AFTER HER FATHER'S FUNERAL Princess Marya locked herself in her room and would not let any one come near her. A maid came to the door to say that Alpatitch had come to ask for instructions in regard to the journey. (This was before Alpatitch had talked to Dron.) Princess Marya got up from the sofa on which she was lying, and through the closed door replied that she was never going away, and begged to be left in peace.
The windows of the room in which Princess Marya lay looked to the west. She lay on the sofa facing the wall, and fingering the buttons on the leather bolster, she saw nothing but that bolster, and her thoughts were concentrated obscurely on one subject. She thought of the finality of death and of her spiritual baseness, of which she had had no idea till it showed itself during her father's illness. She longed to pray, but dared not; dared not, in the spiritual state she was in, turn to God. For a long while she lay in that position.
The sun was setting, and the slanting rays lighted up the room through the open window, and threw a glow on part of the morocco cushion at which Princess Marya was looking. The current of her thoughts was suddenly arrested. She unconsciously sat up, smoothed her hair, stood up, and walked to the window, involuntarily drawing a deep breath of the refreshing coolness of the clear, windy evening.
“Yes, now you can admire the sunset at your ease! He is not here, and there is no one to hinder you,” she said to herself, and sinking into a chair, she let her head fall on the window-sill.
Some one spoke her name in a soft and tender voice from the garden and kissed her on the head. She looked up. It was Mademoiselle Bourienne in a black dress and pleureuses. She softly approached Princess Marya, kissed her with a sigh, and promptly burst into tears. Princess Marya looked round at her. All her old conflicts with her, her jealousy of her, recurred to Princess Marya's mind. She remembered too that he had changed of late to Mademoiselle Bourienne, could not bear the sight of her, and therefore how unjust had been the censure that she had in her heart passed upon her. “Yes, and is it for me, for me, after desiring his death, to pass judgment on any one?” she thought.
Princess Marya pictured vividly to herself Mademoiselle Bourienne's position, estranged from her of late, though dependent on her, and living among strangers. And she felt sorry for her. She looked at her in gentle inquiry and held out her hand to her. Mademoiselle Bourienne at once began kissing her hand with tears and talking of the princess's sorrow, making herself a partner in that sorrow. She said that her only consolation in her sorrow was that the princess permitted her to share it with her. She said that all their former misunderstandings must sink into nothing before their great sorrow: that she felt herself guiltless in regard to every one, and that he from above saw her love and gratitude. The princess heard her without heeding her words, though she looked at her now and then and listened to the sound of her voice.
“Your position is doubly dreadful, dear princess,” said Mademoiselle Bourienne. “I know you could not and cannot think of yourself; but with my love for you I am bound to do so.…Has Alpatitch been with you? Has he spoken to you of moving?” she asked.
Princess Marya did not answer. She did not understand who was to move and where. “Was it possible to undertake anything now, to think of anything? Could anything matter?” she wondered. She made no reply.
“Do you know, chère Marie,” said Mademoiselle Bourienne, “that we are in danger, that we are surrounded by the French; it is dangerous to move now. If we move, we are almost certain to be taken prisoner, and God knows …”
Princess Marya looked at her companion, with no notion what she was saying.
“Oh, if any one knew how little anything matters to me now,” she said. “Of course, I would not on any account move away from him…Alpatitch said something about going away.…You talk to him … I can't do anything, and I don't want …”
“I have been talking to him. He hopes that we may manage to get away to-morrow; but I think it would be better now to remain here,” said Mademoiselle Bourienne. “Because you will agree, chère Marie, that to fall into the hands of the soldiers or of rioting peasants on the road would be awful.”
Mademoiselle Bourienne took out of her reticule a document, not on the usual Russian paper. It was the proclamation of General Rameau, announcing that protection would be given by the French commanders to all inhabitants who did not abandon their homes. She handed it to the princess.
“I imagine the best thing would be to appeal to this general,” said Mademoiselle Bourienne. “I am convinced that all proper respect would be shown you.”
Princess Marya read the document and her face worked with tearless sobs.
“Through whom did you get this?” she asked.
“They probably found out I was French from my name,” said Mademoiselle Bourienne, flushing.
