Book 3 Chapter 5

THEY ALL WENT to their rooms, and except Anatole, who fell asleep the instant he got into bed, no one could get to sleep for a long while that night. “Can he possibly be—my husband, that stranger, that handsome, kind man; yes, he is certainly kind,” thought Princess Marya, and a feeling of terror, such as she scarcely ever felt, came upon her. She was afraid to look round; it seemed to her that there was some one there—the devil, and he was that man with his white forehead, black eyebrows, and red lips.

She rang for her maid and asked her to sleep in her room.

Mademoiselle Bourienne walked up and down the winter garden for a long while that evening, in vain expectation of some one; at one moment she was smiling at that some one, the next, moved to tears by an imaginary reference to ma pauvre mère reproaching her for her fall.

The little princess kept grumbling to her maid that her bed had not been properly made. She could not lie on her side nor on her face. She felt uncomfortable and ill at ease in every position. Her burden oppressed her, oppressed her more than ever that night, because Anatole's presence had carried her vividly back to another time when it was not so, and she had been light and gay. She sat in a low chair in her nightcap and dressing-jacket. Katya, sleepy and dishevelled, for the third time beat and turned the heavy feather bed, murmuring something.

“I told you it was all in lumps and hollows,” the little princess repeated; “I should be glad enough to go to sleep, so it's not my fault.”

And her voice quivered like a child's when it is going to cry.

The old prince too could not sleep. Tihon, half asleep, heard him pacing angrily up and down and blowing his nose. The old prince felt as though he had been insulted through his daughter. The insult was the more bitter because it concerned not himself, but another, his daughter, whom he loved more than himself. He said to himself that he would think the whole matter over thoroughly and decide what was right and what must be done, but instead of doing so, he only worked up his irritation more and more.

“The first stray comer that appears! and father and all forgotten, and she runs upstairs, and does up her hair, and rigs herself out, and doesn't know what she's doing! She's glad to abandon her father! And she knew I should notice it. Fr…fr…fr…And don't I see the fool has no eyes but for Bourienne (must get rid of her). And how can she have so little pride, as not to see it? If not for her own sake, if she has no pride, at least for mine. I must show her that the blockhead doesn't give her a thought, and only looks at Bourienne. She has no pride, but I'll make her see it…”

By telling his daughter that she was making a mistake, that Anatole was getting up a flirtation with Mademoiselle Bourienne, the old prince knew that he would wound her self-respect, and so his object (not to be parted from his daughter) would be gained, and so at this reflection he grew calmer. He called Tihon and began undressing.

“The devil brought them here!” he thought, as Tihon slipped his nightshirt over his dried-up old body and his chest covered with grey hair.

“I didn't invite them. They come and upset my life. And there's not much of it left. Damn them!” he muttered, while his head was hidden in the nightshirt. Tihon was used to the prince's habit of expressing his thoughts aloud, and so it was with an unmoved countenance that he met the wrathful and inquiring face that emerged from the nightshirt.

“Gone to bed?” inquired the prince.

Tihon, like all good valets, indeed, knew by instinct the direction of his master's thoughts. He guessed that it was Prince Vassily and his son who were meant.

“Their honours have gone to bed and put out their lights, your excellency.”

“They had no reason, no reason…” the prince articulated rapidly, and slipping his feet into his slippers and his arms into his dressing-gown, he went to the couch on which he always slept.

Although nothing had been said between Anatole and Mademoiselle Bourienne, they understood each other perfectly so far as the first part of the romance was concerned, the part previous to the pauvre mère episode. They felt that they had a great deal to say to each other in private, and so from early morning they sought an opportunity of meeting alone. While the princess was away, spending her hour as usual with her father, Mademoiselle Bourienne was meeting Anatole in the winter garden.

That day it was with even more than her usual trepidation that Princess Marya went to the door of the study. It seemed to her not only that every one was aware that her fate would be that day decided, but that all were aware of what she was feeling about it. She read it in Tihon's face and in the face of Prince Vassily's valet, who met her in the corridor with hot water, and made her a low bow.

