Epilogue 1 Chapter 12

AS IN EVERY REAL FAMILY, there were several quite separate worlds living together in the Bleak Hills house, and while each of these preserved its own individuality, they made concessions to one another, and mixed into one harmonious whole. Every event that occurred in the house was alike important and joyful or distressing to all those circles. But each circle had its own private grounds for rejoicing or mourning at every event quite apart from the rest.

So Pierre's arrival was a joyful and important event, reflected as such in all the circles of the household.

The servants, the most infallible judges of their masters, because they judge them, not from their conversation and expression of their feelings, but from their actions and their manner of living, were delighted at Pierre's return, because they knew that when he was there, the count, their master, would not go out every day to superintend the peasants on the estate, and would be in better temper and spirits, and also because they knew there would be valuable presents for all of them for the fête day.

The children and their governesses were delighted at Bezuhov's return, because no one drew them into the general social life of the house as Pierre did. He it was who could play on the clavichord that écossaise (his one piece), to which, as he said, one could dance all possible dances; and he was quite sure, too, to have brought all of them presents.

Nikolinka Bolkonsky, who was now a thin, delicate, intelligent boy of fifteen, with curly light hair and beautiful eyes, was delighted because Uncle Pierre, as he called him, was the object of his passionate love and adoration. No one had instilled a particular affection for Pierre into Nikolinka, and he only rarely saw him. Countess Marya, who had brought him up, had done her utmost to make Nikolinka love her husband, as she loved him; and the boy did like his uncle, but there was a scarcely perceptible shade of contempt in his liking of him. Pierre he adored. He did not want to be an hussar or a Cavalier of St. George like his Uncle Nikolay; he wanted to be learned, clever, and kind like Pierre. In Pierre's presence there was always a happy radiance on his face, and he blushed and was breathless when Pierre addressed him. He never missed a word that Pierre uttered, and afterwards alone or with Dessalle recalled every phrase, and pondered its exact significance. Pierre's past life, his unhappiness before 1812 (of which, from the few words he had heard, he had made up a vague, romantic picture), his adventures in Moscow, and captivity with the French, Platon Karataev (of whom he had heard from Pierre), his love for Natasha (whom the boy loved too with quite a special feeling), and, above all, his friendship with his father, whom Nikolinka did not remember, all made Pierre a hero and a saint in his eyes.

From the phrases he had heard dropped about his father and Natasha, from the emotion with which Pierre spoke of him, and the circumspect, reverent tenderness with which Natasha spoke of him, the boy, who was only just beginning to form his conceptions of love, had gathered the idea that his father had loved Natasha, and had bequeathed her at his death to his friend. That father, of whom the boy had no memory, seemed to him a divine being, of whom one could have no clear conception, and of whom he could not think without a throbbing heart and tears of sorrow and rapture.

And so the boy too was happy at Pierre's arrival.

The guests in the house were glad to see Pierre, for he was a person who always enlivened every party, and made its different elements mix well together.

The grown-up members of the household were glad to see a friend who always made daily life run more smoothly and easily.

The old ladies were pleased both at the presents he brought them, and still more at Natasha's being herself again.

Pierre felt the various views those different sets of people took of him, and made haste to satisfy the expectations of all of them.

Though he was the most absent-minded and forgetful of men, by the help of a list his wife made for him, he had bought everything, not forgetting a single commission from his mother-in-law or brother-in-law, nor the presents of a dress for Madame Byelov and toys for his nephews.

In the early days of his married life his wife's expectation that he should forget nothing he had undertaken to buy had struck him as strange, and he had been impressed by her serious chagrin when after his first absence he had returned having forgotten everything. But in time he had grown used to this. Knowing that Natasha gave him no commissions on her own account, and for others only asked him to get things when he had himself offered to do so, he now took a childish pleasure, that was a surprise to himself, in those purchases of presents for all the household, and never forgot anything. If he incurred Natasha's censure now, it was only for buying too much, and paying too much for his purchases. To her other defects in the eyes of the world—good qualities in Pierre's eyes—her untidiness and negligence, Natasha added that of stinginess.

Ever since Pierre had begun living a home life, involving increased expenses in a large house, he had noticed to his astonishment that he was spending half what he had spent in the past, and that his circumstances, somewhat straitened latterly, especially by his first wife's debts, were beginning to improve.

Living was much cheaper, because his life was coherent; the most expensive luxury in his former manner of life, that is, the possibility of a complete change in it at any moment, Pierre had not now, and had no desire for. He felt that his manner of life was settled now once for all till death; that to change it was not in his power, and therefore that manner of life was cheaper.

