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Pierre was shown into the large, brightly lit dining room;
a few minutes later he heard footsteps and Princess Mary entered
with Natasha. Natasha was calm, though a severe and grave expression
had again settled on her face. They all three of them now experienced
that feeling of awkwardness which usually follows after a serious
and heartfelt talk. It is impossible to go back to the same conversation,
to talk of trifles is awkward, and yet the desire to speak is
there and silence seems like affectation. They went silently to
table. The footmen drew back the chairs and pushed them up again.
Pierre unfolded his cold table napkin and, resolving to break
the silence, looked at Natasha and at Princess Mary. They had
evidently both formed the same resolution; the eyes of both shone
with satisfaction and a confession that besides sorrow life also
has joy.
"Do you take vodka, Count?" asked Princess Mary,
and those words suddenly banished the shadows of the past. "Now
tell us about yourself," said she. "One hears such improbable
wonders about you."
"Yes," replied Pierre with the smile of mild irony
now habitual to him. "They even tell me wonders I myself
never dreamed of! Mary Abramovna invited me to her house and kept
telling me what had happened, or ought to have happened, to me.
Stepan Stepanych also instructed me how I ought to tell of my
experiences. In general I have noticed that it is very easy to
be an interesting man (I am an interesting man now); people invite
me out and tell me all about myself."
Natasha smiled and was on the point of speaking.
"We have been told," Princess Mary interrupted her,
"that you lost two millions in Moscow. Is that true?"
"But I am three times as rich as before," returned
Pierre.
Though the position was now altered by his decision to pay
his wife's debts and to rebuild his houses, Pierre still maintained
that he had become three times as rich as before.
"What I have certainly gained is freedom," he began
seriously, but did not continue, noticing that this theme was
too egotistic.
"And are you building?"
"Yes. Savelich says I must!"
"Tell me, you did not know of the countess' death when
you decided to remain in Moscow?" asked Princess Mary and
immediately blushed, noticing that her question, following his
mention of freedom, ascribed to his words a meaning he had perhaps
not intended.
"No," answered Pierre, evidently not considering
awkward the meaning Princess Mary had given to his words. "I
heard of it in Orel and you cannot imagine how it shocked me.
We were not an exemplary couple," he added quickly, glancing
at Natasha and noticing on her face curiosity as to how he would
speak of his wife, "but her death shocked me terribly. When
two people quarrel they are always both in fault, and one's own
guilt suddenly becomes terribly serious when the other is no longer
alive. And then such a death... without friends and without consolation!
I am very, very sorry for her," he concluded, and was pleased
to notice a look of glad approval on Natasha's face.
"Yes, and so you are once more an eligible bachelor,"
said Princess Mary.
Pierre suddenly flushed crimson and for a long time tried
not to look at Natasha. When he ventured to glance her way again
her face was cold, stern, and he fancied even contemptuous.
"And did you really see and speak to Napoleon, as we
have been told?" said Princess Mary.
Pierre laughed.
"No, not once! Everybody seems to imagine that being
taken prisoner means being Napoleon's guest. Not only did I never
see him but I heard nothing about him- I was in much lower company!"
Supper was over, and Pierre who at first declined to speak
about his captivity was gradually led on to do so.
"But it's true that you remained in Moscow to kill Napoleon?"
Natasha asked with a slight smile. "I guessed it then when
we met at the Sukharev tower, do you remember?"
Pierre admitted that it was true, and from that was gradually
led by Princess Mary's questions and especially by Natasha's into
giving a detailed account of his adventures.
At first he spoke with the amused and mild irony now customary
with him toward everybody and especially toward himself, but when
he came to describe the horrors and sufferings he had witnessed
he was unconsciously carried away and began speaking with the
suppressed emotion of a man re-experiencing in recollection strong
impressions he has lived through.
Princess Mary with a gentle smile looked now at Pierre and
now at Natasha. In the whole narrative she saw only Pierre and
his goodness. Natasha, leaning on her elbow, the expression of
her face constantly changing with the narrative, watched Pierre
with an attention that never wandered- evidently herself experiencing
all that he described. Not only her look, but her exclamations
and the brief questions she put, showed Pierre that she understood
just what he wished to convey. It was clear that she understood
not only what he said but also what he wished to, but could not,
express in words. The account Pierre gave of the incident with
the child and the woman for protecting whom he was arrested was
this: "It was an awful sight- children abandoned, some in
the flames... One was snatched out before my eyes... and there
were women who had their things snatched off and their earrings
torn out..." he flushed and grew confused. "Then a patrol
arrived and all the men- all those who were not looting, that
is- were arrested, and I among them."