The old prince's manner to his daughter that morning was extremely affectionate, though strained. That strained expression Princess Marya knew well. It was the expression she saw in his face at the moments when his withered hands were clenched with vexation at Princess Marya's not understanding some arithmetical problem, and he would get up and walk away from her, repeating the same words over several times in a low voice.

He came to the point at once and began talking. “A proposal has been made to me on your behalf,” he said, with an unnatural smile. “I dare say, you have guessed,” he went on “that Prince Vassily has not come here and brought his protégé” (for some unknown reason the old prince elected to refer to Anatole in this way) “for the sake of my charms. Yesterday, they made me a proposal on your behalf. And as you know my principles, I refer the matter to you.”

“How am I to understand you, mon père?” said the princess, turning pale and red.

“How understand me!” cried her father angrily. “Prince Vassily finds you to his taste as a daughter-in-law, and makes you a proposal for his protégé. That's how to understand it. How understand it!… Why, I ask you.”

“I don't know how you, mon père…” the princess articulated in a whisper.

“I? I? what have I to do with it? leave me out of the question. I am not going to be married. What do you say? that's what it's desirable to learn.”

The princess saw that her father looked with ill-will on the project, but at that instant the thought had occurred to her that now or never the fate of her life would be decided. She dropped her eyes so as to avoid the gaze under which she felt incapable of thought, and capable of nothing but her habitual obedience: “My only desire is to carry out your wishes,” she said; “if I had to express my own desire…”

She had not time to finish. The prince cut her short. “Very good, then!” he shouted. “He shall take you with your dowry, and hook on Mademoiselle Bourienne into the bargain. She'll be his wife, while you…” The prince stopped. He noticed the effect of these words on his daughter. She had bowed her head and was beginning to cry.

“Come, come, I was joking, I was joking,” he said. “Remember one thing, princess; I stick to my principles, that a girl has a full right to choose. And I give you complete freedom. Remember one thing; the happiness of your life depends on your decision. No need to talk about me.”

“But I don't know…father.”

“No need for talking! He's told to, and he's ready to marry any one, but you are free to choose.… Go to your own room, think it over, and come to me in an hour's time and tell me in his presence: yes or no. I know you will pray over it. Well, pray if you like. Only you'd do better to think. You can go.”

“Yes or no, yes or no, yes or no!” he shouted again as the princess went out of the room, reeling in a sort of fog. Her fate was decided, and decided for happiness. But what her father had said about Mademoiselle Bourienne, that hint was horrible. It was not true, of course, but still it was horrible; she could not help thinking of it. She walked straight forward through the winter garden, seeing and hearing nothing, when all of a sudden she was roused by the familiar voice of Mademoiselle Bourienne. She lifted her eyes, and only two paces before her she saw Anatole with his arms round the Frenchwoman, whispering something to her. With a terrible expression on his handsome face, Anatole looked round at Princess Marya, and did not for the first second let go the waist of Mademoiselle Bourienne, who had not seen her.

“Who's there? What do you want? Wait a little!” was what Anatole's face expressed. Princess Marya gazed blankly at them. She could not believe her eyes. At last Mademoiselle Bourienne shrieked and ran away. With a gay smile Anatole bowed to Princess Marya, as though inviting her to share his amusement at this strange incident, and with a shrug of his shoulders he went to the door that led to his apartment.

An hour later Tihon came to summon Princess Marya to the old prince, and added that Prince Vassily was with him. When Tihon came to her, Princess Marya was sitting on the sofa in her own room holding in her arms the weeping Mademoiselle Bourienne. Princess Marya was softly stroking her head. Her beautiful eyes had regained all their luminous peace, and were gazing with tender love and commiseration at the pretty little face of Mademoiselle Bourienne.

“Oh, princess, I am ruined for ever in your heart,” Mademoiselle Bourienne was saying.

“Why? I love you more than ever,” said Princess Marya, “and I will try to do everything in my power for your happiness.”

“But you despise me, you who are so pure, you will never understand this frenzy of passion. Ah, it is only my poor mother …”

“I understand everything,” said Princess Marya, smiling mournfully. “Calm yourself, my dear. I am going to my father,” she said, and she went out.