With the proclamation in her hand, Princess Marya got up from the window, and with a pale face walked out of the room into Prince Andrey's former study.
“Dunyasha! send Alpatitch to me, Dronushka, or somebody!” said Princess Marya. “And tell Amalya Karlovna not to come to me,” she added, hearing Mademoiselle Bourienne's voice. “To set off at once! as quick as possible!” said Princess Marya, appalled at the idea that she might be left in the power of the French.
“That Prince Andrey should know that she was in the power of the French! That she, the daughter of Prince Nikolay Andreitch Bolkonsky, should stoop to ask General Rameau to grant her his protection, and should take advantage of his good offices.” The idea appalled her, made her shudder and turn crimson. She felt a rush of vindictive wrath and pride of which she had had no conception. All the bitterness, and still more the humiliation of her position rose vividly to her imagination. “They, the French, would take up their quarters in the house: M. le Général Rameau would occupy Prince Andrey's study; would amuse himself by looking through and reading his letters and papers; Mademoiselle Bourienne would do the honours of Bogutcharovo; I should be given a room as a favour; the soldiers would break open my father's newly dug grave to take his crosses and decorations; they would tell me of their victories over the Russians, would affect hypocritical sympathy with my grief, …” thought Princess Marya, thinking not the thoughts natural to her, but feeling it a duty to think as her father and brother would have done. To her personally it did not matter where she stayed and what happened to her, but, at the same time, she felt herself the representative of her dead father and Prince Andrey. Unconsciously she thought their thoughts and felt their feelings. What they would have said, what they would have done now, she felt it incumbent upon her to do. She went into Prince Andrey's study, and trying to enter completely into his ideas, thought over her situation.
The exigencies of life, which she had regarded as of no consequence since her father's death, all at once rose up about Princess Marya with a force she had known nothing of before, and swept her away with them.
Flushed and excited she walked about the room, sending first for Alpatitch, then for Mihail Ivanitch, then for Tihon, then for Dron. Dunyasha, the old nurse, and the maids could not tell her how far Mademoiselle Bourienne's statements had been correct. Alpatitch was not in the house; he had gone to the police authorities. Mihail Ivanitch, the architect, came with sleepy eyes on being sent for, but could tell Princess Marya nothing. With the same smile of acquiescence with which he had been accustomed during the course of fifteen years to meet the old prince's remarks without committing himself, he now met the princess's questions, so that there was no getting any definite answer out of him. The old valet, Tihon, whose wan and sunken face wore the stamp of inconsolable grief, answered “Yes, princess,” to all Princess Marya's questions, and could scarcely restrain his sobs as he looked at her.
Lastly, the village elder, Dron, came into the room, and bowing low to the princess, took up his position near the doorway.
Princess Marya walked up and down the room and stood still facing him.
“Dronushka,” she said, seeing in him a staunch friend, the Dronushka who had every year brought back from the fair at Vyazma the same gingerbreads she connected with him, and had presented them to her with the same smile, “Dronushka, now, after our misfortune,” … she began, and paused, unable to proceed.
“We are all in God's hands,” he said, with a sigh.
They were silent.
“Dronushka, Alpatitch has gone off somewhere, I have no one to turn to. Is it true, as I'm told, that it is impossible for me to go away?”
“Why shouldn't you go away, your excellency? You can go,” said Dron.
“I have been told there is danger from the enemy. My good friend, I can do nothing, I know nothing about it, I have nobody. I want to set off without fail to-night or to-morrow morning early.”
Dron did not speak. He looked up from under his brows at Princess Marya.
“There are no horses,” he said. “I have told Yakov Alpatitch so already.”
“How is that?” said the princess.
“It's all the visitation of the Lord,” said Dron. “Some horses have been carried off for the troops, and some are dead; it's a bad year, it is. If only we don't die of hunger ourselves, let alone feeding the horses! Here they've been three days without a bit of bread. There's nothing, they have been plundered to the last bit.”
Princess Marya listened attentively to what he said to her.
“The peasants have been plundered? They have no bread?” she asked.
“They are dying of hunger,” said Dron; “no use talking of horses and carts.”