"I am sure you're not telling us everything; I am sure
you did something..." said Natasha and pausing added, "something
fine?"
Pierre continued. When he spoke of the execution he wanted
to pass over the horrible details, but Natasha insisted that he
should not omit anything.
Pierre began to tell about Karataev, but paused. By this time
he had risen from the table and was pacing the room, Natasha following
him with her eyes. Then he added:
"No, you can't understand what I learned from that illiterate
man- that simple fellow."
"Yes, yes, go on!" said Natasha. "Where is
he?"
"They killed him almost before my eyes."
And Pierre, his voice trembling continually, went on to tell
of the last days of their retreat, of Karataev's illness and his
death.
He told of his adventures as he had never yet recalled them.
He now, as it were, saw a new meaning in all he had gone through.
Now that he was telling it all to Natasha he experienced that
pleasure which a man has when women listen to him- not clever
women who when listening either try to remember what they hear
to enrich their minds and when opportunity offers to retell it,
or who wish to adopt it to some thought of their own and promptly
contribute their own clever comments prepared in their little
mental workshop- but the pleasure given by real women gifted with
a capacity to select and absorb the very best a man shows of himself.
Natasha without knowing it was all attention: she did not lose
a word, no single quiver in Pierre's voice, no look, no twitch
of a muscle in his face, nor a single gesture. She caught the
unfinished word in its flight and took it straight into her open
heart, divining the secret meaning of all Pierre's mental travail.
Princess Mary understood his story and sympathized with him,
but she now saw something else that absorbed all her attention.
She saw the possibility of love and happiness between Natasha
and Pierre, and the first thought of this filled her heart with
gladness.
It was three o'clock in the morning. The footmen came in with
sad and stern faces to change the candles, but no one noticed
them.
Pierre finished his story. Natasha continued to look at him
intently with bright, attentive, and animated eyes, as if trying
to understand something more which he had perhaps left untold.
Pierre in shamefaced and happy confusion glanced occasionally
at her, and tried to think what to say next to introduce a fresh
subject. Princess Mary was silent. It occurred to none of them
that it was three o'clock and time to go to bed.
"People speak of misfortunes and sufferings," remarked
Pierre, "but if at this moment I were asked: 'Would you rather
be what you were before you were taken prisoner, or go through
all this again?' then for heaven's sake let me again have captivity
and horseflesh! We imagine that when we are thrown out of our
usual ruts all is lost, but it is only then that what is new and
good begins. While there is life there is happiness. There is
much, much before us. I say this to you," he added, turning
to Natasha.
"Yes, yes," she said, answering something quite
different. "I too should wish nothing but to relive it all
from the beginning."
Pierre looked intently at her.
"Yes, and nothing more." said Natasha.
"It's not true, not true!" cried Pierre. "I
am not to blame for being alive and wishing to live- nor you either."
Suddenly Natasha bent her head, covered her face with her
hands, and began to cry.
"What is it, Natasha?" said Princess Mary.
"Nothing, nothing." She smiled at Pierre through
her tears. "Good night! It is time for bed."
Pierre rose and took his leave.
Princess Mary and Natasha met as usual in the bedroom. They
talked of what Pierre had told them. Princess Mary did not express
her opinion of Pierre nor did Natasha speak of him.
"Well, good night, Mary!" said Natasha. "Do
you know, I am often afraid that by not speaking of him"
(she meant Prince Andrew) "for fear of not doing justice
to our feelings, we forget him."
Princess Mary sighed deeply and thereby acknowledged the justice
of Natasha's remark, but she did not express agreement in words.
"Is it possible to forget?" said she.
"It did me so much good to tell all about it today. It
was hard and painful, but good, very good!" said Natasha.
"I am sure he really loved him. That is why I told him...
Was it all right?" she added, suddenly blushing.
"To tell Pierre? Oh, yes. What a splendid man he is!"
said Princess Mary.
"Do you know, Mary..." Natasha suddenly said with
a mischievous smile such as Princess Mary had not seen on her
face for a long time, "he has somehow grown so clean, smooth,
and fresh- as if he had just come out of a Russian bath; do you
understand? Out of a moral bath. Isn't it true?"
"Yes," replied Princess Mary. "He has greatly
improved."
"With a short coat and his hair cropped; just as if,
well, just as if he had come straight from the bath... Papa used
to..."
"I understand why he" (Prince Andrew) "liked
no one so much as him," said Princess Mary.
"Yes, and yet he is quite different. They say men are
friends when they are quite different. That must be true. Really
he is quite unlike him- in everything."
"Yes, but he's wonderful."
"Well, good night," said Natasha.
And the same mischievous smile lingered for a long time on
her face as if it had been forgotten there.
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