When the princess went in, Prince Vassily was sitting with one leg crossed high over the other, and a snuff-box in his hand. There was a smile of emotion on his face, and he looked as though moved to such an extreme point that he could but regret and smile at his own sensibility. He took a hasty pinch of snuff.

“Ah, my dear, my dear!” he said, getting up and taking her by both hands. He heaved a sigh, and went on: “My son's fate is in your hands. Decide, my good dear, sweet Marie, whom I have always loved like a daughter.” He drew back. There was a real tear in his eye.

“Fr … ffr …” snorted the old prince. “The prince in his protégé's … his son's name makes you a proposal. Are you willing or not to be the wife of Prince Anatole Kuragin? You say: yes or no,” he shouted, “and then I reserve for myself the right to express my opinion. Yes, my opinion, and nothing but my opinion,” added the old prince, to Prince Vassily in response to his supplicating expression, “Yes or no!”

“My wish, mon père, is never to leave you; never to divide my life from yours. I do not wish to marry,” she said resolutely, glancing with her beautiful eyes at Prince Vassily and at her father.

“Nonsense, fiddlesticks! Nonsense, nonsense!” shouted the old prince, frowning. He took his daughter's hand, drew her towards him and did not kiss her, but bending over, touched her forehead with his, and wrung the hand he held so violently that she winced and uttered a cry. Prince Vassily got up.

“My dear, let me tell you that this is a moment I shall never forget, never; but, dear, will you not give us a little hope of touching so kind and generous a heart. Say that perhaps.… The future is so wide.… Say: perhaps.”

“Prince, what I have said is all that is in my heart. I thank you for the honour you do me, but I shall never be your son's wife.”

“Well, then it's all over, my dear fellow. Very glad to have seen you, very glad to have seen you. Go to your room, princess; go along now,” said the old prince. “Very, very glad to have seen you,” he repeated, embracing Prince Vassily.

“My vocation is a different one,” Princess Marya was thinking to herself; “my vocation is to be happy in the happiness of others, in the happiness of love and self-sacrifice. And at any cost I will make poor Amélie happy. She loves him so passionately. She is so passionately penitent. I will do everything to bring about their marriage. If he is not rich I will give her means, I will beg my father, I will beg Andrey. I shall be so happy when she is his wife. She is so unhappy, a stranger, solitary and helpless! And, my God, how passionately she must love him to be able to forget herself so. Perhaps I might have done the same!…” thought Princess Marya.

大家都四散了，除开阿纳托利一上床就立刻睡着而外，这一夜没有谁不是很久才入睡的。

“难道他——这个陌生、貌美而又慈善的男人就是我的丈夫吗？主要的是，他很慈善，”公爵小姐玛丽亚想道，一种她几乎从未感觉到的恐惧把她控制住了。她害怕向四面打量，她仿佛觉得有人站帏围屏后面昏暗的角落。而这个人就是他——魔鬼，而他就是这个额头雪白、眉毛乌黑、嘴唇绯红的男人。

她按铃把侍女喊来，要侍女在她房里睡觉。

这天夜里布里安小姐在花房里来回地踱了很久，徒然地等待某人，她时而面对某人微笑，时而竟被想象中的pauvremere（可怜的母亲）责备她堕落的话语感动得双眼流泪。

矮小的公爵夫人对着侍女说埋怨话，埋怨她没有把床铺好，她觉得侧卧不行，仰卧也不行，睡起来总是难受，很不自在。她的怀孕的肚子妨碍她了。现在比任何时候更加碍事，阿纳托利在她面前，使她更为生动地回想起往日的韶光，当时她身未怀胎，觉得什么都轻松愉快。她穿着一件短上衣，戴着一顶睡帽，坐在安乐椅上。卡佳的辫发散乱，睡意正浓，一面嘟哝着，一面第三次抖松和翻转沉重的绒毛褥子。

