Trying to find pretexts for reviling her, he said she had done everything to worry him, that she had estranged him from his son, that she harboured the vilest suspicions of him, that she made it the object of her life to poison his existence. He drove her out of his study, telling her that he did not care if she did not go away. He told her that he did not want to hear of her existence, but gave her fair warning not to dare show herself before him. Princess Marya was relieved that he had not, as she had dreaded, ordered her to be forcibly removed from Bleak Hills, but had simply commanded her not to show herself. She knew that this meant that in the secret recesses of his soul he was glad she was staying at home.

The day after Nikolushka had left, the old prince dressed himself in the morning in full uniform, and prepared to make a call on the commander-in-chief. The carriage was standing ready. Princess Marya saw him in his uniform, with all his orders on his breast, walk out of the house and go down the garden to inspect the armed peasants and houseserfs. Princess Marya sat at the window listening to his voice resounding from the garden. Suddenly several men came running up the avenue with panic-stricken faces.

Princess Marya ran out on to the steps, along the flower-bed path, and into the avenue. A great crowd of militiamen and servants were coming down it towards her, and in the middle of that crowd several men were holding up and dragging along a little old man in a uniform and decorations. Princess Marya ran towards him, and in the dancing, tiny rings of light that filtered through the shade of the lime-tree avenue, she could form no distinct impression of the change in his face. The only thing she could see was that the stern and determined expression of his face had changed to a look of timidity and submission. On seeing his daughter, he tried to move his powerless lips, and uttered a hoarse sound. It was impossible to understand what he meant. He was lifted up, carried into his study, and laid on the couch, which had been such an object of dread to him of late.

The doctor, who was brought over the same night, bled him, and declared that the prince had had a stroke, paralysing his right side.

To remain at Bleak Hills was becoming more and more dangerous, and the next day they moved the prince to Bogutcharovo. The doctor travelled with him.

When they reached Bogutcharovo, they found Dessalle had already set off for Moscow with the little prince.

For three weeks the old prince lay stricken with paralysis, getting neither better nor worse, in the new house Prince Andrey had planned at Bogutcharovo. The old prince was unconscious; he lay like a deformed corpse. He muttered incessantly, twitching his eyebrows and lips, and it was impossible to tell whether he understood his surroundings or not. Only one thing could be said for certain: that was, that he was suffering, and had a craving to express something. But what that was no one could tell: whether it were some sick and half-crazy whim; whether it related to public affairs or family circumstances.

The doctor said that this uneasiness meant nothing; that it was due to physical causes. But Princess Marya believed (and the fact that her presence seemed to intensify the restlessness, confirmed her supposition) that he wanted to tell her something.

He was evidently suffering both physically and mentally. There was no hope of recovery. It was impossible to move him. What if he were to die on the road? “Wouldn't it be better if it were over, if all were over?” Princess Marya thought sometimes. Day and night, almost without sleep, she watched him, and, terrible to say, she watched him, not in the hope of finding symptoms of a change for the better, but often in the hope of seeing symptoms of the approaching end.

Strange as it was for the princess to own it to herself, she had this feeling in her heart. And what was still more horrible to Princess Marya was the fact that ever since her father's illness (if not even before, when she resolved to stay with him, in vague expectation of something) all the forgotten hopes and desires slumbering within her head awakened. Ideas that had not entered her head for years—dreams of a life free from the terror of her father, even of the possibility of love and a happy married life, haunted her imagination like temptations of the devil. In vain she tried to drive away the thought; questions were continually in her mind how she would order her life now, after this. It was a temptation of the devil, and Princess Marya knew it. She knew that the sole weapon of avail against him was prayer, and she strove to pray. She threw herself into the attitude of prayer, gazed at the holy pictures, repeated the words of the prayer, but still she could not pray. She felt herself carried off into a new world of real life, of labour and free activity, utterly opposed to the moral atmosphere in which she had been kept in bondage and in which the one consolation was prayer. She could not pray and could not weep, and practical cares absorbed her mind.

