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They
received Pierre in their small, new drawing-room, where it was
impossible
to sit down anywhere without disturbing its symmetry,
neatness,
and order; so it was quite comprehensible and not strange that
Berg,
having generously offered to disturb the symmetry of an armchair
or
of the sofa for his dear guest, but being apparently painfully
undecided
on the matter himself, eventually left the visitor to settle
the
question of selection. Pierre disturbed the symmetry by moving a
chair
for himself, and Berg and Vera immediately began their evening
party,
interrupting each other in their efforts to entertain their
guest.
Vera,
having decided in her own mind that Pierre ought to be
entertained
with
conversation about the French embassy, at once began accordingly.
Berg,
having decided that masculine conversation was required,
interrupted
his wife's remarks and touched on the question of the war
with
Austria, and unconsciously jumped from the general subject to
personal
considerations as to the proposals made him to take part in the
Austrian
campaign and the reasons why he had declined them. Though the
conversation
was very incoherent and Vera was angry at the intrusion of
the
masculine element, both husband and wife felt with satisfaction
that,
even if only one guest was present, their evening had begun very
well
and was as like as two peas to every other evening party with its
talk,
tea, and lighted candles.
Before
long Boris, Berg's old comrade, arrived. There was a shade of
condescension
and patronage in his treatment of Berg and Vera. After
Boris
came a lady with the colonel, then the general himself, then the
Rostovs,
and the party became unquestionably exactly like all other
evening
parties. Berg and Vera could not repress their smiles of
satisfaction
at the sight of all this movement in their drawing room, at
the
sound of the disconnected talk, the rustling of dresses, and the
bowing
and scraping. Everything was just as everybody always has it,
especially
so the general, who admired the apartment, patted Berg on the
shoulder,
and with parental authority superintended the setting out of
the
table for boston. The general sat down by Count Ilya Rostov, who
was
next
to himself the most important guest. The old people sat with the
old,
the young with the young, and the hostess at the tea table, on
which
stood exactly the same kind of cakes in a silver cake basket as
the
Panins had at their party. Everything was just as it was
everywhere
else.
CHAPTER
XXI
Pierre,
as one of the principal guests, had to sit down to boston with
Count
Rostov, the general, and the colonel. At the card table he
happened
to be directly facing Natasha, and was struck by a curious
change
that had come over her since the ball. She was silent, and not
only
less pretty than at the ball, but only redeemed from plainness by
her
look of gentle indifference to everything around.
"What's
the matter with her?" thought Pierre, glancing at her. She was
sitting
by her sister at the tea table, and reluctantly, without looking
at
him, made some reply to Boris who sat down beside her. After
playing
out
a whole suit and to his partner's delight taking five tricks,
Pierre,
hearing greetings and the steps of someone who had entered the
room
while he was picking up his tricks, glanced again at Natasha.
"What
has happened to her?" he asked himself with still greater
surprise.
Prince
Andrew was standing before her, saying something to her with a
look
of tender solicitude. She, having raised her head, was looking up
at
him, flushed and evidently trying to master her rapid breathing.
And
the
bright glow of some inner fire that had been suppressed was again
alight
in her. She was completely transformed and from a plain girl had
again
become what she had been at the ball.
Prince
Andrew went up to Pierre, and the latter noticed a new and
youthful
expression in his friend's face.
Pierre
changed places several times during the game, sitting now with
his
back to Natasha and now facing her, but during the whole of the
six
rubbers
he watched her and his friend.
"Something
very important is happening between them," thought Pierre,
and
a feeling that was both joyful and painful agitated him and made
him
neglect
the game.
After
six rubbers the general got up, saying that it was no use playing
like
that, and Pierre was released. Natasha on one side was talking
with
Sonya
and Boris, and Vera with a subtle smile was saying something to
Prince
Andrew. Pierre went up to his friend and, asking whether they
were
talking secrets, sat down beside them. Vera, having noticed
Prince
Andrew's
attentions to Natasha, decided that at a party, a real evening
party,
subtle allusions to the tender passion were absolutely necessary
and,
seizing a moment when Prince Andrew was alone, began a
conversation
with
him about feelings in general and about her sister. With so
intellectual
a guest as she considered Prince Andrew to be, she felt
that
she had to employ her diplomatic tact.
When
Pierre went up to them he noticed that Vera was being carried
away
by
her self-satisfied talk, but that Prince Andrew seemed embarrassed,
a
thing
that rarely happened with him.
"What
do you think?" Vera was saying with an arch smile. "You are so
discerning,
Prince, and understand people's characters so well at a
glance.
What do you think of Natalie? Could she be constant in her
attachments?
Could she, like other women" (Vera meant herself), "love a
man
once for all and remain true to him forever? That is what I
consider
true
love. What do you think, Prince?"
