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"Well,
why not, if you're not afraid?"
"Louisa
Ivanovna, may I?" asked Sonya.
Whether
they were playing the ring and string game or the ruble game or
talking
as now, Nicholas did not leave Sonya's side, and gazed at her
with
quite new eyes. It seemed to him that it was only today, thanks
to
that
burnt-cork mustache, that he had fully learned to know her. And
really,
that evening, Sonya was brighter, more animated, and prettier
than
Nicholas had ever seen her before.
"So
that's what she is like; what a fool I have been!" he thought
gazing
at
her sparkling eyes, and under the mustache a happy rapturous
smile
dimpled
her cheeks, a smile he had never seen before.
"I'm
not afraid of anything," said Sonya. "May I go at once?" She got
up.
They
told her where the barn was and how she should stand and listen,
and
they handed her a fur cloak. She threw this over her head and
shoulders
and glanced at Nicholas.
"What
a darling that girl is!" thought he. "And what have I been
thinking
of till now?"
Sonya
went out into the passage to go to the barn. Nicholas went
hastily
to
the front porch, saying he felt too hot. The crowd of people
really
had
made the house stuffy.
Outside,
there was the same cold stillness and the same moon, but even
brighter
than before. The light was so strong and the snow sparkled with
so
many stars that one did not wish to look up at the sky and the
real
stars
were unnoticed. The sky was black and dreary, while the earth was
gay.
"I
am a fool, a fool! what have I been waiting for?" thought
Nicholas,
and
running out from the porch he went round the corner of the house
and
along
the path that led to the back porch. He knew Sonya would pass
that
way.
Halfway lay some snow-covered piles of firewood and across and
along
them a network of shadows from the bare old lime trees fell on
the
snow
and on the path. This path led to the barn. The log walls of the
barn
and its snow-covered roof, that looked as if hewn out of some
precious
stone, sparkled in the moonlight. A tree in the garden snapped
with
the frost, and then all was again perfectly silent. His bosom
seemed
to inhale not air but the strength of eternal youth and gladness.
From
the back porch came the sound of feet descending the steps, the
bottom
step upon which snow had fallen gave a ringing creak and he heard
the
voice of an old maidservant saying, "Straight, straight, along
the
path,
Miss. Only, don't look back."
"I
am not afraid," answered Sonya's voice, and along the path toward
Nicholas
came the crunching, whistling sound of Sonya's feet in her thin
shoes.
Sonya
came along, wrapped in her cloak. She was only a couple of paces
away
when she saw him, and to her too he was not the Nicholas she had
known
and always slightly feared. He was in a woman's dress, with
tousled
hair and a happy smile new to Sonya. She ran rapidly toward him.
"Quite
different and yet the same," thought Nicholas, looking at her
face
all lit up by the moonlight. He slipped his arms under the cloak
that
covered her head, embraced her, pressed her to him, and kissed
her
on
the lips that wore a mustache and had a smell of burnt cork.
Sonya
kissed
him full on the lips, and disengaging her little hands pressed
them
to his cheeks.
"Sonya!...
Nicholas!"... was all they said. They ran to the barn and
then
back again, re-entering, he by the front and she by the back
porch.
CHAPTER
XII
When
they all drove back from Pelageya Danilovna's, Natasha, who
always
saw
and noticed everything, arranged that she and Madame Schoss
should
go
back in the sleigh with Dimmler, and Sonya with Nicholas and the
maids.
On
the way back Nicholas drove at a steady pace instead of racing
and
kept
peering by that fantastic all-transforming light into Sonya's
face
and
searching beneath the eyebrows and mustache for his former and
his
present
Sonya from whom he had resolved never to be parted again. He
looked
and recognizing in her both the old and the new Sonya, and being
reminded
by the smell of burnt cork of the sensation of her kiss,
inhaled
the frosty air with a full breast and, looking at the ground
flying
beneath him and at the sparkling sky, felt himself again in
fairyland.
"Sonya,
is it well with thee?" he asked from time to time.
"Yes!"
she replied. "And with thee?"
When
halfway home Nicholas handed the reins to the coachman and ran
for
a
moment to Natasha's sleigh and stood on its wing.
"Natasha!"
he whispered in French, "do you know I have made up my mind
about
Sonya?"
"Have
you told her?" asked Natasha, suddenly beaming all over with joy.
"Oh,
how strange you are with that mustache and those eyebrows!...
Natasha--are
you glad?"
"I
am so glad, so glad! I was beginning to be vexed with you. I did
not
tell
you, but you have been treating her badly. What a heart she has,
Nicholas!