To remain at Bogutcharovo was becoming unsafe. Rumours came from all sides of the French being near, and in one village, fifteen versts from Bogutcharovo, a house had been sacked by French marauders. The doctor insisted on the necessity of moving the prince; the marshal of the province sent an official to Princess Marya to persuade her to get away as quickly as possible. The captain of the police visited Bogutcharovo to insist on the same thing, telling her that the French were only forty versts away; that French proclamations were circulating in the villages, and that if the princess did not move her father before the 15th, he could not answer for the consequences.

The princess made up her mind to leave on the 15th. The preparations and giving all the necessary instructions, for which every one applied to her, kept her busy the whole of the previous day. The night of the 14th she spent as usual, without undressing, in the room next to the one where the old prince lay. Several times she waked up, hearing his groaning and muttering, the creak of the bedstead, and the steps of Tihon and the doctor moving him. Several times she listened at the door, and it seemed to her that he was muttering more loudly than usual and turning more restlessly. She could not sleep, and several times she went to the door, listening, tempted to go in, but unable to make up her mind to do so. Although he could not speak, Princess Marya saw and knew how he disliked any expression of anxiety about him. She had noticed how he turned in displeasure away from her eyes, which were sometimes unconsciously fixed persistently on him. She knew her going in at night, at an unusual time, would irritate him.

But never had she felt so sorry for him; never had she felt it so dreadful to lose him. She went over all her life with him, and in every word, every action, she saw an expression of his love for her. Occasionally these reminiscences were interrupted by the temptation of the devil; dreams came back to her imagination of what would happen after his death, and how she would order her new independent existence. But she drove away such thoughts with horror. Towards morning he was quieter, and she fell asleep.

She waked up late. The perfect sincerity, which often accompanies the moment of waking, showed her unmistakably what it was that was of most interest to her in her father's illness. She waked up, listened to what was passing through the door, and catching the sound of his muttering, she told herself with a sigh that there was no change.

“But what should there be? What did I hope for? I hope for his death,” she cried, with inward loathing of herself.

She washed, dressed, said her prayers, and went out on to the steps. At the entrance the carriages in which their luggage was packed were standing without horses.

The morning was warm and grey. Princess Marya lingered on the steps, still horrified at her own spiritual infamy, and trying to get her ideas into shape before going in to see him.

The doctor came downstairs and out to her.

“He is a little better to-day,” said the doctor. “I was looking for you. One can make out a little of what he says. His head is clearer. Come in. He is asking for you…”

Princess Marya's heart beat so violently at this news that she turned pale and leaned against the door to keep from falling. To see him, to talk to him, to be under his eyes now, when all her soul was filled with these fearful, sinful imaginings was full of an agonising joy and terror for her.

“Let us go in,” said the doctor.

Princess Marya went in to her father, and went up to his bedside. He was lying raised high on his back; his little bony hands, covered with knotted purple veins, were laid on the quilt; his left eye was gazing straight before him, while the right eye was distorted, and his lips and eyebrows were motionless. He looked so thin, so small, and pitiable. His face looked withered up or melted away; his features all seemed smaller. Princess Marya went up and kissed his hand. His left hand clasped her hand in a way that showed he had long been wanting her. He twitched her hand, and his eyebrows and lips quivered angrily.

She looked at him in dismay, trying to fathom what he wanted of her. When she changed her position so that his left eye could see her, he seemed satisfied, and for several seconds kept his eye fixed on her. Then his lips and tongue twitched; sounds came, and he tried to speak, looking with imploring timidity at her, evidently afraid she would not understand him.

Princess Marya strained every faculty of attention as she gazed at him. The comic effort with which he strove to make his tongue work made Princess Marya drop her eyes, and she had much ado to stifle the sobs that rose in her throat. He was saying something, several times repeating his words. Princess Marya could not understand them; but she tried to guess what he was saying, and repeated interrogatively the words she supposed him to be uttering.

“O … o … aye … aye …!” he repeated several time. It was impossible to interpret these sounds. The doctor thought he had guessed it, and asked:

“The princess is afraid?”