"I
know your sister too little," replied Prince Andrew, with a
sarcastic
smile
under which he wished to hide his embarrassment, "to be able to
solve
so delicate a question, and then I have noticed that the less
attractive
a woman is the more constant she is likely to be," he added,
and
looked up at Pierre who was just approaching them.
"Yes,
that is true, Prince. In our days," continued Vera--mentioning
"our
days" as people of limited intelligence are fond of doing,
imagining
that they have discovered and appraised the peculiarities of
"our
days" and that human characteristics change with the times--"in
our
days
a girl has so much freedom that the pleasure of being courted
often
stifles
real feeling in her. And it must be confessed that Natalie is
very
susceptible." This return to the subject of Natalie caused Prince
Andrew
to knit his brows with discomfort: he was about to rise, but Vera
continued
with a still more subtle smile:
"I
think no one has been more courted than she," she went on, "but
till
quite
lately she never cared seriously for anyone. Now you know,
Count,"
she
said to Pierre, "even our dear cousin Boris, who, between
ourselves,
was
very far gone in the land of tenderness..." (alluding to a map of
love
much in vogue at that time).
Prince
Andrew frowned and remained silent.
"You
are friendly with Boris, aren't you?" asked Vera.
"Yes,
I know him..."
"I
expect he has told you of his childish love for Natasha?"
"Oh,
there was childish love?" suddenly asked Prince Andrew, blushing
unexpectedly.
"Yes,
you know between cousins intimacy often leads to love. Le
cousinage
est un dangereux voisinage. * Don't you think so?"
*
"Cousinhood is a dangerous neighborhood."
"Oh,
undoubtedly!" said Prince Andrew, and with sudden and unnatural
liveliness
he began chaffing Pierre about the need to be very careful
with
his fifty-year-old Moscow cousins, and in the midst of these
jesting
remarks he rose, taking Pierre by the arm, and drew him aside.
"Well?"
asked Pierre, seeing his friend's strange animation with
surprise,
and noticing the glance he turned on Natasha as he rose.
"I
must... I must have a talk with you," said Prince Andrew. "You
know
that
pair of women's gloves?" (He referred to the masonic gloves given
to
a newly initiated Brother to present to the woman he loved.)
"I...
but
no, I will talk to you later on," and with a strange light in his
eyes
and restlessness in his movements, Prince Andrew approached
Natasha
and
sat down beside her. Pierre saw how Prince Andrew asked her
something
and how she flushed as she replied.
But
at that moment Berg came to Pierre and began insisting that he
should
take part in an argument between the general and the colonel on
the
affairs in Spain.
Berg
was satisfied and happy. The smile of pleasure never left his
face.
The
party was very successful and quite like other parties he had
seen.
Everything
was similar: the ladies' subtle talk, the cards, the general
raising
his voice at the card table, and the samovar and the tea cakes;
only
one thing was lacking that he had always seen at the evening
parties
he wished to imitate. They had not yet had a loud conversation
among
the men and a dispute about something important and clever. Now
the
general had begun such a discussion and so Berg drew Pierre to
it.
CHAPTER
XXII
Next
day, having been invited by the count, Prince Andrew dined with
the
Rostovs
and spent the rest of the day there.
Everyone
in the house realized for whose sake Prince Andrew came, and
without
concealing it he tried to be with Natasha all day. Not only in
the
soul of the frightened yet happy and enraptured Natasha, but in
the
whole
house, there was a feeling of awe at something important that was
bound
to happen. The countess looked with sad and sternly serious eyes
at
Prince Andrew when he talked to Natasha and timidly started some
artificial
conversation about trifles as soon as he looked her way.
Sonya
was afraid to leave Natasha and afraid of being in the way when
she
was with them. Natasha grew pale, in a panic of expectation, when
she
remained alone with him for a moment. Prince Andrew surprised her
by
his
timidity. She felt that he wanted to say something to her but
could
not
bring himself to do so.
In
the evening, when Prince Andrew had left, the countess went up to
Natasha
and whispered: "Well, what?"
"Mamma!
For heaven's sake don't ask me anything now! One can't talk
about
that," said Natasha.
But
all the same that night Natasha, now agitated and now frightened,
lay
a long time in her mother's bed gazing straight before her. She
told
her
how he had complimented her, how he told her he was going abroad,
asked
her where they were going to spend the summer, and then how he
had
asked
her about Boris.
"But
such a... such a... never happened to me before!" she said. "Only
I
feel
afraid in his presence. I am always afraid when I'm with him.
What
does
that mean? Does it mean that it's the real thing? Yes? Mamma, are
you
asleep?"
"No,
my love; I am frightened myself," answered her mother. "Now go!"
"All
the same I shan't sleep. What silliness, to sleep! Mummy! Mummy!
such
a thing never happened to me before," she said, surprised and
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