With a beaming, smiling countenance, Pierre was unpacking his purchases.

“Look!” he said, unfolding a piece of material like a shopman. Natasha was sitting opposite him with her eldest girl on her knee, and she turned her sparkling eyes from her husband to what he was showing her.

“That's for Madame Byelov? Splendid.” She touched it to feel the goodness of the material. “It must have been a rouble a yard?”

Pierre mentioned the price.

“Very dear,” said Natasha. “Well, how pleased the children will be and maman too. Only you shouldn't have bought me this,” she added, unable to suppress a smile, as she admired the gold and pearl comb, of a pattern just then coming into fashion.

“Adèle kept on at me to buy it,” said Pierre.

“When shall I wear it?” Natasha put it in her coil of hair. “It will do when I have to bring little Masha out; perhaps they will come in again then. Well, let us go in.”

And gathering up the presents, they went first into the nursery, and then in to see the countess.

The countess, as her habit was, was sitting playing patience with Madame Byelov when Pierre and Natasha went into the drawing-room with parcels under their arms.

The countess was by now over sixty. Her hair was completely grey, and she wore a cap that surrounded her whole face with a frill. Her face was wrinkled, her upper lip had sunk, and her eyes were dim.

After the deaths of her son and her husband that had followed so quickly on one another, she had felt herself a creature accidentally forgotten in this world, with no object and no interest in life. She ate and drank, slept and lay awake, but she did not live. Life gave her no impressions. She wanted nothing from life but peace, and that peace she could find only in death. But until death came to her she had to go on living— that is, using her vital forces. There was in the highest degree noticeable in her what may be observed in very small children and in very old people. No external aim could be seen in her existence; all that could be seen was the need to exercise her various capacities and propensities. She had to eat, to sleep, to think, to talk, to weep, to work, to get angry, and so on, simply because she had a stomach, a brain, muscles, nerves, and spleen. All this she did, not at the promptings of any external motive, as people do in the full vigour of life, when the aim towards which they strive screens from our view that other aim of exercising their powers. She only talked because she needed to exercise her lungs and her tongue. She cried like a child, because she needed the physical relief of tears, and so on. What for people in their full vigour is a motive, with her was obviously a pretext.

Thus in the morning, especially if she had eaten anything too rich the night before, she sought an occasion for anger, and pitched on the first excuse—the deafness of Madame Byelov.

From the other end of the room she would begin to say something to her in a low voice.

“I fancy it is warmer to-day, my dear,” she would say in a whisper. And when Madame Byelov replied: “To be sure, they have come,” she would mutter angrily: “Mercy on us, how deaf and stupid she is!”

Another excuse was her snuff, which she fancied either too dry, or too moist, or badly pounded. After these outbursts of irritability, a bilious hue came into her face. And her maids knew by infallible tokens when Madame Byelov would be deaf again, and when her snuff would again be damp, and her face would again be yellow. Just as she had to exercise her spleen, she had sometimes to exercise her remaining faculties; and for thought the pretext was patience. When she wanted to cry, the subject of her tears was the late count. When she needed excitement, the subject was Nikolay and anxiety about his health. When she wanted to say something spiteful, the pretext was the Countess Marya. When she required exercise for her organs of speech—this was usually about seven o'clock, after she had had her after-dinner rest in a darkened room— then the pretext was found in repetition of anecdotes, always the same, and always to the same listeners.

The old countess's condition was understood by all the household, though no one ever spoke of it, and every possible effort was made by every one to satisfy her requirements. Only rarely a mournful half-smile passed between Nikolay, Pierre, Natasha, and Countess Marya that betrayed their comprehension of her condition.

But those glances said something else besides. They said that she had done her work in life already, that she was not all here in what was seen in her now, that they would all be the same, and that they were glad to give way to her, to restrain themselves for the sake of this poor creature, once so dear, once as full of life as they. Memento mori, said those glances.

Only quite heartless and stupid people and little children failed to understand this, and held themselves aloof from her.

