|
Next day Prince Andrew called at a few houses he had not visited
before, and among them at the Rostovs' with whom he had renewed
acquaintance at the ball. Apart from considerations of politeness
which demanded the call, he wanted to see that original, eager
girl who had left such a pleasant impression on his mind, in her
own home.
Natasha was one of the first to meet him. She was wearing
a dark-blue house dress in which Prince Andrew thought her even
prettier than in her ball dress. She and all the Rostov family
welcomed him as an old friend, simply and cordially. The whole
family, whom he had formerly judged severely, now seemed to him
to consist of excellent, simple, and kindly people. The old count's
hospitality and good nature, which struck one especially in Petersburg
as a pleasant surprise, were such that Prince Andrew could not
refuse to stay to dinner. "Yes," he thought, "they
are capital people, who of course have not the slightest idea
what a treasure they possess in Natasha; but they are kindly folk
and form the best possible setting for this strikingly poetic,
charming girl, overflowing with life!"
In Natasha Prince Andrew was conscious of a strange world
completely alien to him and brimful of joys unknown to him, a
different world, that in the Otradnoe avenue and at the window
that moonlight night had already begun to disconcert him. Now
this world disconcerted him no longer and was no longer alien
to him, but he himself having entered it found in it a new enjoyment.
After dinner Natasha, at Prince Andrew's request, went to
the clavichord and began singing. Prince Andrew stood by a window
talking to the ladies and listened to her. In the midst of a phrase
he ceased speaking and suddenly felt tears choking him, a thing
he had thought impossible for him. He looked at Natasha as she
sang, and something new and joyful stirred in his soul. He felt
happy and at the same time sad. He had absolutely nothing to weep
about yet he was ready to weep. What about? His former love? The
little princess? His disillusionments?... His hopes for the future?...
Yes and no. The chief reason was a sudden, vivid sense of the
terrible contrast between something infinitely great and illimitable
within him and that limited and material something that he, and
even she, was. This contrast weighed on and yet cheered him while
she sang.
As soon as Natasha had finished she went up to him and asked
how he liked her voice. She asked this and then became confused,
feeling that she ought not to have asked it. He smiled, looking
at her, and said he liked her singing as he liked everything she
did.
Prince Andrew left the Rostovs' late in the evening. He went
to bed from habit, but soon realized that he could not sleep.
Having lit his candle he sat up in bed, then got up, then lay
down again not at all troubled by his sleeplessness: his soul
was as fresh and joyful as if he had stepped out of a stuffy room
into God's own fresh air. It did not enter his head that he was
in love with Natasha; he was not thinking about her, but only
picturing her to himself, and in consequence all life appeared
in a new light. "Why do I strive, why do I toil in this narrow,
confined frame, when life, all life with all its joys, is open
to me?" said he to himself. And for the first time for a
very long while he began making happy plans for the future. He
decided that he must attend to his son's education by finding
a tutor and putting the boy in his charge, then he ought to retire
from the service and go abroad, and see England, Switzerland and
Italy. "I must use my freedom while I feel so much strength
and youth in me," he said to himself. "Pierre was right
when he said one must believe in the possibility of happiness
in order to be happy, and now I do believe in it. Let the dead
bury their dead, but while one has life one must live and be happy!"
thought he.
|