“But why didn't you say so, Dronushka? Can't they be helped? I'll do everything I can …” It was strange to Princess Marya to think that at such a moment, when her heart was overflowing with such a sorrow, there could be rich people and poor, and that the rich could possibly not help the poor. She vaguely knew that there was a store of “seignorial corn,” and that it was sometimes given to the peasants. She knew, too, that neither her brother nor her father would refuse the peasants in their need; she was only afraid of making some mistake in the wording of the order for this distribution. She was glad that she had an excuse for doing something in which she could, without scruple, forget her own grief. She began to question Dronushka about the peasants' needs, and to ask whether there was a “seignorial store” at Bogutcharovo.
“I suppose we have a store of wheat of my brother's?” she asked.
“The wheat is all untouched,” Dron declared with pride. “The prince gave me no orders about selling it.”
“Give it to the peasants, give them all they need; I give you leave in my brother's name,” said Princess Marya.
Dron heaved a deep sigh and made no answer.
“You distribute the corn among them, if it will be enough for them. Distribute it all. I give you the order in my brother's name; and tell them, what's ours is theirs. We would grudge nothing for them. Tell them so.”
Dron watched the princess intently all the while she was speaking.
“Discharge me, ma'am, for God's sake, bid them take the keys from me,” said he. “I have served twenty-three years, and done no wrong; discharge me, for God's sake.”
Princess Marya had no notion what he wanted of her and why he asked her to discharge him. She answered that she had never doubted his fidelity, and that she was ready to do everything for him and for the peasants.
