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The day after the opera the Rostovs went nowhere and nobody
came to see them. Marya Dmitrievna talked to the count about something
which they concealed from Natasha. Natasha guessed they were talking
about the old prince and planning something, and this disquieted
and offended her. She was expecting Prince Andrew any moment and
twice that day sent a manservant to the Vozdvizhenka to ascertain
whether he had come. He had not arrived. She suffered more now
than during her first days in Moscow. To her impatience and pining
for him were now added the unpleasant recollection of her interview
with Princess Mary and the old prince, and a fear and anxiety
of which she did not understand the cause. She continually fancied
that either he would never come or that something would happen
to her before he came. She could no longer think of him by herself
calmly and continuously as she had done before. As soon as she
began to think of him, the recollection of the old prince, of
Princess Mary, of the theater, and of Kuragin mingled with her
thoughts. The question again presented itself whether she was
not guilty, whether she had not already broken faith with Prince
Andrew, and again she found herself recalling to the minutest
detail every word, every gesture, and every shade in the play
of expression on the face of the man who had been able to arouse
in her such an incomprehensible and terrifying feeling. To the
family Natasha seemed livelier than usual, but she was far less
tranquil and happy than before.
On Sunday morning Marya Dmitrievna invited her visitors to
Mass at her parish church- the Church of the Assumption built
over the graves of victims of the plague.
"I don't like those fashionable churches," she said,
evidently priding herself on her independence of thought. "God
is the same every where. We have an excellent priest, he conducts
the service decently and with dignity, and the deacon is the same.
What holiness is there in giving concerts in the choir? I don't
like it, it's just self-indulgence!"
Marya Dmitrievna liked Sundays and knew how to keep them.
Her whole house was scrubbed and cleaned on Saturdays; neither
she nor the servants worked, and they all wore holiday dress and
went to church. At her table there were extra dishes at dinner,
and the servants had vodka and roast goose or suckling pig. But
in nothing in the house was the holiday so noticeable as in Marya
Dmitrievna's broad, stern face, which on that day wore an invariable
look of solemn festivity.
After Mass, when they had finished their coffee in the dining
room where the loose covers had been removed from the furniture,
a servant announced that the carriage was ready, and Marya Dmitrievna
rose with a stern air. She wore her holiday shawl, in which she
paid calls, and announced that she was going to see Prince Nicholas
Bolkonski to have an explanation with him about Natasha.
After she had gone, a dressmaker from Madame Suppert-Roguet
waited on the Rostovs, and Natasha, very glad of this diversion,
having shut herself into a room adjoining the drawing room, occupied
herself trying on the new dresses. Just as she had put on a bodice
without sleeves and only tacked together, and was turning her
head to see in the glass how the back fitted, she heard in the
drawing room the animated sounds of her father's voice and another's-
a woman's- that made her flush. It was Helene. Natasha had not
time to take off the bodice before the door opened and Countess
Bezukhova, dressed in a purple velvet gown with a high collar,
came into the room beaming with good-humored amiable smiles.
"Oh, my enchantress!" she cried to the blushing
Natasha. "Charming! No, this is really beyond anything, my
dear count," said she to Count Rostov who had followed her
in. "How can you live in Moscow and go nowhere? No, I won't
let you off! Mademoiselle George will recite at my house tonight
and there'll be some people, and if you don't bring your lovely
girls- who are prettier than Mademoiselle George- I won't know
you! My husband is away in Tver or I would send him to fetch you.
You must come. You positively must! Between eight and nine."
She nodded to the dressmaker, whom she knew and who had curtsied
respectfully to her, and seated herself in an armchair beside
the looking glass, draping the folds of her velvet dress picturesquely.
She did not cease chattering good-naturedly and gaily, continually
praising Natasha's beauty. She looked at Natasha's dresses and
praised them, as well as a new dress of her own made of "metallic
gauze," which she had received from Paris, and advised Natasha
to have one like it.
"But anything suits you, my charmer!" she remarked.
A smile of pleasure never left Natasha's face. She felt happy
and as if she were blossoming under the praise of this dear Countess
Bezukhova who had formerly seemed to her so unapproachable and
important and was now so kind to her. Natasha brightened up and
felt almost in love with this woman, who was so beautiful and
so kind. Helene for her part was sincerely delighted with Natasha
and wished to give her a good time. Anatole had asked her to bring
him and Natasha together, and she was calling on the Rostovs for
that purpose. The idea of throwing her brother and Natasha together
amused her.
Though at one time, in Petersburg, she had been annoyed with
Natasha for drawing Boris away, she did not think of that now,
and in her own way heartily wished Natasha well. As she was leaving
the Rostovs she called her protegee aside.
"My brother dined with me yesterday- we nearly died of
laughter- he ate nothing and kept sighing for you, my charmer!
He is madly, quite madly, in love with you, my dear."
Natasha blushed scarlet when she heard this.
"How she blushes, how she blushes, my pretty!" said
Helene. "You must certainly come. If you love somebody, my
charmer, that is not a reason to shut yourself up. Even if you
are engaged, I am sure your fiance would wish you to go into society
rather than be bored to death."
"So she knows I am engaged, and she and her husband Pierre-
that good Pierre- have talked and laughed about this. So it's
all right." And again, under Helene's influence, what had
seemed terrible now seemed simple and natural. "And she is
such a grande dame, so kind, and evidently likes me so much. And
why not enjoy myself?" thought Natasha, gazing at Helene
with wide-open, wondering eyes.
Marya Dmitrievna came back to dinner taciturn and serious,
having evidently suffered a defeat at the old prince's. She was
still too agitated by the encounter to be able to talk of the
affair calmly. In answer to the count's inquiries she replied
that things were all right and that she would tell about it next
day. On hearing of Countess Bezukhova's visit and the invitation
for that evening, Marya Dmitrievna remarked:
"I don't care to have anything to do with Bezukhova and
don't advise you to; however, if you've promised- go. It will
divert your thoughts," she added, addressing Natasha.
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