He shook his head, and again repeated the same sounds.

“The soul, the soul is in pain!” Princess Marya guessed. He grunted affirmatively, took her hand, and began pressing it to different parts of his breast as though seeking the right place for it.

“Always thinking!—about you … thinking …!” he articulated, far more intelligibly than before now that he felt sure of being understood. Princess Marya pressed her head against his arm, trying to hide her sobs and tears.

He passed his hand over her hair.

“I called for you all night …” he articulated.

“If I had only known …” she said, through her tears. “I was afraid to come in.”

He pressed her hand.

“Weren't you asleep?”

“No, I couldn't sleep,” said Princess Marya, shaking her head.

Unconsciously imitating her father, she tried to speak more by signs, as he spoke, as though she, too, had a difficulty in articulating.

“Darling!” … or “dear one!” … Princess Marya could not distinguish the word; but from the expression of his eyes she had no doubt what was said was a word of caressing tenderness such as he had never used to her before. “Why didn't you come?”

“And I was wishing, wishing for his death!” thought Princess Marya.

He paused.

“Thanks … to you … child, dear one! for all, for all … forgive … thanks! … forgive! … thanks! …” And tears flowed from his eyes. “Call Andryusha,” he said suddenly, and a look of childish and deprecating misgiving came into his face at the question. He seemed to be himself aware that his question had no meaning. So at least it seemed to Princess Marya.

“I have had a letter from him,” answered Princess Marya.

He looked at her with timid wonder.

“Where is he?”

“He is with the army, father, at Smolensk.”

He was silent for a long while, closing his eyes. Then, as though to answer his doubts, and to assert that now he understood it all and remembered, he nodded his head and opened his eyes.

“Yes,” he said, softly and distinctly. “Russia is lost! They have lost her!”

And again he broke into sobs, and tears flowed from his eyes. Princess Marya could restrain herself no more, and wept too as she looked at his face.

He closed his eyes again. His sobs ceased. He pointed to his eyes; and Tihon, understanding him, wiped away his tears.

Then he opened his eyes, and said something, which, for a long while, no one could understand; and at last Tihon understood and interpreted.

Princess Marya looked for the drift of his words in the direction in which he had been speaking a minute before. She supposed he was speaking of Russia; then of Prince Andrey, of herself, of his grandson, then of his own death. And this was just why she could not understand his words.

“Put on your white dress. I like it,” he had said.

When she understood those words Princess Marya sobbed louder than ever, and the doctor, taking her on his arm, led her out of the room on to the terrace, trying to persuade her to calm herself, and to devote herself to preparations for the journey. After Princess Marya had left the prince, he began talking again of his son, of the war, of the Tsar, twitched his eyebrows angrily, began to raise his hoarse voice, and was seized by a second and final stroke.

Princess Marya stayed on the terrace. The day had become brilliantly fine, sunny, and warm. She could grasp nothing, could think of nothing, and feel nothing but her passionate love for her father, of which it seemed to her that she had not been aware till that minute. She ran out into the garden, and ran sobbing towards the pond along the paths planted with young lime-trees by Prince Andrey.

“Yes … I … I … I longed for his death! Yes, I wanted it soon to be over … I wanted to be at peace … And what will become of me? What use will peace be to me when he is gone?” Princess Marya muttered aloud, walking with rapid steps through the garden, and pressing her hands to her bosom, which heaved with convulsive sobs. Going round the garden in a circle, which brought her back again to the house, she saw coming towards her Mademoiselle Bourienne (who was remaining at Bogutcharovo, preferring not to move away), and with her an unknown gentleman. It was the district marshal, who had come to call on the princess, to urge upon her the necessity of her immediate departure. Princess Marya listened and did not take in what he said. She took him into the house, offered him lunch, and sat down with him. Then asking him to excuse her, she went to the old prince's door. The doctor came out with a perturbed face and told her she could not go in.

“Go away, princess; go away!”