“我跟你说过，到处都是凹凸不平的，”矮小的公爵夫人反复地说，“我倒高高兴兴地睡着哩，可见不是我的过失。”她像个想哭的儿童似的，嗓音颤抖起来了。

老公爵也没有睡觉。吉洪在睡梦中听见他很愤怒地踱着方步，发出鼻嗤声。老公爵觉得他为女儿蒙受屈辱。这是最大的屈辱，因为蒙受屈辱的不是他自己，而是别人，是他疼爱得甚于他自己的女儿。他对自己说，他要反复思量这整个问题，如发现它是正确的，就应该处理，可是他没有这样做，他只是使他自己更加忿怒而已。

“只要遇见头一个男人，就把父亲，把一切忘得干干净净，她跑着，梳好头发，摇动尾巴，不成样子了！抛弃父亲才高兴啦！她明明知道，我会看得出来的。呸……呸……呸……我难道看不见，这个笨蛋只是盯着布里安（应当把她撵走）！缺乏自尊感，哪能明白这一点！既然没有自尊感，顾不着自己也罢，至少也要顾全我的人格。应当给她讲明白，这个笨蛋没有去想她，只是盯着布里安。她没有自尊感，可我要给她讲明这一点……”

老公爵告诉女儿，说她正误入歧途，阿纳托利存心追求布里安，老公爵知道，他将会损害公爵小姐玛丽亚的自尊心，他的事儿（不愿离开他女儿）也就能办成，因此他就安下心来。他喊了一声吉洪，开始脱衣裳。

“鬼让他们到这里来！”当吉洪给他这个干瘦的胸前长满斑白汗毛的老头身上披起一件睡衣的时候，他心中想道。“我没有邀请他们。他们来破坏我的生活，我所剩下的日子并不多了。”

“见鬼去吧！”当他的头还套在睡衣里的时候，他说道。

吉洪知道公爵有时候会有出声地表达思维的习惯，所以在公爵把脸从睡衣里露出来时，他仍然面不变色，与他那疑问而恼怒的目光相遇。

“他们都睡了吗？”公爵问道。

吉洪就像所有的好仆役那样，专凭嗅觉就知道老爷的思想倾向。他已猜中老爷要问的就是瓦西里公爵和他的儿子。

“大人，他们都睡了，连灯也熄了。”

“不必，不必……”公爵很快地说道，他把脚伸进便鞋里，把手伸进长衫里，向他睡的长沙发走去。

虽然阿纳托利和布里安小姐之间什么都没有谈妥，但是在那pauvremere抵达之前，他们对恋爱初阶的意义，彼此都是完全了解的，他们心里也了解，他们要在私下多多交谈，因此从清晨起他们就去寻找两人单独会面的机会。而当公爵小姐在平时规定的时刻去看父亲的时候，布里安小姐便和阿纳托利在温室里相会。

是日，公爵小姐玛丽亚不寻常地哆嗦着走到书斋门口。她仿佛觉得，不仅人人都晓得今日就要决定她的命运，而且都晓得她对这件事有什么想法。从吉洪的脸上，从瓦西里公爵的近侍的脸上，她都能看到这种表情，正在此时瓦西里公爵的近侍手上提着热水在走廊里遇见她，并且向她深深地行了一鞠躬礼。

这天早上老公爵对女儿表示特别殷勤和关心的态度。这是公爵小姐玛丽亚心里十分清楚的。每逢公爵小姐玛丽亚不懂算术题，公爵烦恼得把那双干瘦的手紧紧地握成拳头，站立起来，从她身边走开，并且用他那低沉的嗓音将一句同样的话重说数遍的时候，他脸上才流露出这种表情。

他立刻开始谈论正经事，说话时用“您”称呼。

“有人在我面前向您求婚，”他说道，不自然地露出微笑。

“我想，您猜中了，”他继续说，“瓦西里公爵到这里来了，随身带来一个他培养的人（尼古拉·安德烈伊奇公爵不知怎的竟然把阿纳托利称为接受培养的人），目的不是一饱我的眼福。昨天他们在我面前向您求过婚。因为您知道我的规矩，所以我就来跟您商量一下。”

“monpeve（父亲），我怎样才能理解您的意思？”公爵小姐脸上红一阵，白一阵，她这样说。

“怎样才能理解呀！”父亲怒气冲冲地喊道。“瓦西里公爵照他自己的口味找你做个儿媳妇，替他培养的人向你求婚。就是要这么理解。怎么理解吗？！由我来问你。”

