|
There was nothing in Pierre's soul now at all like what had
troubled it during his courtship of Helene.
He did not repeat to himself with a sickening feeling of shame
the words he had spoken, or say: "Oh, why did I not say that?"
and, "Whatever made me say 'Je vous aime'?" On the contrary,
he now repeated in imagination every word that he or Natasha had
spoken and pictured every detail of her face and smile, and did
not wish to diminish or add anything, but only to repeat it again
and again. There was now not a shadow of doubt in his mind as
to whether what he had undertaken was right or wrong. Only one
terrible doubt sometimes crossed his mind: "Wasn't it all
a dream? Isn't Princess Mary mistaken? Am I not too conceited
and self-confident? I believe all this- and suddenly Princess
Mary will tell her, and she will be sure to smile and say: 'How
strange! He must be deluding himself. Doesn't he know that he
is a man, just a man, while I...? I am something altogether different
and higher.'"
That was the only doubt often troubling Pierre. He did not
now make any plans. The happiness before him appeared so inconceivable
that if only he could attain it, it would be the end of all things.
Everything ended with that.
A joyful, unexpected frenzy, of which he had thought himself
incapable, possessed him. The whole meaning of life- not for him
alone but for the whole world- seemed to him centered in his love
and the possibility of being loved by her. At times everybody
seemed to him to be occupied with one thing only- his future happiness.
Sometimes it seemed to him that other people were all as pleased
as he was himself and merely tried to hide that pleasure by pretending
to be busy with other interests. In every word and gesture he
saw allusions to his happiness. He often surprised those he met
by his significantly happy looks and smiles which seemed to express
a secret understanding between him and them. And when he realized
that people might not be aware of his happiness, he pitied them
with his whole heart and felt a desire somehow to explain to them
that all that occupied them was a mere frivolous trifle unworthy
of attention.
When it was suggested to him that he should enter the civil
service, or when the war or any general political affairs were
discussed on the assumption that everybody's welfare depended
on this or that issue of events, he would listen with a mild and
pitying smile and surprise people by his strange comments. But
at this time he saw everybody- both those who, as he imagined,
understood the real meaning of life (that is, what he was feeling)
and those unfortunates who evidently did not understand it- in
the bright light of the emotion that shone within himself, and
at once without any effort saw in everyone he met everything that
was good and worthy of being loved.
When dealing with the affairs and papers of his dead wife,
her memory aroused in him no feeling but pity that she had not
known the bliss he now knew. Prince Vasili, who having obtained
a new post and some fresh decorations was particularly proud at
this time, seemed to him a pathetic, kindly old man much to be
pitied.
Often in afterlife Pierre recalled this period of blissful
insanity. All the views he formed of men and circumstances at
this time remained true for him always. He not only did not renounce
them subsequently, but when he was in doubt or inwardly at variance,
he referred to the views he had held at this time of his madness
and they always proved correct.
"I may have appeared strange and queer then," he
thought, "but I was not so mad as I seemed. On the contrary
I was then wiser and had more insight than at any other time,
and understood all that is worth understanding in life, because...
because I was happy."
Pierre's insanity consisted in not waiting, as he used to
do, to discover personal attributes which he termed "good
qualities" in people before loving them; his heart was now
overflowing with love, and by loving people without cause he discovered
indubitable causes for loving them.
|
