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Prince Andrew had to see the Marshal of the Nobility for the
district in connection with the affairs of the Ryazan estate of
which he was trustee. This Marshal was Count Ilya Rostov, and
in the middle of May Prince Andrew went to visit him.
It was now hot spring weather. The whole forest was already
clothed in green. It was dusty and so hot that on passing near
water one longed to bathe.
Prince Andrew, depressed and preoccupied with the business
about which he had to speak to the Marshal, was driving up the
avenue in the grounds of the Rostovs' house at Otradnoe. He heard
merry girlish cries behind some trees on the right and saw group
of girls running to cross the path of his caleche. Ahead of the
rest and nearer to him ran a dark-haired, remarkably slim, pretty
girl in a yellow chintz dress, with a white handkerchief on her
head from under which loose locks of hair escaped. The girl was
shouting something but, seeing that he was a stranger, ran back
laughing without looking at him.
Suddenly, he did not know why, he felt a pang. The day was
so beautiful, the sun so bright, everything around so gay, but
that slim pretty girl did not know, or wish to know, of his existence
and was contented and cheerful in her own separate- probably foolish-
but bright and happy life. "What is she so glad about? What
is she thinking of? Not of the military regulations or of the
arrangement of the Ryazan serfs' quitrents. Of what is she thinking?
Why is she so happy?" Prince Andrew asked himself with instinctive
curiosity.
In 1809 Count Ilya Rostov was living at Otradnoe just as he
had done in former years, that is, entertaining almost the whole
province with hunts, theatricals, dinners, and music. He was glad
to see Prince Andrew, as he was to see any new visitor, and insisted
on his staying the night.
During the dull day, in the course of which he was entertained
by his elderly hosts and by the more important of the visitors
(the old count's house was crowded on account of an approaching
name day), Prince Andrew repeatedly glanced at Natasha, gay and
laughing among the younger members of the company, and asked himself
each time, "What is she thinking about? Why is she so glad?"
That night, alone in new surroundings, he was long unable
to sleep. He read awhile and then put out his candle, but relit
it. It was hot in the room, the inside shutters of which were
closed. He was cross with the stupid old man (as he called Rostov),
who had made him stay by assuring him that some necessary documents
had not yet arrived from town, and he was vexed with himself for
having stayed.
He got up and went to the window to open it. As soon as he
opened the shutters the moonlight, as if it had long been watching
for this, burst into the room. He opened the casement. The night
was fresh, bright, and very still. Just before the window was
a row of pollard trees, looking black on one side and with a silvery
light on the other. Beneath the trees grewsome kind of lush, wet,
bushy vegetation with silver-lit leaves and stems here and there.
Farther back beyond the dark trees a roof glittered with dew,
to the right was a leafy tree with brilliantly white trunk and
branches, and above it shone the moon, nearly at its full, in
a pale, almost starless, spring sky. Prince Andrew leaned his
elbows on the window ledge and his eyes rested on that sky.
His room was on the first floor. Those in the rooms above
were also awake. He heard female voices overhead.
"Just once more," said a girlish voice above him
which Prince Andrew recognized at once.
"But when are you coming to bed?" replied another
voice.
"I won't, I can't sleep, what's the use? Come now for
the last time."
Two girlish voices sang a musical passage- the end of some
song.
"Oh, how lovely! Now go to sleep, and there's an end
of it."
"You go to sleep, but I can't," said the first voice,
coming nearer to the window. She was evidently leaning right out,
for the rustle of her dress and even her breathing could be heard.
Everything was stone-still, like the moon and its light and the
shadows. Prince Andrew, too, dared not stir, for fear of betraying
his unintentional presence.
"Sonya! Sonya!" he again heard the first speaker.
"Oh, how can you sleep? Only look how glorious it is! Ah,
how glorious! Do wake up, Sonya!" she said almost with tears
in her voice. "There never, never was such a lovely night
before!"
Sonya made some reluctant reply.
"Do just come and see what a moon!... Oh, how lovely!
Come here.... Darling, sweetheart, come here! There, you see?
I feel like sitting down on my heels, putting my arms round my
knees like this, straining tight, as tight as possible, and flying
away! Like this...."
"Take care, you'll fall out."
He heard the sound of a scuffle and Sonya's disapproving voice:
"It's past one o'clock."
"Oh, you only spoil things for me. All right, go, go!"
Again all was silent, but Prince Andrew knew she was still
sitting there. From time to time he heard a soft rustle and at
times a sigh.
"O God, O God! What does it mean?" she suddenly
exclaimed. "To bed then, if it must be!" and she slammed
the casement.
"For her I might as well not exist!" thought Prince
Andrew while he listened to her voice, for some reason expecting
yet fearing that she might say something about him. "There
she is again! As if it were on purpose," thought he.
In his soul there suddenly arose such an unexpected turmoil
of youthful thoughts and hopes, contrary to the whole tenor of
his life, that unable to explain his condition to himself he lay
down and fell asleep at once.
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