“monpeve，我不知道您要怎么样。”公爵小姐轻言细语地说。

“我？我？我怎么样？甭管我吧。又不是我要嫁人。您怎么样，就是要知道这点。”

公爵小姐看见父亲不怀好意地看待这件事，但是就在那同一瞬间她心中想到，她一生的命运或者是现在决定，或者是永远不能决定。她垂下眼帘，想不和父亲的目光相遇，在他的目光影响下，他觉得她不能思索，只能习惯地唯唯诺诺，她说道：

“我所希望的只有一点——履行您的意旨，”她说。“假如要我表示自己的愿望……”

她还没有来得及说完，公爵就打断了她的话。

“妙极了！”他喊道。“他要把你连同嫁妆一起带走，顺带也把布里安小姐带走。她以后当个太太，而你……”

公爵停了下来。他发现这席话对女儿所产生的影响。她低下头，想要哭出声来。

“也罢，也罢，我在开玩笑，我在开玩笑，”他说。“要记住一点，公爵小姐，我遵守那种做人的原则，少女有选择对象的充分权利。我赐予你以自由。要记住一点：你一生的幸福有赖于你作出的决定。关于我是没有什么可说的。”

“monpeve，不过我不知道……”

“没有什么可说的！他由他们吩咐，他不仅可以娶你为妻，也可以娶他想娶的任何人为妻，而你有选择对象的自由……你回到自己房间里去，慎重地考虑考虑，一小时之后到我这里来，当他的面说给他听：嫁还是不嫁。我知道你将要祈祷，好吧，你就祈祷吧。只不过要好好考虑。你去吧。”

“嫁还是不嫁，嫁还是不嫁，嫁还是不嫁！”公爵小姐俨如置身迷雾之中，摇摇晃晃地走出了书斋，这时他还在大声喊着。

她的命运已经决定了，而且是福星高照。但是关于布里安小姐，父亲说了一席话，这是令人生畏的暗示。假定说，这不是实话，但毕竟令人生畏，她不能不想这件事。她穿过温室迳直地向前走去，什么也望不见，什么也听不见，可是骤然间，她所熟悉的布里安小姐的耳语声把她惊醒了。她抬起眼睛，在离自己身边两步路远的地方望见了阿纳托利，他正在拥抱那个法国女郎，对她轻声说了些什么。阿纳托利的清秀的脸上流露着可怖的神态，他回头望望公爵小姐玛丽亚，那一瞬间他没有松开搂抱布里安小姐腰部的手，她没有望见公爵小姐玛丽亚。

“谁在这儿？为什么？请您等一下！”阿纳托利那张脸仿佛在说话。公爵小姐玛丽亚沉默地望着他们。她不能明白这一点。布里安小姐终于惊叫一声，跑开了。阿纳托利愉快地微笑，向公爵小姐玛丽亚行个鞠躬礼，仿佛要请她嘲笑这件怪事似的，他耸了耸肩，便向通往他的卧室的门口走去。

一小时之后，吉洪来喊公爵小姐玛丽亚。他喊她去见公爵，并且补充说瓦西里·谢尔盖伊奇公爵也在那里。正当吉洪走来的时候，公爵小姐坐在自己房里的长沙发上，拥抱着嚎啕大哭的布里安小姐。公爵小姐玛丽亚轻轻抚摸着她的头。公爵小姐那对美丽的眼睛炯炯发光，像从前一样十分恬静，含有温存的爱抚和惋惜之情，注视着布里安小姐那美丽的小脸蛋。

“Non，Privncesse，jesuisperduepourtoujoursdansvotrecoeur．”①布里安小姐说道。

“pourquoi？Jevousaimeplus，quejamais．”公爵小姐玛丽亚说道，“etjetacheraidefairetoutcequiestenmonpouvoirpourvotrebonheur．”②

“Maisvousmeméprisez，voussipure，vousnecomprendrezjamaiscete'garementdelapassionAh，cenéstquemapauvremère…”③