Princess Marya went out again into the garden, and by the pond at the bottom of the hill she sat down on the grass, in a place where no one could see her. She could not have said how long she was there. A woman's footsteps running along the path made her look round. She got up and saw Dunyasha, her maid, evidently running to look for her, stop short, as though in alarm, on seeing her mistress.

“Come, please, princess … the prince …” said Dunyasha, in a breaking voice.

“I'm coming, I'm coming!” the princess cried hurriedly, not letting Dunyasha have time to say what she meant to; and trying to avoid seeing her, she ran into the house.

“Princess, it is God's will! You must be prepared for the worst,” said the marshal, meeting her at the door into the house.

“Let me be; it's not true!” she cried angrily at him.

The doctor tried to stop her. She pushed him away and ran to the door. “What are these people with scared faces stopping me for? I don't want any of them! What are they doing here?” she thought. She opened the door, and the bright daylight in the room, always hitherto darkened, frightened her. Her old nurse and other women were in the room. They all drew back from the bed, making way for her. He was still lying on the bed as before; but the stern look on his calm face arrested Princess Marya on the threshold.

“No, he is not dead, it cannot be!” Princess Marya said to herself. She went up to him, and struggling with the terror that came upon her, she pressed her lips to his cheek. But she started back from him at once. Instantaneously all the tenderness she had been feeling for him vanished, and was followed by a feeling of horror for what lay before her. “No, no, he is no more! He is no more, and here in the place where he was, is something unfamiliar and sinister, some fearful, terrifying, and repulsive secret!” And hiding her face in her hands, Princess Marya sank into the arms of the doctor, who supported her.

In the presence of Tihon and the doctor, the women washed what had been the prince, bound a kerchief round the head that the mouth might not become rigidly open, and bound another kerchief round the limbs. Then the uniform with the decorations was put on, and the little dried-up body was laid on the table. There was no telling when or who took thought for all this; it all seemed to be done of itself. Towards night candles were lighted round the coffin, a pall was laid over it, juniper was strewn on the floor, a printed prayer was put under the dead withered head, and a deacon sat in the corner reading aloud the Psalter. Like horses crowding, snorting, and starting round a dead horse, numbers of familiar and unfamiliar figures crowded round the coffin—the marshal, and the village elder, and peasant women, and all with scared and fascinated eyes, crossed themselves, and bowed down and kissed the cold, stiff hand of the old prince.

如同安德烈公爵所想象的那样，玛丽亚公爵小姐并不曾到达莫斯科，也没有脱离危险。

在阿尔帕特奇从斯摩棱斯克回来之后，老公爵突然间像从睡梦中醒了过来。他下令从各乡召集民兵并把他们都武装起来，同时又给总司令写了一封信，告诉他，自己已决定留下来保卫童山并坚持到底，至于总司令是否设法保卫童山，保卫俄国最老的将军之一可能被俘或者被打死的地方，请总司令自行定夺，同时也向家里的人宣布，他绝不离开童山。

公爵本人留在童山，但是，他命令公爵小姐和德萨尔带领小公爵去博古恰罗沃，然后从那里去莫斯科。玛丽亚公爵小姐对父亲一反他先前的消沉状态，夜以继日地狂热地活动，感到吃惊，她不能把他一个人丢下不管，他生平第一次使自己不服从他。她拒绝动身，于是公爵对她大发雷霆，他把以往所有冤枉她的话又数落了一遍。他竭力加罪于她，说她折磨了他，说她唆使儿子和他吵架，说她蓄藏卑劣的猜疑，她一生的任务就是使他的生活不愉快，于是他把她从自己的书房中赶了出去，他对她说，如果她不走，那在他是完全一样。他说，他不想知道她的存在并且预先警告她，不要让他看见她。与玛丽亚公爵小姐的担心相反，他没有强令把她带走，只是说不要让他看见她，这使玛丽亚公爵小姐喜出望外。她知道，这足以证明，她留下来不走，他在内心深处是高兴的。