像每一个正常的家庭一样，童山庄园也同时存在着几个不同的圈子。每个圈子保留着各自的特点，但互让互谅，因而组成一个和谐的整体。家里发生的每件事，不论是悲是喜，对所有的圈子都同样重要，但每个圈子的悲喜都有自己的原因。

譬如皮埃尔的归来是一件大喜事，大家都有这样的感觉。

仆人们往往是东家最可靠的评判员，因为他们作评判不是根据东家的谈话和表情，而是根据他们的行动和生活方式做出判断。他们对皮埃尔归来感到高兴，因为知道只要皮埃尔在家，尼古拉伯爵就不会天天去巡视田庄，而且伯爵的心绪和脾气都会好些，此外，过节时大家都能得到很多节日的礼物。

皮埃尔·别祖霍夫回来，孩子们和女教师也很高兴，因为谁也不会像皮埃尔那样经常带他们去参加社交活动，只有他才会在击弦古钢琴上弹苏格兰舞曲（他只会弹这一支舞曲），他说用这支舞曲伴奏可以跳各种舞。此外，他准会给所有的人带来礼物。

尼古连卡（小尼古拉）今年已有十五岁，是个瘦弱聪明的孩子，生着一头淡褐色的鬈发和一双美丽的眼睛。皮埃尔回来，他也很高兴，因为皮埃尔叔叔（他这样称呼他）是他所钦佩和热爱的人。其实谁也没有要他去喜欢皮埃尔，他也难得见到皮埃尔。抚养他的玛丽亚伯爵夫人则竭力要小尼古拉像她那样热爱她的丈夫，而小尼古拉也爱姑父，但对姑父的感情上还有点蔑视的成分，他非常喜欢皮埃尔。他不想当尼古拉姑父那样的骠骑兵，也不想得圣乔治勋章，他想做一个像皮埃尔叔叔那样聪明善良而又有学问的人。他在皮埃尔面前总是眉飞色舞，容光焕发。皮埃尔一同他说话，他就脸红，呼吸急促，他听皮埃尔说话总是一字不漏，过后就同德萨尔一起或独自一人玩味皮埃尔的每句话。皮埃尔过去的经历、他在一八一二年以前的不幸遭遇（小尼古拉根据听到的事，暗自勾勒出一幅朦胧的富有诗意的图画）、皮埃尔在莫斯科的历险、他的俘虏生活、普拉东·卡拉达耶夫的事（他从皮埃尔那里听说的）、他对娜塔莎的爱情（小尼古拉对娜塔莎也有一种特殊的爱），更重要的是皮埃尔与小尼古拉的亲生父亲之间的友谊（小尼古拉已记不清楚他父亲的面容了），所有这一切都使皮埃尔在孩子的心目中成了英雄和圣人。

从皮埃尔谈到他父亲和娜塔莎的只字片语中，从皮埃尔谈到小尼古拉的亡父时的激动心情中，从娜塔莎谈到他亡父时又审慎又虔诚的态度中，这个初次意识到爱情的孩子猜想他的父亲爱过娜塔莎，临终时又把她托付给自己的好友。小尼古拉虽然不记得父亲，但父亲是他神秘的崇拜对象，他一想到父亲就心里发紧，悲喜交集，泪水盈眶。因此，皮埃尔回来，小尼古拉也很高兴。

客人们也都喜欢皮埃尔，因为他一来大家都感到又热闹又快乐，又团结一致。

家里的成年人都喜欢皮埃尔（更不用说他的妻子了），因为有他在，生活就变得轻松愉快、和睦安宁。

老太太们欢迎他，因为他经常带来礼物，更主要的，是他使娜塔莎又变得活泼可爱。

皮埃尔发觉不同的人对他持有不同的看法，他总是尽其所能去满足每个人的愿望。

皮埃尔本来是个漫不经心，十分健忘的人，但这次却根据妻子开的单子，买全了所有的东西。他没有忘记岳母和内兄的嘱托，没有忘记送给别洛娃做礼物的衣料，也没有忘记送给侄儿侄女们的玩具。他刚结婚时妻子嘱咐他别忘了买这买那，他感到奇怪。他第一次出门，就把该买什么都忘记了。妻子对此大为不快，他对娜塔莎的不快很吃惊，后来他就习惯了。他知道娜塔莎自己什么都不要，而给别人买东西，只有皮埃尔自己提出来，她才让买。现在他给全家人买礼物，感到一种意外的、孩子一般的快乐，而且再也不会忘记这种事。如果娜塔莎再责怪他的话，就是因为他买得太多，价钱太贵。

大多数人认为不修边幅、漫不经心，是娜塔莎的两个缺点（大多数人认为这是缺点，皮埃尔却认为是优点）如今又增加了一条，那就是吝啬。

皮埃尔成家后，人口增多，开支很大，但皮埃尔自己也觉得奇怪，他发现实际的开销比原来减少一半，由于前妻的债务而陷入困境的事业已开始好转。

生活上有了节制，钱也用得少了。皮埃尔不再像过去那样挥金如土，那样随时有可能使他破产。他认为他的生活方式就是这样，至死也不会改变了，而且他也无权改变这种节约的生活方式。

