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On returning late in the evening Sonya went to Natasha's room,
and to her surprise found her still dressed and asleep on the
sofa. Open on the table, beside her lay Anatole's letter. Sonya
picked it up and read it.
As she read she glanced at the sleeping Natasha, trying to
find in her face an explanation of what she was reading, but did
not find it. Her face was calm, gentle, and happy. Clutching her
breast to keep herself from choking, Sonya, pale and trembling
with fear and agitation, sat down in an armchair and burst into
tears.
"How was it I noticed nothing? How could it go so far?
Can she have left off loving Prince Andrew? And how could she
let Kuragin go to such lengths? He is a deceiver and a villain,
that's plain! What will Nicholas, dear noble Nicholas, do when
he hears of it? So this is the meaning of her excited, resolute,
unnatural look the day before yesterday, yesterday, and today,"
thought Sonya. "But it can't be that she loves him! She probably
opened the letter without knowing who it was from. Probably she
is offended by it. She could not do such a thing!"
Sonya wiped away her tears and went up to Natasha, again scanning
her face.
"Natasha!" she said, just audibly.
Natasha awoke and saw Sonya.
"Ah, you're back?"
And with the decision and tenderness that often come at the
moment of awakening, she embraced her friend, but noticing Sonya's
look of embarrassment, her own face expressed confusion and suspicion.
"Sonya, you've read that letter?" she demanded.
"Yes," answered Sonya softly.
Natasha smiled rapturously.
"No, Sonya, I can't any longer!" she said. "I
can't hide it from you any longer. You know, we love one another!
Sonya, darling, he writes... Sonya..."
Sonya stared open-eyed at Natasha, unable to believe her ears.
"And Bolkonski?" she asked.
"Ah, Sonya, if you only knew how happy I am!" cried
Natasha. "You don't know what love is...."
"But, Natasha, can that be all over?"
Natasha looked at Sonya with wide-open eyes as if she could
not grasp the question.
"Well, then, are you refusing Prince Andrew?" said
Sonya.
"Oh, you don't understand anything! Don't talk nonsense,
just listen!" said Natasha, with momentary vexation.
"But I can't believe it," insisted Sonya. "I
don't understand. How is it you have loved a man for a whole year
and suddenly... Why, you have only seen him three times! Natasha,
I don't believe you, you're joking! In three days to forget everything
and so..."
"Three days?" said Natasha. "It seems to me
I've loved him a hundred years. It seems to me that I have never
loved anyone before. You can't understand it.... Sonya, wait a
bit, sit here," and Natasha embraced and kissed her.
"I had heard that it happens like this, and you must
have heard it too, but it's only now that I feel such love. It's
not the same as before. As soon as I saw him I felt he was my
master and I his slave, and that I could not help loving him.
Yes, his slave! Whatever he orders I shall do. You don't understand
that. What can I do? What can I do, Sonya?" cried Natasha
with a happy yet frightened expression.
"But think what you are doing," cried Sonya. "I
can't leave it like this. This secret correspondence... How could
you let him go so far?" she went on, with a horror and disgust
she could hardly conceal.
"I told you that I have no will," Natasha replied.
"Why can't you understand? I love him!"
"Then I won't let it come to that... I shall tell!"
cried Sonya, bursting into tears.
"What do you mean? For God's sake... If you tell, you
are my enemy!" declared Natasha. "You want me to be
miserable, you want us to be separated...."
When she saw Natasha's fright, Sonya shed tears of shame and
pity for her friend.
"But what has happened between you?" she asked.
"What has he said to you? Why doesn't he come to the house?"
Natasha did not answer her questions.
"For God's sake, Sonya, don't tell anyone, don't torture
me," Natasha entreated. "Remember no one ought to interfere
in such matters! I have confided in you...."
"But why this secrecy? Why doesn't he come to the house?"
asked Sonya. "Why doesn't he openly ask for your hand? You
know Prince Andrew gave you complete freedom- if it is really
so; but I don't believe it! Natasha, have you considered what
these secret reasons can be?"
Natasha looked at Sonya with astonishment. Evidently this
question presented itself to her mind for the first time and she
did not know how to answer it.
"I don't know what the reasons are. But there must be
reasons!"
Sonya sighed and shook her head incredulously.
"If there were reasons..." she began.
But Natasha, guessing her doubts, interrupted her in alarm.
"Sonya, one can't doubt him! One can't, one can't! Don't
you understand?" she cried.
"Does he love you?"
"Does he love me?" Natasha repeated with a smile
of pity at her friend's lack of comprehension. "Why, you
have read his letter and you have seen him."
"But if he is dishonorable?"
"He! dishonorable? If you only knew!" exclaimed
Natasha.
"If he is an honorable man he should either declare his
intentions or cease seeing you; and if you won't do this, I will.
I will write to him, and I will tell Papa!" said Sonya resolutely.
"But I can't live without him!" cried Natasha.
"Natasha, I don't understand you. And what are you saying!