I am horrid sometimes, but I was ashamed to be happy while
Sonya
was not," continued Natasha. "Now I am so glad! Well, run back to
her."
"No,
wait a bit.... Oh, how funny you look!" cried Nicholas, peering
into
her face and finding in his sister too something new, unusual,
and
bewitchingly
tender that he had not seen in her before. "Natasha, it's
magical,
isn't it?"
"Yes,"
she replied. "You have done splendidly."
"Had
I seen her before as she is now," thought Nicholas, "I should
long
ago
have asked her what to do and have done whatever she told me, and
all
would have been well."
"So
you are glad and I have done right?"
"Oh,
quite right! I had a quarrel with Mamma some time ago about it.
Mamma
said she was angling for you. How could she say such a thing! I
nearly
stormed at Mamma. I will never let anyone say anything bad of
Sonya,
for there is nothing but good in her."
"Then
it's all right?" said Nicholas, again scrutinizing the expression
of
his sister's face to see if she was in earnest. Then he jumped
down
and,
his boots scrunching the snow, ran back to his sleigh. The same
happy,
smiling Circassian, with mustache and beaming eyes looking up
from
under a sable hood, was still sitting there, and that Circassian
was
Sonya, and that Sonya was certainly his future happy and loving
wife.
When
they reached home and had told their mother how they had spent
the
evening
at the Melyukovs', the girls went to their bedroom. When they
had
undressed, but without washing off the cork mustaches, they sat a
long
time talking of their happiness. They talked of how they would
live
when
they were married, how their husbands would be friends, and how
happy
they would be. On Natasha's table stood two looking glasses which
Dunyasha
had prepared beforehand.
"Only
when will all that be? I am afraid never.... It would be too
good!"
said Natasha, rising and going to the looking glasses.
"Sit
down, Natasha; perhaps you'll see him," said Sonya.
Natasha
lit the candles, one on each side of one of the looking glasses,
and
sat down.
"I
see someone with a mustache," said Natasha, seeing her own face.
"You
mustn't laugh, Miss," said Dunyasha.
With
Sonya's help and the maid's, Natasha got the glass she held into
the
right position opposite the other; her face assumed a serious
expression
and she sat silent. She sat a long time looking at the
receding
line of candles reflected in the glasses and expecting (from
tales
she had heard) to see a coffin, or him, Prince Andrew, in that
last
dim, indistinctly outlined square. But ready as she was to take
the
smallest
speck for the image of a man or of a coffin, she saw nothing.
She
began blinking rapidly and moved away from the looking glasses.
"Why
is it others see things and I don't?" she said. "You sit down
now,
Sonya.
You absolutely must, tonight! Do it for me.... Today I feel so
frightened!"
Sonya
sat down before the glasses, got the right position, and began
looking.
"Now,
Miss Sonya is sure to see something," whispered Dunyasha; "while
you
do nothing but laugh."
Sonya
heard this and Natasha's whisper:
"I
know she will. She saw something last year."
For
about three minutes all were silent.
"Of
course she will!" whispered Natasha, but did not finish...
suddenly
Sonya
pushed away the glass she was holding and covered her eyes with
her
hand.
"Oh,
Natasha!" she cried.
"Did
you see? Did you? What was it?" exclaimed Natasha, holding up the
looking
glass.
Sonya
had not seen anything, she was just wanting to blink and to get
up
when
she heard Natasha say, "Of course she will!" She did not wish to
disappoint
either Dunyasha or Natasha, but it was hard to sit still. She
did
not herself know how or why the exclamation escaped her when she
covered
her eyes.
"You
saw him?" urged Natasha, seizing her hand.
"Yes.
Wait a bit... I... saw him," Sonya could not help saying, not yet
knowing
whom Natasha meant by him, Nicholas or Prince Andrew.
"But
why shouldn't I say I saw something? Others do see! Besides who
can
tell
whether I saw anything or not?" flashed through Sonya's mind.
"Yes,
I saw him," she said.
"How?
Standing or lying?"
"No,
I saw... At first there was nothing, then I saw him lying down."
"Andrew
lying? Is he ill?" asked Natasha, her frightened eyes fixed on
her
friend.
"No,
on the contrary, on the contrary! His face was cheerful, and he
turned
to me." And when saying this she herself fancied she had really
seen
what she described.
"Well,
and then, Sonya?..."
"After
that, I could not make out what there was; something blue and
red..."
"Sonya!
When will he come back? When shall I see him! O, God, how afraid
I
am for him and for myself and about everything!..." Natasha began,
and
without
replying to Sonya's words of comfort she got into bed, and long
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