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"Why
could that not be as well?" she sometimes asked herself in
complete
bewilderment.
"Only so could I be completely happy; but now I have to
choose,
and I can't be happy without either of them. Only," she thought,
"to
tell Prince Andrew what has happened or to hide it from him are
both
equally
impossible. But with that one nothing is spoiled. But am I
really
to abandon forever the joy of Prince Andrew's love, in which I
have
lived so long?"
"Please,
Miss!" whispered a maid entering the room with a mysterious
air.
"A man told me to give you this-" and she handed Natasha a
letter.
"Only,
for Christ's sake..." the girl went on, as Natasha, without
thinking,
mechanically broke the seal and read a love letter from
Anatole,
of which, without taking in a word, she understood only that it
was
a letter from him--from the man she loved. Yes, she loved him, or
else
how could that have happened which had happened? And how could
she
have
a love letter from him in her hand?
With
trembling hands Natasha held that passionate love letter which
Dolokhov
had composed for Anatole, and as she read it she found in it an
echo
of all that she herself imagined she was feeling.
"Since
yesterday evening my fate has been sealed; to be loved by you or
to
die. There is no other way for me," the letter began. Then he went
on
to
say that he knew her parents would not give her to him--for this
there
were secret reasons he could reveal only to her--but that if she
loved
him she need only say the word yes, and no human power could
hinder
their bliss. Love would conquer all. He would steal her away and
carry
her off to the ends of the earth.
"Yes,
yes! I love him!" thought Natasha, reading the letter for the
twentieth
time and finding some peculiarly deep meaning in each word of
it.
That
evening Marya Dmitrievna was going to the Akharovs' and proposed
to
take
the girls with her. Natasha, pleading a headache, remained at
home.
CHAPTER
XV
On
returning late in the evening Sonya went to Natasha's room, and
to
her
surprise found her still dressed and asleep on the sofa. Open on
the
table,
beside her lay Anatole's letter. Sonya picked it up and read it.
As
she read she glanced at the sleeping Natasha, trying to find in
her
face
an explanation of what she was reading, but did not find it. Her
face
was calm, gentle, and happy. Clutching her breast to keep herself
from
choking, Sonya, pale and trembling with fear and agitation, sat
down
in an armchair and burst into tears.
"How
was it I noticed nothing? How could it go so far? Can she have
left
off
loving Prince Andrew? And how could she let Kuragin go to such
lengths?
He is a deceiver and a villain, that's plain! What will
Nicholas,
dear noble Nicholas, do when he hears of it? So this is the
meaning
of her excited, resolute, unnatural look the day before
yesterday,
yesterday, and today," thought Sonya. "But it can't be that
she
loves him! She probably opened the letter without knowing who it
was
from.
Probably she is offended by it. She could not do such a thing!"
Sonya
wiped away her tears and went up to Natasha, again scanning her
face.
"Natasha!"
she said, just audibly.
Natasha
awoke and saw Sonya.
"Ah,
you're back?"
And
with the decision and tenderness that often come at the moment of
awakening,
she embraced her friend, but noticing Sonya's look of
embarrassment,
her own face expressed confusion and suspicion.
"Sonya,
you've read that letter?" she demanded.
"Yes,"
answered Sonya softly.
Natasha
smiled rapturously.
"No,
Sonya, I can't any longer!" she said. "I can't hide it from you
any
longer.
You know, we love one another! Sonya, darling, he writes...
Sonya..."
Sonya
stared open-eyed at Natasha, unable to believe her ears.
"And
Bolkonski?" she asked.
"Ah,
Sonya, if you only knew how happy I am!" cried Natasha. "You
don't
know
what love is...."
"But,
Natasha, can that be all over?"
Natasha
looked at Sonya with wide-open eyes as if she could not grasp
the
question.
"Well,
then, are you refusing Prince Andrew?" said Sonya.
"Oh,
you don't understand anything! Don't talk nonsense, just listen!"
said
Natasha, with momentary vexation.
"But
I can't believe it," insisted Sonya. "I don't understand. How is
it
you
have loved a man for a whole year and suddenly... Why, you have
only
seen
him three times! Natasha, I don't believe you, you're joking! In
three
days to forget everything and so..."
"Three
days?" said Natasha. "It seems to me I've loved him a hundred
years.
It seems to me that I have never loved anyone before. You can't
understand
it.... Sonya, wait a bit, sit here," and Natasha embraced and
kissed
her.
"I
had heard that it happens like this, and you must have heard it
too,
but
it's only now that I feel such love. It's not the same as before.