在尼古卢什卡走后的第二天，一大早，老公爵身着全副戎装去见总司令。四轮马车已经准备停当。玛丽亚公爵小姐看见他身着戎装，佩戴着全部勋章，从屋内走出来，到花园中去检阅已经武装起来的农夫和家奴。玛丽亚公爵小姐坐在窗户旁边，倾听着从花园里传来的他的声音。突然间，从林荫道上跑出来几个惊慌失色的人。

玛丽亚公爵小姐跑出门外，穿过花径，跑到林荫道上。迎面而来的是一群民兵和家奴，在这一群人中间有几个人用手架扶着一个身着戎装、佩戴勋章的小老头。玛丽亚公爵小姐向他飞奔过去，透过林荫道旁菩提树荫影射下来的摇曳不定的阳光碎点，看不出来他的脸上发生了什么变化。她看到的只有一点，那就是他先前脸上的那种严厉果断的表情，已变换成一副怯弱和屈服的表情。他看到女儿之后，动了动他那无力的嘴唇，发出了呼呼噜噜的声音，不知道他想说什么。人们把他抬进书房，把他安放在他近来害怕的那张沙发上。

请来的医生在当天夜间给他放了血并说明公爵患中风，右半身不遂。

留在童山已经越来越危险了，公爵中风的第二天就迁住博古恰罗沃。医生也跟着去了。

当他们前往博古恰罗沃时，德萨尔已带领小公爵动身前往莫斯科。

瘫痪的老公爵在博古恰罗沃安德烈公爵新迁的房子里躺了三个星期，病情还是那个老样子，既没有好转，也没有恶化。老公爵昏迷不醒；他像一具变了形的尸体躺卧着，他不停地嘟噜着什么，眼眉和嘴唇抽动着，不知道他是否了解他周围的一切。可以确切知道的只有一点，那就是他很痛苦，很想说点什么。不过，是什么呢，谁也不能够明白这一点；这或许是一个病人或一个半疯癫状态的人突发的古怪脾气，或许是与公共事务或家庭事务有关的什么。

医生说，这种躁动不安并不意味着什么，这只不过是由于生理上的原因；但是，玛丽亚公爵小姐想到，当她在他跟前时，他总是更加躁动不安，这一点就证实了她的想法，她认为他是想对她说点什么，他显然在肉体上和精神上都很痛苦。

治愈已无希望。迁往他处也绝不可能。如果在路途中死去，那可怎么办？“是不是完结更好些，干脆完结吧！”玛丽亚公爵小姐有时是这样想的。她不分白天和黑夜，几乎完全没有睡觉，时刻不离地守护着他，说来可怕，她这样守护他，时常不是期望能发现病情好转的迹象，而是期望能发现临近结局的迹象。

纵然，公爵小姐已经意识到自己有这种感情，为此感到十分奇怪，然而，她内心确实有这种感情。对玛丽亚公爵小姐来说，更可怕的是，自从她父亲生病之后（甚至更早，在她料想到会发生什么事情而同他一起留下来的时候），所有的在她内心深处隐藏着的，已被遗忘了的个人的心愿和希望，都在她心中苏醒过来了。多少年来都没有在她的脑海中出现过的念头——没有严父畏惧的自由生活，甚至建立爱情和家庭幸福的可能性，像魔鬼的诱惑一般不断地在她的脑海中浮现出来。有一个问题不停地在脑海中浮现，她无论怎样都驱逐不掉，那就是在眼下，也就是在办完后事之后，她怎样去安排自己的生活。公爵小姐知道，这是魔鬼的诱惑。她知道，能够对付这种诱惑的唯一武器是做祈祷，于是她试着做祷告。她做出一种祷告的姿势，注视着神像，念诵着祷告词，然而她祈祷不下去。她感到，她现在已经完全置身于另外一个世界——一个世俗的、劳碌的、自由活动的世界，而这个世界与先前把她禁锢在其中的精神世界完全相反，在那个精神世界中，她过去最大的安慰就是做祷告。她无法祷告，欲哭无声，因为尘世的忧虑包围着她。