父亲安葬后，玛丽亚公爵小姐把自己关在房里，不许任何人进来。女仆来到门前，禀告阿尔帕特奇前来请示出发的事。（这是在阿尔帕特奇和德龙谈话之前的事。）玛丽亚公爵小姐从她躺着的沙发上欠起身来，冲着关闭的门说，她什么地方也不去，不要叫人来打扰她。
玛丽亚小姐卧室的窗户是朝西开的。她面对墙壁躺着，手指来回地抚摩皮靠枕的扣子，眼睛死盯着这个皮靠枕，她那模糊的思绪集中到一点上：她在想父亲不可挽回的死以及在这之前她还不知道，只是父亲患病期间才表现出来的内心的卑鄙。她想祈祷，但又不敢祈祷，不敢在她现在的心境中向上帝求援。她就这样躺了很久。
太阳照到对面的墙上，夕阳的斜晖射进敞开的窗户，照亮了房间和她眼前的羊皮靠枕的一角。她的思路忽然停住了。她毫无意识地坐起来，整理了一下头发，站起来走到窗前，晚风送来清凉新鲜的空气，她不由得深深地吸了一口。
“是的，现在你可以随意欣赏傍晚的风光了！他已经不在了，谁也不会打扰你了。”她心里说道，倒在椅子上，头靠着窗台。
有人从花园的方向用娇柔的声音轻轻叫她的名字，吻她的头，她抬头看了看。原来是布里安小姐，她穿一件黑衣裳，戴着黑纱。她悄悄走到玛丽亚公爵小姐跟前，叹着气吻她，立即哭了起来。玛丽亚公爵小姐看了看她。想起跟她的一切过去的冲突，对她的猜疑，还想起他近来改变了对布里安小姐的态度，不能见她，由此看来，玛丽亚公爵小姐内心对她的责备是多么不公平。“难道不是我，不是我盼望他死吗？我有什么资格责备别人呢！”她想道。
玛丽亚公爵小姐生动地想象布里安小姐的处境，近来她离开自己的亲人，而同时又得依靠她，过着寄人篱下的生活。她心里对她怜悯起来。她温和地疑惑地望了望她，迟疑地伸出手。布里安小姐立刻又哭起来，不断地吻她的手，念叨着公爵小姐遭遇的不幸，把自己扮成一个同情她不幸的人。她说，在她的不幸的时刻，唯一的慰藉就是公爵小姐允许她分担她的不幸。她说，在这巨大的悲伤面前，所有过去的误会应当全部化除，她觉得她在一切方面都是清白的，他在那个世界会看到她的眷恋和感激的。公爵小姐听着她的说，有些不理解，只是偶尔看看她，听听她的声音。
“你的处境格外可怕，亲爱的公爵小姐，”布里安小姐沉默了片刻，说道：“我明白，你从来不会，现在也不会想着自己；但是由于我爱您，我必须这样做……阿尔帕特奇到您这儿来过吗？他和您谈过动身的事吗？”她问。
玛丽亚公爵小姐没有回答。她不明白是什么人要走，要到那儿去。“现在还能做什么事，想什么事呢？难道不是一样吗？”她没有吭声。
“您可知道，chère Marie①，”布里小姐说，“您可知道我们的处境极危险，我们被法国军队包围住了，现在走，太危险了。如果走的话，恐怕准会被俘虏，上帝才知道……”
玛丽亚公爵小姐望着她的女伴，不清楚她在说些什么。
①法语：亲爱的玛丽亚。
“哎，真希望有人了解我，我现在对一切，对一切都不在乎，”她说。“当然罗，我无论怎样也不愿撒开他就走……阿尔帕特奇对我说过走的事……您和他谈谈吧，我现在对什么，对什么都无能为力，也不想管……”
“我和他谈过。他希望我们明天就走，可是我想，现在最好还是留下，”布里安小姐说。“因为您会同意，chère Marie在路上碰到大兵或者暴动的农民，落到他们手里——那真可怕。”布里安小姐从手提包里取出一张不是用普通俄国纸印的法国将军拉莫的文告，上面晓谕居民不得离家逃走，法国当局将给予他们应有的保护，她把文告递给公爵小姐。
“我想，最好还是求助于这位将军，”布里安小姐说，“我相信他会给您应有的尊重的。”
玛丽亚公爵小姐读着那张文告，无声无泪的哭泣使她的脸颊抽搐。
“您是从谁手里拿到这个的？”她说。
“大概他们从我的名字知道我是法国人，”布里安小姐红着脸说。
玛丽亚公爵小姐拿着文告离开窗口站起来，她脸色苍白，从屋里出来走到安德烈公爵以前的书房里。
“杜尼亚莎，去叫阿尔帕特奇，德龙努什卡，或者别的什么人到我这儿来，”玛丽亚公爵小姐说，“告诉阿马利娅·卡尔洛夫娜，不要来见我。”她听见布里安小姐的话语声，又说，“要赶快走！快点走！”一想到她可能留在法军占领区，她就不寒而栗。