Think of your father and of Nicholas."
"I don't want anyone, I don't love anyone but him. How
dare you say he is dishonorable? Don't you know that I love him?"
screamed Natasha. "Go away, Sonya! I don't want to quarrel
with you, but go, for God's sake go! You see how I am suffering!"
Natasha cried angrily, in a voice of despair and repressed irritation.
Sonya burst into sobs and ran from the room.
Natasha went to the table and without a moment's reflection
wrote that answer to Princess Mary which she had been unable to
write all the morning. In this letter she said briefly that all
their misunderstandings were at an end; that availing herself
of the magnanimity of Prince Andrew who when he went abroad had
given her her she begged Princess Mary to forget everything and
forgive her if she had been to blame toward her, but that she
could not be his wife. At that moment this all seemed quite easy,
simple, and clear to Natasha.
On Friday the Rostovs were to return to the country, but on
Wednesday the count went with the prospective purchaser to his
estate near Moscow.
On the day the count left, Sonya and Natasha were invited
to a big dinner party at the Karagins', and Marya Dmitrievna took
them there. At that party Natasha again met Anatole, and Sonya
noticed that she spoke to him, trying not to be overheard, and
that all through dinner she was more agitated than ever. When
they got home Natasha was the first to begin the explanation Sonya
expected.
"There, Sonya, you were talking all sorts of nonsense
about him," Natasha began in a mild voice such as children
use when they wish to be praised. "We have had an explanation
today."
"Well, what happened? What did he say? Natasha, how glad
I am you're not angry with me! Tell me everything- the whole truth.
What did he say?"
Natasha became thoughtful.
"Oh, Sonya, if you knew him as I do! He said... He asked
me what I had promised Bolkonski. He was glad I was free to refuse
him."
Sonya sighed sorrowfully.
"But you haven't refused Bolkonski?" said she.
"Perhaps I have. Perhaps all is over between me and Bolkonski.
Why do you think so badly of me?"
"I don't think anything, only I don't understand this..."
"Wait a bit, Sonya, you'll understand everything. You'll
see what a man he is! Now don't think badly of me or of him. I
don't think badly of anyone: I love and pity everybody. But what
am I to do?"
Sonya did not succumb to the tender tone Natasha used toward
her. The more emotional and ingratiating the expression of Natasha's
face became, the more serious and stern grew Sonya's.
"Natasha," said she, "you asked me not to speak
to you, and I haven't spoken, but now you yourself have begun.
I don't trust him, Natasha. Why this secrecy?"
"Again, again!" interrupted Natasha.
"Natasha, I am afraid for you!"
"Afraid of what?"
"I am afraid you're going to your ruin," said Sonya
resolutely, and was herself horrified at what she had said.
Anger again showed in Natasha's face.
"And I'll go to my ruin, I will, as soon as possible!
It's not your business! It won't be you, but I, who'll suffer.
Leave me alone, leave me alone! I hate you!"
Natasha!" moaned Sonya, aghast.
"I hate you, I hate you! You're my enemy forever!"
And Natasha ran out of the room.
Natasha did not speak to Sonya again and avoided her. With
the same expression of agitated surprise and guilt she went about
the house, taking up now one occupation, now another, and at once
abandoning them.
Hard as it was for Sonya, she watched her friend and did not
let her out of her sight.
The day before the count was to return, Sonya noticed that
Natasha sat by the drawingroom window all the morning as if expecting
something and that she made a sign to an officer who drove past,
whom Sonya took to be Anatole.
Sonya began watching her friend still more attentively and
noticed that at dinner and all that evening Natasha was in a strange
and unnatural state. She answered questions at random, began sentences
she did not finish, and laughed at everything.
After tea Sonya noticed a housemaid at Natasha's door timidly
waiting to let her pass. She let the girl go in, and then listening
at the door learned that another letter had been delivered.
Then suddenly it became clear to Sonya that Natasha had some
dreadful plan for that evening. Sonya knocked at her door. Natasha
did not let her in.
"She will run away with him!" thought Sonya. "She
is capable of anything. There was something particularly pathetic
and resolute in her face today. She cried as she said good-by
to Uncle," Sonya remembered. "Yes, that's it, she means
to elope with him, but what am I to do?" thought she, recalling
all the signs that clearly indicated that Natasha had some terrible
intention. "The count is away. What am I to do? Write to
Kuragin demanding an explanation? But what is there to oblige
him to reply? Write to Pierre, as Prince Andrew asked me to in
case of some misfortune?... But perhaps she really has already
refused Bolkonski- she sent a letter to Princess Mary yesterday.
And Uncle is away...." To tell Marya Dmitrievna who had such
faith in Natasha seemed to Sonya terrible. "Well, anyway,"
thought Sonya as she stood in the dark passage, "now or never
I must prove that I remember the family's goodness to me and that
I love Nicholas. Yes! If I don't sleep for three nights I'll not
leave this passage and will hold her back by force and will and
not let the family be disgraced," thought she.
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