“Jecomprendstout，”④公爵小姐玛丽亚一面愁闷地微笑，一面答道，“我的朋友，您放心。我到父亲那里去。”她说完这句话，就出去了。

①法语：公爵小姐，我永远丧失了您的欢心。

②法语：究竟为什么？我比以前任何时候都更爱您，我要为您的幸福竭力地做到取决于我的一切。

③法语：可是您会蔑视我的，您如此纯洁，您永远不能明白这种强烈的情欲的诱惑。啊，我可怜的母亲……

④我明白一切。

公爵小姐玛丽亚走进屋里来的时候，瓦西里公爵脸上流露着深受感动的微笑，坐在那里，高高地架起一条腿，手中拿着鼻烟壶，好像他深深地动了感情，好像他对自己的多愁善感表示遗憾，付之一笑。他连忙抓起一撮烟，搁进鼻孔里。

“Ah，mabonne，mabonne，”①他说道，站立起来，一把抓住她的两只手。他叹口气，补充说了一句：“Lesortdemonfilsestenvosmains．Decidez，mabonne，machère，madouceMarie，quej'aitoujoursaimée，commema

fille．”②

①法语：啊，亲爱的，亲爱的。

②法语：您掌握我儿子的命运。我的可爱的、亲爱的、温柔的玛丽，您拿定主意，我总是像爱自己的女儿那样爱您。

他走开了。汪汪的泪水真从他的眼睛里流出来了。

“呸……呸……”尼古拉·安德烈伊奇公爵发出鼻嗤声。

“公爵代表他培养的人……儿子，向你求婚。你愿意还是不愿意做阿纳托利·库拉金公爵的妻子？你开口说：嫁还是不嫁！”他高声喊道，“然后我保留发表我的意见的权利。是啊，我的意见也只是我的意见，”尼古拉·安德烈伊奇公爵把脸转向瓦西里公爵，补充说一句，藉以回答他那央求的表情，“嫁还是不嫁？”

“monpéve，我的意愿是——永远不离开您，永远和您共同生活，不分家。我不想出嫁。”她睁着一对美丽的眼睛望望瓦西里公爵和父亲，坚定地说。

“胡说八道，蠢话！胡说八道，胡说八道，胡说八道！”尼古拉·安德烈伊奇公爵蹙起额角，大声喊道。他一把抓住她的手，拉到自己身边来，没有吻它，只是把他自己的前额凑近她的前额，碰她一下，他握紧他正握着的那只手，她皱起眉头，尖叫一声。

瓦西里公爵站立起来。

“Machere，jevousdirai，quec'estunmonentquejen'oublieraijamais，jamais，mais，mabonne，est－cequevousnenousdonnerezpasunpeud'esperancedetouchercecoeursibon，sigénéreux．Dites，quepeut－être…L'avenirestsigrand．Ditespeut－être．”①

①法语：亲爱的，我告诉您，我永远不能忘记这个时刻，但是，我的最慈爱的，让我们即令怀有一线希望去触动这颗仁慈而宽厚的心吧。您告诉我，也许……前途无量。您告诉我，也许。

“公爵，我所说的就是我心里要说的一切。我感谢您的诚意，赐予我荣幸，可是我永远不会做您儿子的妻子。”

“我亲爱的，得啦吧，要说的话说完了。看见你我很高兴，看见你我很高兴。到自己房里去吧，公爵小姐，去吧，”老公爵说道。“看见你我很——很高兴。”他一面拥抱瓦西里公爵，一面重说这句话。

“我的使命是另一种使命，”公爵小姐玛丽亚想道，“我的使命是借助另一种幸福，借助仁爱和自我牺牲的幸福使自己成为幸福的人。无论我付出何种代价，我都要替可怜的阿梅莉缔造幸福。她是那样酷爱他。她是那样沉痛地懊悔。我要竭尽全力为他们安排婚事。假如他不富裕，我就给她金钱，我要乞求于父亲，乞求于安德烈。假如她会成为他的妻子，我是何等幸福。她那样不幸，身居异地，孤立无援！我的天啊，既然她会把自己遗忘，可见她多么爱他。说不定，我也会做出同样的事！……”公爵小姐玛丽亚想道。