皮埃尔满面春风，整理着他买回来的东西。

“多漂亮！”他像店员一样抖开一块衣料说。娜塔莎坐在对面，把大女儿抱在膝上，她那亮晶晶的目光从丈夫身上移到那块衣料上。

“是给别洛娃的吗？太好了。”她摸了摸衣料的质地。

“这大概要一卢布一尺吧？”

皮埃尔说了价钱。

“太贵了，”娜塔莎说，“孩子们会特别高兴，妈妈也会开心的。只是你何必给我买这个！”她又说，忍不住笑，欣赏着一把当时刚流行的镶珍珠的金梳子。

“是阿杰莉鼓动我买的，她一个劲儿地说，买吧，买吧。”

皮埃尔说。

“我什么时候戴呢？”娜塔莎把梳子插到发辫上。“等玛申卡在舞会上抛头露面的时候吧，说不定到那时候又时兴这个了。好了，咱们走吧。”

他们把礼品收拾好，先去育儿室，然后去见老伯爵夫人。

皮埃尔和娜塔莎夹着一包包礼品来到客厅时，老伯爵夫人照例在跟别洛娃玩牌。

老伯爵夫人已六十开外，满头白发，戴着睡帽，荷叶帽边围住了她的脸。她脸上堆满了皱纹，上嘴唇瘪着，双目无神。

她的儿子和丈夫接连去世，她感到自己在这个世界上是个偶然被遗忘的人，活着没有任何目的和意义。她吃饭，喝水、有时睡觉，有时不睡觉，她活着但又不像真正地活着。生活已没有给她带来任何鲜明的印象。她对生活别无所求，她只图平静，而只有死亡才能给她带来永恒的宁静，但在死神来临之前，她不得不照样活下去，这就是还得慢慢地消耗她的生命力，在她身上明显地表现出婴儿和老人才具有的特征。她活着没有明确的目的，似乎只要运用身体的各种机能。她需要吃饭、睡觉、思考、说话、哭泣、做事和发脾气等等，只是因为她有肠胃、有头脑、有肌肉、有神经，还有肝脏。她做这一切，不是由于外力推动她去做，不像人在精力旺盛时那样能集中力量来达到一个目的，而不去注意其他目的。她说话，只是因为生理上要让她的肺部和舌头活动活动，她像婴儿一样哭，是因为她需要擤鼻涕，诸如此类。精力充沛的人视为目的的事情，对她来说显然只是一种借口而已。

譬如说，她在早晨或头一天吃了油腻的东西，她就想发脾气，于是她就把别洛娃的耳聋作为她发脾气的借口。

她在屋子另一头对别洛娃小声地讲话。

“今天好像暖和些，我亲爱的。”她低声说。

别洛娃回答说：“是啊！他们坐车来了。”于是老夫人就气愤地抱怨说：“天啊！瞧她真是又聋又笨！”

另一个借口就是她的鼻烟，她嫌鼻烟不是太干，就是太潮，或者研磨得不够细。她发过脾气，脸色就变得蜡黄。使女们一看老夫人的脸色就知道，准是别洛娃又耳背了，或者是鼻烟又太潮了，因此她的脸色又发黄了。就像她需要发脾气一样，她有时也需要动一下她的变得迟钝的脑筋，这里她的借口就是玩牌。如果她需要哭，那么怀念已去世的伯爵就是最好的借口。如果她想要惊恐不安，那么尼古拉的健康问题就可用来借题发挥。她想要说些刻薄的言语，就去找玛丽亚伯爵夫人的岔子。她需要动动发音器官（多半是在晚饭后六七点钟，在阴暗的屋子里），她就对听过多次的家人反复讲同一个故事。

老太太的这种情况全家人大家都知道，不过大家都缄口不语，只是尽可能去满足她的愿望。尼古拉、皮埃尔、娜塔莎和玛丽亚之间偶而交换一下眼色，相对苦笑一下，彼此心照不宣。

不过这些眼色，还暗示着另外一层意思，那就是说她已尽了自己一生的职责，他们今日所见到的她已不是完整的她，有朝一日我们大家也会像她现在这样。因此，大家都愿意迁就她，照顾她，并愿为她这个原来很可爱、原来像我们一样充满活力，而今却变得如此可怜的人而克制自己。她不久于人世了①——他们的目光这样说明。

全家只有冷酷的人、愚蠢的人和孩子才不懂这一点，因而对她疏远。

①原文为拉丁文。