“要让安德烈公爵知道我落在法国人手里，那还了得，要让尼古拉·安德烈伊奇·博尔孔斯基公爵的女儿去求拉莫将军先生给予她保护，并且接受他的恩惠，那怎么行！”她越想越觉得可怕，以致使她战栗，脸红，感到从未体验过的愤懑和骄傲。她生动地想象她将要面临的处境是多么困难，主要的，是多么屈辱。“他们那些法国人住在这个家里；拉莫将军先生占着安德烈公爵的书房；翻弄和读他的书信和文件来取乐。“M—lle Bourienne lui ferd les honneurs de博古恰罗沃①。他们恩赐我一个房间；士兵们挖掘我父亲的新坟，取走他的十字架和勋章；他们对我讲述怎样打败俄国人，假装同情我的不幸……”玛丽亚公爵小姐在思考，她不是以自己的思想为思想，她觉得应该用父亲和哥哥的思想来代替自己的思想。对于她个人，不论留在哪儿，自己可能会怎样，都无所谓；她觉得她同时还是死去的父亲和安德烈公爵的代表。她不由得用他们的思想来思想，用他们的感觉来感觉。他们现在可能怎么说，可能怎么做，也就是她现在觉得必须要照样去做的。她走到安德烈公爵的书房里去，极力地深入体会他的思想，来考虑她目前的处境。
①法语：布里安小姐在博古恰罗沃恭恭敬敬地招待他。
求生的欲望，本来她认为随着父亲的去世不复再有了，可是它突然以前所未有的力量在玛丽亚公爵小姐面前出现，并且占有了她。
她激动得满面通红，在屋里踱来踱去。时而派人唤阿尔帕特奇，时而派人唤米哈伊尔·伊万诺维奇，时而派人唤吉洪，时而派人唤德龙。杜尼亚莎、保姆和所有的女仆都不能断定布里安所宣布的事究竟有多少真实性。阿尔帕特奇不在家：他到警察局去了。被唤来的建筑师米哈伊尔·伊万内维奇来见玛丽亚公爵小姐，他睡眼惺忪，什么也不能回答。他十五年来回老公爵话时养成了一种习惯，那就是带着同意的微笑，不表示自己的意见，回答玛丽亚公爵小姐的话也是这样，从他的嘴里得不到任何肯定的东西。被召唤来的老仆人吉洪，他两颊深陷，面孔瘦削，带着无法磨灭的悲哀印记，他对公爵小姐所有的问话都回答：“是您老”，他望着她，几乎忍不住要大哭起来。
最后，管家德龙走进房来，他向公爵小姐深深地鞠了一躬，在门框旁站住了。
玛丽亚公爵小姐在屋里来回走了一趟，在他对面停下。
“德龙努什卡，”玛丽亚公爵小姐说，在她心目中，她把他视为无可置疑的朋友，就是这个德龙努什卡，他每年去赶维亚济马集市的时候，每次都给她带回一种特制的甜饼，微笑着交给她。“德龙努什卡，现在，在我们遭遇到不幸之后……”她刚开始说，就停住了，再也没有力气说下去。
“一切都凭上帝的安排。”他叹息着说。他们沉默了一会儿。
“德龙努什卡，阿尔帕特奇不知到哪儿去了，我没有可问的人。有人说我走不得，是真的吗？”
“为什么走不得，公爵小姐，可以走。”德龙说。
“有人对我说，路上危险，有敌人。亲爱的，我什么也不能做，什么也不明白，我身边一个人也没有。今天晚上或者明天一大早，我一定要走。”德龙不作声。他皱着眉头，瞥了公爵小姐一眼。
“没有马，”他说，“我对阿尔帕特奇已经说过了。”
“为什么没有马？”公爵小姐说。
“都是上帝的惩罚，”德龙说，“有的马被军队征用了，有的马饿死了，遇到今年这个年景，不用说没东西喂马，连人也饿得要死！有的人一连三天吃不上饭。一无所有，完全破产了。”
玛丽亚公爵小姐聚精会神地听他说的话。
“庄稼人都破产了？他们没有粮食？”她问。
“他们快饿死了，”德龙说，“还谈得上什么大车……”
“德龙努什卡，你为什么不早点说呢？难道不能救济吗？我要尽一切可能……”玛丽亚公爵小姐觉得，在目前这样的时刻，当她的心头充满了悲伤的时刻，人们还要分成富的和穷的，而且富人不能救济穷人，有这种想法是很奇怪的。她模糊地知道，并且听到人家说，地主家都有储备粮，那是给农民备荒的。她也知道，不论是哥哥还是父亲都不会拒绝救济贫困的农民的？关于给农民分配粮食一事，她想亲自过问，不过在这个问题上她怕出差错。她很高兴，能有一件事操心，借此可以忘掉自己的悲伤而不致受良心谴责。她向德龙努什卡详细询问农民的急需，并且询问博古恰罗沃的地主储备粮的情况。
“我们不是有地主的储备粮吗？我哥哥的？”她问。
“地主的储备粮原封未动，”德龙骄傲地说，“我们的公爵没有发放粮食的命令。”
“把它发放给农民吧，他们需要多少就发放多少。我代表哥哥允许你发放。”玛丽亚公爵小姐说。
德龙一句话也没有回答，只是深深地叹了一口气。
“你去把粮食分给他们吧，如果粮食还够分给他们的话，全分了吧。我代表哥哥向你下命令，你告诉他们：我们的，也是他们的。为了他们，我们什么都不吝啬。你就这么说吧。”
公爵小姐说话的时候，德龙目不转睛地望着她。
“好小姐，你把我开除吧，看在上帝面上，吩咐手下人接收我的钥匙吧，”他说，“我当了二十三年差，没出过一次差错；开除我吧，看在上帝面上。
玛丽亚公爵小姐不明白他想要做什么，他为什么请求开除他。她告诉他，她从来不怀疑他的忠诚，她愿意为他和农民做任何事。
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