继续留在博古恰罗沃变得危险起来了，从四面八方传来了法国人已经迫近的消息，在离博古恰罗沃十五俄里的一个村庄，有一所庄园已经遭到法国匪兵的抢劫。

医生坚持要把公爵迁得远一点；首长派一名官员来见玛丽亚公爵小姐，劝告她尽可能早点离开。县警察局长亲自来到博古恰罗沃，也同样坚持这一主张，他说，法国人离此地只有四十俄里，在各村庄教发传单，如果公爵小姐不在十五日之前和她父亲离开这里，那他无论如何也不能负责了。

公爵小姐决定十五日动身。她忙了一整天，从事各项准备，她向所有前来请示的人发布命令。从十四日深夜，她同往常一样，在公爵卧病的隔壁的那间屋里和衣而卧，她醒来好几次，都听到了他的哼哼声和嘟囔声，床的响声，吉洪和医生替他翻身的脚步声。有好几次，她靠近门旁细听，他觉得他的嘟囔声比平时要大一些，替他翻身的次数更勤。她不能入睡，好几次她走近房门，侧耳倾听，想进去看看，然而却不敢进去。虽然他不说话，但是玛丽亚公爵小姐看得出也知道，他每一次看见她为他担心的表情就十分不快。她看见他是多么不满地避开她有时不由自主地盯在他身上的眼光。她知道，她在夜间这个不寻常的时候进去，一定会惹他生气。

她从来没有这样怜惜，这样害怕失去他。她回忆起和他在一起的整个一生，在他的每一句话中和每一个行动中都能发现他对她的疼爱。在这些回忆中间，那魔鬼的诱惑——在他死后她怎样安排她的新的自由的生活的念头，时时浮现在她的想象之中。她以厌恶的心情驱赶这些念头。快到早晨的时候，他安静了下来，她也睡着了。

她醒得很晚，在刚刚醒来时常有的纯净心态清楚地表明，父亲的病已经占据了她的整个身心。她醒来之后，在门外侧耳细听屋里的情形，她听见他仍在呼呼哧哧，她叹息着自言自语道，还是那个样子。

“应该是什么样子呢？我想要他怎么样呢？我想要他死去！”她怀着对自己的厌恶心情叫道。

她穿好衣裳，洗完脸，念完了祈祷词，然后走到门廓上。门廓前面停着几辆尚未套马的大车，人们正在往车上装东西。

早晨温暖、阴沉。玛丽亚公爵小姐站在门廓上，她对自己内心的卑鄙不断地感到恐惧，在进屋去看父亲之前，清理了一下自己的思绪。

医生下楼向她走来。

“他今天好些，”医生说，“我在找您。可以从他所说的话中了解点什么。他的头脑清醒一点了。我们一道去吧。他正在叫您呢……”

玛丽亚公爵小姐一听到这个消息，她的心一下剧烈地跳动起来，她的脸色苍白，为了不致晕倒在地，她倚靠在房门上。正当玛丽亚公爵小姐整个心灵充满可怕的罪恶诱惑的时刻去见他，去和他说话，去看他盯住自己的眼神，那是一种令人痛苦的高兴，而且令人害怕。

“我们去吧。”医生说。

玛丽亚公爵小姐走进了房间，来到父亲床前。他仰卧着，背靠得很高，他那双瘦小的、青筋虬结的手平放在被子上面，他的左眼直瞪瞪地盯着，他的右眼歪斜，眉毛和嘴唇一动也不动。他的整个身子变得又瘦又小，很可怜。他的脸显得干瘪，五官都变得更小了。玛丽亚公爵小姐走向前去，吻了他的手，他的左手用力握她的手，要她知道，他早就在等她来了。他拉动她的手，他的眼眉和嘴唇忿忿地抽动着。

她惶恐不安地望着他。尽力揣测他想要她做什么。她换了个姿势，向前移动了一下身子，以便他的左眼能够看见她的脸，这时他平静下来了。一连几秒钟他的眼睛都没有离开她。随后他的嘴唇和舌头动了，发出了声音，他开始说话了，他怯生生地恳求地看着她，显然他怕她可能听不懂他所说的话。

