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A
tall, beautiful woman with a mass of plaited hair and much
exposed
plump
white shoulders and neck, round which she wore a double string of
large
pearls, entered the adjoining box rustling her heavy silk dress
and
took a long time settling into her place.
Natasha
involuntarily gazed at that neck, those shoulders, and pearls
and
coiffure, and admired the beauty of the shoulders and the pearls.
While
Natasha was fixing her gaze on her for the second time the lady
looked
round and, meeting the count's eyes, nodded to him and smiled.
She
was the Countess Bezukhova, Pierre's wife, and the count, who
knew
everyone
in society, leaned over and spoke to her.
"Have
you been here long, Countess?" he inquired. "I'll call, I'll call
to
kiss your hand. I'm here on business and have brought my girls
with
me.
They say Semenova acts marvelously. Count Pierre never used to
forget
us. Is he here?"
"Yes,
he meant to look in," answered Helene, and glanced attentively at
Natasha.
Count
Rostov resumed his seat.
"Handsome,
isn't she?" he whispered to Natasha.
"Wonderful!"
answered Natasha. "She's a woman one could easily fall in
love
with."
Just
then the last chords of the overture were heard and the conductor
tapped
with his stick. Some latecomers took their seats in the stalls,
and
the curtain rose.
As
soon as it rose everyone in the boxes and stalls became silent,
and
all
the men, old and young, in uniform and evening dress, and all the
women
with gems on their bare flesh, turned their whole attention with
eager
curiosity to the stage. Natasha too began to look at it.
CHAPTER
IX
The
floor of the stage consisted of smooth boards, at the sides was
some
painted
cardboard representing trees, and at the back was a cloth
stretched
over boards. In the center of the stage sat some girls in red
bodices
and white skirts. One very fat girl in a white silk dress sat
apart
on a low bench, to the back of which a piece of green cardboard
was
glued. They all sang something. When they had finished their song
the
girl in white went up to the prompter's box and a man with tight
silk
trousers over his stout legs, and holding a plume and a dagger,
went
up to her and began singing, waving his arms about.
First
the man in the tight trousers sang alone, then she sang, then
they
both
paused while the orchestra played and the man fingered the hand
of
the
girl in white, obviously awaiting the beat to start singing with
her.
They sang together and everyone in the theater began clapping and
shouting,
while the man and woman on the stage--who represented lovers--
began
smiling, spreading out their arms, and bowing.
After
her life in the country, and in her present serious mood, all
this
seemed
grotesque and amazing to Natasha. She could not follow the opera
nor
even listen to the music; she saw only the painted cardboard and
the
queerly
dressed men and women who moved, spoke, and sang so strangely in
that
brilliant light. She knew what it was all meant to represent, but
it
was so pretentiously false and unnatural that she first felt
ashamed
for
the actors and then amused at them. She looked at the faces of
the
audience,
seeking in them the same sense of ridicule and perplexity she
herself
experienced, but they all seemed attentive to what was happening
on
the stage, and expressed delight which to Natasha seemed feigned.
"I
suppose
it has to be like this!" she thought. She kept looking round in
turn
at the rows of pomaded heads in the stalls and then at the
seminude
women
in the boxes, especially at Helene in the next box, who--
apparently
quite unclothed--sat with a quiet tranquil smile, not taking
her
eyes off the stage. And feeling the bright light that flooded the
whole
place and the warm air heated by the crowd, Natasha little by
little
began to pass into a state of intoxication she had not
experienced
for a long while. She did not realize who and where she was,
nor
what was going on before her. As she looked and thought, the
strangest
fancies unexpectedly and disconnectedly passed through her
mind:
the idea occurred to her of jumping onto the edge of the box and
singing
the air the actress was singing, then she wished to touch with
her
fan an old gentleman sitting not far from her, then to lean over
to
Helene
and tickle her.
At
a moment when all was quiet before the commencement of a song, a
door
leading
to the stalls on the side nearest the Rostovs' box creaked, and
the
steps of a belated arrival were heard. "There's Kuragin!"
whispered
Shinshin.
Countess Bezukhova turned smiling to the newcomer, and
Natasha,
following the direction of that look, saw an exceptionally
handsome
adjutant approaching their box with a self-assured yet
courteous
bearing. This was Anatole Kuragin whom she had seen and
noticed
long ago at the ball in Petersburg. He was now in an adjutant's
uniform
with one epaulet and a shoulder knot. He moved with a restrained
swagger
which would have been ridiculous had he not been so good-looking
and
had his handsome face not worn such an expression of good-humored
complacency
and gaiety. Though the performance was proceeding, he walked
deliberately
down the carpeted gangway, his sword and spurs slightly
jingling
and his handsome perfumed head held high. Having looked at
Natasha
he approached his sister, laid his well gloved hand on the edge
of
her box, nodded to her, and leaning forward asked a question, with
a
motion
toward Natasha.
"Mais
charmante!" said he, evidently referring to Natasha, who did not
exactly
hear his words but understood them from the movement of his
lips.