As
soon
as I saw him I felt he was my master and I his slave, and that I
could
not help loving him. Yes, his slave! Whatever he orders I shall
do.
You don't understand that. What can I do? What can I do, Sonya?"
cried
Natasha with a happy yet frightened expression.
"But
think what you are doing," cried Sonya. "I can't leave it like
this.
This secret correspondence... How could you let him go so far?"
she
went on, with a horror and disgust she could hardly conceal.
"I
told you that I have no will," Natasha replied. "Why can't you
understand?
I love him!"
"Then
I won't let it come to that... I shall tell!" cried Sonya,
bursting
into tears.
"What
do you mean? For God's sake... If you tell, you are my enemy!"
declared
Natasha. "You want me to be miserable, you want us to be
separated...."
When
she saw Natasha's fright, Sonya shed tears of shame and pity for
her
friend.
"But
what has happened between you?" she asked. "What has he said to
you?
Why doesn't he come to the house?"
Natasha
did not answer her questions.
"For
God's sake, Sonya, don't tell anyone, don't torture me," Natasha
entreated.
"Remember no one ought to interfere in such matters! I have
confided
in you...."
"But
why this secrecy? Why doesn't he come to the house?" asked Sonya.
"Why
doesn't he openly ask for your hand? You know Prince Andrew gave
you
complete freedom--if it is really so; but I don't believe it!
Natasha,
have you considered what these secret reasons can be?"
Natasha
looked at Sonya with astonishment. Evidently this question
presented
itself to her mind for the first time and she did not know how
to
answer it.
"I
don't know what the reasons are. But there must be reasons!"
Sonya
sighed and shook her head incredulously.
"If
there were reasons..." she began.
But
Natasha, guessing her doubts, interrupted her in alarm.
"Sonya,
one can't doubt him! One can't, one can't! Don't you
understand?"
she cried.
"Does
he love you?"
"Does
he love me?" Natasha repeated with a smile of pity at her
friend's
lack
of comprehension. "Why, you have read his letter and you have
seen
him."
"But
if he is dishonorable?"
"He!
dishonorable? If you only knew!" exclaimed Natasha.
"If
he is an honorable man he should either declare his intentions or
cease
seeing you; and if you won't do this, I will. I will write to
him,
and
I will tell Papa!" said Sonya resolutely.
"But
I can't live without him!" cried Natasha.
"Natasha,
I don't understand you. And what are you saying! Think of your
father
and of Nicholas."
"I
don't want anyone, I don't love anyone but him. How dare you say
he
is
dishonorable? Don't you know that I love him?" screamed Natasha.
"Go
away,
Sonya! I don't want to quarrel with you, but go, for God's sake
go!
You see how I am suffering!" Natasha cried angrily, in a voice of
despair
and repressed irritation. Sonya burst into sobs and ran from the
room.
Natasha
went to the table and without a moment's reflection wrote that
answer
to Princess Mary which she had been unable to write all the
morning.
In this letter she said briefly that all their
misunderstandings
were at an end; that availing herself of the
magnanimity
of Prince Andrew who when he went abroad had given her her
freedom,
she begged Princess Mary to forget everything and forgive her
if
she had been to blame toward her, but that she could not be his
wife.
At
that moment this all seemed quite easy, simple, and clear to
Natasha.
On
Friday the Rostovs were to return to the country, but on
Wednesday
the
count went with the prospective purchaser to his estate near
Moscow.
On
the day the count left, Sonya and Natasha were invited to a big
dinner
party at the Karagins', and Marya Dmitrievna took them there. At
that
party Natasha again met Anatole, and Sonya noticed that she spoke
to
him, trying not to be overheard, and that all through dinner she
was
more
agitated than ever. When they got home Natasha was the first to
begin
the explanation Sonya expected.
"There,
Sonya, you were talking all sorts of nonsense about him,"
Natasha
began in a mild voice such as children use when they wish to be
praised.
"We have had an explanation today."
"Well,
what happened? What did he say? Natasha, how glad I am you're not
angry
with me! Tell me everything--the whole truth. What did he say?"
Natasha
became thoughtful.
"Oh,
Sonya, if you knew him as I do! He said... He asked me what I had
promised
Bolkonski. He was glad I was free to refuse him."
Sonya
sighed sorrowfully.
"But
you haven't refused Bolkonski?" said she.
"Perhaps
I have. Perhaps all is over between me and Bolkonski. Why do
you
think so badly of me?"
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