玛丽亚公爵小姐集中全部精力凝视着他。看见他使出可笑的力气转动舌头，玛丽亚公爵小姐垂下眼帘，勉强压制住上升到了喉咙的呜咽声。他说了一句什么话，又重复着说了好几次。玛丽亚公爵小姐听不懂；她力图猜出他在说什么，并且疑问地重复他发出的声音。

“嗬嗬——波依……波依……”他重复了若干次……

无论怎样也不能弄明白这些话。医生以为他猜明白了这些话，他问道：“公爵小姐害怕吗？”他摇了摇头表示否认，他又重复发出同样的声音。

“心里，心里难过。”玛丽亚公爵小姐猜测着说。他肯定地发出一种含含糊糊的声音，他抓住她的手在他胸前的各个部位按来按去，似乎是要找到她要找到的那个部位。

“整个的心！都在想念你……整个的心。”然后，他发出的声音比先前好多了，更清楚些了，他确信，大家已经了解他了。玛丽亚公爵小姐把头贴在他的手上，极力隐藏住她的呜咽声和流出来的眼泪。

他用手抚摸着她的头发。

“我整夜都在叫你……”他说。

“要是我知道……”她流着眼泪说道，“我不敢进来。”

他握着她的手。

“你没有睡吗？”

“没有，我没有睡。”玛丽亚公爵小姐否定地摇了摇头说道，她不由自主地顺从着父亲，依照着他的样子，说话时尽量比划着手势，好像是她的舌头转动起来也很困难。

“亲爱的……”或许是说：“好孩子……”玛丽亚公爵小姐弄不清楚他所说的话，不过从他眼神的表情来看，他大概是说了一句他从来都没有说过的温情的、爱抚的话。“为什么不进来呢？”

“而我希望，希望他死去！”玛丽亚公爵小姐想到。他沉默了一会儿。

“谢谢你……女儿，好孩子……为了一切，为了一切，谢谢……原谅……谢谢，原谅……谢谢！……”泪水夺眶而出。

“去把安德留沙叫来。”他突然说，一说出这句话，他脸上表露出孩子般的怯生生的和怀疑的神情。他自亡似乎也知道，他这个要求是没有意义的。至少玛丽亚公爵小姐觉得是这样。

“我接到他一封信。”玛丽亚公爵小姐回答道。

他惊诧地胆怯地看着她。

“他在哪里？”

“他在军队里，mon　pere①，在斯摩棱斯克。”

①法语：爸爸。

他闭上眼睛，沉默了好一阵；然后，好像解答他自己的疑问，并且证明他现在一切都明白，一切都记起来了，他肯定地点点头，又睁开了眼睛。

“是啊，”他声音清晰而低沉地说道。“俄国完了。他们把她给毁了！”他又闭上了眼睛，泪水夺眶而出。玛丽亚公爵小姐再也无法克制自己，望着他的脸，哭了起来。

他又闭上眼睛，止住了恸哭。他对着眼睛做了个手势；吉洪懂得了他的意思，替他擦掉了眼泪。

随后他又睁开眼睛，说了一些什么，有好一阵谁都没弄明白，最终只有吉洪一个人弄懂了，转述了他的话。玛丽亚公爵小姐根据他方才他说话的神情来揣测他的话的意思。她揣测他时而说俄国，时而说安德烈公爵，时而说她，时而说孙子，时而说到他的死。可是她不能由此而猜出他所说的话。

“穿上你那件白色布拉吉，我喜欢它。”他说。

玛丽亚公爵小姐听懂了这句话，她放声大哭，医生用手架扶着她，把她从室内扶到阳台上，劝她要冷静和准备动身的事情。玛丽亚公爵小姐离开公爵后，他又说起儿子，说起战争，说起皇帝，忿忿地牵动着眉头，提高了他那粗哑的声音，他所患的中风又第二次发作了，这也是最后一次。