Then he took his place in the first row of the stalls and sat
down
beside
Dolokhov, nudging with his elbow in a friendly and offhand way
that
Dolokhov whom others treated so fawningly. He winked at him
gaily,
smiled,
and rested his foot against the orchestra screen.
"How
like the brother is to the sister," remarked the count. "And how
handsome
they both are!"
Shinshin,
lowering his voice, began to tell the count of some intrigue
of
Kuragin's in Moscow, and Natasha tried to overhear it just because
he
had
said she was "charmante."
The
first act was over. In the stalls everyone began moving about,
going
out
and coming in.
Boris
came to the Rostovs' box, received their congratulations very
simply,
and raising his eyebrows with an absent-minded smile conveyed to
Natasha
and Sonya his fiancee's invitation to her wedding, and went
away.
Natasha with a gay, coquettish smile talked to him, and
congratulated
on his approaching wedding that same Boris with whom she
had
formerly been in love. In the state of intoxication she was in,
everything
seemed simple and natural.
The
scantily clad Helene smiled at everyone in the same way, and
Natasha
gave
Boris a similar smile.
Helene's
box was filled and surrounded from the stalls by the most
distinguished
and intellectual men, who seemed to vie with one another
in
their wish to let everyone see that they knew her.
During
the whole of that entr'acte Kuragin stood with Dolokhov in front
of
the orchestra partition, looking at the Rostovs' box. Natasha knew
he
was
talking about her and this afforded her pleasure. She even turned
so
that
he should see her profile in what she thought was its most
becoming
aspect.
Before the beginning of the second act Pierre appeared in the
stalls.
The Rostovs had not seen him since their arrival. His face
looked
sad, and he had grown still stouter since Natasha last saw him.
He
passed up to the front rows, not noticing anyone. Anatole went up
to
him
and began speaking to him, looking at and indicating the Rostovs'
box.
On seeing Natasha Pierre grew animated and, hastily passing
between
the
rows, came toward their box. When he got there he leaned on his
elbows
and, smiling, talked to her for a long time. While conversing
with
Pierre, Natasha heard a man's voice in Countess Bezukhova's box
and
something
told her it was Kuragin. She turned and their eyes met. Almost
smiling,
he gazed straight into her eyes with such an enraptured
caressing
look that it seemed strange to be so near him, to look at him
like
that, to be so sure he admired her, and not to be acquainted with
him.
In
the second act there was scenery representing tombstones, there was
a
round
hole in the canvas to represent the moon, shades were raised over
the
footlights, and from horns and contrabass came deep notes while
many
people
appeared from right and left wearing black cloaks and holding
things
like daggers in their hands. They began waving their arms. Then
some
other people ran in and began dragging away the maiden who had
been
in
white and was now in light blue. They did not drag her away at
once,
but
sang with her for a long time and then at last dragged her off,
and
behind
the scenes something metallic was struck three times and everyone
knelt
down and sang a prayer. All these things were repeatedly
interrupted
by the enthusiastic shouts of the audience.
During
this act every time Natasha looked toward the stalls she saw
Anatole
Kuragin with an arm thrown across the back of his chair, staring
at
her. She was pleased to see that he was captivated by her and it
did
not
occur to her that there was anything wrong in it.
When
the second act was over Countess Bezukhova rose, turned to the
Rostovs'
box--her whole bosom completely exposed--beckoned the old count
with
a gloved finger, and paying no attention to those who had entered
her
box began talking to him with an amiable smile.
"Do
make me acquainted with your charming daughters," said she. "The
whole
town is singing their praises and I don't even know them!"
Natasha
rose and curtsied to the splendid countess. She was so pleased
by
praise from this brilliant beauty that she blushed with pleasure.
"I
want to become a Moscovite too, now," said Helene. "How is it
you're
not
ashamed to bury such pearls in the country?"
Countess
Bezukhova quite deserved her reputation of being a fascinating
woman.
She could say what she did not think--especially what was
flattering--quite
simply and naturally.
"Dear
count, you must let me look after your daughters! Though I am not
staying
here long this time--nor are you--I will try to amuse them. I
have
already heard much of you in Petersburg and wanted to get to know
you,"
said she to Natasha with her stereotyped and lovely smile. "I had
heard
about you from my page, Drubetskoy. Have you heard he is getting
married?
And also from my husband's friend Bolkonski, Prince Andrew
Bolkonski,"
she went on with special emphasis, implying that she knew of
his
relation to Natasha. To get better acquainted she asked that one
of
the
young ladies should come into her box for the rest of the
performance,
and Natasha moved over to it.
The
scene of the third act represented a palace in which many candles
were
burning and pictures of knights with short beards hung on the
walls.
In the middle stood what were probably a king and a queen. The
king
waved his right arm and, evidently nervous, sang something badly
and
sat down on a crimson throne. The maiden who had been first in
white
and
then in light blue, now wore only a smock, and stood beside the
throne
with her hair down. She sang something mournfully, addressing the
queen,
but the king waved his arm severely, and men and women with bare
legs
came in from both sides and began dancing all together. Then the
violins
played very shrilly and
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