玛丽亚公爵小姐站在阳台上。天已放晴，太阳照得暖洋洋的。她什么都不理解；什么都不想，什么都不觉得，只有对父亲的热爱，她感到她在此之前从来还不曾这样热爱她的父亲。她哭着跑向花园，沿着安德烈公爵所栽的菩提树的林荫小道向下面的池塘跑去。

“是的……我……我……我愿他死去。是的，我希望快点结束……我想得到安静……我将来会怎么样呢？当他不在世的时候，我的安静又有什么用呢？”她在花园里迈着疾速的脚步走着，一边用双手按住胸口，不由自主地抽抽搭搭地哭，一边念叨着。她沿着花园转了一圈，又来到住宅前，这时她看见了迎面走来的布里安小姐（她留在博古恰罗沃不愿意离开）带着一个陌生的男人。此人是本县的首长。他亲自前来告知公爵小姐必须尽快离开此地。玛丽亚公爵小姐听了他的话，但不明白他所说的；她把他请进屋里，请他用早餐，陪他坐下。然后，她向他道了歉，就起身向老公爵的房门走去。

医生面色惊慌出来对她说，此刻不能进去。

“走吧，公爵小姐，走吧，走吧！”

玛丽亚公爵小姐又回到花园里，在池塘旁边假山下面一处谁也看不见的草地上坐了下来。她不知道她在那里坐了多久。一个沿着小径奔跑的女人的脚步声惊醒了她。她站起身，看见她的女仆杜尼亚莎①，她显然是跑来找她的，一看见小姐的神色，好像受到惊吓一样突然停住了脚。

①杜尼亚莎是阿夫多季娅的小名。

“请您，公爵小姐……公爵……”杜尼亚莎断断续续地说。

“我现在，就去，就去。”公爵小姐迭声说道，不等杜尼亚莎说完，极力不看一眼杜尼亚莎，就往家里跑去。

“公爵小姐，这是上帝的旨意，您应当做好一切准备。”县首长在门口迎着他说。

“不要管我，这不是真的！”她怒冲冲地对他吼叫道。医生想阻挡住他，她推开医生，向门里跑过去。“为什么这些人惊惶失色地阻拦我？我不需要任何人！他们在这里干什么？”她推开门，在这间先前半阴暗的房间里，大白天的亮光使她大为惊恐。屋里有几个妇女和一个保姆。他们从床边退到一旁，给她让路。他依旧躺在床上；但是他那安详的脸上的严厉的表情，使玛丽亚公爵小姐在门槛上停了下来。

“不，他没有死，这不可能！”玛丽亚公爵小姐自言自语，她克制着内心的恐惧走近他的跟前，把嘴唇贴近他的面颊，但是她立即向后退缩，回避他。霎时间，她原先对他所怀有的全部柔情消失了，为呈现在她眼前的光景所引起的恐怖所代替。“完了，再没有他了！他去世了，在这里，他生前所在的地方，有一种陌生的含有敌意的东西，是一种令人十分恐慌战栗和令人反感的神秘！”玛丽亚公爵小姐双手捂着脸，倒在医生架扶她的手臂上。

几个妇女当着吉洪和医生的面洗涤了他的遗体，为使他那张开的嘴不致变硬，用一条手巾扎在他的头上，用另一条手巾扎起他那叉开的双腿，随后给他穿上佩戴勋章的制服，把他那又小又干的尸体安放在一张桌子上面，天知道是谁又是什么时间操持过这种事情，然而一切都自然而然地完成了。入夜，在棺材周围点燃了蜡烛，棺材上面又加了罩子，地板上撤了杜松枝，在僵死干瘪的头下面枕着一张印刷的祷文，一个教堂的助祭坐在屋角唱赞美歌。

正如一些马向一匹死马飞快扑过去，拥挤在一起，打着响鼻一样，家里的人和外来的人都挤在客厅里，挤在棺材周围——县首长、村长、妇女们——都瞪着惊惶的眼睛，划着十字，鞠躬、吻老公爵冰凉而僵硬的手。

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